Ryan and Liam Novel The Eight-Inch Lie

I decided to fly across two states to surprise my online boyfriend.

Instead, I got the surprise, hiding behind a plastic ficus at a loud sports bar, listening to him talk to his friends.

What good is a hot voice if she won't even send a real picture? he said, his voice dripping with scorn. She's probably a total dog.

A wave of laughter.

If that campus queen hadn't curved me, I wouldn't be wasting my time sliding into some randos DMs.

And get this, he continued, on top of being ugly, she's thirsty as hell. Demanded I send a pic to 'verify the goods' before we even met.

One of his friends snickered. No way. You actually send one?

My boyfriendRyanlet out a smug grunt. Yeah. But it wasn't mine. It was Liam's.

A collective Whoa went around the table.

Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?

Dead serious. Why would I lie about that?

Ryan took a drag from his vape, blowing a cloud of sickly-sweet smoke toward the ceiling. Liam's a real one. Knew I didn't want to send my own, so he volunteered to be my, like my dating stand-in.

A beat of silence, then the table erupted in howling laughter.

I laughed, too, a silent, bitter thing. I'd heard of stunt doubles, body doubles. A dating stand-in was a new one.

Three minutes. That's all I needed. Three minutes, and I was going to find out everything about this man.

1

I was a good girl.

Sweet, considerate, polite.

Optimistic, cheerful, a diligent student.

Yeah, right.

That was the character I played for my parents and their friends. The real me

I was rebellious and sharp-tongued, with a mind that ran wild. I held a grudge like it was a winning lottery ticket, and you really didn't want to get on my bad side.

And I was hungry.

In every sense of the word.

The summer after high school graduation was a blur of scrolling through TikTok, my thumb swiping past an endless buffet of beautiful men. Lean athletes, sunny-faced pretty boys, cold, brooding grad studentsall of them liked, all of them saved to a private collection.

Looking turned into wanting. Wanting turned into doing.

So, I got myself a boyfriend online.

Ryan. A year older, already in college. According to his profile, he was six-foot-two, with shoulders you could build a house on and abs so defined you could do laundry on them.

And most importantly: eight inches.

Finding a guy like that felt like winning the jackpot. I was on cloud nine.

The craziest part? He went to the same university Id just been accepted to. It felt like fate, like the universe was writing us a love story.

He, of course, had no idea.

I kept it a secret, planning a huge surprise for the first week of school. To maintain the mystery, I never sent him a single photo that showed my face. Just artsy shots of my hands, my shadow, the back of my head.

This drove him crazy. He'd whine over the phone, his voice all pouty, saying I wasn't being real with him.

His hometown was just a short bus ride from mine, less than an hour away.

So, after weeks of him complaining, I decided to close the distance myself.

2

To his credit, Ryan was great about giving me a sense of security. Hed check in constantly, even sending me the name of the bar where he was hanging out with his friends.

It saved me the trouble of having to trick it out of him.

I followed the GPS on my phone, the pulsing blue dot leading me straight to a crowded sports bar called The Dugout. Dozens of tables were crammed onto a sticky patio, but I spotted him instantly.

He was even better-looking in person.

It was the height of summer, and the air was thick and hot. A warm breeze blew across the patio, and I could feel my cheeks flush. I took a deep breath, ready to walk over.

Thats when I heard it.

Ryan slammed his beer mug on the table, his expression a mask of derision. What good is a hot voice if she won't even send a real picture? She's probably a total dog!

My feet froze to the pavement. The blush on my cheeks evaporated, replaced by an icy chill.

Then he kept going. It's just for fun, anyway. If the campus queen hadn't curved me, I wouldn't be wasting my time.

And get this, he said, leaning in conspiratorially, on top of being ugly, she's thirsty as hell. Demanded I send her a pic.

I bit my lip, my fists clenching at my sides. He was the one who bragged about his size, asking me if I wanted to see. Of course I said yes. Who wouldn't? But now, in his version of the story, I was the desperate one.

Amid the jeers, someone asked the question. No way. You actually send one?

Ryan grunted, a smirk playing on his lips. Yeah. But it wasn't mine. It was Liam's.

A chorus of dude, no way filled the air.

Your roommate? The guy you said was packing, like, eight inches? For real?

Ryan nodded. Dead serious. Why would I lie? He took another swig of beer. Liam's a real one. Saw I didnt want to do it and offered to be my, uh my dating stand-in.

The table was quiet for a second, processing this, before they all burst into roaring laughter. I can't even! So, this whole time, she thinks she's talking to you, but she's really getting off on you plus one other thing?

Another round of hoots and hollers.

Ryans brow furrowed. It's not a 'relationship.' It's just messing around. She's basically a puppy on a leash. The second the semester starts, I'm ghosting her ugly ass.