I just finished my finals, the ink barely dry on my SAT bubbling sheet, when I blinked and woke up ten years in the future. I’m wearing my backpack, staring at a tombstone. My tombstone. The corner of my mouth won't stop twitching. Cell service is garbage, bars flickering in and out. I rack my brain until I remember exactly one landline number. It belongs to the most depressed, anti-social, toxic-tongued pretty boy in my homeroom. The call connects fast, accompanied by the hiss of static. A voice—familiar but strange—answers. "...Babe?" I freeze. "Who?" 1 The voice on the other end pauses for half a second. "Chloe?" Okay, maybe he just mistook me for someone else. Terrified the signal would drop, I rush to speak. "It's me. Don't yell at me, I can't explain right now, but if you aren't married, don't have a girlfriend, and happen to be free... can you come pick me up at the cemetery?" Wait. He called me "Babe" earlier. Doesn't sound single. I backpedal hard. "Ah, haha, sorry to bother you! Actually, could you just call someone else to get me? Like Julian..." Julian. The guy I’ve been low-key crushing on. My social standing in high school was mid at best. I only kind of knew these two by accident. They count as friends, right? "...Wait for me." It's been—God knows how many years—but Liam is still a man of few words. I blink, staring at the screen as the call drops from bad service. Bored, I squat in front of my own grave. It hits me late: Did I just make a prank call claiming to be a zombie? I wonder how Future Me and Liam got along? He probably thinks this is a scam... His guard was always insanely high. Whatever. My legs go numb from squatting, so I hop up and sit on top of my tombstone. It’s polished to a shine, reflecting the sunlight. There’s a huge bouquet of sunflowers in front of it. They aren't wilted yet. Someone must have visited "me" a few days ago. Guess I was popular? I swing my legs, bored out of my mind. Not long ago, I was celebrating the end of high school. Classmates were tossing papers, screaming "Freedom!" and "I'm dyeing my hair green!" I was quietly asking the teacher if I could take the leftover papers to the recycling center for cash. I wanted to buy treats for the kids at the group home. Liam had helped me pack up, silent as usual. I told him to go home early so his dad wouldn't beat him. He bristled like a stray cat. Stood up, glared at me coldly. "None of your damn business." And walked off. I spent hours haggling with the scrap yard guy, and finally caught the last bus before total darkness. I took a nap... and woke up here. At a graveyard. At noon. Finding out I’m dead is shocking. It’s like finding out I flunked out of high school when I was tracking for the Ivy League. ...I wonder which college I got into? The sun is blinding, but my phone says it’s midnight. This phone was a gift from the group home director. Cheap, prepaid. She told me not to worry about paying her back, just to study hard. They must be freaking out that I’m missing. I sigh. "Beep-beep!" A text notification sound. Footsteps approach from behind, soft and slow up the stairs. I pivot on my butt, spinning around on the tombstone. A man in a fitted black suit crashes into my line of sight. It’s too hot, so I’ve got my school blazer over my head like a hood. I squint at him. Is that... Liam? I barely recognize him. This man is a galaxy away from the boy who cursed me out yesterday. He freezes, his pitch-black eyes locking onto mine. It seems like he stopped breathing. High school Liam was pretty—pale skin, sharp features—but gloomy. His eyes were always cold, his words poisonous. Current Liam is still good-looking, but the boyish awkwardness is gone. He’s solid, stoic, distant. He’s staring so hard I stop swinging my legs. I hop down from the tombstone. "Hi?" 2 Liam’s breath hitches. He strides forward and crushes me into a hug. My face slams into his rock-hard chest. My nose actually hurts. ...When did he get so tall? Wait, if he has a partner, he shouldn't be hugging me like this! I try to push him away, but his strength has grown with his height. I can't budge him. Maybe he's just excited to see a dead friend's ghost? I let him hug me for a minute, then whisper, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Your dad isn't..." No, wait. It's been ten years. He looks successful. I correct myself. "I'm not causing trouble, am I?" He buries his face in my neck and rubs against me like a puppy. "I missed you so much." I stiffen. This is wrong. Is this really Liam? We were "friends," sure, but this is way too intimate. Does his partner know? I turn beet red from my ears to my toes. I smack his back. "Liam! Let go! Off, off!" He finally loosens his grip but insists on interlacing his fingers with mine. I try to shake him off. He holds tight. ...Maybe Future Me and him were really close. "Doesn't your 'Babe' mind us doing this?" I ask awkwardly. "?" He looks at me, then smiles. "You are my Babe." Me: "..." What the hell did I do in the last ten years? I can't process this. He takes my backpack. Since I sold all my books, it's empty and light. Liam, looking like a CEO, slings my high school bag over one shoulder and holds my hand with the other. He asks zero questions about how I’m here. His acceptance level is suspiciously high. I chatter nervously as he leads me away. "What year is it?" He smiles secretly. "2035." Damn! I really time-traveled ten years. The tombstone said "2032." I’ve been dead for three years. ...Why did I die so young? Twenty-five? That sucks. I frown. "What was my SAT score? Class rank? Which college?" "Never mind, you probably don't remember the details. just tell me the college." His voice is soft, melting into the wind. "1560. Top 1%. Z State University." My eyes go wide. I grab his arm. "That good?! So I..." I stop. I see the ring on his left ring finger. It glints in the sun. I drop his hand like it's radioactive. "Liam, you're married?" 3 He grabs my hand back, tightening his grip. He smiles, but he looks away. "Yeah. I married my Babe." Me: "..." Why is he so calm?! Let go of me! I don’t want to be blasted on TikTok by his wife as a homewrecker. I’m technically 18. Standing next to him, I look like his little sister, but we aren't siblings. "Just drop me off at a bus stop," I say, frowning. "I'll go back..." He tightens his grip again, helping me down the stairs. "Go back where?" Anywhere but with him. "Home..." I need to check on the group home. The director might recognize me even if I’m supposed to be dead. Liam relaxes. He smiles again. "Then let's go home." His smiling creeps me out. The Liam I knew didn't smile. Julian was the one who always smiled. Liam was the one who looked like he wanted to murder everyone. "Let go of my hand..." He stuffs me into the back seat of a car. He climbs in right after me. His face screams "pity me." I choke on my words. Liam has always been stubborn. If he wants something, he’ll smash through a brick wall to get it. Now he’s looking at me with puppy dog eyes, gripping my hand. "Babe..." My scalp tingles. What is this?! Why is he calling me Babe?! Is this future slang? Who is this dog wagging its tail? I push his face away with my free hand. "Liam, chill! I know you're excited to see your dead friend, but I just finished high school!" "And you're married! We can't do this!" He freezes. Just when I think I got through to him, he pulls me into a hug again. "Sorry. You probably won't believe me, but once we get home, you'll see." Your home, I think blankly. How am I going to explain this to his wife? "...Mr. Lu? Are we leaving?" The driver asks, terrified. I make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. The awkwardness is palpable. Great. I’ve time-traveled and immediately become a mistress. Liam holds me tight. His wedding ring digs into my skin, pricking my conscience. He gives a low "Hmm," and the driver relaxes. Just as the engine starts, there’s a knock on the window. A man holding a massive bouquet of red roses leans down. He knocks again. He’s smiling. He looks older, but that mole under his lip is iconic. My eyes widen. "Julian?" Liam slams my face into his chest, hiding me. "Drive," he orders coldly. "Wait! Don't drive!" I scramble against him. "Liam, that's Julian!" He knows I had a crush on Julian in high school. He pushes my head down again. "Drive." I don't want to be kidnapped to his house to be accused of adultery. I struggle and manage to hit the window button. I try to pop my head up to say hi, but Liam shoves my face into his lap. I freeze. "Well, long time no see," Julian says. His voice is deeper, smoother. He sounds amused. "Saw you from a distance. You... you're hiring lookalikes now?" Liam sneers. "If you have nothing to say, get lost." "Can't say hi to an old classmate? You've gotten cute again since Chloe died." Hearing my name makes me wince. I try to move, but Liam presses down harder. Now my face is pressed against... something. I turn bright red. I want to die again. To Liam's unknown wife: I am so sorry! Wait, Liam is the scum here. Why should I die? I wiggle cautiously. Liam groans. I freeze instantly. "Ah, my bad. Didn't realize you were busy," Julian laughs. No shame at all. Dude! He definitely misunderstood! Julian leans on the window, chatting casually. "Making out right outside Chloe’s grave? Trying to piss her ghost off?" The air smells like gunpowder. Liam ignores him. "Drive." The driver hesitates. "Mr. Su... his hand is on the car..." Is everyone a "Mr. CEO" or "Mr. Heir" now? And I'm just "The Dead Girl"? "Hey, little sister," Julian says, seemingly talking to me. "Still wearing a school uniform..." He sighs dramatically. "Don't do this kind of work. If you need money, name your price. I'll beat it." Julian is still so gentle. I should go with him! I struggle free from Liam’s claws and lunge for the window. "Julian—" Julian’s pupils earthquake. He stares at my face. His smile cracks. "...How much is Liam paying you? I'll double it. No, name any price. Will you come with me?" 4 What are they talking about?! I open my mouth to say I am Chloe, but Liam yanks me back. His face is ice cold. He glares at Julian. "If you want a substitute, go find your own. Stay away from her." Julian chuckles, ignoring him. He pulls out a black and gold business card and flicks it at me. Liam tries to block it, but I snatch it mid-air. "If you get bored of Liam... if you want a change of pace..." Julian smiles deeply. "Call me." I want to put it in my bag, but Liam might confiscate it. I memorize the number instantly and shove the card in my pocket. "Okay, I'll call." Assuming he isn't married too. Liam is grinding his teeth beside me. I can't believe the guy who wouldn't talk to anyone in high school grew up to be a cheater! Men ain't shit. "I'll be waiting," Julian says, dropping his eyes. My heart skips a beat. He steps back, waving, holding those roses. He doesn't look like he's visiting a grave. He looks like he's waiting for a date. "Too bad these flowers aren't for you... Next time, I'll bring you your own." The driver hits the gas. I tumble back into Liam’s arms. He feels warm, but his vibe is freezing. I break away easily this time and buckle my seatbelt. The car interior is luxurious. Even a broke kid like me knows this leather is expensive. I glance at Liam. He’s staring straight ahead, looking like he’s built a fortress around himself. The driver is driving like a maniac. "Liam..." He snaps his head to look at me, eyes wide with hope. "...Put your seatbelt on?" His eyes dim. He buckles up. I’m terrified of meeting his wife. I run through a dozen scenarios in my head until the car stops. I step out nervously. Liam grabs my hand again. I try to shake him off. "What are you doing?!" He purses his lips. Silence. He drags me to the elevator. Beep. He drags me to the door. Beep. I close my eyes, preparing to be yelled at by a angry wife. He lets go and pushes me gently inside. "Look." I peek through one eye. There, on the wall, is a massive wedding photo. My eyes pop out of my head. My face catches fire. Liam stands behind me, sounding hurt. "I told you, you're my Babe." "Who else would I marry?" Oh my God. This is scarier than being dead. I’m eighteen. I’ve never dated. I only know the sour taste of a secret crush. And now I’m looking at this? Also... at my age... I like Julian.
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