"Seriously?" I asked, feeling curiosity tugging at me. She responded with unwavering confidence, "Yes! My name's Amaru, and I've had my eyes on you for a while now, give me your number!" Her voice was vibrant, echoing her determination. As she held out her phone, the screen illuminated her excitement, urging me to connect. This sudden attention bewildered me. Why this sudden interest? I gently touched the phone, but hesitated before taking it. I needed to understand. Facing directly into her eyes, "Why me?" I questioned, trying to grasp the reasoning behind her pursuit. Her response caught me off guard, "You're the cutest boy in the school, even with your new clothing style. Now give me it!"
Her compliment felt unexpected, and her assertiveness was both flattering and a bit overwhelming. I glanced at her, taking in her short red hair that framed her face exquisitely, a rebellious fashion sense that somehow amplified her allure. There was something intriguing about her. I hesitated, contemplating whether to share my number. After all, she did come to my aid, and she was undeniably captivating.
With a sigh, I conceded. "Fine." I took the phone and keyed in my number. As I returned it to her, she swiftly did something on her phone. When she showed it to me again, I saw my contact name had been transformed to "Potential Boyfriend", accompanied by an adorable alligator picture. It was endearing, but I remembered the norms here. Women didn't usually appreciate such direct labels. "Uh, cool. Is that all?" I tried to play it casual, feeling a slight tug of nervousness. She pocketed her phone, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Yes, we'll talk soon." she assured before walking away, leaving me both intrigued and bemused by the unexpected turn of events.
Kyle, who had observed the entire exchange in silence, finally spoke up as we moved toward the tables. He gently touched my shoulder, his expression thoughtful. "So, is that who you're going to choose?" he inquired, curiosity lacing his words. I shrugged in response, feeling uncertain. "Don't know.” I admitted, my uncertainty evident. Truthfully, my decision to share my number was more about gratitude for her protection than any budding romantic interest. I cringed inwardly at the thought, disliking the idea of it being perceived as a romantic gesture.
After we purchased our food and settled at a table, I noticed the stark contrast between our meal choices. I opted for a high-calorie, fiber-packed dish, while Kyle's plate barely held a substantial portion. Frowning slightly, I glanced at his meal, intrigued. "Why are you eating so little?" I asked, genuinely curious about his restrained appetite. His response was unexpected as he playfully pointed his fork in my direction. "Better question, why are you eating so much? You're going to get fat." he teased, a hint of concern underlying his words.
I was aware of the societal norms dictating differing eating habits between genders, but this extreme contrast puzzled me. My attention was diverted momentarily as I noticed some individuals at the far end of the cafeteria glancing in my direction, their murmurs reaching my ears. "Why is he eating so much? Is he trying to gain weight?" Their whispers stung, and I felt the weight of their judgmental gazes. The constant scrutiny and assumptions were beginning to grate on my nerves. Couldn't they just mind their own business?
As I finished my meal, satisfaction settled within me, and I made my way off campus for the day. With no more classes on my schedule and Kyle headed to his, we bid each other farewell, parting ways temporarily. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Kyle and I could remain friends, but the person he knew before was no longer the same as the one standing there now. I acknowledged that I had evolved, transformed into a different individual altogether. Kyle would have to navigate this new version of me. Pulling out my phone to check the time, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My appearance had undergone a significant change – my once-short hair had grown out into a more feminine, flowing style, and I seemed to have shed around forty pounds. It was a transformation that I hadn't fully realized until that moment.
Approaching my home, I entered the apartment building where I lived with my parents and sister, wondering if anything had changed there as well. Upon opening the door, I found my dad in the kitchen, wearing an apron and busy with cooking. The sight startled me a bit, observing the change in his appearance, notably his weight loss similar to mine. "Welcome home, son." he greeted warmly as he turned around. I nodded in acknowledgment, "Good afternoon." His focus seemed solely on the meal's completion, inviting me to join my sister at the dining table.
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Glancing at my sister, I noticed that she remained unchanged in many ways – still tall, stunningly beautiful, and evidently successful. It was a comforting constant amidst the shift in everything else. Taking my place at the table and settling my bag, we engaged in conversation. "Michael, what are you wearing?" my sister questioned, disapproval in her tone. Her comment echoed the sentiments of societal norms, and it irked me slightly. "What I want.” I replied, holding firm in my choice of attire.
She pulled out her phone to text someone, delivering another remark, "You won't get a wife wearing that." Dad, chiming in from the nearby oven, came to my defense, "Michael is attractive, just like me. Your mom and I met in college; he'll find someone too." Bit confident there, dad.
Right on cue, my mom entered the room, dressed in a suit, evidently finished with her workday. The sight was striking – a complete reversal of roles between my parents, including their jobs. Placing her suitcase on the kitchen counter, she completed the scene of unexpected changes within our family. Mom's swift movement caught my attention, a sound akin to a slap resonated, and Dad chuckled. Puzzled, my sister interjected, "What are they doing?" Dad reassured her, "In a second, just wait."
Mom addressed everyone, her tone carrying a hint of urgency, "I have to finish something; we'll have dinner together tomorrow." She swiftly made her way upstairs toward the bedroom where her laptop sat, she had unfinished business to attend to. Having already eaten a substantial meal, I excused myself, "I have to do something; I'll pick up my food after I'm done. Leave it in the fridge for me to reheat later." I instructed, anticipating some puzzled expressions. Dad responded with a slightly quizzical tone, "Sure, I guess?"
His uncertainty lingered as I made my way to my room, firing up the computer. As I navigated through the files and applications, everything seemed eerily familiar – my digital footprint mirrored that of my counterpart in this alternate world. Images, documents, and applications were all identical.
Opening Discord, I was struck by a wave of embarrassment. I found myself within a dating server, a reality that left me feeling uncomfortable. My DMs were flooded with messages from women, mostly asking to engage in roleplay. Hastily closing all conversations and bidding farewell to the server, I sought solace in gaming. To my surprise, I discovered a Twitch account linked to my persona in this universe, boasting a few thousand followers. The suggestion to stream flickered in the corner of my screen, tempting me with the prospect of connecting with others. Figuring it could be an entertaining diversion, I decided to give it a shot.
Launching Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, I immersed myself in gameplay, initiating a live stream to engage with the community. Delving into the streaming world, I found myself providing playful commentary and dropping a few jokes, drawing in a surprising number of viewers within a short span. I couldn't help but wonder why there was such an influx of interest. Glancing at the chat, I was greeted with a flurry of flirtatious remarks and playful skepticism about my gaming prowess.
"Stop cheating, dude!" accused someone named 'hot-woman2920’, their comment standing out amidst the somewhat respectful banter. Quick to defend my skills, I reassured them that I wasn't cheating and simply happened to be exceptionally good at the game. However, a follower chimed in with a reminder, "You weren't this good before, stop lying." It was a subtle revelation that my previous self might not have been the most skilled gamer.
In an attempt to debunk the accusations, I decided to turn on my webcam, positioning it to showcase my keyboard and button inputs, proving that there was no foul play involved. Despite the distracting comments praising the aesthetics of my hands, I persisted with the gameplay, shrugging off the flattering distractions. Little did I realize that this spontaneous stream would pave the way for a significant encounter, a meeting that would eventually lead to a connection with someone I'd share my life with, a detail that would only become clear much later down the road.
The ambiance in my room shifted as my maid, with a tablet in hand, interrupted my attention. "Ms. Ainsworth, look at this stream. This guy's good." she exclaimed, breaking into my thoughts. Intrigued, I took the tablet from her and focused on the screen, watching as the man displayed impressive skills in Call of Duty. His proficiency was undeniable, and a thought struck me as I observed his hands—hands that hinted at a certain level of attractiveness.
"If his hands are any indicator of his looks, he can be good for business,” I mused aloud, contemplating the potential this individual might hold. Handing back the tablet to my maid, I issued an instruction with a hint of excitement, "message this man and tell him we can make him a star."
Eager to fulfill my request, she swiftly powered off the tablet and responded, "Right away, Ms. Ainsworth." before hurrying out of my office to carry out the task.
As she departed, I turned to face the window, the outside world framed by the glass panes. Lost in contemplation, I thought that this man, with his gaming talent and the potential for a budding partnership, could be the one I've been seeking.