This Time It's Real

by Ann Liang

A beautiful sentence will sneak under my skin and crack me open the way a phrase of music might, or a climactic scene from a movie.

There are certain things you simply shouldn’t draw attention to, even if both parties are well aware of the issue. Like a bad acne flare-up.

maybe guys do deserve rights after all???

(and where can I find one??)

People have read it … and actually liked it. My words, my writing, my thoughts. Recognized some piece of themselves in it. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.

Guilt soon worms its way into my chest and I want to scream.

Oh, by the way, I may have treated my personal essay assignment as a creative writing exercise and it somehow went viral and now over a million people think I’ve met the love of my life in Beijing,

something i would do

I could be a Writer, not just someone who writes.

but the distant politeness of it all, compared with the keyboard smashes and emoji spam we used to send one another without thought, only drives another pang through my gut.

Because this—this is everything I’ve ever wanted. I mean, I didn’t even know I wanted it, since I never would’ve dared dream of getting to intern at Craneswift. The publication behind some of the most successful writers in the world.

love this for you girl. when is it my turnnn??

Emily and I will watch pretty much any idol romance featuring a good-looking lead.

real.

This is exactly what I need right now: pure, joyful escapism.

the male lead looks familiar. Very familiar.

ITS CAZZZ

if God were interested in the petty drama of awkward teenagers.

HE ISSS

“Oh my god,” I say, mortified.

He flashes me a grin, and the rarity of it is enough to make me falter, if only for one second.

I can tell he doesn’t understand my reasoning, and I’m not sure how to explain it to him, why I’d much rather show my work to random people on the internet than people who know me in real life,

but then he presses one hand to his mouth, and I realize he’s trying not to laugh. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

HE IS SUCH A MENACE

“So let me get this straight: Now everyone’s rooting for you and this made-up relationship, and you want me to pretend to be the boyfriend from your essay until everything dies down. Is that it?”

“Yes, Eliza,” he says, his voice somber. “I really do think we need a better name.”

I LOVE HIM ALREADY

Threats and forced deals must be the natural way of the world to him.

I feel … something. Something like embarrassment, yet not like it at all.

If this is what being a Working Professional is like, then honestly, no thanks.

My heart is already racing in a mad staccato.

i love writers who write!

He grins then, slow and wide and teasing, and for the first time, I notice that he has dimples. A useless discovery.

“Well, yeah. I’ve never dated anyone before, so …”

They don’t always remember their anniversary or go out to fancy restaurants for dates, but Ma once spent four hours lining up in the rain just to buy Ba’s favorite brand of roasted chestnuts, and Ba has been to every single one of Ma’s work events and cocktail parties, even though he hates those kinds of social functions.

makes nostalgia sneak under my ribs and twist around my heart,

Have you ever thought about being a writer? You’re so freaking good at this.

I never beg anyone for anything.

we'll see about that ;)

“What if I took you?”

“No, but we do. Nobody’s going to believe we’re together if you act like I’m about to kidnap you each time I make a move.”

Then, in the same breath, he says, “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

“You’re still way hotter than my manager.”

Though he’s kind of already ruined that particular experience for me;

in the most conspicuous way possible.

as if it’s perfectly normal that this girl I’ve never spoken a word to hates my guts.

“Whatever you say, my love.”

Writing is simply a form of lying; I’ve always known this to be true. But to tell a good lie, a convincing lie, one that is both logically constructed and consistent and emotionally resonant—that takes time and effort. Attention to detail.

I’d probably like you a lot more if you weren’t so perfect.

I have to fight this strange, abrupt urge to trace my fingers over the scar, just to see if it still hurts. To see if he would let me.

the smile that made all his costars and viewers fall at least a little bit in love with him—and

but this—this right here, stringing words together to mean something—is my element. This, I could do all day for the rest of my life.

Or maybe he’s only acting this way in case someone else is watching, just to make it look more like a date. And to make himself look more considerate.

STOP SELF SABOTAGING BABE

He waves his free hand. “Anything for my fake girlfriend.” A brief, inexplicable pain fills my chest, like my heart has snagged on a stray piece of barbed wire.

A ridiculous, self-satisfied smile spreads slow over his lips like honey. “Of course. Anything for my nonfan.” My face heats. “When are you going to let that go?” “When you join my fan club.” “So: never,” I say flatly. “Don’t sound so certain”

“And you say you don’t have any experience with this stuff,” Caz remarks after a pause, his tone casual.

how his hand is still moving slowly over my skin, his touch warmer and lighter than the summer air.

A needle of guilt pricks my stomach at the thought.

“You like me too much.”