Chapter 1

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day.

He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet.

Apparently, I was the prize.

Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people.

The announcement at the top had already been changed.

"Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!"

A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me.

It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders.

The chat instantly erupted.

"Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form."

"A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow."

The jokes only got worse from there.

Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night.

My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square."

Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent.

Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me.

"Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?"

I watched message after message fill the screen.

Then, I smiled.

They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person.

I was no longer the girl in that photo.

I had gone from 200 pounds to 110.

I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined.

None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that.

And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself.

Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself.

My bet was simple.

I would show up exactly on time.

The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it.

Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen.

I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen.

Then, I sent one final message.

"A bet's a bet."

Chapter 1 A Bet's a Bet

I stared at the announcement pinned at the top of the group chat for nearly 10 seconds.

"Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!"

Three firecracker emojis appeared beneath it.

There were more than a hundred people in the chat, and the messages were coming in so quickly that I barely had time to finish reading one before another pushed it up the screen.

"Oliver rolled a six and actually won. Fred really got screwed this time."

"How is Fred the loser? He just got rid of a human tank. Sounds like he won to me."

"Oliver, where's your acceptance speech?"

A photo suddenly appeared in the chat, and I recognized it the moment it loaded.

It had been taken during field day in my junior year of high school.

I weighed 198 pounds back then, so my school uniform stretched tightly across my body as I sat alone at the far end of the bleachers. My head was lowered as I munched on a piece of bread.

Whoever had taken the picture had obviously been standing quite a distance away, but the poor quality did nothing to hide how big I had been.

The most upsetting part was seeing who uploaded it. It was Fred Lowe, my online boyfriend.

He had been sending me private messages and trying to convince me that everything happening in the group was harmless just a minute ago.

"Babe, the guys are just messing around. Don't take it so seriously."

Another message had followed almost immediately.

"I lost the game, so I gave Oliver your number and agreed that you two would do a couple's challenge. It's only a game."

I hadn't bothered replying.

To be fair, I didn't know what I was supposed to tell him when the group chat had already turned me into entertainment.

"Oliver's gonna need a moving truck if he plans to pick her up tomorrow."

"What's the couple's challenge again? Is he supposed to carry her like a bride? Somebody better book him an orthopedic appointment first."

"I think we should change the challenge. It might actually be easier to train a pig to fly."

Then, Fred joined in by sending a laughing emoji with its hand covering its mouth. "Take it easy, guys. You're going to make her cry."

To anyone else, it might have looked like he was trying to defend me. Yet, I knew him well enough to understand what he was really doing. He wasn't telling them to stop. Oh, no. He was merely giving them another reason to laugh at my expense.

My fingers tightened around my phone until they felt cold.

Fred and I had been together online for 11 months.

I stayed awake and played games with him until morning whenever he couldn't sleep. I spent the night talking him through his sensitive, snowflake of a heart when he lost an important tournament.

When the SATs rolled around, I recorded a voice message every morning just to encourage him when he became so anxious that he could barely concentrate.

I had even placed Harbor City University at the top of my college list because of him.

Fred had been the one who asked me to do so. "Lauren, let's go to the same college. When school starts, I'll be waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers."

I had believed him.

I had imagined what it would feel like to finally meet him in person for months. Instead, he had turned me into part of a stupid game and handed me over to another guy as though I were nothing more than a prize a day before our freshman orientation day.

A new notification appeared before I could put my phone down.

Someone had started a betting pool on whether I would show up at tomorrow night's freshman party.

The amount climbed almost immediately. Now, there was more than 30,000 dollars placed on the option that I would not show up when Fred joined the betting himself.

He put down 10,000 against me.

"She won't come."

A second message from him appeared a moment later.

"She's really sensitive. Say one harsh thing to her, and she starts crying."

A quiet laugh escaped me as I thought, 'So, you do know how I'm like. You know I'll cry. You know exactly how much this will hurt me, and you still let more than a hundred people watch you humiliate me.'

Another message appeared before I could close the chat.

It came from Rita Steele.

"Guys, don't talk about her like that. There's nothing wrong with being a little bigger. What matters is whether someone is a good person."

I was already aware of her identity, as nearly everyone in Harbor City University's freshman class knew her.

Rita had already earned the nickname "the campus belle" among the freshmen.

She shared a series of beach photos featuring her in a white dress two days ago, flaunting her flowy locks that she'd gracefully draped around her shoulders with a seemingly effortless smile on her lips. The comments on those pictures seemed endless.

Then, she tagged me. "Lauren, you're still coming tomorrow night, right?"

For a moment, I wondered whether she was actually trying to help.

Her next message answered that question.

"Seriously, nobody means anything by it. You shouldn't feel insecure just because of how you look."

The group immediately began praising her, saying she was gorgeous and kind.

I had no interest in replying to any of them. Instead, I opened the betting link and entered 3,000 dollars.

I placed the money on myself.

My bet was simple. I was going to show up at the party exactly on time.

The entire group chat went silent for about two seconds before the screen suddenly filled with question marks.

My phone buzzed again.

Fred had sent me another private message.

"Are you crazy?"

Another message appeared immediately after it.

"These people are brutal. Why would you actually come?"

I slowly raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror.

My long hair was draped over my shoulders, and my waist had become so slim that it seemed like someone could wrap their hand around it.

Now that I no longer had all the extra weight hiding my features, my face had changed more than I had ever expected.

My features looked sharper, my eyes appeared brighter, and strangers had started turning to look at me when I passed them.

27 guys had stopped me at malls, on the subway, or at the gym to ask for my number over the past two months alone.

A talent scout had even followed me around for nearly 30 minutes, trying to convince me to appear in an advertisement.

Fred knew nothing about it.

After all, I had deliberately kept the changes from him because I wanted the first time he saw me like this to happen in person.

Now, I no longer wanted to give him anything because he didn't deserve that surprise anymore.

A tear gathered at the corner of my eye, but I wiped it away before it could fall. Then, I returned to the group chat and typed one final message, "A bet's a bet."

Chapter 2 She's Not a Bet

My phone started ringing almost immediately.

Fred's name flashed across the screen, but I made no move to answer. The call ended, only for him to try again. He finally gave up and started sending voice messages after I let his calls go to voicemail three times in a row.

"Lauren, can you stop being mad about this?

"Those are the rules. I lost, so you and Oliver are paired up as a couple for now. You just have to finish three challenges tomorrow night, and then it's over."

His third message irritated me even more.

"We're all going to the same university. Don't turn this into some huge deal and embarrass me in front of everyone."

I actually laughed when I heard that.

He treated me like an object he could hand over to one of his friends. Yet, I was the one embarrassing him? God, what a loser.

I went back to the group chat and opened the file containing the rules. Apparently, there were three so-called couple challenges waiting for Oliver and me tomorrow night.

We had to feed each other cake in front of everyone for the first challenge. The second required us to hold hands for a photo, which would then be posted in the main freshman group chat. Finally, Oliver had to carry me for a full 10 seconds for the final challenge.

The chat had already turned the last one into another joke.

"Who came up with the third challenge? Are you actually trying to kill Oliver?"

"'Oliver is 6' 2", but even he can't carry 200 pounds."

"He already lost the game. I guess losing half his life in the process won't make much difference."

Oliver hadn't responded once since the whole thing started.

His profile picture was nothing more than a black screen, and his account revealed nothing about him.

Still, something about the way everyone treated him caught my attention.

They had no problem insulting me as much as they wanted. However, I couldn't help but notice that none of their jokes ever crossed the line whenever they tagged Oliver. Nobody directly pressured him to answer, and nobody seemed willing to provoke him.

I was just about to leave the group when my best friend, Tessa Parker, suddenly video-called me.

Her furious face filled my screen the moment I slid the green accept button.

"Lauren, did Fred shove his brain up his butt? He lost his girlfriend to one of his buddies? What is this, some kind of human hot potato?"

I blinked at her. "How do you even know about it?"

"The screenshots of the entire farce are in our old high school group chat!"

Tessa paced back and forth on my screen, looking so angry that she could barely stay still.

"I already memorized the name of the guy who posted that picture of you. I'm going to gut him the second I see him. You can keep watch while I do it."

A peal of laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it.

The fact that I was still able to laugh didn't calm her down whatsoever. If anything, she looked even more upset on my behalf.

She asked, "So, what are you going to do now? Are you going to post a picture of yourself now and show them who's boss?"

I shook my head. "No."

Tessa stared at me. "Why the hell not?"

I walked over to my closet and looked through the dresses hanging inside. "What's the fun in showing them a picture?"

A photo wouldn't convince those firmly set against believing me. They might even accuse me of photoshopping it, stealing someone else's picture, or even using AI to generate it. They could easily find an excuse to slander me if they wanted to.

So, I didn't want to argue with them through a screen.

I wanted them to see me standing right in front of them.

More than that, I wanted to see their faces when they realized how wrong they had been.

Tessa understood exactly what I had planned. Her expression immediately changed into one of gleeful excitement, replacing some of the anger in her eyes. "You're actually going to go?"

"Of course, I am. I even put 3,000 on myself showing up."

"Then, you absolutely have to go!" She slammed a hand against her desk as she bellowed, "You're not just going to show up! You're going to walk in looking so damn good that you're going to blow them all out of the water."

Tessa leaned closer to the camera. "Fred put 10,000 on you chickening out, right? Take his money, and then make him regret even existing."

Someone knocked on my bedroom door before I could answer.

My mother walked in carrying a plate of cut fruit.

She was about to set it down when she noticed the dress spread across my bed. "Are you going to a party tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

She hesitated before looking at me carefully. "Are you finally meeting that boy you met online?"

I fell silent.

Fred had been one of the biggest reasons I wanted to lose weight for the past year.

I had survived on only a few leaves of lettuce a day on my worst days. Some nights, the hunger made my stomach cramp so badly that I had to curl up around a heating pad just to get enough relief to fall asleep.

That only stopped after a physical showed that my body was beginning to suffer.

A nutritionist made it clear that I couldn't keep starving myself if I wanted to lose weight without inevitably destroying my health.

So, I started doing things the proper way after that.

I controlled my sugar intake, ate balanced meals, and began strength training rather than simply trying to eat as little as possible.

The numbers on the scale fell slowly but surely.

I went from 200 pounds to 170, then I reached 130. Eventually, I saw 110 pounds staring up at me on the scale.

My mother had been there for all of it.

She had taken me shopping as I worked my way through seven different clothing sizes. She had also watched me step onto the scale more times than I could remember, sometimes with tears already filling my eyes before I could even bear to look at the number.

She knew exactly how much tomorrow had meant to me.

What she did not know was that the excitement I had carried for months had already disappeared.

My mother placed the fruit on the table beside me.

Before she left, she gently ran her hand over my hair. "Lauren, I don't care what anyone says. You'll always be my darling daughter regardless of whether you're thin or whether people think you're pretty."

My eyes began to burn even before the bedroom door closed behind her.

However, my phone buzzed before I could let my tears fall.

I looked down at the group chat.

Oliver had finally responded.

He had ignored every joke people had made about him and every message demanding that he join the conversation. He didn't defend himself or argue with anyone.

Instead, he posted one simple message.

"She's not a prize to be won."

The group chat went completely quiet.

A few seconds later, another notification appeared.

Oliver had tagged me. "Lauren, if you don't want to come tomorrow, don't."

Fred immediately replied, "Come on, Oliver. It's just a game. Don't take it so seriously."

Oliver ignored him.

I kept staring at the message, "She's not a prize to be won," on my screen.

There were more than a hundred people in that group. Yet, the one person who had supposedly "won" me was the only one who seemed to understand how ridiculous the whole thing was.

I couldn't resist tapping on Oliver's black profile picture.

There was still almost nothing there.

I had no idea why, but I was assailed with a strange feeling the longer I looked at that black profile.

Something about Oliver felt familiar.

I just couldn't put my finger on why.

Chapter 3 He Already Knew

Fred and I had met through a competitive online game during my senior year of high school.

I weighed 200 pounds at the time.

The boys in my class had nicknamed me "the double-door fridge."

The girls never joined in openly, but they weren't much better. I could still recall how their conversations would suddenly become quieter whenever I walked past them, and how giggles would break out behind me a few seconds later.

I knew what they were laughing about.

Our teacher made us run half a mile one day during gym.

I finished dead last, struggling for air so badly that I genuinely thought I might pass out before reaching the finish line.

The boy I had a crush on happened to be standing nearby.

When I stumbled in his direction, he immediately backed away from me with a disgusted look on his face. "Don't fall on me."

His friends started laughing.

"There might be an earthquake if you hit the ground. Who could possibly catch you?"

The entire class burst into mocking laughter.

That night, I logged into the game because I didn't feel like talking to anyone in real life. I'd much rather lose myself in a few matches than think about what had happened at school.

That was the night Fred added me.

He seemed surprised by how I sounded the first time we spoke through voice chat.

"Your voice sounds so sweet! Are you sure you're not a voice actress?"

He asked me the same thing more than once, but his reaction made me laugh every single time.

After that night, we started playing ranked matches together almost every evening.

Whenever one of our teammates blamed me for something or started insulting me, Fred was usually the first person to turn on his microphone.

"It's only a game. Why are you getting this worked up?"

He was just as patient whenever I was having a bad day. Sometimes, we would stay online long after we had stopped playing, and he would talk to me until I felt better.

"Who decided that being bigger means you can't be pretty? Chubby girls can be cute too."

One day, he told me something I remembered for months afterward.

"Lauren, I don't care what you look like. I'll like you anyway."

I had foolishly believed him.

For the first time in my life, those words made me wonder whether someone might actually like me without caring about my weight.

I thought that maybe I deserved something that pure.

It was such a small thought, but it had meant everything to me back then.

Alas, things changed six months ago.

Fred accidentally found an old social media account that was still connected to my gaming profile. The account showed my real name, the high school I attended, and several old photos of me.

His attitude toward me began to change soon after.

Before that, we could easily exchange dozens of messages in a single day. When he found that account, our conversations became shorter until most days consisted of nothing more than a good morning message and another one before bed.

I asked him more than once whether something was wrong.

He would use SATs as an excuse every single time.

I'd bought that excuse, never questioning him.

Now, the truth seemed painfully obvious.

It wasn't college.

He saw my pictures.

The realization made everything else fall into place.

Fred had known what I looked like for six months.

He simply hadn't wanted to admit that my appearance bothered him.

He didn't break up with me.

I could think of the top of my head as to why he kept me close.

I was skilled at the game and helped him improve his rankings.

I shared my school notes whenever he asked.

He would call me whenever he felt anxious, frustrated, or down. I was a good listener, willingly comforting him and staying with him until he felt better.

He hadn't been holding on to our relationship because he loved me. He simply didn't want to give up a useful tool.

Regardless, that dice game before orientation day had given him the perfect excuse to end things between us.

He didn't have to break up with me himself. Instead, he could laugh it off as part of the game and pass me to someone else.

My phone rang again.

Fred's name appeared on the screen.

This time, I answered.

His irritation came through immediately. "What was that little act between you and Oliver in the group chat?"

I frowned. "He defended me once. How does that make it an act?"

Fred let out a cold laugh. "Do you seriously think a guy like Oliver would defend some random girl for no reason?"

I didn't bother responding.

He continued, "Don't assume that having a pretty voice means you can actually get Oliver interested in you. His standards are even higher than mine. You're only going to humiliate yourself if you show up tomorrow."

I stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before finally asking the question that had been sitting in the back of my mind. "So, you think I'm not good enough for you?"

Fred hesitated. "That's not what I mean."

"Then, why did you bet 10,000 dollars that I wouldn't show up?"

He had nothing to retort.

The silence stretched between us until he finally let out an irritated breath. "Fine. Is this what you want? Do you want to force me to say it?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Fred continued, "Lauren, I already know what you look like. What we have online is fine, but real life is different. We're not a good match in real life. You can't blame me for that. Guys are attracted to pretty girls."

Then, he added something that almost made me laugh out of sheer anger, "I haven't blocked you. This is me trying to save you some dignity."

For a moment there, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

The dull ache that had been lingering in my chest seemed to disappear into a wisp of smoke as something cold took its place.

I loosened my grip on the phone. "Wow. Thank you. What a gentleman."

Fred missed my sarcasm by a mile and more.

His tone actually softened, as though he thought I had finally understood how reasonable he was being. "Just don't come tomorrow. I'll give you back the 3,000 dollars."

He paused briefly before continuing, "Rita is going to be there as well. It's only going to make things worse for you if you stand next to her."

I waited a moment before asking, "You know Rita pretty well, huh?"

The line went completely silent.

His answer took just a little too long.

"Don't overthink things. There's nothing going on between us."

A slow smile spread across my face. 'Is that so, Freddie ol' boy? It looks like tomorrow night is going to be a lot more interesting than I thought.'

Chapter 4 One Second to Spare

I slept until noon on the day of the party.

By the time I finally checked my phone, there were more than 99 unread messages waiting for me.

Most of them came from the group chat, where everyone had apparently spent the morning discussing the seating arrangements for that night.

Someone had even uploaded a picture of an extra-wide chair. "Let's save this one for Lauren. A normal chair probably won't make it through the night."

Another person immediately joined in. "How thoughtful. Someone give this guy the Harbor City Humanitarian Award."

Fred also had his own two cents to add.

"She's not coming. Stop wasting your time."

Rita replied a few seconds later, "What if she does come? Promise me you guys won't make fun of her anymore."

Her weak attempt to defend me only made everyone laugh harder.

I didn't bother replying.

Instead, I got out of bed and started getting ready.

Tessa arrived at my house around 2 p.m. with two makeup cases in her hands and murder in her eyes.

She dropped everything onto the table the moment she stormed into my bedroom. "I'm going to give you the kind of makeover that leaves an asshole emotionally hospitalized for life even if I die trying."

I sat down in front of the mirror and arched an eyebrow at her. "What exactly does that mean?"

Tessa started unpacking her brushes. "It means you're going to walk out completely unharmed while every idiot who sees you takes critical damage."

I laughed and let her get to work.

Once she was done curling my hair into simple waves, she walked over to my closet and pulled out a black spaghetti-strap dress.

The design was simple, with clean lines and a slightly fitted waist that showed off my shoulders and collarbones without looking like I was trying too hard.

When I stepped out of the bathroom wearing it, Tessa was so awed that she stopped breathing.

She stared at me for nearly 30 seconds before clutching her chest with a gasp. "We have a problem."

I looked down at myself. "What problem?"

"If I were a guy, I'd probably be serving two years in prison because of you by the end of tonight."

I burst out giggling.

Tessa grabbed both my hands and spun me around twice, looking more pleased with herself every second.

"Rita has that sweet, innocent, girl-next-door thing going for her. Oh, she's gorgeous on her own."

Then, she gave me another long, meaningful look.

"But standing beside you? That harpy's going to look like the girl handing out wedding favors at somebody else's reception."

I shook my head. "Be nice."

Tessa smirked. "Sadly, I'm all out of nice, but I've got plenty of objective opinions to spare."

Another notification appeared in the group chat at 5 p.m.

Someone had posted a video from the party.

A large white cake sat in the center of the private room, and someone had written a message across the top in bright red frosting.

"Welcome, 200-pound girlfriend!"

There was laughter filling the background of the video.

A guy with a buzz cut leaned toward the camera. "Lauren, we're going to start the couple's challenge without you if you don't hurry up!"

Fred was sitting on one of the couches behind him.

He glanced toward the camera and scoffed in derision. "I already told you. She doesn't have the guts to come. She wouldn't even turn her camera on. Do you seriously think she'd show up in person?"

Rita reached over and gave him a playful shove. "Stop talking about her like that."

I paused the video before I heard anything else.

Tessa grabbed her car keys. "Come on. I refuse to let tonight end without leaving these morons eating their bullshit. My honor as your makeup artist depends on it!"

We had barely stepped outside when a friend request appeared on my phone.

The name on the screen made me pause.

It was Oliver.

I accepted it.

His message arrived almost immediately.

"I'm sorry. This started because of a game I was involved in. I'll take care of it."

Another message followed.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

I stared at the screen for a moment.

So far, Oliver was the only person involved in this ridiculous game who had actually apologized to me.

I found myself liking him a little more for that.

"It's fine. I'm already on my way."

I stared at the screen for a second before typing another message. "I'm still doing the challenges tonight."

The typing indicator appeared.

It stayed there for so long that I couldn't help but wonder what he was trying to write.

Eventually, only one sentence came through.

"Don't force yourself."

I looked at those three words for a few seconds before putting my phone away.

Tessa pulled up outside the hotel 30 minutes later.

She had originally planned to come upstairs with me, but an urgent call from her mother forced her to leave me unchaperoned.

She reached out to squeeze my hand before I got out of the car, saying sternly, "Call me immediately if anything happens. If anyone touches you without your consent, I swear I'll have his face all over Harbor City University's gossip page before midnight."

I smiled and nodded before stepping out of the car.

As I crossed the hotel lobby, the guy behind the front desk looked up at me more than once. I even caught him staring through the elevator's glass doors until they slid shut.

The private room was located at the far end of the third floor.

I walked down the hallway in my heels. The closer I got, the clearer the voices became. I could hear them laughing even through the thick door.

"It's already six. She's really not coming."

"Fred, you're basically guaranteed to win back that 10,000 and more."

"I told you. With a size like that, she'd need an oxygen tank before she made it halfway to the hotel."

Someone else laughed.

"Oliver isn't here either. Think he got scared off?"

Then, Fred's voice carried through the door.

"I told her not to come."

He sounded completely relaxed.

"Someone like her can hide behind a screen and keep lying to herself, but she knows that she'll just embarrass herself if she shows up in person."

Rita's soft chuckle followed.

"I don't think Lauren was trying to deceive anyone." She paused briefly before adding, "Maybe she just really wanted someone to like her."

Another round of laughter rippled through the room.

I stood outside the door, staring at the handle. Then, I slowly lifted my hand.

A low male voice came from behind me before I could touch the doorknob.

"Lauren Hogan?"

I turned around.

A tall guy stood beneath the hallway lights, dressed in a black shirt. His features were well-defined and aristocratic. Still, there was something naturally intimidating about the way he carried himself.

His expression changed the moment his eyes landed on me. The composed look on his face faded for the first time, replaced by a flicker of pure shock. "You're..."

I smiled. "Oliver Adkins?"

He continued staring at me.

Someone suddenly raised their voice within the private room.

"Last 10 seconds! If she's not here when we hit zero, the betting pool will be officially closed!"

The countdown began.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

Oliver still hadn't looked away from me.

I turned my attention back to the door, grasped the handle, and pushed it open just before the clock hit zero.