This Is Real

I stared at the blank message box, thumbs hovering, and then let the worst possible opener rip:

Me: Do you belong to me now?

The second the little “delivered” checkmark appeared, I wanted to fling my phone into the next dimension. Even my safest “hey, how’s your night going” lines got ignored ninety percent of the time; this one was a guaranteed block. I was already rehearsing the mental shrug—she wasn’t even that cute—when the three dots popped up, vanished, popped up again, vanished again.

Jewel: Apparently.

My pulse stuttered like a bad engine.

Me: What does that mean exactly?

The dots jittered for what felt like forever.

Jewel: It means I have to do whatever you say, genius. Happy now?

The room shrank two sizes. That banner flashed in my head again—You captured Jewel—and suddenly I was eight years old watching a Poké Ball click shut on my Switch. If this was some next-level mobile game with AI girlfriends, there was zero chance a chatbot could actually show up at my door. Time to test the theory.

Me: What if I want you to come over?

Jewel: Oh, sure, let me just cancel my entire life because Prince Charming snapped his fingers. Can we do literally any other night? I already have plans that don’t involve dying in a stranger’s apartment.

I copied my address from Maps and dropped it into the chat. Every dating app already knew where we both lived; that was the whole point of the radius filter. If she was code, the address was just random numbers.

Me: Come over. Now.

Ten agonizing seconds crawled by.

Jewel: Ugh. Fine. But I’m bringing pepper spray and bad vibes.

Me: When will you get here?

Jewel: Google says forty-five minutes. Give me an hour because traffic hates me and so do you.

I stared at the screen until the words blurred, then locked my phone and tried to breathe like a normal human while the clock ticked down the longest hour of my life.

Fifty-one minutes later the front desk buzzed. The doorman sounded half amused, half concerned. “Mr. Doe? Girl down here says you’re expecting her. Goes by Jewel. Should I send her up or call security?”

“Send her up,” I croaked, and spent the next two minutes pacing like an idiot while the elevator crawled to my floor.

The knock was three sharp raps, like she was mad at the door itself. I opened it and Jewel shoved past me without a word, the faint smell of cold night air and strawberry vape clinging to her hoodie. She wore an oversized black sweatshirt with a faded anime cat on the front, sleeves pulled over her hands, and soft gray joggers that bunched at the ankles above scuffed white sneakers. The honey-blonde hair with dark roots was twisted into a messy knot on top of her head, loose strands sticking out like she’d yanked it up in a hurry. No makeup except a smudge of yesterday’s eyeliner. Everything about her looked like she’d been curled on a couch five seconds before her body decided to hijack itself and drag her here.

She stopped in the middle of my living room, arms folded tight under the baggy hoodie, and leveled a glare hot enough to melt steel.

“Real classy move, Greg,” she snapped, voice dripping acid. “Ruining all my plans for the weekend because you woke up and chose to be a piece of shit. Hope you’re enjoying your little power trip.”

I closed the door slowly, half convinced that if I blinked she’d vanish like a hologram. She was here. Actually here. Breathing the same stale apartment air as me. My brain kept trying to reboot.

“Why did you come, then?” I asked, hearing how dumb it sounded the second it left my mouth.

She threw her hands up, sleeves flopping. “Wow, stellar question, Sherlock. Maybe because the second we matched my free will took a permanent vacation? My legs just started moving like someone else was driving. Pretty sure my soul’s passenger seat now has your name on it.”

I swallowed, still waiting for the part where I woke up. “I didn’t even read the description when I downloaded the Ultimate Dating App. When I went back to look for it, the thing wasn’t even in the app store anymore.”

She snorted so hard the messy bun wobbled. “Ultimate what now? I swiped on you on Tinder, not some sketchy dark-web knockoff. Maybe ease up on the midnight downloads, champ.”

“Can I see your phone?”

“Over my cold, dead body.”

“Let me see your phone.”

Her eyes flashed pure betrayal, but her arms unfolded like someone else was pulling the strings. The phone appeared in my hand before she could finish the curse word forming on her lips. She stared at her own fingers like they’d betrayed her.

“I hate you so much right now,” she muttered.

I opened Tinder, scrolled to recent matches, and there I was—same dog-filter selfie, same lame bio. On her screen everything looked normal. I handed her the phone back; she snatched it and shoved it deep into her pocket.

"What happened on your end when you matched with me?"

“One minute I’m lying in bed, laughing at how stupid your profile is, next minute my phone lights up with this horror-movie red banner: ‘You’ve been captured by Greg. Obey all commands.’ Thought it was a glitch. Tried to unmatch you—thumb literally froze an inch from the button. Tried to delete the app, same deal. Tried to scream for help and my voice just… quit. So congrats, you broke reality. Want a cookie?”

“I thought it was a kink thing,” I mumbled, still half expecting to blink and find myself alone. “Like people who role-play power-exchange stuff.”

She barked a short, disbelieving laugh, but it didn’t have the same razor edge as before. “Oh, absolutely, because nothing says ‘sexy’ like getting dragged across town in my laundry-day sweats." She looked at me then, really looked, and whatever she saw in my face made her shoulders loosen a fraction. The fight wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t aimed at me anymore. "You didn't know matching with me would do this, did you?"

I shook my head.

A long breath left her, shaky but real. “Okay,” she said, almost to herself. “Okay. That’s… something.” She rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes, smearing the leftover eyeliner into faint gray streaks. “Listen, Greg. I’m scared out of my mind right now, and I’m still two seconds from crying in your hallway, but you don’t seem like a total monster. Yet.” She stepped closer, hoodie swallowing her frame, and held out her hand again. This time the sleeve had slid back enough to show her wrist, and her fingers weren’t clenched anymore. "So please, unmatch me. Delete whatever cursed app gave you this power. I’ll walk out that door, we’ll both pretend tonight was a weird fever dream, and I’ll never bother you again. I just want to go home and forget any of this happened. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Her eyes stayed on mine, waiting with a quiet, exhausted hope that I wasn’t the monster she had initially thought I was.