You = Me, Me ≠ You

Zack Collins had always been a typical nerd, invisible to most—especially to girls like Amber Harris. Oh, Amber, the Amber, queen of the campus, Miss “I look like a magazine cover even in glasses,” with that forever messy fringe and the kind of walk that made half the guys lose their damn minds. The girls couldn’t figure out what exactly the guys saw in her, but it was just a fact.

And now that same Amber was sitting at the same table with Zack Collins, breathing the same air, looking at him like they’d known each other their whole lives, with that calm, faint smile. Impossible? Yeah, kinda. Zack himself still wasn’t fully convinced this was actually happening. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing—because deep down he knew that inside her right now… was him. Or at least his consciousness. A copy. It had been a week since he muttered that old, dust-covered spell from the book he picked up at a dusty antique store sale—and now, inside Amber’s body, under the skin of that insanely perfect girl, with those tits stretching her top and nipples showing through the fabric, lived his mind.

Well… kind of his. That was the flaw in the plan. He thought he’d take control—but instead, he got a copy of himself, and now they both existed at the same time. He, Zack Collins, was still outside in his own body. And she, Amber with his brain—was a separate thing now.

— So... — Zack’s voice trembled, he squeezed his knees together under the table, feeling everything tighten inside him from anticipation. — Are we... are we gonna date or what?

For a moment, Amber—or rather, the Amber with his mind—froze, then looked away, like something invisible behind Zack suddenly became way more interesting. Her smile faltered, turned a bit awkward, like wearing clothes two sizes too small.

— Well, how do I put this...

Zack leaned in slightly, as if afraid he’d miss something important. This was him. He was inside her. And she definitely had to know about his loneliness, his love for Amber, how he’d dreamed of just one real conversation with her—not as a shadow, not as some guy no one noticed, but as an equal. And now, when he’d essentially become her—not in body, sure, but in thoughts, in feelings—didn’t that mean she understood him better than anyone?

— ...what do you mean? — Zack’s voice cracked higher than he wanted, breaking a little. — You’re... I mean, I...

Amber lowered her gaze slightly, just like Zack always did when he was drowning in shame for being himself, when everything inside him clenched from the weight of his own awkwardness and worthlessness, when all he wanted was to shrink and disappear from this reality where he never belonged.

Now that same expression was on her face. On Amber Harris’s face. That perfect face he used to secretly watch from behind bookshelves, in the cafeteria, in classrooms—like looking at something behind glass he could never touch. And there it was—eyelashes trembling, lips caught between teeth at the corner like she didn’t know how to say what she was about to.

— It’s just... — Amber looked at him again, at Zack, with that strange look, like she was staring at a photo of herself and couldn’t remember when it was taken. — I was thinking that...

Zack leaned in a little more, breathing getting harder.

— That...? — he whispered, almost losing his voice. And suddenly he thought, if she said this was all a mistake—he might not survive it.

Amber inhaled sharply and said it:

— I don’t want this.

The words hung in the air, almost materializing in front of Zack like something out of a video game.

— But... you... — Zack swallowed hard. — You’re me. I mean... you know what it’s like. You know how I... how I feel about you...

— Yeah, — Amber cut in quickly. — That’s exactly why. I know. I know it better than anyone. I... I feel what you’ve felt this whole time. And maybe if I hadn’t become you, I never would’ve understood it. Never appreciated what I have now. I’ve thought a lot, I really have. About who I am now and what I should do. And this whole Amber life—it’s so fucking confusing. But one thing I’m sure of... And it’s that I... — she hesitated, blushing all the way to her roots, and this blush wasn’t just a blush. It was pain. — I’m sorry. I can’t explain it, but I just can’t... date nerds.

For a moment, there was such silence, it felt like the whole city had taken pity and just froze. Even a seagull flying over the café terrace suddenly stopped screaming. Zack felt something inside him sink. The weight in his chest wasn’t like hurt—it was like acceptance. Because those words weren’t said out of spite. They came out like truth. His truth. Spoken in his name. Just from another, perfect mouth, framed by soft lips he once dreamed of kissing.

He stared at Amber—at himself—and couldn’t take his eyes off her body. That damned body that had become a mirror. Every move she made, every tilt of her head, a flick of the wrist, the way she adjusted her glasses on her nose—it was all him. And at the same time, all of it felt alien. She sat across from him in that brown top, and her tits... so wanted, so damn close.

— You know what... — Zack started, standing up abruptly, feeling his heart pounding in his temples, the tension in his ears buzzing louder and louder — You, you... fucking bitch.

Amber hesitated slightly, then stood up just as sharply, and her breasts, barely held in by the thin fabric of the top, bounced with her movement. The buttons stretched tight, and Zack instinctively looked away, like he’d just been slapped in the face by his own fantasy. She winced, clearly still not used to that weird, heavy feeling of her tits moving out of sync with her body, like they followed their own damn rules.

Zack stood there, eyes down. He looked at her breasts again—his breasts—and froze.

— Zack... — Amber started — God, it’s so weird saying my own name... But... could you not stare at my... tits?

She whispered the last word, glancing around, hoping no one had heard.

— I’m not... I didn’t mean to, — Zack muttered, feeling the heat rush to his face like he’d been caught doing something dirty. And wasn’t that exactly what he wanted? To see her, to be with her, to talk to her? And now he literally was her—or some other version of her—and he didn’t know where to put his eyes, his thoughts, his feelings.

— You didn’t even ask, — Amber said, looking off to the side, past the shop windows, past the café, toward the parking lot where sunlight bounced off car windows. — Not once did you ask how I’m doing. The whole week. Not a single time.

Zack froze. He wanted to say something, but his lips stayed parted, like his tongue forgot how to shape words.

— I don’t wanna go into details... Just. You only see me as... I don’t even know how to call it. Just tits, Zack, right? And just someone you wanna... fuck — she said, lowering her voice again and glancing at Zack, who was just about to speak, but she cut him off — Don’t. I know what you’re gonna say. Yeah, you’re me. But I’m not you anymore. I’ve got... a different life now. But you don’t even see me in yourself. Do you?

Zack slumped. He felt the heat building inside him—not from desire, no—from shame. From the realization that all this time, he’d only seen the body. The image. The glossy shell of his dream, forgetting that inside it—was him.

Amber stood up slowly, and the brown top lifted slightly, showing a bit more skin on her stomach than before. The sun flashed across her glasses, and Zack, without meaning to, glanced again at her breasts as they moved slightly with her shift. He quickly looked away.

— Exactly, — Amber said, almost tired, noticing that look again. — There’s your answer.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and added, a bit quieter:

— You need to... grow up.

And after standing there for a few more long seconds, as if waiting for Zack to say something, she turned and walked away.