Traded To The Campus Queen

1 The day before move-in, my girlfriend told me she’d lost me in a game of Truth or Dare. Before I could even process what she meant, she added me to the "Class of 2028" Discord server—a massive digital shark tank for incoming freshmen. Within seconds, a new announcement pinged across the screen: [CHALLENGE UPDATED: Congrats to Audrey Quinn for winning herself a brand-new, 260-pound boyfriend!] Immediately following the text, a photo was dropped into the chat. It was me, circa sophomore year of high school. I was wearing an oversized, stained hoodie; my stomach was pressed against the desk, and my face was so round that my eyes were practically swallowed by my cheeks. The chat went nuclear. “Is that a boyfriend or a prize-winning hog?” one person typed, followed by a string of skull emojis. “I actually feel bad for Audrey. Imagine being the campus ‘It’ girl and having to play house with Shrek,” another chimed in. “Beauty and the Beast: Live Action. Except the Beast didn’t get the memo about the gym.” A betting pool was opened through a third-party app within minutes. People were wagering on whether I’d actually show my face at the freshman mixer tomorrow night. My girlfriend—well, my "online" girlfriend—slapped down fifty dollars on No. “Don’t hate the player, Miles,” she messaged me privately. “Sienna rolled a six. You were the stakes. It’s just a game.” Audrey Quinn—the girl who supposedly "won" me—remained silent. But Grant Harrison, the local golden boy whose profile was a curated gallery of Porsches and Swiss watches, tagged me directly. “Hey man, you’re coming tomorrow, right? Don’t leave a lady hanging.” I looked at the notifications scrolling past my eyes and felt a slow, cold smile spread across my face. Nobody knew. Nobody knew that over the past year, I’d dropped eighty pounds. That I’d traded the 2 a.m. gaming sessions for 5 a.m. HIIT workouts. That over the last two months, I’d been asked for my number in coffee shops and gyms more times than in the previous eighteen years of my life combined. I pulled up the betting app and dropped a hundred dollars on myself. Miles M. bets: I’ll be there. Then, in the main chat, I typed three words: “A bet’s a bet.” I stared at the Discord announcement for a full ten seconds. The messages were moving so fast it was a blur of mockery. “Sienna really played this perfectly. Shedding the dead weight and getting in good with Grant’s circle in one move.” “@AudreyQuinn, come on, give us a victory speech!” Another photo dropped. This one was from the high school field day. I was at my heaviest—two hundred and sixty pounds. My school shirt was straining at the buttons, and I was caught in the background of someone else’s shot, hunched over a bag of chips. The person who posted it was Sienna Reed. My girlfriend of eleven months. A minute ago, she’d been "soothing" me in our DMs. “Babe, it’s just a thing girls do. I temporarily lost you to Audrey. Just do the three 'couple challenges' tomorrow and it’s over. Don’t overthink it.” I didn’t reply. The chat was having a field day. “Does the venue have reinforced chairs?” someone asked. “Isn’t there a princess carry challenge? Can he even see his own knees, let alone lift her?” Sienna posted a face-palm emoji. “Guys, stop. You’re going to give him an anxiety attack.” It looked like she was defending me. In reality, she was just twisted the knife, making me look even more pathetic. We had met on a Discord server for competitive Valorant. When she couldn’t sleep, I stayed up until dawn talking her through her stress. When she failed her psych midterm, I spent a week straight organizing her notes. I’d even chosen this university because she told me, “Miles, let’s go to the same school. On move-in day, I want you to be the first person to hold me.” Now, I was just a chip she’d tossed onto the gambling table. Grant Harrison chimed in again: “Look, everyone, leave him alone. Being big isn’t a crime, as long as he’s a nice guy.” Grant was the quintessential rich kid. His Instagram was all yacht parties and private clubs. Lately, he’d been chasing Audrey Quinn, but the rumors said he was also getting very cozy with Sienna. They’d even changed their profile pictures to matching minimalist aesthetics. “Bro, you’re coming, right?” Grant tagged me again. “No one has any real malice. Don’t be insecure.” The chat flooded with “Grant has such good vibes” and “Total class act.” Sienna even reacted with a heart. I didn’t rush. I clicked the betting link again. Another hundred. On me. The chat froze for two seconds before a wall of question marks appeared. Sienna immediately messaged me. “Are you insane? Grant and Audrey are both going to be there. Why would you subject yourself to that?” I looked in the mirror. Six-foot-one. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. The features that had been buried under layers of soft tissue were now sharp—a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes that no longer looked hidden. I’d spent twelve months in a private hell of calorie counting and heavy lifting. I wanted to save the surprise for the moment we finally met in person. But now? She didn't deserve the surprise. She deserved the fallout. I closed her chat and replied in the Discord: “I’ll be there.” Sienna’s name lit up my phone immediately. I ignored it. She called three times, then sent a frantic voice note. “Miles, stop being a child! This is how the game works. I lost, you’re Audrey’s ‘boyfriend’ for the night, we do the three tasks, and we’re done. We’re all going to be in the same social circles. Don’t make this awkward for me.” I actually laughed. She’d traded me like a used car and was worried about her social standing. I opened the event file. The "Couple Challenges" were: 1. Feed each other cake in front of the group. 2. 3. A hand-holding photo posted to the main school Instagram page. 4. 5. The male partner must carry the female partner—princess style—for ten seconds. 6. The comments under the file were brutal. “Someone warn Audrey’s spinal cord.” “Can he even bend over?” “Maybe Audrey should just jump on him and hope for the best.” Audrey Quinn hadn’t said a word. Her profile picture was a grainy, artistic shot of her back facing a sunset. She was a mystery, but a highly coveted one. Grant Harrison was already acting like her gatekeeper. Whenever someone tagged her, he replied for her. “Audrey’s not big on group chats. Don’t pressure her about the tasks.” It was a possessive, familiar tone. And Sienna was right there, feeding into it. “Wow, Grant, you know Audrey so well,” she’d post, followed by a shy emoji. It was nauseating. She was flirting with Grant while keeping me on a leash as her emotional support dog. My best friend, Tyler, FaceTime-called me a second later. He was fuming. “Dude, is Sienna actually brain-dead? She ‘lost’ you in a game? What is this, a 90s teen movie?” “You saw the screenshots?” I asked. “The whole high school group chat has seen them! Sienna is the one who posted those old photos, Miles. The girl you called ‘the sweetest soul’ just threw you to the wolves.” I smiled. Tyler looked even more worried. “Why are you smiling? You’re going to go there and let them do this?” “I’m going,” I said, walking to my closet. “To do what? Pull a ‘The Nutty Professor’ reveal?” “Photos are easy to fake, Tyler. They’d just say I used AI or found a lookalike. No. I want them to see it. I want to see the exact moment the blood drains from Sienna’s face.” Tyler let out a low whistle. “Man, I almost feel bad for them. Almost.” The night of the mixer, I stayed in bed until noon. My phone was a graveyard of notifications. People were posting photos of reinforced double-wide chairs they’d "reserved" for me at the lounge. Sienna was still playing the martyr: “He’s not coming, guys. Stop picking on him.” Grant: “Hey, if he shows, he shows. Let’s all promise not to laugh, okay?” His "kindness" was the most insulting part of all. I got up, showered, and spent an hour on my hair. Tyler showed up at 4 p.m. with a garment bag. “Today, we’re going with ‘Lethal Elegance,’” he announced. He’d picked out a charcoal-black button-down, tailored slim. When I tucked it into my dark trousers and rolled the sleeves to my elbows, revealing the vascularity in my forearms, even Tyler went quiet for a second. “Jesus, Miles. If I were a girl, I’d be sliding into your DMs right now.” “Shut up.” “I’m serious. Grant Harrison is ‘Country Club Rich,’ but you look like you own the club and the country.” At 5:30, a video was posted to the Discord. The lounge was packed. In the center of the table was a massive sheet cake with red frosting that read: WELCOME, BIG CHUM! Laughter erupted in the background. A guy with a buzz cut pointed the camera at the cake. “Miles, buddy! If you don’t show up in ten minutes, we’re gonna have to eat your girlfriend without you!” Sienna was sitting on the velvet sofa, sipping a drink. She looked bored. “Told you. He’s a no-show. He didn't even have the guts to FaceTime me this month. You think he’s gonna walk in here?” Grant was sitting right next to her. She leaned in to fix his collar, and he didn't pull away. Then, Audrey Quinn walked into the frame. Grant stood up instantly, nearly knocking Sienna over. “Audrey! You’re here. I was going to pick you up.” Audrey barely glanced at him. The video cut there. I grabbed my keys. My heart was thumping, but it wasn't the old heart—the one that fluttered with anxiety. This was a steady, rhythmic drum of anticipation. As I pulled up to the hotel lounge, a girl from my high school—someone who had once called me "The Human Shield" during dodgeball—passed me in the lobby. She did a double-take so hard she nearly tripped over her own heels. The lounge was on the third floor. I could hear the music and the raucous laughter through the heavy oak doors. “Ten!” the crowd started chanting. “Nine!” “Eight!” Sienna’s voice rose above the rest. “Just close the bets. He’s not coming. He’s probably at home with a tub of ice cream, crying into his Discord.” I reached for the handle. “Miles?” I turned. Standing in the hallway was a girl in a silk emerald dress. Her dark hair was swept up, her features striking and cold. Audrey Quinn. She looked at me, her eyes widening in genuine shock. "Are you...?" I gave her a small, sharp smile. "Audrey. Right on time." Inside, the countdown hit zero. I pushed the doors open.