I Fell for Her Boyfriend Online

In my third year, as the young Mrs. Lackey, her family told her to win over her arranged marriage match. She shoved her Instagram at me and made me chat with him in her place, "If you screw this up, you're dead. "So I gritted my teeth and racked my brain every day for all kinds of sweet nothings, I chatted with Chase Merritt like this for three months, and he grew more and more proactive. Until one day, he messaged my own account asking me to help pass a gift along to the young man. I replied on reflex, "Okay, thanks babe. " The other end went silent. By the time I was actually awake, I remembered his message. I opened my phone to check where he'd left the gift, went back to the thread, clicked in, clicked out, did it three more times, hands unsteady like the answer was going to change. It didn't. I'd replied from my personal account, already past the delete window. After my message, Chase hadn't responded the way he usually did—no warmth, no patience, just a question mark. I ran through every possible excuse. Discarded most of them, finally landed on the one that might actually hold. Sorry, wrong chat. Meant to send that to a friend. I'll grab the gift now. Chase didn't push it, just replied, "Okay, thanks. " I exhaled, switched to Vivienne's account. His messages there had a completely different tone. Babe, I'm on my way back. Can we talk about making things official when I get back? The breath I'd just let out got stuck in my throat all over again.

I started working for Vivian Ashford freshman year. Her family paid me to manage her online presencecaptions, comment sections, dating app conversations. I needed the money for Grandma's medical bills. It was that simple. Three months ago, Vivian's mother started pushing her toward Chase Merritt. Their families had known each other for years. Mrs. Ashford had made it clear the connection mattered. Vivian was told to make him like her. Chase was traveling. Vivian messaged him herself. Three days from a backup account, he didn't bite. Vivian had never had someone just not respond to her. It clearly didn't sit right. The account wasn't her main one anyway, so she shoved the login at me. Screw this up and you're done. I took the phone, kept my job, started every morning the same waylying in bed, scrolling Chase's grid, thinking about what angle to try. Slowly, his replies got longer; he started responding within minutes, he started asking questions back. Three months passed. Now Chase was coming back to talk about next steps. Almost over, one way or another.

I put together a document that afternoon, every preference I picked up on food allergies, what made him go quiet, what made him actually respond. Then I went downstairs, grabbed the gift, and walked over to Vivian's apartment. She was on the couch, a few other gift boxes stacked beside her. Inside was a small, limited edition Jellycat bunny, the London collaboration drop long sold. out That's it, a stuffed animal? I mentioned liking rabbits at some point, so he sent that. You deal with it next time. Tell him I'm into jewelry, diamonds. Got it? Okay, he's coming back soon about the account. Maybe it's better if you handle it yourself from here. Her DMs are packed, scrolling suitors plural. I've got enough going on; you keep handling Chase. Look through this before you see him, it matters Yeah, yeah, you worry too much.

A few days later, Chase was back. Vivian brought me along to his welcomeback dinner. I carried her bag. We were almost at the door when her phone rang. She waved me inside and stepped aside to take the call. I pushed the door open. Before I could see anything, someone took the bag from my hand. A second later, fingers closed around mine. You wore the bag I gave you Good girl I'd heard that voice through a phone for three months, hearing it in the same room was different. He registered what he was seeing, stepped back, let go, he muttered something under his breath "Sorry, wrong person. "Vivian appeared in the doorway "Why are you just standing there? "Chase's expression reset, waiting for you.