Chapter 1: Mic On, Secrets Out

I'm everyone's favorite useless pretty face online, and after my livestream ended, I totally spaced and forgot to turn off my mic. Next thing you know, I started ranting to my friend about bombing the straight-line section of my third DMV road test.

Behind me, my friend couldn't help but tease, her voice dripping with mischief. "So you just can't keep it straight?" she snorted, barely holding back a laugh.

I let out a long, exhausted sigh and slumped back in my chair. "Hey, what can I say? I'm bent. I admit it."

Wait, what? Suddenly, an Oscar winner confesses to me, and a rising indie star openly declares her love. The trending topics blow up. My phone's buzzing so much it might just launch itself off the table.

I'm everyone's favorite useless pretty face online.

Online critics roast me, saying I've got the looks but no talent, zero emotional intelligence, nothing else—just a pretty face and that's it.

Yeah, those words sting, but I've never bought into them. People online love to judge, but they don't know the real me.

I think they're wrong. I know I'm smart—I just don't go around flaunting it.

At least, that's what I thought. But today? Today I actually started to doubt my own intelligence. There's something about public humiliation that makes even the most stubborn ego start to wobble.

I stared blankly at my phone, mindlessly scrolling through the never-ending flood of comments and memes.

Savannah Ross came up behind me and glanced at my screen. She couldn't hold back a laugh—the sound bubbled out of her like a shaken soda can.

Catching my death-glare, she immediately switched it up, raising her brows. "Failed your third driving test again, huh?" Her tone was gentle, but her eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement.

I locked my phone and tossed it aside. Then I started flipping through a thick stack of reality show scripts, getting more and more irritated. I needed somewhere to dump the frustration. The pages crinkled under my fingers, each one feeling heavier than the last.

So I turned my head and looked at Savannah, who was sitting nearby, with my best puppy-dog eyes. "Savannah, are all these reality show scripts for me? Can I turn them down? Everyone online is calling me a reality show queen."

Savannah looked up at me, her gaze sincere. "Honey, the internet's not wrong. That's what you are these days, babe!" She gave me a half-smirk, but her voice was soft enough to take the edge off.

I just stared at her, speechless.

I slid down and curled up on the couch, letting out a dramatic wail: "But I don't want to be a reality show queen! I want to join a drama cast. I want to act. I want to prove myself. Why does nothing go my way lately?" My voice echoed through the living room, dramatic enough for a Broadway audition.

She glanced at me, a weird little smile tugging at her lips. "Want to prove yourself? Do you know what people online said about your last series that just aired?" She was scrolling through her phone, thumb moving with practiced speed.

I fell silent. The air in the room got thick and heavy.

She wasn't about to let me off the hook. She pulled out her phone and started reading me some comments:

[Oh my god, Riley Lane's acting still hasn't improved! Her expressions are all over the place. What's the point of being pretty if she's just a pretty face?]

[Please, Riley's team, do something about her acting. I fell for her face, I'm a fan of her looks, but if her acting stays like this, I might have to unfollow.]

The more I listened, the more deflated I got. Desperate times. I grabbed a Hershey's bar and let the chocolate melt away what was left of my dignity.

She spoke earnestly, but with a sly little grin: "You know why I keep booking you on reality shows? Because, aside from acting classes, they're actually the fastest way to train your acting and emotional intelligence. Besides, if you can survive reality TV, you can survive anything."

I blinked, my eyes clearing a bit. "Okay, fair point. How's that work, exactly?"

She grinned, knowing she'd hooked me. "Do I even need to explain emotional intelligence? Every moment is a test of your people skills. And on reality shows, even if you run into someone you can't stand, you still have to smile and be polite—if that's not acting, what is?"

I stroked my chin, trying to look thoughtful, even though my mouth was still half-full of chocolate. "Wow, didn't expect you to make sense."

She beamed, gave my shoulder a friendly pat, and said, "Hey, there's a livestream with your drama cast tonight. Go do your makeup and get ready." She nudged me with a teasing smile, but there was a hint of pride in her eyes.

I nodded, then suddenly realized—

Did she just out-logic me? Seriously?

Not long after I finished my makeup, I started the livestream with the cast. The chat was brutal. The energy? Tense. Every minute felt like an hour, and my nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

My assistant kept shooting me frantic looks all the way until the end. She looked like she was praying we'd make it through without a meltdown.

The second the camera went off, I collapsed into my chair. "God, making money is tough. And some things are even tougher." I massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming on.

She handed me a water bottle. "Drink up, there's honey in it. It'll help your throat." Her eyes were kind, but her lips were pressed tight with worry.

I gulped down several big swigs and let out a satisfied sigh. The sweetness coated my throat, soothing some of the rawness left by hours of fake smiles and forced laughter.

She looked at me and said, "Riley, you shouldn't have argued with Mason just now. He was helping you out with Harper and Taylor. You could've just let it go—you didn't have to snap at him."

I frowned, feeling my annoyance rise. "I just can't stand him. On set, he uses his popularity to lure girls into bed, pretends to be a good guy, but he's rotten to the core. Just being around him makes me sick." My voice was low and bitter, the words sour in my mouth.

"Jeez, girl, you can say that stuff to us, but don't ever say it outside!" She wagged a finger at me, half-joking, half-dead serious.

I glanced at my phone and waved her off. "I know, I know. Oh, my friend's here—can you let him up?" I tossed my phone onto the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a new message.

A moment later, Jordan Miles's voice called from the door: "What's up, Riley? Heard you bombed the driving test again? Still can't nail the straight-line part?" His tone was teasing, but there was that easy warmth behind it.

Leaning back on the couch, I turned to him, my eyes watery, and nodded. "Honestly, I just can't get past that part!" I tried to laugh it off, but it came out more like a whimper.

He raised an eyebrow, giving me a sly smile. "So you just can't keep it straight?"

I was about to answer when the double meaning hit me. My cheeks flushed, and I tossed a pillow at him.

We'd known each other for years, and we both knew where we stood, so I just rolled my eyes. "Yep, I'm bent. I admit it." I grinned, leaning into the joke.

He burst out laughing. "It's late anyway—want me to take you out and practice driving?" He jingled his keys, already halfway to the door.

Before he could finish, my assistant came running in, panicked. "Riley, your mic was still on! Everything you just said went out live!" Her face was pale, eyes wide with horror.

My heart stopped. The tiny black mic on my chest might as well have been waving at me. I froze for two seconds, then looked down at it, feeling like the universe had just made me the butt of the joke.

All I could think was: I'm toast.

I quickly turned off and yanked out the mic, then looked up at my assistant. We stared at each other, both helpless and defeated. The silence stretched, thick as wet cement.

Jordan came over, confused. "Wait, what happened? You guys were livestreaming just now?" He looked from me to my assistant, trying to piece it together.

I let out a weak sigh, my eyes brimming with tears. "That's it, Jordan. My showbiz career is toast." I tried to sound dramatic, but my voice cracked halfway through.

He patted my shoulder. "Look on the bright side. Being an influencer isn't so bad." He winked, trying to lighten the mood.

I gave him a half-hearted smile. "You always have the weirdest ways of cheering me up. Thanks, I think."

Savannah called almost immediately.

I tossed my phone to my assistant like it was a hot potato, groaning, "You answer. I can't face her right now." In my head: please, universe, let me hide.

My assistant looked miserable. "I don't want to answer either." She held the phone away from her like it might bite.

After a standoff, she finally picked up, bracing herself. "Hello?"

With me watching anxiously, she let out a long breath, relaxed, and handed me the phone with a smile. "Savannah wants you."

I swallowed hard, hands shaking as I put her on speaker. "Hello, Savannah."

Savannah's booming voice nearly blew out my eardrums. "Riley Lane! I have one night off and you manage to create a mess this big! You finish the livestream and forget to turn off your mic. Running your mouth—what were you thinking?!"

I squeezed in a weak protest. "I didn't mean to..."

"'Didn't mean to' doesn't cut it! Do you know Mason has twice as many fans as you?! I told you, some things we keep to ourselves. Stuff like that happens all the time in showbiz—why are you dumb enough to say everything out loud?"

I didn't dare make a sound. My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear her.

My assistant scrolled through her phone, then looked at me, face complicated. "Riley, you're trending."

My heart was already in tatters. I replied numbly, "Whatever. I figured I'd end up trending. Just help me draft my classy retirement post, okay?" I tried to sound cool, but my hands were shaking.

"No, this trending topic... it's kinda weird."

"How weird could it be? It's just fans from every camp coming after me, right?"

She handed me her phone. "Riley, take a look."

I took it and stared. My jaw nearly hit the floor. The world felt like it had tilted sideways.

In no time, nearly all the top ten trending topics were about our livestream, and most of them were about me.

Stuff like Riley Lane's low emotional intelligence, Riley and Mason, Riley's acting—all normal. The usual internet vultures circling.

#RileyLaneForgotToTurnOffMic

#MasonSleptWithFansOnSet

#RileyLaneSpreadingRumorsGetOutOfShowbiz

Those I was ready for. But then came the real shockers.

#RileyLaneNotSoStraight

#TaylorReedConfessesToRiley

#HarperJamesLovesRiley

#RileyLaneTaylorReedHarperJamesLoveTriangle

Me: "?"

Savannah hung up to start crisis management, hoping to get me through this. Her texts started rolling in seconds later, all business, no fluff.

I stared at the trending topics, totally lost. My mind was a blank screen.

To figure out what was going on, I clicked in. My hands were trembling so much I almost dropped the phone.

Honestly, PR teams move faster than I do on a sugar rush. They had the whole timeline laid out clearer than my own life plan. Every twist, every quote, every awkward pause—immortalized in screenshots and hashtags.

After my open-mic moment admitting I was bent, both Harper James and Taylor Reed immediately posted on Instagram.

Taylor Reed: [Y'all better stop picking on her. I like her, so I pretended not to get along just to get her attention.]

Harper James: [Riley might not be the best at acting, but I'll help her improve. Give her time to grow.]

Her fans commented: [Wait, is that a confession?]

She replied, all mysterious: [She's my little guppy. Don't come for her.]

I sat back, head spinning. This was a whole new level of chaos.

If my memory was right, during the livestream, Taylor had said, "Riley, are you following the show too? Got any insights?"

Not only did that embarrass me, it set off the chain reaction between me and Mason. The dominoes just kept falling. And honestly? I was the last one standing.

And even though Harper had spoken up for me, we barely knew each other—why was she acting so close? The whole thing felt surreal.

Jordan, sitting next to me, saw the screenshots too. We both went silent. He just shook his head, as if to say, 'Only you, Riley.'

My assistant started refreshing the trending topics again, raising her voice: "Riley, you're trending again!"

I replied weakly, "What now?"

"Girls who got fooled by Mason are coming forward—several of them. He's getting totally exposed."

"What?"

Suddenly energized, I refreshed the trending list. Sure enough, Mason's scandal was blowing up. The app even started giving me network errors from all the traffic. Guess that's one way to break the internet.

Jordan clicked his tongue. "No wonder he's top-tier. Look at that—crashed the app."

I felt complicated. Relief, guilt, vindication, and a weird kind of hope all tangled together.

All I could think was, if I was right about him, maybe I didn't have to retire after all?

Savannah called again.

Her voice was no longer angry, but cheerful. "Little Guppy?" The nickname made me choke on my own spit. (Apparently, that's what Harper calls me now.)

I coughed out a laugh. "Savannah, please don't tease me."

She chuckled, then got serious. "I checked—turns out, what you said about Mason isn't even a problem anymore."

I was confused. "Wait, you weren't the one who leaked the stuff about Mason?"

Even through the phone, I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Me? If I had that kind of network, you'd already be an A-lister."

She had a point. I let out a shaky laugh.

She paused, then continued, "By the way, a producer just reached out about a new reality show for you. I think, since you have all this buzz, you should go for it."

Hearing I didn't have to retire and had work lined up, I was over the moon. I bounced around the room, yelling like a maniac. I didn't care if I looked ridiculous—relief felt too good.

Before I could ask, she cut to the chase: "It's a dating show."

My wild excitement screeched to a halt. I had a bad feeling. Dating shows were a whole new brand of chaos.

"A dating show? Who else is on it?"

She sounded even happier. "Of course, Harper James and Taylor Reed are both in."

I racked my brain for an excuse. "Savannah, maybe I should skip this one. Harper just won Best Actress, and Taylor is the hottest new star—why would they want to do a dating show with me?"

"They're both confirmed. Just waiting for your answer."

...

Suddenly I felt like a lamb being shoved onto the stage—and I was the prettiest lamb in the slaughterhouse. The visual made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Not giving me a chance to refuse, Savannah signed me up for the show.

She says having two stunners fight over me is an honor.

I strongly disagreed. But I was outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

"I'm not bad-looking myself. Isn't it normal to be liked?"

She looked me up and down. I straightened my back, trying to act superior, but she just snorted. "Sweet summer child."

I smiled. Who would understand? Sometimes, being alone really is tough. The smile didn't quite reach my eyes.