Chapter 1

[Can you even hold a conversation? Hopeless straight guy. You totally deserve to be single for life.

[Scram, scram, scram. I can't stand the sight of you.]

With headphones on, I stared at the screen, expressionless, as lines of curses popped up one after another.

My right hand gripped the mouse, while my left grabbed a chip from the plastic bag next to me and tossed it into my mouth.

It was crunchy and delicious.

A system notification chimed in my headphones: [Your session has one minute remaining.]

I cleared my throat, pressed the voice button, and said in my most sincere voice, "You're right, I'm just a piece of trash.

"Thanks for choosing our service. Hope you have a great day. If you're happy with it, please give us a five-star rating."

After that, I ended the call.

The payment screen popped up: 50 dollars earned for 25 minutes of work.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long breath.

My phone vibrated. A message from the app's customer service popped up: [Mr. Baldwin, your complaint rate has gone up by 5% this week.

[Some customers have reported that you seem uninterested and even eat while they're yelling at you.]

I typed back: [There's no rule against eating chips while getting yelled at.]

Customer service: [But the customers can hear you chewing.]

Zane: [Then I'll eat marshmallows next time.]

The rep sent an emoji coughing up blood: [If you keep this up, we might have to end our contract.]

I stared at that line for a few seconds, then switched over to my bank app.

Balance: 800 dollars. Next month's rent: 700 dollars.

I messaged back: [Understood, I'll pay attention next time.]

After closing the chat window, I hit refresh on the job board.

11:30 PM, peak hour for late-night venting sessions. The lonely got lonelier, the angry got angrier, and desperate folks like me waited for the next angry caller.

Suddenly, a new order popped up.

I glanced at the customer info: female, 28, session type: [Venting – Targeted Rant.]

The note said: [I want to cuss out some asshole from my college days.]

I raised an eyebrow. This note was kind of intriguing.

Usually, people were here to cuss out their exes or their bosses. But ranting about some jerk from college? That was a first.

I clicked to accept the order. The system started setting up the voice call.

Thirty seconds later, the call connected.

There was a faint crackle in my headphones, then I heard a woman's voice. "Hello?"

My fingers froze on the mouse.

Chip crumbs slipped from the corner of my mouth, landing in the gaps of my keyboard, already littered with ash.

That voice was way too familiar.

Even after three years, even if she only said a single syllable, I'd recognize that voice in a heartbeat. It would come rushing back from the depths of my mind.

She was Georgia Rogers. The frosty campus goddess I chased for three years in college, never even managed to hold her hand.

Her voice came through my headphones, still cold and distant, with a hint of impatience. "Can you hear me?"

I snapped back to reality, snatched up the cup of water beside me, and took a big gulp.

The cold water rushed down my throat, trying to tamp down my suddenly pounding heart.

I switched on the voice changer. Everyone used it in this business to protect privacy.

Now I sounded like some world-weary guy in his thirties.

"I can hear you," I said, dropping my voice. "Please, go ahead."

Georgia went quiet for a few seconds.

Then I caught the faint click of a lighter. She actually smoked?

Back in college, Georgia never touched cigarettes.

She was always the cleanest, most pristine girl around, white dress, long black hair, as if she walked around with a halo and a beauty filter.

I made a bet with my dorm buddies that I'd get her to go out with me before graduation.

The bet lasted three years. I ended up losing 200 dollars, and made a fool of myself in public more times than I care to remember.

"I want to cuss someone out," Georgia said, her voice coming through my headphones. "A guy I went to college with."

"Go ahead," I replied, launching my recording app. I set it up so every call gets saved automatically.

I was not some creep, just covering myself in case a customer tries to pull something.

"He's a total asshole," Georgia said.

I agreed, "Yeah, a real asshole."

"So full of himself," she added.

"Exactly, so full of himself," I echoed.

"When he was chasing me, he made sure the whole campus knew, flowers, candles, serenading outside my dorm." Georgia scoffed. "So embarrassingly tacky."

I clenched the mouse tighter in my hand.

Back in sophomore year, I scrimped and saved for two months just to buy nearly a thousand roses, arranging them in a heart shape outside her dorm.

But that night, it started pouring. The flowers were ruined, and I kept strumming my guitar in the rain until the dorm manager called the police.

Georgia never even came downstairs. Later, she messaged me on WhatsApp. [Did you really think that was worth it?]

I replied. [Yeah, at least you won't forget me now.]

She shot back, [All I remember is that you're a total weirdo.]

"Hello?" Georgia's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Are you listening?"

"I'm listening," I replied. "And then? Please, continue."

And then Georgia took a long drag from her cigarette and exhaled slowly. "I turned him down three times, and he finally left me alone for half a year.

"But then he started up again, kept coming up with new ways to chase me. My roommates kept saying he was so devoted and that I should give him a chance."

She paused and continued, "I told them I don't like immature guys."

Something in my chest stung.

"Guess what he did next?" Georgia let out a laugh, pure mockery in her voice. "He went and joined some startup competition, won an award, then showed off in front of me.

"He told me he wasn't immature anymore, that he was finally qualified to pursue me."

I closed my eyes. I pushed myself through that competition for a whole month.

The day I won, Georgia was the first person I wanted to tell.

I waited outside her classroom until class ended, then handed her the trophy to show her.

She said, "Congratulations." Then she just walked right past me, not even slowing down.

Georgia continued, her tone icy, "After I graduated and went overseas, he even had someone send me a message.

"He said he'd wait for me. Wait for me to come back? So I can watch him keep up his whole dramatic show of 'true love'?"

I didn't say anything. All I could hear through my headphones was her gentle breathing and the occasional faint crackle from her cigarette.

Georgia: "Last month, I came back home, and he showed up at the class reunion.

"He was all dressed up, sitting across from me, sneaking glances the whole night. When the party ended, he followed me out and said..."

She paused.

I waited five seconds, then couldn't hold back. "What did he say?" I asked.

Georgia laughed. Her laugh was soft and icy, like shards of ice brushing past my ears.

"He said, 'Georgia, I still like you.'" Georgia spoke slowly, pausing between each word. "Three years. I haven't been in a relationship. I've been waiting for you."

My throat felt parched.

"I asked him, 'What do you like about me?'" Georgia said. "He told me he liked that I was pretty, that I was outstanding, that I was...

"Whatever, I can't even remember exactly. It was all just surface-level crap.

"I told him, 'Zane, you're not really into me. You just like some shadow you imagined.'

"You're just touched by your own feelings, not by me.'"

Zane. She said my name, her voice dripping with pure contempt.

"And then?" I asked.

"And then?" Georgia snuffed out her cigarette. I could hear the butt being crushed. "And then he actually broke down and cried.

"A grown man, standing on the curb, tearing up right there.

"He started telling me about his last three years. How he checked my IG every single day, bought every book I ever mentioned, and went to every place I talked about just to check in."

She paused. "Honestly, it's just ridiculous."

I opened my eyes and stared at the timer ticking away on my computer screen.

Call duration: 12 minutes and 47 seconds. 12 minutes and 13 seconds left until it ended.

"So," Georgia summed up, "today I want to give myself a wake-up call. Why didn't I just cut things off completely back then?

"Why did I let him keep his stupid fantasies? Self-obsessed idiots like that should've been kicked to the curb from day one."

I ran my tongue over my dry lips. "Are you done venting, Georgia?"

"No way," Georgia shot back. "We've barely scratched the surface."

Sounded like she lit up another cigarette.

"I'm paying for someone to be my emotional dumpster tonight," she said. "Just listen, you don't need to say anything."

"Alright," I replied.

And then Georgia started her rant. She tore into everything, from my fashion sense to the way I talked, from my grades to my social skills.

She said I looked like a gorilla when I played basketball, that I was a mess stammering through speeches, and that always ordering full-sugar coffee for her was so lame.

She remembered every single detail.

She remembered how I skipped class just to save her a spot in the library, how I stayed up all night making study notes for her, and how I ran all over town to track down that rare book she wanted.

But to her, all of it was just me being overly sentimental, guilt-tripping, and totally smothering.

The timer hit 24:30.

Georgia finally paused. She let out a breath, her voice a bit rough. "That's about it."

I didn't say anything.

"You there?" Georgia called out.

"Yeah, I'm here," I replied.

"Why are you so quiet?" Georgia pressed. "Isn't it normal for these chat sessions to at least say something back or agree?"

I stared at the balance notification on my screen. Just thirty more seconds, and this session would be over.

50 dollars in the bank, and I'd be one step closer to paying next month's rent.

I repleid, "You're paying to vent, and I'm getting paid to take the abuse. It's a deal. I can just keep quiet if that's what you want."

Georgia paused for a few seconds, then laughed. "Alright, you're really good at this. Let me ask you one last thing."

"Please, go ahead," I replied.

"If you were the guy I've been trashing all night," Georgia said slowly, "what would you think after hearing everything I just said?"

My finger paused over the mouse.

24:58 on the timer.

24:59.

25:00.

The call cut off automatically. And the earnings screen popped up.