So-Called Destiny

My brother used one of my curated selfies to catfish people online. He was hoping to hook a sweet, shy girl, but instead, he snagged a leviathan: our universitys resident hothead, Jax.

Jax, feeling deeply insulted, took to the campus confessions board that very night to put him on blast: PSA: My roommate is a total creep. Not that I'm planning anything, but just hypothetically, is it illegal to murder him?

Someone in the comments tried to play peacemaker: "Dude, chill. What if he wasn't lying? What if that's actually his sister?"

Jax's reply was swift and brutal: "Bullshit. Nobody looks that good in real life. Photoshop frauds must die."

Then came the next day's basketball game. There, in the cheerleading squad, he saw methe girl who "couldn't possibly look that good."

He dropped the ball mid-dribble, whipped out his phone, and frantically edited his post.

"URGENT: I think I scared my brother-in-law so bad he fainted. Should I give him mouth-to-mouth? Waiting online for answers!"

Tyson and I are twins.

But the distribution of intellect between us is ridiculously skewed, as if I stole his share of brains back in the womb.

While I was winning gold medals in the Math Olympiad, he was playing in the mud.

When I got early admission into a top-tier university, he was being held back by his teacher for mixing up the alphabet with, well, everything else.

Somehow, by a stroke of dumb luck, he got an athletic scholarship to the same university as me.

Just a few days into the semester, the idiot showed up at my door, his face glowing with a dopey, lovesick grin.

He told me he was in love and was going to pursue the famously aloof campus queen.

I knew who he was talking about. That girl wasn't even into guys.

Tyson, however, was a firm believer in the invincible power of true love.

For the next few weeks, he gave me daily progress reports.

"Paige, she added me! She accepted my friend request!"

"She's so sweet when she texts, and she sends me cat emojis! Is this what it's like to talk to an angel?"

"..."

"Paige! Help! She wants to meet up tomorrow! I'm freaking out, can you help me?"

When I got that message, I was buried under a mountain of thesis revisions from my advisor, my brain completely fried. I agreed without a second thought.

I worked late into the night, finally emailing the paper to my professor before collapsing onto my bed, phone in hand.

As my brain slowly rebooted, a thought surfaced.

Wait a second. The campus queen was known for her ice-queen vibe. When did she become a "sweet angel"?

And besides, Tyson, with his single-digit IQ, actually managed to win her over?

Before I could puzzle it out, my roommate, Tilly, forwarded me a trending post from the university forum.

The title was pure clickbait.

My thumb slipped, and I tapped on it.

The posters username alone screamed "don't mess with me," and every word dripped with fury: "My roommate is a sicko. Can I just bury him in the woods?"

The comments section was a swarm of curious onlookers, eager for drama.

"What kind of sicko? Spill the tea!"

"OP is a guy, roommate's a guy... I see where this is going, hehe."

"Ew, keep it in your pants. Not every guy-on-guy story is a romance."

The original poster replied instantly, his rage palpable even through the screen. "He's not gay, he's a scammer! Used some hot girl's picture as his profile pic. I thought I was talking to a girl for two whole weeks!"

Ah, a classic catfishing disaster.

Some commenters were on his side: "That's disgusting. Using a fake photo to play with someone's feelings. OP, don't hold back, beat him up!"

Others tried to be the voice of reason: "It's the middle of the night, you guys are roommates. Just rough him up a little to blow off steam, don't actually kill the guy."

"Wait, you lived with him this whole time and only just found out?"

This seemed to make the poster even angrier: "I'm a freshman who usually lives off-campus. I don't know the idiot. He always seemed like a harmless dummy, but it was all an act!"

"I just cornered him in the bathroom. He was crying and begging, swearing the picture was of his sister and that she really looks like that. Give me a break. As if anyone could be that beautiful in real life."

Within minutes, the thread had hundreds of replies.

I was cackling under my covers, thoroughly entertained.

Then, my scrolling finger froze on a blurry photo someone had posted.

It was a picture of the poster's dorm room, meant to prove how much of a "creep" the roommate was.

In the corner of the shot was a scruffy gray backpack. Dangling from it was an incredibly ugly, bright green frog plushie.

Unless I was blind, that was the exact same one Tyson had begged me to win for him at the arcade last week.

Just then, the OP added a new comment:

"The coward is a total lightweight. Started crying before I even laid a hand on him. Keeps insisting it's his sister and that she's coming tomorrow to sort things out."

"Is that a threat? He wants to throw down? Fine by me. He says his sister runs with a tough crowd. I'll be waiting right here tomorrow. Let's see if I don't take them both down."

The smile on my face vanished.

Oh, crap.

This "sicko" who used his sister's photo to catfish his hot-tempered roommate... it couldn't be Tyson, could it?

My head was spinning.

I frantically scrolled through the post again, desperate to find any evidence to the contrary.

Finally, I had to accept the horrifying truth.

That unlucky bastard was, without a doubt, my own flesh-and-blood brother.

Tyson, you have a death wish!

The tone in the comments had already shifted.

"Damn, not even scared of a 'tough crowd'? This OP doesn't sound like your average freshman."

"For those who don't know, that tone, that swagger... there's only one guy on campus who talks like that. The one even the dean is polite to."

"Oh, I know who this is! It's him! That creep roommate is so screwed. He picked a fight with the final boss."

A chill ran down my spine.

Based on my extensive reading experience, guys with this kind of background and temper were always the untouchable campus royalty.

I had the sudden, violent urge to strangle Tyson.

My fingers flew faster than my brain, opening my chat with him.

"Tyson, are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

It took a long time for him to reply. When he did, it was a voice message.

I tapped it, my hand trembling.

Tyson's blood-curdling scream nearly shattered my eardrums. "Paige! Help me! He's going to kill me!"

Thank god I was wearing headphones, or the entire dorm would have woken up.

Then, a new voice cut through the message. A cold, low chuckle.

It was deep, clear, and laced with a casual sort of menace.

"So, what 'tough crowd' are we talking about? How many people are you bringing tomorrow?"

I took a deep breath, my fingers shaking as I typed.

I wrote and deleted my message several times before finally sending: "Um... this is all a misunderstanding. It's just me..."

The person on the other end clearly had no patience for my explanations.

He cut me off, issuing a challenge.

"You looking down on me? Fine. I don't hit girls. I'll even give you a two-hand handicap tomorrow."

The sheer arrogance in his tone was off the charts.

He sounded like he knew how to fight.

I suddenly felt like Tyson was a lost cause. Maybe it was time to delete his contact and start over.

This whole drama of feuding families and gang wars was way above the paygrade of a quiet academic like me.

Forget it. I was going to sleep.

But just before I drifted off, I made the mistake of checking the forum one last time.

The conversation had taken a weird turn.

"OP, have you ever considered the possibility that his 'tough crowd' sister actually does look like the picture?"

"So what? Is being pretty a superpower? OP's still gonna wipe the floor with her."

"Seriously though, how hot does a picture have to be to have OP this worked up? Post it, let us be the judge."

"Forget it, man. He's definitely keeping it for himself."

The OP's final reply was a furious declaration: "Impossible! Absolutely no one looks like that! It's a scam! This is the first time in my life I've been played for a fool, and I'm getting my payback tomorrow!"

"So the sister and brother better be ready."

I shut my phone, a tired, serene smile on my face.

Great.

Looks like tomorrow was going to be a bloodbath.

The next morning, Tyson sent me a text from his burner phone.

"Paige, something urgent came up, I have to lie low for a while. Take care of yourself."

"P.S. Maybe you should wear a helmet? He said he doesn't hit girls, but he might not be able to stop himself."

That little rat. He was fast.

Well, since the main culprit had fled the scene, there was no reason for me to walk into the line of fire.

I had planned to be a hermit in my dorm all day, but Tilly's booming voice dragged me out of bed.

"Paige! Get up! The sun is shining! It's criminal to sleep in on a day this gorgeous!"

Oh, right. I forgot to mention.

Tyson and I have different last names, one from our mom and one from our dad.

So, everyone assumes I'm an only child. Tyson doesn't dare acknowledge me in public, afraid I'll cut off his allowance.

"Paige, come on! There's a basketball game on the North Field, and it's packed with hotties!"

"I heard all the freshman legends are playing. If we're late, we won't get a good spot!"

Tilly shook my arm, whining, "Please come with me, pretty please? For me, Paige?"

I couldn't resist her, so I dragged myself out of bed, my hair a bird's nest, and got ready.

When we got to the court, it was a madhouse.

It felt like every girl from our university, and even the neighboring one, was here.

"See that?" Tilly pulled me to a spot in the front corner. "That whole crowd is here for Jax."

She pointed to the center of the court, where a tall figure was surrounded by his teammates.

"Jax? You mean the one who's..."

I squinted, trying to make out his face.

"Yes! The one whose family is loaded, who has a notoriously short fuse, but is so unbelievably handsome he's the new campus heartthrob!"

Tilly was practically drooling. "I heard his family donated the new science building. And he got in on his own merit, not just money. He's like a romance novel hero come to life!"

My stomach dropped.

Jax?

Why did that name sound so familiar?

Before I could connect the dots, Tilly leaned in close.

"Why aren't you wearing your glasses again? You're wasting your eyesight! Jax's face is a work of art, it's a crime not to see it clearly."

She studied my face for a moment, then changed the subject. "Seriously, Paige, you're this beautiful and you never wear a stitch of makeup. If you just put in a little effort, that campus queen wouldn't stand a chance."

I quickly covered her mouth. "Don't say that. I don't want the attention."

"Ugh, such a humble brag," Tilly pouted, turning her attention back to the court. Suddenly, she started waving excitedly. "Whatever! I gotta cheer for my man!"

"Your man?"

"Hehe, we just started dating. He's on the other team." Tilly blushed. "Wanna know what the sickeningly sweet smell of love is like?"

I shook my head violently.

The game started, and the energy was electric.

Tilly was screaming her head off next to me. "Take down Jax! Go, baby, go! Crush the bourgeoisie!"

We were surrounded by Jax's fan club, and her cheers earned us a volley of death glares.

Even the players on the court glanced our way.

The tall guy, Jax, turned his head.

We were standing right under the basket, so he was incredibly close.

Even without my glasses, I could see his face clearly. It was stunning.

Deep-set features, sharp, intense eyes.

He was sweating from the game, a drop tracing the line of his throat as he breathed.

His black jersey was damp with sweat, clinging to his body and hinting at the powerful muscles underneath.

He was tall, easily over six-foot-three.

And he was frowning, looking absolutely ferocious.

The ball rolled to a stop by our feet.

Jax walked over to get it, his eyes sweeping casually over the crowd.

When his gaze passed over me.

He stopped dead.

His eyes, which had been burning with competitive fire just a second ago, went wide as saucers.

He froze, like hed seen a ghost.