anonymous online relationship was my safe haven from a world t
He was a bestselling author, and his p
" he wrote. "I can't
d it. The next morning, my boss ordered me to deliver files to our company's top client-the
he treated me like a stranger. I later found out the truth: he' d
for revenge. She forced me into a dinner with a dangerous man from my
n my phone, realizing this was no longer about sa
pte
Perkin
th a man I've never met. A man I only know a
age that made my stoma
o a book tour. Across the
This was our one rule. The only rul
ow we can'
an't do this wit
frantic, trapped bird. I typed the wo
ybe we shou
ed, then appeared again. The silen
supposed to be. It wa
owing monitor. My online persona, 'Pixel_Perfect,' was everything I wasn' t in real life: sharp, witty, and unafraid. My real life was a care
bestselling crime author, blew up my quiet world wi
for help, disguise
st author headshot for review. They claim it is 'intimidating.' I write novels about
the forum lit up. Most of the comments were from star-struck fa
were
site. Cristian Lancaster had the kind of face that belonged on a Roman statue-sharp jaw, high cheekbon
ly. His arms were crossed so tightly over his chest they looked like they were part of his ribcage. His jaw was clenched, and hi
branding
efore I could second-guess myself, my
.' You' ve crossed it. Your posture is screaming 'defensive,' and your expression says you' d rather be undergoing a root canal. You need to l
f adrenaline and terror. I had just sassed one
message notification popped
as... blunt. And accura
y my online bravado, came roaring back. But this
jaw. You' re going to crack a tooth. Third, think about something that doesn' t involve disme
image appeared in our chat. It w
: Be
ean against a bookshelf. Look slightly away from the camera, as if you' ve just been interrupted from
t director. I was ruthless, direct, and completely in my element. He was a surprisi
oft light catching the sharp planes of his face. His expression was still serious, but the tension was gone. H
e. That' s your mi
. I would like to compe
rom my payment app lit up my screen. "
od ran
an Lan
n. It wasn' t an alias. It wasn' t a pseu
me, Kiana Perkins, and frantically set everything to private. My portfolio, my old college photos, my sparse personal posts-all hidden aw
eem to noti
ce was more valuable than anythin
ore money than I made in a month. With a deep, shaky breath, I accepted the payment and t
book covers, website design, and social media strategy. And somewhere
shared love for old movies, rainy days, and a mutual disdain for crowded places. He was nothing like his intimidating public ima
he company of pixels to people. I was the only person w
aily chats, he sent a messa
r messages more than I look forward to writing. This is.
structed digital
or a witty avatar and a good eye
mor. I know how you see the world. Tha
. constant. He started sending good morning messages every day, without fail. He' d send pictures of
abic replies. "Morning
him that my resolve began to crumble. He was like a big, lonely g
link to a video on non-v
g. Real-life awkwardness just makes people think you' re a ser
don' t u
He was hopeless. And I was, against all my
-