Online, I had this hot VP boyfriend, six foot three, and I’d get daily ab pics from him to “approve.” So when he suggested we meet up in person, I broke up with him, no hesitation. Because only I knew the truth: my online boyfriend was actually my boss. But just as I swore to keep my identity a secret, I turned around and found myself in his arms. “Please, don’t break up with me?” he pleaded. My boss has been in a foul mood lately. Everyone felt it, and the office turned into a graveyard of productivity, with even fewer people secretly playing games. Ryan, my boss, was working insane overtime, and no one dared to leave before him. So, our workdays stretched to eleven, sometimes midnight. I was constantly exhausted, sporting dark circles, and my skin had even started breaking out. Honestly, I was probably the only one in the entire company who knew why he was so volatile, but I couldn’t spill the beans. Because, well, my boss had just gone through a breakup. And, unfortunately, I was the “ex.” He just didn’t know it yet. It all started when my online boyfriend of two years wanted to meet. We’d met on some random social app. He’d posted a “help me” thread, titled, “Why Can’t I Find a Date?” I clicked on it. The post read: “Male, 6’3″, 165 lbs, 25 years old. Harvard grad, Management and Engineering. Currently a VP at a publicly traded company, seven-figure salary, owns a car and a house, celebrity good looks. Still single. Just wondering, what’s my problem?” The comments section was brutal. “Troll post, confirmed.” “Dude’s living in a fantasy, right? 25, VP at a major company? C’mon, at least make your lies believable.” Just messing around, I commented, “Probably your looks. Post a pic.” Then I exited the thread. A little while later, the poster messaged me privately. “Hey, can I send it privately?” Me: “???” I was confused, but hey, I live for drama. “Sure.” Then, a photo popped up. I choked on my coffee, spraying it all over my desk. Are you kidding me? Six foot three? I’d believe five foot seven! It was a mirror selfie, a third of his face blocked. The weird angle made his head look huge and his body tiny. He wore dorky, black-rimmed glasses, making him look kinda frumpy and, well, short for someone that tall. But I couldn’t deny the face itself. Even half-covered, that jawline, that nose, those eyes – they all screamed one thing: “I’M HOT.” He just looked… vaguely familiar. My inner monologue was screaming, “How can someone this good-looking not even know it?!” But being the helpful soul I am, after zooming in and out like crazy three or four times, I fired off a whole list of suggestions: “You need to learn how to dress and pose for photos! Change the glasses – get rimless ones, or better yet, contacts. Don’t take photos from that angle! Tilt the phone slightly, so the charging port is closer to you. Change your pants, get something more fitted, black maybe…” He replied, “Thank you so much.” After that, I didn’t pay much attention. But the next day, the guy sent me his “homework assignment” based on my advice. I gave him some more pointers, and then he sent another the third day, then the fourth, then the fifth. Just as I was starting to get annoyed, he proactively asked to add me on SnapChat and offered to pay me for my help. Thinking, “only a fool turns down free money,” I gave him my personal account. And then, a familiar profile picture popped up, asking to be my friend. Isn’t that the boss?! My hand twitched, and I accidentally hit “accept.” My heart sank instantly, and I quickly changed my settings to “chat only.” My brain raced, wondering if I’d accidentally linked my personal SnapChat to anything at work. He was “typing…” for what felt like ages, then finally sent: “Thank you so much for all your guidance and help these past few days. Here’s a small token of my appreciation.” Then, a transfer of $7,000 appeared, with the note “voluntary gift.” I froze. I screenshotted it, double-checked the SnapChat ID. No doubt. It was the hot guy from online, and it was definitely my boss. After silently screaming “holy cow” for a solid minute, I shamelessly accepted the money. Whatever. It was my personal account; Ryan had no idea it was me. From then on, I kept helping him improve. He was a quick learner, soon mastering how to show off his natural good looks. But just as I was about to consider my mission accomplished, the dummy confessed his feelings for me. First, there was this ridiculously long message, like a mini-essay I hadn’t written since high school. I skipped straight to the end: “Actually, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I like you.” Me: “…” My silence was deafening. Me: “Oh, thanks so much!” Him: “Huh???” Then: “I really like you!” Me: “I really appreciate it!” Him: “No, I’m serious.” Me: “Yeah, thanks a lot.” My head was throbbing. Is this guy for real? He seemed to pause for a moment, then asked, “No matter what, can you give me a chance to pursue you?” I didn’t reply. That night, I actually had trouble sleeping. The next day, the dummy started sending me daily messages: “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” “Good night,” and things like, “I’m going to work,” “I’m heading out,” “I’ve arrived,” “I’m starting work now,” and so on. Yep, that’s how he tried to win me over. I’d occasionally give him a half-hearted reply, and he’d be over the moon. Things took a turn a month later. I was happily scrolling through hot guys online, and, on impulse, I tried to share a video with my best friend. But my hand slipped, and I sent it to him instead. Me: “Ugh, he’s so hot. I’m obsessed.” Me: “video” Him: “???”
By the time I saw the messages, it was too late to unsend. Even though it’s natural to appreciate beauty, I still felt a little bit guilty. Just then, he sent a message: “You like this kind of thing?” Then, a video. It must have been filmed at the gym. Not exaggerated muscle definition, but well-proportioned, with beautiful V-cut abs winding down, disappearing into his athletic shorts. As for above… Yeah, definitely easy on the eyes! The guy in the video seemed shy; his face was flushed red by the end. My heart fluttered. Me: “Got more? Send ’em over!” Then he shyly sent a few more videos. I admit, I was completely swayed by his good looks. Who knew my boss, Mr. Straight-Laced, was so… well, that in private? How should I put it? It was unexpectedly thrilling. As I was enjoying the view, he suddenly sent another message. “If you agree to be my girlfriend, I’ll record one for you every day. You can watch as much as you want.” Look, everyone’s got their vices. For me, it’s pretty boys. The first three – money, power, fame – meant nothing to me. So, the last one was incredibly tempting. Me: “…Well… I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” It was just an online relationship, after all. Of course, there were conditions. No going public, no matching profile pics, no video calls, and definitely no meeting in person. He wasn’t thrilled, but he agreed. And so, we dated for two years. As he got better at dressing and styling, I got better at enjoying the benefits. He could pull off any look. Just as I thought this blissful routine would continue forever, the dummy suggested we meet. Me: “Didn’t we agree not to meet? Just online dating, nothing real-life.” He sounded genuinely hurt: “I know, I’m sorry. But I really want to see you.” I knew what he was getting at. A couple of days before, I’d gone to my college reunion, and afterward, a former classmate confessed his feelings. I rejected him, and then he started sending me really creepy and gross messages. So, I blasted him on my Ins story. Then blocked and deleted him. Since we were “dating,” my dummy of a boyfriend would have seen it. He clearly wanted to meet up and publicly stake his claim. I knew exactly why I couldn’t meet him, so the answer was an obvious no. After a week of his pestering, I got annoyed and broke up with him. He was totally terrified, deflated like a balloon. My phone showed his call for the nth time. I sighed, flipping it facedown on the desk. Just then, my direct supervisor, Victoria, called my name. “Cassie, can you take this proposal to Ryan?” It was an open secret in the office that Victoria had a crush on Ryan. Normally, she’d jump at any chance to interact with him. But lately, with his foul mood, she’d tried to “comfort” him last time and gotten a humiliating dressing-down. So she wasn’t bothering with that anymore. I winced, forcing a tight smile: “Victoria, that’s a bit of a bypass, isn’t it? Going over my direct manager’s head isn’t ideal.” Ryan was my online boyfriend. While I had his work contact, I’d never actually interacted with him professionally. Plus, this proposal had been dragging on forever, and Ryan was never happy with it. Even on a good day, you’d get ripped apart for it, let alone now. This was clearly Victoria sending me in to take the fall. Victoria rolled her eyes: “Just do it, Cassie. Less talk, more action.” …Fine. Even though I’d practically seen everything there was to see of him online, I was still a total chicken about meeting him in real life. Especially at work, where he was notoriously strict, practically a tyrant. —And totally sharp-tongued. I hesitated for a moment, then pulled out my phone. After I’d broken up with him that day, the dummy had been apologizing non-stop, clearly freaking out. But I hadn’t replied to any of it. I’d just steeled myself to break up with him and hadn’t really checked my phone. Partly because I was scared I’d cave, and partly to teach him a lesson. Meeting in person was out of the question, but breaking up felt right. After thinking it over, I sent a message. “We don’t have to break up, but can you be good? I really don’t like people who don’t keep their promises.” He replied instantly: “Baby, you finally answered me! I know I messed up, I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll never do it again.” Followed by a crying puppy emoji. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The person inside seemed to jump, then cleared their throat. “Come in.” The moment I stepped in, my eyes were drawn to Ryan’s slightly red nose. Had he been crying? Noticing my gaze, he seemed a little embarrassed and tapped his desk. “Proposal? Just put it here. You can go back now.” His temper was noticeably better. Otherwise, he would have totally chewed me out for skipping ranks. A colleague had been fired before for going over their manager’s head. While that colleague also had issues with poor work performance and disobeying assignments, and they did receive severance pay, going over someone’s head is still a huge workplace no-no. But that proposal was still no good; it got sent back. Victoria then dumped it back on my desk. No choice. I had to work overtime to fix it. But, typical, Ryan was in a good mood today and left on time, and since it was Friday, the other colleagues who’d been suffering through endless overtime also bolted early. Soon, it was just me and the receptionist left in the office. But I had no idea how long this proposal would take, so I told the receptionist I’d lock up and turn off the lights, and she left. After who knows how long, I heard the facial recognition scanner at the door activate. I froze, a pang of fear in my chest. I checked the time. It was already ten at night. Who could it be at this hour? All those office horror movies started playing in my head. I was telling myself ghosts aren’t real, while subconsciously holding my breath, too tense to move. A familiar figure approached. When I clearly saw his face, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was Ryan. “Why are you still here alone? Aren’t you going home?” Ryan sounded surprised that I was still working overtime. I silently gritted my teeth: Whose fault do you think it is?! “This proposal is pretty urgent. I’m worried it won’t be viable by tomorrow, so I thought I’d stay late tonight to perfect it.” “Oh, that proposal.” Ryan paused, then actually walked straight towards my desk. “Let me explain it to you in more detail. That way, it’ll be easier to revise.” My heart leaped—because we’d made up, I had to reply to his messages, and I hated constantly checking my phone, so I’d already switched my computer to my personal account. What now? Ryan walked closer. “Open it up, let me see.” My brain spun, and my fingers flew across the keyboard. Just as I thought I’d got it, Ryan said, “Scoot over, I…” “Wait!”
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