Chapter 1: Welcome to Maple Heights—Now Capture a Male Lead

I jolted awake in a world where, apparently, being into other guys was just the norm. My first thought: What kind of alternate universe did I just land in? For a second, I wondered if I was still dreaming. Nope—my heart was thumping, my mouth was dry, and this was real. Oh man, I was so not ready for this.

The sunlight was blinding, the sky a perfect blue that almost hurt to look at. I squinted, trying to piece together what was happening. Maple Heights campus buzzed with energy—students darted across the quad, some with messenger bags slung carelessly over one shoulder, others laughing as they hurried by. It was just like my old school—except for one glaring detail. Everywhere I looked, there were couples: guys holding hands, leaning on each other, trading grins like they were in their own little world. My brain just stopped working for a sec. This was definitely not my old college.

Then, out of nowhere, the app in my head—a peppy, overly enthusiastic little voice—chimed in. It said the only way out was to "capture a male lead." Yeah, you heard that right. Capture. A. Male. Lead. What was I, a Pokémon trainer in a romance novel?

I nearly face-planted over a crack in the sidewalk. Capture a male lead? Was this some kind of hidden camera prank? I glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out with a boom mic. Nope. Just me and this ridiculous app, buzzing in my brain like a morning radio host. My heart pounded, and I tried to steady my breathing. This was so far past weird, it was almost funny.

“You seriously think this mission makes sense?” I muttered, scanning the quad, still trying to process the hand-holding, the laughter, the fact that this was my life now. My mind went totally blank.

A guy zipped by on a skateboard, swerving just in time to avoid a couple making out by the fountain. I shook my head, my laugh coming out all shaky—half in disbelief, half in panic. This cannot be happening. This had to be a dream. Right?

The app piped up, trying to sound motivational: “Anything’s possible in Maple Heights!” It sounded like a cheesy infomercial.

I rolled my eyes so hard I could’ve strained something. But, annoyingly, the app had a point. In this world, maybe the impossible was just Tuesday. I let out a sigh, then took a deep breath, trying to psych myself up. Okay, universe. Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

Against all logic, I decided to play along (don’t ask me why) and set my sights on the male lead: the coldest prof on campus. I figured, hey, maybe the old-school types were less likely to get swept up in all this. Maybe I’d have a shot.

There was something about the way he moved—shoulders squared, briefcase swinging, walking like he was the only person immune to the chaos. I trailed after him into the lecture hall, nerves jangling. Was I really doing this? I slid into a seat in the very front row. If I was going to make an impression, I might as well go big.

The classroom smelled like a mix of strong coffee and dusty old books. I tried to look studious, flipping open a notebook and pretending to take notes. My palms were sweating so much I nearly dropped my pen, but I was determined not to chicken out.

I watched him push up his gold-rimmed glasses with those elegant fingers, then shoot a meaningful look… past me. Ouch.

His gaze was sharp, almost surgical. Like he was X-raying my soul. For a split second, I thought he’d actually noticed me, but then his eyes slid right over my head.

I turned. Oh. There, sprawled across two chairs like he owned the place, was a red-haired rebel kid, chin propped on his hand, grinning at the professor like he was the only guy in the room. Figures.

This kid looked like he belonged in a garage band—ripped jeans, scuffed boots, and a smirk that said he didn’t care about a thing. He caught the professor’s eye and winked. I might as well have been wallpaper.

The professor turned away, poker-faced, but I caught the tips of his ears going pink. Busted.

He cleared his throat and fiddled with his tie, but his fingers shook ever so slightly. You could cut the tension with a knife. I felt like I’d just walked into a live taping of a soap opera.

I whispered to the app, “You really think I can pull this off?”

I ducked my head, pretending to scribble in my notebook while my stomach twisted itself into knots. Great. Just great.

The app chirped, “Class just started, you’ve still got time. Go on, do it for the chance to get outta here!”

The words “go home” lit a fire under me. Home. God, I missed it.

I clenched my fists under the desk. Home. My own bed, my old friends, my mom’s Sunday pancakes. No way was I giving up now. Time to go full Hermione Granger. I straightened my shoulders and tried to channel every overachiever I’d ever known.

I nodded along to every point, even when I had no idea what he was talking about. I scribbled notes, underlined random words, and sat up straighter than I ever had in my life. If being a teacher’s pet was an Olympic sport, I’d have taken gold.

“Who wants to answer this?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the kind that made you pay attention. Please pick me, please pick me… My hand shot up before my brain could catch up.

I flashed my brightest, most eager smile, channeling every teacher’s pet from every high school movie. My heart hammered in my chest so hard I thought it might echo off the walls.

He smiled. “Alright, let’s have the young lady in the front row…” He paused, and my heart leapt—then he added, “…and the gentleman sleeping behind her give it a try.”

My confidence shriveled. Behind me? Of course, it was the red-haired rebel. Ugh.

My cheeks burned. I turned around, and sure enough, the rebel was sprawled out, drooling slightly, looking like he’d just pulled three all-nighters in a row.

He woke up, blinking, totally out of it. Lucky guy.

He rubbed his eyes, squinting at the professor. For a second, I thought he’d just flop right back asleep right there. Seriously?

The professor’s mouth twitched. “You, what’s your name?” Oh, here we go.

He grinned, a little too wide. “Call me Jamie.”

“Since you’re so well-rested, you must have thoughts on my class. Swing by my office after, we’ll chat.”

Oh, his office. Alone. I could practically see the fireworks going off. Of course.

I tried not to groan out loud. Naturally, the professor was already halfway gone for this guy. The tension in the room felt like static before a summer storm—prickly and impossible to ignore.

The rebel grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Sure thing.”

He shot the professor a wink that made the whole class snicker. I felt like I’d shown up to a party in the wrong costume—so out of place it hurt.

I watched them exchange loaded looks and decided I needed to bail from the front row as soon as possible.

I slouched in my chair, trying to make myself invisible. Strike one. Time to regroup.

I packed up my stuff before the bell even rang. Time to switch gears. There had to be another way out of this universe.

The next candidate? A sweet, soft-spoken upperclassman with the kind of gentle vibe that made you want to hand him your plants and trust he’d keep them alive.

He was the type you’d trust with your houseplants—gentle eyes, soft voice, always holding the door for people. I spotted him in the library, nose buried in a thick novel. Just like my old school—except for the guys, again.

Taking the app’s advice (which I was starting to question), I invited him to the library. Was this really going to work?

I rehearsed my lines in my head, then walked up and asked if he wanted to study together. His smile was shy, but it reached his eyes and made me feel seen for the first time all day.

He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Absolutely.”

His voice was soothing, like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. My shoulders finally dropped a notch.

Next day, he was waiting outside my dorm, holding two Starbucks lattes—mine was strawberry with coconut milk, just the way I liked it. I stopped in my tracks, grinning.

He’d even written my name on the cup with a little smiley face. My heart did a weird little flutter. Did he Google my favorite drink? Psychic powers? Either way, I was impressed.