Little White Lies.

Zacky never thought much of the dating websites anymore. They seemed to him to be another way to pass the time other than alcohol. With the TV droning on in the background, he laid his Apple Macbook on his lap and prepared for another lonely evening with the dogs and hordes of voiceless, desperate women on the glowing screen.

Fingers clicking and eyes flicking between both screens filled with nothing but distractions from daily life, Zacky absently took a sip of coffee. He’d acquired the taste for the bitter black liquid long ago whilst Avenged were just starting out. Red Bull was too sweet for the early mornings, whereas coffee settled his mind somehow.

Eveline Jones.

Something caught his emerald eye. Peering over the top of his wide blue ceramic mug, the corners of his orbs pinched together curiously. The name sung to him almost, made him stop and look at the petite brunette on the screen.

Her skin was pale, soft. Her eyes were stunning and blue and her hair was long, braided over to one side as a gentle fringe lay across her brows, sweeping downwards towards her ears as tendrils of hair wisped down to frame her cheeks. Pink lips twitched into a shy smile.

The mug clinked as it was placed down on the glass side table – uncaring of the placemat set down to stop stains claiming the surface. Zacky cleared his throat, hoping some clarity in his body would help settle his mind.

“Creative, country grown Welsh woman,” he liked that, she was a ‘woman’ not a ‘girl’, “Freelance writer and journalist for big and small publications. Currently working as the editor for a soon-to-be fresh-off-the-press magazine. ”

She sounded different, driven, grounded. Something new.

Zacky wasn’t sure what to make of this high-flying journalist. His rockstar-side suggested anxiety, journalists were slimy, dangerous people not to be close to. But his average-Joe-side suggested excitement, journalists were creatives like him, people who couldn’t be held by a ball and chain. Zacky liked the idea of not being the only successful one in the relationship – longed for someone to be his equal, not his subtraction.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the letter shaped button in the corner of the screen. As the message boxes flicked up, his heart stopped beating. His lungs burning and heart beating at an unhealthy spasm, he palm-sweatedly typed.

“Hello…”



“Ugh, carbs? Seriously?”

Patricia stared down her nose at the sleek desk – glass, obviously – where a bowl of pasta sat, steaming with soft tendrils of evaporated water rising upwards. A fork stabbed subconsciously into the dish, scooping up the spicy tomato dish with chunks of mouth-watering mince and moved to lie between two full lips.

“Jealous?” Evie grinned, chewing. She didn’t even look away from the oversized screen.

Patricia sniffed, shoving carbon dioxide from her nostrils at a head-spinning speed that made her almost look like an angered bull. Twisting her lollipop-stick frame, she pushed herself away from the much shorter woman and paraded down the room, hips sashaying to the rhythm of her heels.

“EVELINE!”

Evie sighed. Pinching the arch of her nose, she rose from the desk chair and hung her head for a moment. Her fringe was tickling her nose, causing it to subconsciously scrunch. Evie patted down her outfit, straightening out over her too-large chest.

She’d never been happy with her body. Her shoulders were too broad, her hips were too wide, her stomach was never as flat as she wished with a soft roll only truly visible when she wore skin tight clothing. Her thunder-thighs as she called them caused her to cringe when she walked as she could feel the cellulite wobble under the pressure of her frame. No, she was never happy with her body.

“Eveline, come here at this instant.”

Red stilettos clicked as she stammered a walk into the plush office. Nervously stuttering up to the desk, Evie smiled but kept her eyes down on the glass surface immaculately kept. A pot for this, a drawer for that, place for this and home for that.

Meryl glared. “Where is my coffee?”

“Martin has gone to-“

“He’s late. Tell him to hurry up. And phone Yves…”

Evie nodded to each command, folding her hands into one another and obediently listened to her master. She knew it would do her well to work here, to do the menial tasks set by the editor in chief of a high-end magazine. She knew that her dreams of authorship and creative mastery were within arm’s reach.

“Ok, Ms Hampstead,” Evie said softly. “I’ll get right on it.”

“See that you do. Out, now.” Meryl waved a wraith-like hand towards her assistant.

When Evie came to sit down at her desk again, a feeling of dread came over her. She didn’t want to have to munch through yet another lunch break to appease her boss. But what form of rebellion could she cause without losing her job?

An idea pinpricked her mind and before she could control her fingers, they were typing out the website.

A bold number splashed itself over her inbox link. It stared at her, willing her to open the online box of messages from creepers and spammers. She’d been avoiding it for a couple of days since the drunken night of typing little white lies – what harm could they cause? After all, it was just practice.
Gulping down some cooled-off tea she’d grown accustomed to drinking since working here, Evie bit down her trepidation and opened the inbox. As confirmed, there were the creeps, the spams and the time-wasters, but there was one or two that caught her eye.

Clicking on a message from a ‘ZeeVee66’, Evie narrowed her eyes to view the text. It began simply enough with a sweet greeting of “Hellos” and “I saw your profile and had to say somethings”. But something caught her off-guard. Something about the dark haired, light-eyed gentleman seemed familiar, yet so normal.

He seemed so down-to-earth, nice and genuine. A musician with an interest in clothing designs and dogs sounded like the normality she needed, the interesting but, not too interesting, profile that she hoped wasn’t a cat-fisher.

Evie scanned the toolbar of the IM and saw a little blue dot next to his name, signalling he wasn’t online at the moment. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that she would defy her boss’ rules of no personal interactions in the office during working hours.

With a sigh, Evie clicked the reply button and hastily typed a message to confirm a time she would be available to chat before closing the tab down as quickly as she could for fear of Patricia ratting her out.

Once in the safe zone, Evie grinned. A trickle of excitement ran down her spine as she thought of the man on her screen. But she knew it wouldn’t go far.

After all, it was just practice.