Chapter 2

My legs went weak, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing. My mind was racing, and I couldn't think straight.

When I got back to my dorm, I threw myself on the bed and screamed into my pillow.

My roommate thought I'd lost it. "Emily, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I mumbled into the pillow. "I just... suddenly realized how ridiculous and fake everything really is."

That night, I didn't dare answer Jack's voice calls. He sent several messages, shifting from confused to worried. In the end, he told me to get some rest if I wasn't feeling well and that we could talk the next day.

I stared at the screen, my feelings all mixed up and impossible to sort out.

I was relieved I hadn't given myself away, but I was also completely terrified.

Jack was the last person I wanted to anger. If he ever found out I'd been lying to him, I had no idea what he might do.

But strangely enough, a small part of me felt secretly delighted.

After all, his voice was so charming. All those late-night conversations, the talks about Borges and the apple tree in his hometown, his soft goodnight wishes, none of it was made up.

The only problem was that the person behind the messages was nothing like I'd imagined.

I'd always pictured Night Voyager as a quiet, bookish tech guy with glasses, someone shy who spent late hours in the lab. He wasn't supposed to be this well-known campus rebel who stood out everywhere he went with a sharp, intimidating look.

The contrast left me both scared and strangely curious.

I decided to hold back and not let anything slip for the time being.

*****

For the next two weeks, I stayed completely undercover.

Jack didn't seem to recognize me at all.

Back on the day we ran into each other, I'd worn plain dark glasses, messy bangs, and a bulky puffy jacket. I looked nothing like the put-together version of myself online. To him, I was merely some clumsy nobody.

He still called me late at night, his voice warm and soft as he groaned, "My experiment data was wrong again."

"Want me to sing for you?" I asked, putting on my sweetest voice to cheer him up.

"No need," he chuckled lowly. "Just talk normally. I like your real voice."

My stomach twisted with guilt.

My real voice was the plain, rough tone I used every day. If I dropped the fake voice, he would know right away that I was the same clumsy girl he ran into in the stairwell.

Worse still, I kept running into him everywhere on campus.

On Monday, I was studying literature in a quiet corner on the third floor of the library when he sat directly across from me and opened his copy of Introduction to Algorithms. I kept my head lowered and tried to make myself invisible, even softening my breathing.

On Wednesday, he stood right behind me in the cafeteria line, talking casually with his friends.

"That girl has such a nice voice. I swear she could be a voice actor," he said.

My hand trembled, and I almost dropped my tray.

One of his friends teased him right away. "Looks like someone's got a soft spot. That's new."

"Shut up," he laughed. "We just get along, and that's it."

Friday brought the closest call yet. I was in the voice acting club room practicing lines in a soft, high-pitched tone. "I want a hug."

The door suddenly opened.

Jack leaned against the frame, raising an eyebrow at me.

I froze completely, still holding the cute, pleading pose. My heart hammered wildly, and I could only panic over and over that he might have figured out who I was.

"Joint club activity," he said, waving some forms in his hand with a calm voice. "The president sent me to drop these off."

His gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds, and then drifted away before darting back toward me once more.

"You..." He frowned.

My heart skipped a beat, and my palms were soaked with sweat.

"You have a nice voice," he continued. "Way better than the people on the school radio."

He left after that and gently closed the door behind him.

I sank into my chair, my back soaked with cold sweat as if I had run through a rainstorm.

I couldn't keep going like this. I wanted to end things, block him, and disappear as far as I could. The stress was too much for my heart to handle.

Yet every time I heard his voice at night, I couldn't bring myself to pull away.

"Tomorrow's my birthday," he said over the phone, with a faint, nervous edge in his tone. "Can we meet up?"

I was quiet for a long time.

Meeting him meant taking a big risk, but if I refused, whatever we had would probably end for good.

Actually, I was curious to know which side of him was real, the campus tough guy or the gentle boy I talked to every night online.

"Okay," I said finally.

He wouldn't recognize me anyway. If I disappointed him in person, things would end naturally. Or I could tell him gently that we were not a good match and end it politely.

It was a perfect plan.