My roommate tossed her phone onto the velvet sofa and groaned, her designer heels clicking impatiently against the hardwood floor. “He is such a yandere. It’s exhausting.” “A what?” I asked, looking up from my laptop. I was currently knee-deep in a spreadsheet for my dev job, wearing my favorite oversized flannel and thick-rimmed glasses. Sienna paused, her manicured fingers twisting a strand of her bleached-blonde hair. she looked at me for two seconds, then let out a sharp, condescending laugh. “I almost forgot. You’re just a little small-town girl from the Midwest. You wouldn’t know the first thing about internet subcultures, would you?” She slid the phone across the coffee table toward me. “Look, why don’t you handle him for a bit? Text him for me. You’ll see exactly what I mean.” Proxy texting? I wasn’t that curious, honestly. I was about to turn her down when a translucent string of text suddenly flickered across my vision like a digital ticker tape. [Don’t be an idiot, Sienna! He’s not ugly. He’s been a heartthrob since he was a kid. He was in a car accident and got some facial scars from the glass—they just haven’t healed yet, which is why he won’t send a selfie. He’s the ultimate catch, and he belongs with the ultimate girl. Don’t hand the Male Lead to a flyover-state nobody, please!] [Seriously! He’s the heir to the Blackwood empire, and you’re a Montgomery. I want to see a power couple, not this flannel-wearing loser taking your place!] 1 I froze, staring at the words scrolling through the air. Sienna had told me her backstory: she’d run away from home because she refused an arranged marriage. Her parents had cut off her credit cards, her lifestyle had plummeted, and she’d ended up splitting this apartment with me out of desperate necessity. And me? A “flyover-state nobody”? More words appeared: [The girl literally cut her own bangs and they look like a lawnmower ran over them. She wears nothing but flannels and baggy jeans. She’s not even on the same aesthetic planet as Sienna.] I looked down at my outfit. It was comfortable. I wasn’t hurting anyone. And yeah, I cut my own bangs. So what? It saved me sixty bucks at the salon. Sienna poked me with a glitter-encrusted nail. “Hello? Does it really take that much brainpower to decide? I’m not asking you to do it for free. Whatever he Zelles me, we’ll split it. Seventy-thirty. My cut is seventy.” She smirked, her red lips curving into a predatory line. “Besides, think of it as an education. You get to see how the other half lives and get paid for it. Where else are you gonna find a deal like that?” I let out a soft sigh. She could have just led with the money. “Fine,” I said, taking the phone with a mock-solemn expression. “I’ll handle your ‘yandere’ for you.” 2 After a quick shower, I flopped onto my bed and started scrolling through their chat history. They’d met through an online game. They’d exchanged names—Adrian Blackwood—and had sent a few voice notes. Looking through the logs, I didn’t see anything particularly terrifying. Adrian was just… intense. He’d send seven or eight “What are you doing, babe?” texts a day. If she didn’t reply within thirty minutes, he’d spiral. It went from “Are you busy?” to “Who are you with?” to a pathetic, self-soothing “You must be sleeping, right?” This was the billionaire heir to the Blackwood fortune? The guy needed a hobby. Then again, they’d only been talking for five days, and he’d already sent her twenty thousand dollars. He was definitely generous. I rolled onto my back, trying to filter out the comments that were still trashing my fashion sense to find something useful. [Sienna, a yandere is easy to tame! He’s just touch-starved and a little possessive. Don’t give up on him.] [He’s just terrified of losing you. If you give him just a little bit of initiative, he’ll be wrapped around your finger.] So that was a yandere? A hyper-sensitive puppy who wouldn’t let you pet any other dogs and turned into a sunbeam the moment you gave him a scrap of attention? The phone on my chest buzzed. Adrian: [What are you doing, babe? Checking in.] Me: [Just holding my phone, waiting for a message from you.] Adrian: [Good girl.] A notification immediately followed. Adrian Blackwood has sent you $520.00 via Zelle. I sat up, fully awake now. I hit accept before I even had the chance to say thank you. Adrian: [Babe, I have a question.] Me: [Ask away.] Adrian: [Are there any other guys in your contacts? Besides me?] Me: [Only my dad. Does that bother you? I can block him if it does.] The comments went into a frenzy: [Wait, is this country mouse actually a low-key savage?!] [Don’t you dare block him! I will find you!] I rolled my eyes. It was just puppy training. Why was everyone so worked up? Sienna had two phones. On her main one, she was talking to a college athlete who sent her shirtless gym selfies on command. The phone I was holding was her dedicated “Adrian phone.” The contact list had exactly one name on it. Adrian had been relegated to the backup phone because he refused to show his face. Now, he was the “Consort” in the cold palace. Adrian replied: [Babe, don’t tease me. How could I mind your father?] Adrian Blackwood has sent you $5,200.00 via Zelle. I practically levitated off the bed. I think I just found the cheat code for Adrian. Give him attention, give him warmth, and give him a suffocating sense of security. Thanks, internet trolls. 3 Monday morning. Before I headed out for my shift, Adrian sent a photo of five ties laid out on a mahogany table. [Babe, pick one for me.] I looked closely. [The navy blue one with the subtle jacquard pattern.] [Perfect. I’ll wear that one to the office today.] I was about to send a thumbs-up, but then I had a thought. Reciprocity is the foundation of any healthy—or unhealthy—obsession. I pulled five flannels out of my closet, lined them up on my bed, and snapped a photo. [Babe, help me pick one, too.] Then… silence. The comments screamed: [Oh my god, he usually replies in seconds! It’s been two minutes of silence!] [LOL, the bumpkin is blowing her cover. Our gorgeous Sienna gets a new set of almond nails every week. There is no way she owns a closet full of thrift-store flannels.] [Just wait until he finds out a fake is talking to him. He’s going to ruin her life.] Ruin me? I felt a twinge of genuine anxiety. But as they say, fortune favors the bold—and the bold need to pay rent. Suddenly, the phone buzzed. Adrian: [The navy blue flannel. That way, we’re technically wearing matching outfits today.] Me: [You got it, babe~ ️] The comments were livid: [Why is she so excited?! He’s only being nice because he thinks she’s Sienna!] [Imposter! Stop smiling!] I smirked, tucked a strand of my “mowed” bangs behind my ear, and headed out. Crisis averted. 4 Being a proxy texter was surprisingly demanding. I spent most of my lunch breaks and “focus time” at work keeping Adrian entertained. I even forgot to check the TikToks my best friend, Lexie, had sent me. She caught me outside my office building after work. “Alright, spill. Are you seeing someone?” she asked, handing me a Starbucks. “No,” I laughed, taking a sip. “I’ve just been really focused on making money lately.” Technically, I wasn’t lying. When Adrian asked what I was having for lunch, I sent him a photo of my sad desk salad, and he immediately sent another five hundred bucks for “a better dinner.” Lexie squeezed my cheek. “You promised, Jo. We’re going to save up and buy that house with the wraparound porch together.” “I know, Lex. You and me against the world.” After dinner, she went back to her dorm, and I went back to the apartment. The comments: [Now I see why she handles Adrian so well. She’s got a best friend who’s just as clingy.] [Sienna, stop taking selfies and take your phone back! The billionaire is being brainwashed by a girl who wears New Balance sneakers!] [So what? It’s just texting. In real life, a guy like Adrian wouldn’t look at her twice.] I walked into the apartment to find Sienna taking mirror selfies. She turned, showing off her new peach-colored manicure. “Like them?” “They’re great,” I said, setting a bag of pastries Lexie had bought me on the table. “Want some?” Sienna ignored the food. “Phone.” I pulled it out of my bag and handed it over. She scrolled through the chat, her eyes widening. She looked at me with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “Damn, Jo. Less than a day and you got him to drop over sixty grand?” I gave a shy smile. “He’s very generous.” Sienna Venmo-ed herself sixty thousand dollars from the account and handed the phone back. “Keep the change. Keep up the good work.” I checked the balance. There was $2,400 left. We’d agreed on thirty percent. My cut should have been eighteen thousand. I looked at her, the words caught in my throat. Sienna caught my expression and sighed dramatically. “Ugh, don’t give me that look. I’m heading to the Hamptons for a few days to ‘find my muse.’ Travel is expensive, Jo. Be a team player.” I glanced at the easel in the corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust. Fine. “I get it.” Sienna went back to editing her photos. “Oh, and while I’m gone, if he asks to play games, just make an excuse. I can’t believe you work at a gaming company and you’re so bad at them. I’m not giving you my login; you’ll ruin my rank and blow your cover.” I paused. “What if he asks to meet up?” Sienna looked up, laughing. “Then go. Just try to wear something that doesn’t scream ‘Target clearance rack.’” 5 The comments flickered: [I don’t know why the bumpkin is pouting. Without Sienna, she wouldn’t even have that $2,400. Be grateful!] They were right. I was getting ahead of myself. I should have just been happy to help Sienna for free. I went to my room, flopped onto the bed, and texted Adrian. Me: [Babe, stop sending me money.] Adrian: [? Why?] Me: [I don’t like men who are reckless with their finances. It’s not attractive.] The “typing…” indicator appeared and disappeared for a long time. Finally: Adrian: [Okay. If that’s what you want.] Me: [Good boy. I’m heading to bed. Get some rest, okay? Goodnight. [Kiss emoji]] The moment I sent it, I went stone-faced and deleted the messages from the log. I didn’t want the $2,400 either. Honestly, Adrian’s company was starting to be its own reward. 6 I chatted with Adrian for another three days. I realized he was like a high-maintenance purebred dog. If I didn’t pay attention to him for an hour, he’d start whining—metaphorically. Since I couldn’t spend all day at work on my phone, I decided to make him a “comfort toy.” I pulled three all-nighters and spent my weekend coding a mini-game. On Monday morning, Adrian texted: [Babe, I miss you.] I sent him the download link. [Download this.] Adrian: [Done.] Me: [See the little character inside?] Adrian: [I see her. She’s cute. Did… did you make this?] Me: [Yeah. I’ve been in a lot of meetings lately for a new project, so if I don’t reply, you can play with her instead.] Adrian: [Did you make this specifically for me?] Me: [Of course. You can think of her as me. You can DIY her outfits and everything. She’s your exclusive digital doll from now on.] Silence from Adrian’s end. The comments erupted: [Childish.] [Manipulative.] [Cheap.] [This is why she’s a nobody. Such a tacky gift. Does she know Sienna and Adrian met on a high-stakes RPG? He’s not going to care about some low-res mobile pet.] I shrugged. Who cares about “high-end”? This was about companionship. If he didn’t like it, he didn’t like it.
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