I have a scar on my face, so I found a boyfriend in a game. He said he was short and couldn’t find a date in real life. I said I was ugly, so we were perfect for each other. When I went to meet my online crush in person, I never expected to see the department’s heartthrob at our agreed-upon meeting spot. I touched the scar on my face, nervously dialing my online boyfriend’s FaceTime number. Then, I watched the heartthrob pull out his phone and tap “answer.” “Hello?” A clear voice came through the phone. “…Are you here?” I asked softly. “Yep, already by the lake.” He straightened up, tucked his book away, and scanned the main road, clearly looking for me. Something unexpected came up today, so I rushed back to my dorm to change and grab a book. By then, it was almost our meeting time, so I took a shortcut. That’s how I ended up seeing Landon Reed, the department’s heartthrob, at our meeting spot. Landon was by the lake, leaning against a sycamore tree, reading. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, making him look relaxed and gentle. A faint smile played on his lips. He wore a black jacket and held a book. Those were our agreed-upon identifiers. And there was no one else by the lake. I didn’t dare approach, hiding behind a tree. Nervously, I dialed my online boyfriend’s FaceTime number. Then… “Are you here yet?” the voice on the other end asked again. I ducked further behind the tree and whispered, “Something… something came up. I’ll be a little late.” The voice on the other end had a soft chuckle in it. “No worries, take your time.” My online boyfriend never rushed me, just like always. I hung up, still reeling. Wait, didn’t my online boyfriend say he was short? He had to be at least 6’1″ or taller. How was that short at all!? And you can’t find a date in real life? Didn’t you reject a long line of girls confessing to you back in freshman year? I tapped open my online boyfriend’s SnapChat profile, but there was no information there. I stared blankly at my phone, then back at the guy by the lake, utterly baffled. Seriously, how did my perfectly normal boyfriend turn into the department heartthrob? I was still hesitating whether to go out and introduce myself when a girl walked up to Landon. I recognized her as Audrey Davies, the campus beauty. Audrey was two years ahead of us and, like us, was in the Computer Science department. She’d just returned from an exchange program abroad and already had her master’s program guaranteed. Tall and slender, with fair skin and waist-length hair gently swaying in the breeze, she looked soft and elegant. Audrey walked up to Landon and started chatting. She talked and laughed, and Landon occasionally nodded. Landon had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his expression. A knot tightened in my chest. Handsome guys are meant for beautiful girls. That’s what a perfect first meeting in real life should look like, right? I touched the scar on my face, covered by makeup, then glanced at my white jacket and the book in my hand. I forced a wry smile, then quietly slipped away. On my way back to the dorm, I saw a poster for a game-themed collaboration at the bubble tea shop. Thoughts rushed through my mind. Originally, after our meeting, we were going to go for bubble tea. Because that’s where we met and started our online romance: in that game. I didn’t look at the poster again. I turned and left.
When I got back to my dorm, my roommate, Chloe Miller, was just about to leave. She saw my face and scoffed, “Scarlett, you can put on all the makeup you want, but you can’t hide that scar. It’s so uneven. You might as well just show it off.” When we first started college, Chloe had acted shocked when she saw my scar, asking about its cause and even offering comfort. At the time, I thought she was a good person. I even thanked her, explaining that I’d gotten used to the scar over the years, that makeup covered a lot of it, and that I didn’t care. I usually went out with makeup on. While it couldn’t completely hide the scar, you wouldn’t notice it unless you looked closely. But later, she brought it up repeatedly and inappropriately, especially in front of newly met guys. “She was slashed by some thugs when she was a kid. Scarlett is so pitiful,” Chloe would say, looking at me with pity. The result was that everyone in the department knew about my scar. I told her I didn’t like it, but after she apologized, she’d bring it up again eventually. “Oops, I didn’t mean to,” she’d say, grasping my hand. I got annoyed and started avoiding spending time with her. One time, I was just about to enter the dorm when I heard her whispering to our other roommates. “That scar on Scarlett’s face, it’s so terrifying. When school started, it scared me so much I couldn’t sleep at night.” I pushed the door open. “If you can’t sleep, why don’t you apply to switch dorms?” From then on, our relationship plummeted to an all-time low. We barely spoke in the dorm, except when she occasionally sniped at me about my scar. I never told her about my online romance. “None of your business. Mind your own,” I usually wouldn’t respond to her, but today I was in a bad mood, so I snapped back. Chloe raised an eyebrow, seeing me retort. “Oh, can’t take a few words? You used to say you didn’t care.” I looked at Chloe, who was wearing a full face of makeup, and said coolly, “You like my scar so much, why don’t you get a couple for yourself?” Chloe stopped talking, glared at me, and left the dorm. I walked into the bathroom to remove my makeup. After washing my face, I looked up at myself in the mirror. Two deep scars etched my face: one stretched from below my right eye across my entire cheek, and another on my forehead, extending from the right side of my forehead to my temple. The scars were from when I was in second grade, cut by a bad guy. On my way home from school, I saw a kid, about my age, being pushed into an alley by some older guys. They were shaking him down for money, then they threw him to the ground and started kicking and punching him. Probably influenced by the martial arts dramas often on TV back then, I rushed in to stop them. During the scuffle, I felt a sharp pain in my face, and then my face went numb. The bad guys all ran off, leaving blood all over the ground. The kid was terrified, frozen solid. Eventually, I was taken to the hospital. My mom cried and yelled at me for being nosy, while my dad chain-smoked. The bad guys were caught and sent to juvenile detention. But from then on, I was disfigured.
I looked at the scars on my face, a wave of bitterness washing over me. Did I ever regret it? Probably. I’d thought a million times, if I hadn’t rushed in that day, I wouldn’t have been disfigured. …But there were no ‘ifs’. I had to accept it. I could only pour my heart into my studies, working harder than others to get better grades. As if that would make people notice my face less. But it didn’t really help. There was a guy in our Computer Science department whose grades were on par with mine, and we were neck and neck in competitions. He was good-looking and several girls liked him. I knew this guy, Jaxson Blackwood, because of our competition training. During freshman year, I went to Professor Evans’ office to pick up a competition registration form. Passing by the lab, I overheard people discussing me. “You know, Scarlett’s scores are super close to yours. She even suggested to the professor that she should be teamed up with you for this competition. Do you think she likes you?” “Oh, please, no way. That’s terrifying. I’d be too scared to even participate then,” the speaker said with an exaggerated tone. “Yeah, it’s kinda creepy, LOL. I bet no one would dare date her.” I looked into the lab. There were two guys: one was Jaxson, the guy whose grades were similar to mine, and the other I didn’t recognize. Their laughter was sickening. I had only suggested it to the professor based on our chances of winning a prize in the competition; how the professor arranged it was out of my control. And, no one would dare date me? After returning to my dorm, I changed my status in the game I frequently played: “Looking for a partner.” A friend, someone I’d added from the school forum but had never actually spoken to, responded. I said I was ugly. Did he mind? He said he was short and couldn’t find a date in real life. We instantly clicked, and that’s how our online romance began. We had great chemistry, probably because we were both self-conscious about our appearances. We never sent photos or video called. We hadn’t even brought up meeting offline. I only knew he was also at A University; I knew nothing else about him. I didn’t dwell on it; I didn’t have many expectations anyway. But in terms of the dating experience, this boyfriend was absolutely perfect. He completely accommodated me in the game, always checked in on me, and provided plenty of emotional support. For my birthday, he even sent me a gift. I was curious: “How did you know my birthday?” His reply was quick: “Scarlett0123. I guessed the last four digits of your ID might be your birthday, right?” It was indeed my birthday, but those four digits, 0123, were too simple; most people wouldn’t guess them. I felt a little touched. For the first time, I felt curious about him too. I asked him for some information, planning to send him a gift in return. He only said he wanted to meet me in a few days and we could talk about him then. Meet in person? I felt a hint of anticipation. I didn’t really care about his appearance; I just liked an interesting, compatible soul. Even if he was 5’3″, it wouldn’t matter. But then— I snapped back to reality, looking at myself in the mirror, touching the scar on my face. Why was it the department heartthrob? I admit, I care about my appearance. I chickened out.
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