The Lie That Made Me Love You

Chapter 3: When Worlds Collide

Julian

I should be home.

That’s the only thought pounding through my head as I stand here, trapped in this god-awful literary event.

The dim lighting, the sound of chatter, and the low hum of classical music are all grating on my nerves. I’ve been forced into a suit—a suit, for Christ’s sake—and now I’m expected to parade around, shaking hands and pretending to care about people who only know me as the guy who’s supposedly now a monster.

Henry, my manager, is a few feet away, talking to some woman. His smile’s too wide. Probably convincing her that dragging me here was a brilliant idea. I watch him, arms crossed, my back stiff with irritation. He waves at me, motioning for me to come over.

I hate this.

I take a deep breath, force my feet to move, and make my way over. I can already feel the buzz of the press in the room. It’s like being surrounded by sharks and I can feel their beady little eyes waiting for blood. One wrong word, and they’ll tear me apart.

“Julian,” Henry says, clasping my shoulder like he’s my best buddy. “This is Alisha. She’s a PR expert and a friend of mine. She’s been following your work for years and—”

“I’m good at what I do,” Alisha interrupts, her eyes gleaming with confidence. “I can help you turn this thing around.”

I stare at her, unblinking. I’m not in the mood for this. “I don’t need help.”

“Your image says otherwise,” she fires back, not missing a beat. I have to give her credit for that. “You want to keep your career afloat? You’ll listen to me.”

Henry chuckles nervously, shooting her a glance that screams tone it down. “What Julian means is, we’re definitely considering all options—”

“No, I meant what I said,” I cut in. “I don’t need to convince anyone of anything. Especially not a bunch of people who don’t know me, but are perfectly happy to believe a lie.”

Alisha purses her lips, clearly unfazed. “Well, I’ll be here if you change your mind. And trust me, you will.”

I bite back a retort, just as I hear the sound of camera flashes. My jaw tightens. Here they come—the press, circling around me like vultures. One of them, a smarmy-looking guy with a dorky face and a voice like nails on a chalkboard, pushes his way to the front.

“Julian, what do you have to say about the accusations that you insulted a fan? Called her fat, specifically. Care to comment?”

I stare at him, my blood starting to boil. “I never called anyone fat,” I say in a low voice, hoping it’ll shut him and the rest of his chums up.

“But the claim is out there,” another reporter jumps in. “People are upset. Doesn’t it bother you that your fans might see you as—”

"My fans? The same fans who have no problem believing a random comment some troll posted online?” I bark. It all comes gushing out now. “Why the hell would I care about their outrage when they’re too lazy to figure out the truth?”

“Julian, maybe we should—” Henry begins to say, his voice strained.

“I’m done,” I snap, my glare still fixed on the reporters. “If people want to be idiots, that’s their problem, not mine.”

There’s a stunned silence. Then, like a match striking gasoline, the press explodes into a frenzy of more questions. I see the look on Henry’s face—absolute horror.

Great. Just great.

Before I can walk away, another reporter shouts, “Is this how you always handle criticism? By insulting people?”

I open my mouth, ready to retort, but Henry grabs my arm and practically pulls me aside. “Julian, for God’s sake, stop talking.”

I yank my arm away from him, the frustration pulsing through me like a second heartbeat. I don’t care what they think. I don’t care about their damn questions. But I know Henry does, and I can feel his disappointment radiating off him in waves.

I’m about to tell him to take me home when something else catches my attention—a small commotion by the main stage.

"Uhm, excuse me please," Alisha says as she hurriedly walks like a woman on a mission; Alisha to the rescue.

There’s a woman standing by the red carpet looking completely lost. She’s holding a microphone, and someone from the press is asking her a question about the event.

From the way she's smiling uneasily, it’s clear she has no idea what to say. Another person faking. She’s floundering, her face turning red as she stammers out some vague nonsense. It’s painful to watch, so I turn away.

"Can we leave now?" Henry says nothing to me, but from the looks of it, we're not leaving soon. I just hope he doesn't think up another brilliant idea that involves me apologizing because I might end up punching his face.

I hear Alisha's voice and I watch as she speaks into the mic, smoothly redirecting the conversation. The audience relaxes, and the woman sighs in relief.

When they step off the stage, Alisha leads the woman—who, by the way, looks vaguely familiar—over to me and Henry.

“Julian, Henry, this is Sophie Barnes. She’s a social media influencer, you might have heard of her” Alisha says, a hint of amusement in her voice. “She’s here to…expand her brand, I believe.”

Sophie looks up at me, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. Why does she look like she's about to faint? I thought influencers are supposed to be confident and all that crap.

There’s something about her face, like I’ve seen it before, but I can’t place it.

I offer a nod, though I don’t care about meeting influencers or whatever else this event is trying to throw at me. All I want is to get out of here before I make things even worse.

Henry, still pale from my earlier outburst, shakes her hand. “Sophie, it’s great to meet you. Julian and I were just...discussing next steps.”

Next steps? I almost laugh. The only step I’m taking is toward the exit. And the sooner, the better. I'm about to say this out loud but Alisha beats me to it.

"I have it!" She exclaims and her eyes are gleaming like she has just discovered how to teleport me back home. "It's going to work. Oh, I know it's going to work."

She's looking at me and the new person…what did she say her name was again? Well, Alisha is looking at us in a very strange way.

"If this does not help you both, I don't know what will."

"What are you saying?" I sound as impatient as I feel.

"Sophie, you need more audience engagement, right?" The woman looks unsure but she nods her head, yes.

"And you, Julian. You need your fans to love you again."

"I don't need—"

"Yes, he does," Henry interrupts me with a cold stare.

"So, they need to see another side of you…a softer side. Dare I say, a romantic side."

I'm not following. What does an allegation have to do with being romantic?

Alisha clasps her hands together. "Both of you get married!" She exclaims.