1 It wasn’t until the day we finally met in person that I realized my online boyfriend was mute. The boy sat across from me in the dim booth of the local indie coffee shop, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. His face was entirely devoid of color, a stark contrast to the bright, bubbly personality he had displayed over text for the past two months. He pushed a small blue Post-it note across the wooden table, his eyes darting down, utterly unable to meet my gaze. I’m sorry to disappoint you… I didn’t answer. I was too busy staring at his face, and the bizarre, glowing text that had suddenly begun drifting across the air right above his head. “Lmao, Wes is a menace. He literally set up his own twin brother just to get back at Riley.” “This is wild. He’s playing both the female lead and his own brother like absolute fools.” I blinked, my brain working quickly to piece together the floating words. Today was supposed to be the day I finally met my online boyfriend. Over the summer, out of sheer boredom, I’d matched with a guy who was incredibly witty, charming, and easy to talk to. We fell into a comfortable, flirty online relationship. He told me he was transferring to my university in the fall and promised we’d meet up as soon as he arrived. But once orientation week ended, he kept making excuses, dragging his feet every time I suggested getting a drink. It wasn’t until I threatened to block him and move on that he finally agreed to this date. The floating text continued to scroll across my vision, and the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. The “female lead” the comments were referring to was my roommate, Penelope. And the “male lead” was Weston Prescott, the newly transferred star athlete of our university’s soccer team—who also happened to be Penelope’s childhood best friend. The boy sitting in front of me, trembling in his vintage denim jacket, was Weston’s identical twin brother, Wyatt. I didn’t know what minor grievance had driven Penelope to orchestrate this. Maybe it was because right before summer break, I’d snapped at her for leaving her rotting takeout boxes in our shared kitchen. Whatever the reason, her little revenge plot with Weston was laughably pathetic. Did they honestly think matching me with a mute boy would utterly humiliate me? Looking at the boy across from me, I had to actively press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud. A mute boyfriend? That was actually perfect. He couldn’t talk back, couldn’t argue, and would probably blush at every single thing I said. How incredibly endearing. My prolonged silence only made him more anxious. Wyatt slid the blue slip of paper back toward himself, his shoulders slumping. He stood up, his movements stiff and awkward, and offered a small, polite bow of apology before turning to leave. I reached out and caught his wrist. His skin was warm, his pulse fluttering rapidly under my fingers. He froze, his lips pressed into a tight line, the outer corners of his eyes flushed a soft, bruised pink. “I’m not disappointed, baby,” I murmured, my voice soft. “Why would I ever be disappointed in you?” He clearly hadn’t expected the pet name. A crimson flush bloomed from his collarbone, racing up his neck to the very tips of his ears. Still, he sat back down, completely compliant. He pulled out his pen, his hands shaking slightly as he wrote on a fresh slip of paper. Really? But I can’t speak. I’m sorry. He kept his head low, sliding the note over, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. I leaned my chin on my hand, smiling at him. The invisible chat logs above his head erupted. “Wait, what is she doing? Isn’t the rejected girl supposed to scream at him for lying, throw her coffee, and storm out?” “Yeah, and then she’s supposed to run into the hot, perfectly healthy brother on campus, beg him to notice her, and get publicly humiliated so Penelope can laugh. Why is the script going off the rails?” Wyatt’s handwriting was beautiful—elegant and precise. He watched my face with a quiet, desperate intensity, as if he expected me to grow disgusted at any second and leave him behind. I picked up the blue sticky note, folded it neatly into a little origami heart, and slid it back into his palm. “Hey, boyfriend,” I said, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Do you actually know what people are supposed to do when they finally meet in person after dating online?” Wyatt blinked, looking down at the paper heart in his palm. He picked up his pen again. I looked it up online. It said we should go to a movie… I sighed softly, reaching across the table to cup his face. His skin was incredibly soft, and up close, his features were breathtaking. My heart did a sudden, violent flip. Who cared about a movie? 2 “Put the pen down,” I whispered. “Meeting in person is for kissing and holding each other. It’s not a study hall.” Wyatt went entirely rigid. Earlier, I’d been annoyed that the cafe staff had seated us in this secluded, high-walled booth in the back corner, but now, I wanted to leave them a massive tip. My gorgeous little mute boyfriend couldn’t speak, but he was incredibly sweet. He was clumsy at it—he didn’t know how to pace his breathing, and he kept his eyes wide open, staring at me in sheer wonder. I had to hand it to Weston Prescott. He had sent me an absolute treasure. Before we left the cafe, I gently took Wyatt’s phone from his hand. “Let me see our chat. I want to look through our old messages.” When I opened the thread, a wave of irritation washed over me. Weston’s performance as an online boyfriend had been incredibly lazy. His texts consisted of nothing but ‘Good morning,’ ‘Have you eaten?’ and ‘Going to sleep.’ And Wyatt, completely oblivious to the fact that his brother was using him as a pawn, had responded to every single dry text with adorable, customized little rabbit emojis. I opened the contact settings, deleted the old number, and added my actual personal line. “I got a new number,” I told him, dropping the phone back into his hand. “Use this one from now on.” Wyatt still looked dazed, his lips slightly swollen and dark, his eyes carrying a soft, watery sheen. Looking at how beautifully ruined he looked after a simple kiss, my chest tightened with a strange, possessive thrill. I leaned in close, pressing my cheek against his, and snapped a quick selfie before he could protest. Wyatt walked me to the bus stop, turning back to look at me every three steps. He was still clutching that little blue paper heart like it was made of solid gold. I hummed a song all the way back to my apartment, utterly delighted by my stroke of good luck. As soon as I sat on my bed, my phone buzzed. The contact name Baby—which I hadn’t changed yet—flashed on the screen. It was Weston, obviously texting from the burner account he’d used to catfish me. Are you satisfied with my performance today? He had probably just gotten home and was eager to hear how much of a fool I’d made of myself. I opened my camera roll and selected the selfie I’d just taken with Wyatt. Wyatt’s eyes were glassy, his lips flushed and parted, his hair beautifully mussed from where my fingers had tangled in it. I hit send, adding a quick text: I like you even more in person, baby. But next time we kiss, try not to tremble so much. It’ll make things easier. The floating text in the air above my desk filled with a long string of ellipses. “Holy hell, this girl is savage. Wes is probably turning green right now.” “The golden boy wanted to humiliate her, and instead his innocent little brother got absolutely devoured.” “To be honest, with the exact same face, Wyatt is so much cuter and sweeter. If he weren’t mute, he’d easily be the campus heartthrob.” It took a long, agonizingly quiet ten minutes before a reply finally popped up on my screen. I didn’t do well today. Let’s meet again tomorrow. Same time. I curved my lips into a cold smile but didn’t reply. The chat comments in the air were equally baffled. “What is Wes doing now? Is he going to play the mute brother again, or is he going to show up himself?” “I think he’s losing his mind. Why is he staring at that photo like he wants to tear it apart? He’s literally zooming in on her face…” “He’s probably memorizing her features so he can destroy her tomorrow.” I scoffed, opening Weston’s contact info. I deleted the name Baby and changed it to The Jerk. Then, I tapped into my actual chat with Wyatt—the real account we’d just set up. Did you make it home safe, baby? He replied instantly with a rabbit nodding emoji, followed by the blinking text: Typing… I waited patiently, watching the little bubbles dance. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of hesitation, a message appeared. Baby, I’m home? He was so nervous he’d accidentally added a question mark at the end. I laughed out loud, rolling over on my mattress. He quickly deleted the message, replacing it with a simple: I’m home. I didn’t let him hide. I hit the FaceTime button. He answered on the very first ring, his face flushing a deep, lovely pink the moment my screen connected. “I saw the first text before you deleted it, Wyatt,” I teased, leaning close to the camera. “Can you call me baby again?” The screen went silent. Wyatt’s eyes dimmed slightly, a quiet vulnerability flickering in his gaze. I immediately realized my mistake. He couldn’t speak, and asking him to “say” it was a thoughtless slip. “I had a really good time today,” I said quickly, changing the subject and pressing my face closer to the lens. “Did you?” On the screen, the boy’s shy, beautiful smile returned. He nodded eagerly, looking exactly like his favorite rabbit emoji. He was so incredibly precious. For the next two hours, we stayed on the call. Wyatt couldn’t talk, so he simply sat at his desk, his chin resting on his hand, watching me talk about my day. His eyes were wide and clear, reflecting the light of his screen like a pair of quiet, brilliant stars. There was a strange, deep sense of familiarity in the way he looked at me, but before I could search my memory to place it, a sharp knock sounded on his bedroom door. Wyatt jumped, his posture instantly stiffening. He pointed toward his door, his eyes wide with sudden apprehension. “Kiss me through the screen before you go,” I whispered. 3 Wyatt froze, his ears turning bright red, but before he could move, a cold, sharp voice echoed from the other side of his door. “Wyatt? Who are you talking to in there?” Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open. Wyatt scrambled to shove his phone into his pocket, but the call was still active. I kept the volume high, pressing my ear to the speaker. “Where did you go today?” Weston’s voice was smooth, but it carried an icy, condescending edge. There was a long silence. I assumed Wyatt was using sign language or simply keeping his head down. “You shouldn’t trust girls you meet on the internet,” Weston continued, his tone dripping with a quiet, toxic pity. “Especially not with your… condition. Did she actually look at you without being disgusted? Wyatt, don’t go wishing for things you don’t deserve.” My smile completely vanished. The screen stayed dark, but the raw arrogance in Weston’s voice made my blood boil. A moment later, the screen lit up again. Wyatt’s face appeared, pale and strained, though he tried to offer me a reassuring smile. My eyes hardened. I tapped out of our FaceTime call and opened my chat with The Jerk. Sure, I wrote back. Let’s meet tomorrow. When I finally hung up with Wyatt, he looked exhausted. I didn’t push him for another kiss; instead, I blew him a soft kiss through the camera. “I really, really like you, Wyatt. You’re perfect just the way you are. Seriously.” “Can’t wait to see you again.” I watched his eyes light up with a sudden, brilliant warmth before the screen went black. The next day, I made Weston wait. I arrived at our meeting spot—a completely unsheltered plaza under the blistering midday sun—exactly three hours late. Weston was standing by the concrete steps, looking slightly wilted from the heat. The moment he saw me, his eyes flared with a desperate, almost manic intensity. He took two long strides toward me. “Sunny…” The name caught in his throat, and my brows furrowed. Sunny. That was the nickname I had used back in middle school, before my parents divorced and I moved away, legally changing my name to Riley. How did Weston Prescott know that? I searched my memory, trying to find any trace of him from my childhood, but came up entirely empty. Seeing my cold, questioning stare, his confident smile faltered. He realized he’d made a slip. “I thought you couldn’t talk yesterday?” I asked, my voice laced with deliberate contempt. Weston swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a soft, pleading murmur. “It’s… a psychological issue. It comes and goes.” I stared at him, watching him spin his lie. Above his head, the floating comments were losing their minds. “Wait, what is happening? Why does Wes look like a kicked puppy? He’s supposed to be ruining her life, not begging for her attention.” “Is he seriously trying to steal his brother’s identity now? This is a trainwreck.” “I’m so confused. Did he actually fall for her? This is supposed to be Penelope’s revenge plot!” Even though Weston shared his brother’s exact face, he didn’t look nearly as handsome to me. His eyes lacked that quiet, luminous clarity; his posture carried an arrogant edge that made my skin crawl. And every time he spoke, I could only hear the cruel, mocking voice from Wyatt’s bedroom last night: “With your condition… don’t go wishing for things you don’t deserve.” “Do me a favor,” I interrupted, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Can you stop talking? Your voice is incredibly grating. I liked you a lot better yesterday when you were quiet.” The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. The color completely drained from Weston’s face. “…Okay,” he whispered after a long pause, his throat bobbing as he swallowed his pride. He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he began typing. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a shared document—a meticulously planned itinerary for a perfect day out. The invisible text above him updated in real-time. 4 “No way. Wes spent all of last night researching the perfect date spots?” “So he let his brother act as his proxy yesterday, and now he’s acting as his brother’s proxy today? The irony is delicious.” “He’s completely whipped. I don’t think he even remembers who Penelope is at this point.” I offered a dry nod of approval. Weston reached out, his fingers hovering near mine as if to hold my hand, but I pulled away sharply, my expression cold. “I don’t like guys who are that forward,” I said. “You’re acting incredibly cheap. You weren’t like this yesterday.” His hand froze in the air, his fingers curling inward as he slowly pulled back. For the next three hours, I made his life an absolute living hell. When he bought me lunch, I pushed the plate away with a look of utter disgust. “Your taste is terrible. Yesterday you picked much better options.” When he ordered us drinks, I rolled my eyes. “I literally told you yesterday that I’m on my period. Do you have a memory deficit? How can you be this stupid?” Every time he flinched, a small, dark spark of satisfaction flared in my chest. I leaned in, continuing to chip away at his pride. “Yesterday, I thought you were the most attractive guy I’d ever seen. Today? Aside from your face, you’re incredibly disappointing.” Weston stood there, taking every hit in silence, a quiet ‘I’m sorry’ slipping from his lips. The arrogant, untouchable star athlete was entirely gone, replaced by a boy desperately trying to please someone who despised him. But the more I looked at his face, the more I missed Wyatt’s soft, starry eyes. Finally, after making Weston stand in a bakery queue for over an hour to get a specific strawberry tart, I glanced at my phone and sighed. “I don’t want it anymore. I’m going home.” He stared at me, the white bakery box held tightly in his hands. He took a step forward, his fingers catching the very edge of my sleeve. “But… we haven’t even had a real conversation today,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “And you didn’t…” He stopped, his ears turning a bright, furious red. “You said yesterday… that you’d kiss me again today.” I stared at him in sheer disbelief, and the floating chat above us went wild. “Oh my god, Wes, have some self-respect!” “Is he seriously begging for the kiss his brother got? This is tragic.” “So he told his brother to stay away, only so he could slide into his place? That’s low.” A wave of intense revulsion washed over me. I didn’t bother hiding my disgust anymore. “Let me be completely honest with you,” I said, stepping back so his fingers slipped off my sleeve. He looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Before today, I actually liked you,” I said, my voice dripping with cold indifference. “Especially yesterday. I was completely crazy about you. I didn’t even want to let you go.” The flush on his cheeks faded, leaving his face a stark, fragile white. “But today’s version of you? Honestly…” I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re not half as attractive as you were yesterday, and your personality is exhausting. You don’t even compare to the guy I met first.” Weston stood completely still under the harsh afternoon sun, looking like a piece of fine porcelain that had been shattered into a thousand pieces. I pulled out my phone, opened our chat, and blocked him right in front of his face. “Let’s not do this again. We’re done.” Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away, never once looking back. My phone buzzed in my hand. I ignored the chaotic chatter of the floating comments and dialed Wyatt’s number. The moment the screen connected, his face appeared, his eyes immediately lighting up like a pair of lanterns in the dark. My sour mood evaporated instantly. “What are you doing, baby? Did you miss me?” Wyatt held up a thick textbook, bringing it close to the camera so I could see the cover, before lowering his head to write on a fresh Post-it. Reading. And yes, I missed you.
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