What If This Was Real?

People don’t really see me.

They walk past, brush shoulders, and maybe nod if they’re feeling generous. But I could disappear for days, and most of them wouldn’t notice. Some might be relieved. I'm the girl with headphones too big for her face and a notebook glued to her fingers. I sit in the corner of the cafeteria. Always alone. Always writing.

My name’s Anna Wells. Seventeen. Average grades. No friends, unless you count the ones I invent.

I write stories under fake names. L. Green is the most popular. Nobody at school knows that the writer of The Dagger of Dust or In the Mouth of Light sits in their fourth-period English class, wearing hand-me-down sweaters and hiding behind her bangs.

I’m not famous. But online? I’m somebody.

Lately, I’ve been working on something new. Something… soft. A romance. I told myself it was just a warmup project, but that’s a lie. The girl in the story—Lara—she’s me. And the boy? Tomas?

That’s Corin Maddox.

He’s golden. I mean that both literally and metaphorically. Blond hair. Basketball captain. Movie-star smile. He talks, and people listen. And when he laughs, it's the kind of sound that feels like summer.

So, of course, he doesn’t know I exist.

Except in the story, he does.

Last night, I finished Chapter Two. I was wrapped in my blanket with my lamp dimmed, typing like I was on fire.

“They didn’t plan it. There were no grand gestures. No music swelling in the background.

But from that day on, Lara and Tomas were best friends.”

I stared at the line, heart pounding like I’d said it out loud. Then I clicked save, shut my laptop, and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, everything changed.

It started at my locker.

I was digging for my headphones when a shadow loomed over me. Someone tall.

“Hey,” a voice said. Familiar. Too familiar.

I turned, and there he was. Corin Maddox. Smiling at me.

“Uh... hi,” I said.

“You okay?” He asked, like we’d talked a million times before. “You look a little zoned out.”

I blinked. “Do I… know you?”

He laughed. “Very funny.” Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “You’re totally Lara before coffee.”

My heart stopped.

Lara?

“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice paper-thin.

He looked genuinely confused. “You said the same thing yesterday.”

I hadn’t.

I know I hadn’t.

But Lara had. In Chapter One.

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“You coming?” he asked. “Best friends don’t let best friends walk alone.”

And just like that, he walked off—like I was supposed to follow.

So I did.

The whole day felt like a dream.

Corin sat next to me in English. Passed notes like we were in some kind of teen drama. At lunch, he found me behind the auditorium, where I always ate alone with my notebook.

“I got you a blueberry muffin,” he said, grinning like he’d cracked the code to my soul.

I stared. “How did you know I like those?”

“You told me yesterday,” he said.

I hadn’t.

But Lara had. In Chapter One.

By the time the final bell rang, I was shaking.

That night, I ran home, ripped open my laptop, and reread the last scene I wrote. Then I did something I wasn’t sure I should do.

I tested it.

I wrote a new line.

“Tomas gave Lara a red bracelet, etched with the words ‘Keep Going.’ Something she could wear to remember she wasn’t alone.”

I saved it.

Closed my laptop.

And told myself I was imagining things.

The next morning, Corin found me before first period.

“I saw this and thought of you,” he said.

He handed me a bracelet.

Red. With silver lettering.

Keep going.

I stared at it like it was poison.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Just… tired.”

He smiled. “Well, you’ve got me now, Lara.”

That’s when I knew.

I wasn’t imagining it.

My writing was real.

For a while, I let it happen.

Corin—Tomas—was perfect. He texted me sweet things every night. He walked me to class. He told me I was smart and funny and beautiful, and part of me believed him.

But another part of me? The real part?

Was terrified.

He wasn’t acting like himself. Not exactly. He was acting like a character. Like my character. Everything he said felt scripted—lines I’d written, jokes I’d made up in scenes.

And then things got… worse.

One day, our English teacher didn’t show up. I asked where Mr. Channing was, and the sub blinked at me like I’d said a ghost’s name.

“There’s no Mr. Channing on staff,” she said. “Are you thinking of another school?”

But I remembered him.

His sweaters. His chalk-stained fingers. How he always called me Miss Wells, like I was somebody important.

Then I remembered: I’d cut a scene from the story. One where Tomas helped Lara convince their teacher to open up about his grief.

I’d deleted him. And now, he was gone.

That’s when I realized something awful.

I wasn’t writing fiction anymore.

I was rewriting reality.

I stopped writing. For two whole days.

The world started… glitching.

My mom forgot my name mid-sentence. Trees flickered outside like bad animation. Corin stood in the hallway staring blankly at a locker that wasn’t his.

Everything felt fragile.

So I wrote again. Desperate, scrambling, trying to glue reality back together with words I didn’t believe.

But it wasn’t working.

Worse than that—Corin started to notice.

“You’re different,” he said one afternoon, eyes narrowing. “You don’t talk to me like you used to.”

I bit my tongue. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He shook his head. “You don’t want me anymore?”

I flinched. “That’s not what I said.”

He leaned closer. Too close.

“You wrote me this way. You don’t get to undo me.”

His voice was cold. Flat. Like a computer reading code.

That night, I opened my laptop and stared at the blinking cursor.

My heart felt like lead.

“But Lara wasn’t sure she wanted this love anymore. Maybe… it was time to let go.”

I sat there for hours. Crying. Trying to make the words come.

Finally, I finished it.

“Tomas looked at Lara. Really looked.

Not like a prince. Not like a perfect boy from a story.

But like someone seeing someone else—flawed, scared, human.

And he understood.

He said goodbye.

And Lara…

She stood alone.

But she was still standing.”

I saved it.

Then I shut the laptop.

And I let him go.

The next morning, Corin didn’t wait for me at my locker.

Didn’t walk me to class.

Didn’t smile at me from across the room.

It was like nothing had ever happened.

The bracelet was gone.

But the world was… normal again. Stable. No flickers. No memory gaps. Teachers knew their names. The cafeteria didn’t hum like a broken radio.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

But it was real.

And that had to be enough.

I sat behind the auditorium at lunch, notebook open on my knees, letting the breeze flip the pages. For once, I didn’t write.

I just… sat.

Until I heard footsteps.

I turned.

Corin. Not Tomas. Not some romantic version I’d made up. Just Corin.

He looked hesitant. Like he didn’t quite know why he was there.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is going to sound weird, but… do I know you?”

I stared at him, heart pounding.

“Not yet,” I said softly. “But maybe you could.”

He smiled.

“I’m Corin.”

I smiled back.

“Anna.”