The Lie That Made Me Love You

Chapter 2: Pants on Fire

Sophie

I’m a big fat liar.

First of all, you need to understand that I didn't mean to cause any trouble; this was an experiment gone wrong.

Shit.

I look up from my phone just as there's a knock on the door. Pizza's here. I scramble to my feet and grab my purse.

When the door swings open, Heidi breezes in, smelling like evening air. "Hey."

I lean forward and check the sidewalks; no sign of anyone holding a pizza. It's been ten minutes already, come on!

"How was work today?" I ask, shutting the door behind me.

Heidi's voice comes from the kitchen, "Oh, you know. The usual.

I notice that she doesn't ask me how my work has been today— touché, Heidi, touché.

"And did you work today?"

Concluded too fast.

"No, not really, but I found this PR company that's going to help me out."

I hear the soft hum of our fridge as Heidi opens it and there's another knock on the door.

"About time, " I mutter to myself as I go to open the door. I pay the pizza man and settle down on the sofa.

"I've got pizza!"

"Enjoy…I'm in the mood for hot, steaming pasta," Heidi says from the kitchen. It's funny that she didn't even go to her room; she walked right in through the front door, dumped her bag and jacket on the sofa, and went straight into the kitchen.

I munch my pizza with gusto.

"So did you do anything crazy today?"

I almost choke at her question and I slow down my chewing. I rush into the kitchen, open the fridge and grab a carton of fruit juice.

"No," I say, after a few gulps. Returning the juice back into the fridge, I saunter back into our tiny living room, feeling all the guilt gnaw into my guts. I'm suddenly not hungry anymore.

Like I said, I’m a liar. I know it. Deep down, I’ve always known it, but today, it feels like a heavy label on my chest. I’ve been a liar for a while now—faking smiles, pretending everything’s fine, convincing myself that tomorrow I’ll somehow make it big again. But this time, it’s worse. This time, I didn’t just lie about myself—I lied about someone else.

Julian West.

The Julian West.

That moody, brooding, author with a face like a fallen angel, like seriously, life isn't that bad, we should all crack a smile here and there right? Especially if we're on a national night show.

I've seen his one and only interview on Thursday Night, which was about five years ago; he had an attitude sharp enough to cut glass. And I? Well, I ruined him. But I didn’t mean to, not like this.

You see, it all started with that Chatter account. The one I made to...experiment. Yeah, experiment. I wasn’t even thinking. It was supposed to be harmless. I was desperate, okay? My followership was tanking, my engagements were going nowhere, and every time I opened my Chatter profile, I watched the numbers drop like flies. Likes, views, comments—gone.

Everything I worked for was slipping away, and nobody cared.

I tried everything—makeup tutorials, fitness challenges, travel blogs (even though I could barely afford a bus ticket to the next town, let alone a flight). None of it worked. So, I started playing around with fake accounts and I created Mallory Ray. I wanted to see what got attention. Which posts blew up and which sank. And then, I posted about Julian West.

It was random, I'd just seen an ad on his new book coming out. I've never read his books, heck, I haven't opened a book in years. But then it sparked an idea, so I did what I did.

The delicious aroma of Heidi's pasta wafts into the room and I sniff into the air like a cartoon character. "Smells good, Heidi! I'm gonna have some."

"I know, right? Don't worry, I've got you."

My phone makes a pinging noise and I grab it. I open Giovanni’s page. My ex. My mistake. He’s at some high-profile fashion show. He's looking like the perfect Ken doll in a designer suit as usual, but I pinch my finger on the screen and slowly widen it to zoom in on the tall, blonde model with legs for days on his arms.

My chest tightens as I scroll through the photos, but I force myself to keep going. This is what I do—torture myself. I tell myself I’m over him, but if that were true, why am I still stalking his page?

Groaning, I toss my phone away and pad over to the kitchen. My head is a chaotic black hole right now— what I've done to Julian, Giovanni, my failing brand— I need to distract myself before I sink into all of it.

Heidi is stirring a simmering sauce in the pot.

"Need help?"

"Not really—" I watch as she adds a sprinkle of paprika and garlic seasoning, "—actually, grab the carrots and cabbage from the fridge. I need them washed and the carrots grated, can you do that?"

I'm beginning to think that I was better off stewing in guilt and self-pity than coming here, I'm suddenly having my hands full.

"Come on, you can do it. Maybe vlog about cooking one of these days? Lots of people are doing it."

I roll my eyes before opening the fridge door. But a vlog isn't a bad idea, right?

As I maul over the thought in my head while rinsing the veggies in the sink, my phone starts to ring.

"Sorry, it might be important," I say to Heidi's disapproving glare and rush to get it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sophie, this is Alisha Bower. We spoke today about your brand?”

“Oh, Alisha! Of course, I remember. Do you have something for me?"

Alisa hums on the other end of the line. "So, I'm attending a literary event this weekend. It’s a perfect networking opportunity. Why don’t we meet there? We can discuss some ideas.”

Literary event? My mind spins for a second. I’m not exactly the type to hang around book readings, but it’s something different. Maybe my followers will appreciate me stepping out of my comfort zone.

“That sounds good,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I’ll be there.”

“Great! Let’s meet around noon. I’ll text you the details.”

Okay, literary event, definitely not my scene, but who cares? Maybe I could vlog the whole thing! Pretend I’m suddenly into books. It’s better than nothing, right?

I can feel a plan developing in my mind already. "New day, new Sophie," I tell myself.

I mean, my followers don’t need to know I’ve never read a book in my life. They just want content. And I need something, anything, to get me back on the map. Maybe if I show off at some artsy event, I’ll draw a new crowd—the intellectual types or whatever.

This could work.

"I know you're not still on that phone!" Heidi yells from the kitchen and I quickly drop my phone on the sofa and return to the kitchen.

"You know you've started to sound like your mom, right?"

Heidi chuckles at that. "I've come to peace with it; I'm no longer fighting it. The other day, I almost hurled my slippers at a teenage girl."

I burst out laughing. "What?"

"Crazy right? I know. Like why are you yelling at your mother, in a public place, causing a scene?"

"No," I gasp.

"Seriously, she called her mom a b***h and that was when I lost it."

I listen to Heidi tell me all about the girl at the mall and I temporarily forget about everything. In that moment, I'm just a girl with her cousin, making dinner.