Dorian was running late for class.
He burst through the lecture hall doors, backpack flying, completely out of breath—and stopped dead.
This wasn't the lecture hall.
Cherry blossoms floated through the air. Soft pink light bathed everything in a warm, ethereal glow. And seated in perfect rows, like an anime opening come to life, were all of them.
Sarah sat front row center, wearing a sundress, her hair blowing in a wind that didn't exist. She smiled warmly.
Maya was next to her, arms crossed, coffee cup in hand, expression flat—but surrounded by floating sparkles anyway.
Jenna waved enthusiastically from the second row, winking.
Lisa was sprawled across multiple seats, paint-stained overalls, holding what looked like an oversized paintbrush. Momo sat on her lap, also surrounded by sparkles, looking disturbingly serene for a dog that usually radiated chaos.
Danielle stretched in the back, gym clothes, flexing in slow motion.
And Chloe—Chloe sat alone near the window, bathed in golden light, looking beautiful and slightly confused, like she wasn't sure how she got here either.
Dorian: "What the—"
Sarah stood, her sundress flowing dramatically. "Dorian! You're late!"
Maya: "Typical." She took a sip of her coffee. Sparkles continued to drift off her.
Jenna patted the seat next to her. "We saved you a spot!" The seat was also surrounded by sparkles. And roses. For some reason.
Lisa held up what appeared to be onigiri wrapped in seaweed. "I brought snacks!" Momo barked in agreement.
Danielle: "You should stretch first. It's important for your muscles. Also my boyfriend is watching." A giant eye appeared in the window behind her—Mark's eye, glaring.
Chloe: Silently looked beautiful. Cherry blossoms drifted past her face. She seemed okay with this arrangement.
Dorian walked forward in a daze. The moment he sat, all the girls leaned toward him simultaneously. In perfect sync—except Chloe, who leaned the wrong way, realized her mistake, and corrected herself awkwardly. She played it off like she meant to do that. She did not mean to do that.
Sarah: "So, Dorian. Who's your favorite?"
Jenna: "Yeah, who do you like best?"
Lisa: "Is it me? It's probably me. I have snacks."
Maya: "It's definitely not me. I'm just here for the chaos." She looked almost pleased about this.
Danielle: "I have a boyfriend, remember? He's very jealous. Also very strong. He's still watching." The eye in the window narrowed.
Chloe: Continued to exist beautifully. A single cherry blossom drifted from her lips instead of words.
The walls dissolved. They were no longer in a lecture hall. They were in a confessional booth—tiny, wooden, intimate, with a sliding window and a single lightbulb dangling above.
All the girls pressed close. Too close.
A dramatic spotlight hit each girl in sequence as a deep voice announced:
"SARAH—THE INGÉNUE. 100% TRUST. 100% GUILT. ALSO 100% DONE WITH YOUR NONSENSE."
"MAYA—THE GUARDIAN. 0% INTEREST. 100% THREAT."
"JENNA—THE COQUETTE. 60% INTEREST. 40% MISCHIEF."
"LISA—THE BOHEMIAN. 70% INTEREST. 30% CHAOS. ACCOMPANIED BY MOMO."
"DANIELLE—THE NATURAL. 80% FRIEND. 20% TAKEN. BOYFRIEND: STILL WATCHING."
"CHLOE—THE STAR. 100% PRETTY. 0% SUBSTANCE. UNLOCKABLE AT HIGHER LEVELS."
A cheerful female voice echoed: "PLEASE CHOOSE YOUR ROUTE. THIS DECISION CANNOT BE UNDONE."
Dorian: "I can't just—I don't—this is insane!"
Sarah leaned closer. Her eyes were warm, but there was something beneath them. "Why aren't you choosing, Dorian?"
Jenna: "Yeah! Pick me! I'm fun!"
Lisa: "Pick me! I have a dog!"
Maya: "Pick me. I dare you." Her smile was terrifying.
Danielle: "My boyfriend would prefer if you didn't pick anyone, actually." The eye in the window pulsed.
Chloe opened her mouth. A single cherry blossom fell out.
Before Dorian could respond—
CRASH.
FWOOMPH.
A gigantic fluffy missile exploded through the confessional wall.
Momo.
The dog—now the size of a small car—landed in the center of the girls, shook herself violently, and peed on everyone.
A tidal wave.
The girls dissolved into pixels, one by one, their sparkles fizzling out.
Sarah: "MO—" Gone. Jenna: "This is not the ending I—" Gone. Lisa: "MY SNACKS!" Gone. Momo vanished with her, shrinking as she disappeared. Maya: "Finally." Gone. She looked almost satisfied. Danielle: "Mark is going to be so—" Gone. Chloe: Vanished beautifully, still silent.
The confessional was empty now. Just Dorian, standing alone in the aftermath.
Then, from above, a tiny shape dropped onto his head.
Regular-sized Momo.
She looked down at him. Wagged her tail. Barked once.
Then she peed on his head.
Dorian's eyes snapped open.
Ceiling. Dorm room. Dark. Early morning light barely creeping through the blinds.
He lay there, pulse hammering, staring at the ceiling fan's slow rotation. His hand went to his head. Dry. Thank God.
What the hell was that?
He replayed the dream in his head. The cherry blossoms. The sparkles. The confessional booth. Giant Momo's kamikaze entrance. Tiny Momo's encore performance.
He laughed. Actually laughed out loud.
Tyler's voice, muffled by pillow: "Dude. It's 5:30. Shut up."
Dorian: "Sorry. I just had a weird dream."
"Was it about girls?"
"How did you know?"
"Because you moaned 'I can't choose' like seven times. Then you yelled 'GIANT DOG.' Then you laughed maniacally." Tyler rolled over. "You need therapy. I'm serious. I know a guy. He's cheap because he's a grad student, but he listens. He specializes in people who talk to themselves. That's you now."
Marcus's voice from across the room, without looking up from his book: "He's not wrong."
Dorian smiled in the dark. The dream was absurd. Embarrassing. Exactly the kind of thing his brain would cook up under stress.
But underneath the laughter, something else lingered. The eye. That moment at the end, before Momo's entrance. The feeling of being watched.
He shook it off. Checked his phone. 5:34 a.m.
Danielle's words from their first meeting at the gym echoed in his mind: I'm here 6 to 8 most mornings. Swing by anytime.
He didn't have her number. She'd said he could just show up.
Just show up. To a gym. At 6 a.m. To work out with a girl who has a jealous boyfriend.
What could possibly go wrong?
He got up.
The gym at 6 a.m. was a different world.
Dedicated people. The clank of weights. The smell of sweat and determination.
And there, by the squat rack, was Danielle.
She had her back to him, mid-rep. The barbell loaded with weights that looked serious. Her form was perfect—controlled descent, explosive drive up. Muscles in her back and legs flexing with each movement.
Dorian stopped walking.
Okay. She's... really fit.
He watched for a moment. Maybe too long.
The way her ponytail swung with each rep. The definition in her calves. The focused expression he could only imagine from this angle.
Then—
Ahem.
Dorian turned.
Mark stood three feet away, arms crossed, expression flat. He'd materialized from nowhere. His eyes said everything: I saw you watching.
That was the most aggressive throat-clear I've ever heard. He didn't just clear his throat—he cleared his entire existence.
Dorian's first instinct was to apologize. To explain. To shrink.
But something else surfaced instead. Old Dorian. The one who didn't back down. The one who met stares with stares.
He held Mark's gaze. Didn't flinch.
Mark's eyes narrowed slightly. Then he nodded—once, curtly—and walked past Dorian toward the squat rack.
Danielle finished her set, stood up, and noticed them both. "Oh! Dorian! You came!" She grabbed a towel, completely oblivious. "Mark, look, it's the new guy!"
Mark grunted.
Dorian forced a smile. "Morning."
The workout was brutal.
Danielle was encouraging, supportive, full of tips. Mark was... present. He worked out near them, but his eyes drifted over once. Assessing.
Dorian moved to a cable machine he'd never used before. Pulled the wrong handle. The weights clanged loudly.
Danielle: "Uh, that's for legs."
Dorian: "I knew that."
Mark's eyes narrowed. He gave a thumbs up—a very firm thumbs up—and went back to his set.
A knot formed in Dorian's chest.
I'm being judged by a man who could bench press me and my entire family. Good.
Afterward, sweaty and exhausted, Dorian grabbed his stuff to head out.
Danielle called after him: "Hey! You should come again. Tomorrow morning?"
Dorian: "Maybe. I'll see."
"Let me give you my number. In case you need a workout buddy or, like, moral support." She held out her phone.
He typed in his number. She texted him immediately so he'd have hers.
Danielle: Now you have no excuses 😉
He smiled. Saved the contact.
She has no idea what she's enabling.
He showered at the gym, changed, and headed back to campus. The walk felt good. His body was sore, but in a productive way. Level four plus actual exercise? Dangerous combination.
His phone rang. Sarah.
He smiled and answered. "Hey, you're up early."
"Good morning! Just wanted to hear your voice before my first class." Her voice was warm, sleepy. "You're up early too."
"Couldn't sleep. Decided to try that gym thing."
"Gym thing?"
"Danielle. From the movie night. She works out in the mornings."
"Oh, right. The one with the boyfriend." Sarah yawned. "That's nice of her to invite you."
"Yeah."
A pause. Then: "I'm proud of you, you know. For actually doing stuff. Getting out there."
Dorian's chest tightened.
"You still there?"
"Yeah. Just... thanks. I'll see you at lunch?"
"Definitely. 12?"
"Perfect. Get some more sleep."
"You too. Bye."
They hung up.
Lunch was at their usual spot. Sarah arrived a few minutes late, slightly out of breath.
"Sorry! My meeting with the professor ran long. Dr. Patterson talked for thirty minutes about his car. I now know more about his transmission than I do about my classes."
Dorian laughed. "Sounds about right."
They ate. Talked. Mid-bite, Kyle walked past their table. He spotted them, stopped dead, and gave an exaggerated double thumbs up. Held it. Unblinking.
Sarah waved hesitantly. "Hi, Kyle."
Kyle winked—badly—and kept walking.
Sarah: "Is he always like that?"
Dorian: "You have no idea."
Back in his dorm that evening, Dorian collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. The workout hangover was real. Every muscle ached.
He pulled out his phone. Dozens of notifications.
He scrolled past most of them. A meme from Tyler. A message from Lisa with a photo of Momo wearing a tiny top hat. It had a tiny feather. Momo's expression said she'd been planning revenge for three days.
He smiled at that one.
Then a text from Jenna popped up.
Jenna: OKAY SO I JUST SAW YOUR POST 👀
Jenna: SINCE WHEN DO YOU USE PICTURA???
Jenna: It's going VIRAL boo. Like actually viral. 200k likes??? Who ARE you??
Dorian blinked.
He opened Pictura.
The notification at the top:
Your post has reached 200,000+ likes!
He stared at the screen.
Two hundred thousand.
[END OF CHAPTER 11]