Chapter 2

Five inches taller. Broad shoulders. And a chest that hummed like a heavy engine.

For several seconds, my brain completely refused to process reality. “What... what did you do to me?!” Timothy screamed.

Or rather, my voice screamed from inside my body, sounding like a panicked chipmunk. “I didn't do anything!” I shouted back, except the sound that escaped my throat was a rumbling, raspy baritone. It was his voice.

Panic surged through my veins as the party noise suddenly felt fifty times louder. People were turning from their seats.

Coworkers were pointing.If anyone saw Timothy Cullen and Stella Kingston standing beside each other, shrieking in each other's voices, my perfect worker score wouldn't just be docked—I’d be committed to an asylum.

“Get away from me!” I tried to squeak, but it sounded like an engine roaring.I turned on my heel and bolted down the side alley, my long legs taking ridiculously wide strides.

Every step felt wrong. My legs were longer, my balance was off, and my broad shoulders kept scraping against the brick walls.

“Stella! Wait! Stop right there in my body!” I glanced back and almost tripped over my own massive dress shoes.

Tim was attempting to sprint after me in my six-inch lavender stilettos. His—my—arms were flailing wildly.

The tight satin fuchsia dress restricted his stride so badly he looked like a panicked flamingo wobbling on a tightrope.“How do you walk in these torture instruments?!” he yelled, stumbling into a row of metal trash cans with a deafening crash.

I ducked behind a parked SUV, clutching my chest. My hands were gigantic. Thick veins ran down my wrists, and when I touched my neck, I felt an actual Adam’s apple.

“This is a nightmare. I’m having a stroke,” I muttered, pacing back and forth.

Tim finally rounded the corner, gasping for breath, hair completely disheveled, holding both heels in his hands.“You!” he gasped, pointing a manicured finger—my finger—at me. “What kind of black magic did you pull, Kingston?! Is this revenge for the calendar thing?!”

“Revenge?!” I practically roared. “You think I wanted to be stuck inside this oversized frame of yours?! Look at your feet! You’re getting dirt all over my designer tights!”

“Your tights are strangling my internal organs!” Tim snapped back, tugging furiously at the waistline. “Why is your dress so suffocating?! Is this how you live every day?! No wonder you’re always so grumpy!”

“I am not grumpy! I am a professional!” I growled. “And put my shoes back on! You look ridiculous!”

“I look ridiculous?” Tim gestured dramatically to my face. “You are wearing my tailored suit, standing like a caveman, and slouching! Stand up straight! You’re ruining my posture!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Am I not carrying your precious body with enough grace?” I crossed my broad arms. “Maybe if you didn’t stand so close to me, we wouldn’t have collided!”

“You backed into me!”

“You were sneaking up on me!”We glared at each other, chest-heaving under the flickering streetlamp.

The absurd reality hit us at the exact same time: two sworn corporate enemies standing in an alley at midnight, screaming at themselves.

“Okay. Fine,” Tim said, taking a shaky breath that made my dress swell awkwardly. “We need to figure this out. Do we go to a hospital? A priest?”

“And tell them what?” I scoffed. “‘Hi Doctor, we switched souls because we bumped into each other at a company dinner’? They’ll lock us both in padded cells!”

“Then what do we do? We can’t go back in there looking like this!” Tim gestured toward the glowing venue windows.

“No kidding,” I snapped. “If the Manager sees us like this, my career is over. I’m going home.”

“To my apartment?” Tim asked, horrified. “No way! You are not staying at my place!”

“I wouldn’t touch your stuff with a ten-foot pole!” I countered.

“I’m going to my apartment in your body, and you are going to your house in my body. We sleep this off, wake up tomorrow, and pray this was just a weird fever dream.”

“And if it isn’t?” Tim whispered, eyes wide with genuine panic.I swallowed hard. “It has to be. Now give me my purse so I can hail a cab.” He reluctantly handed over my clutch.

I fished out my phone, threw a bill at a passing yellow taxi, and shoved myself into the back seat. My long legs cramped immediately against the front seat, but I didn't care.

Thirty minutes later, I stood outside my apartment door. Unlocking it with Tim’s clumsy, oversized fingers took three frustrating minutes.

When I finally stepped inside, my spotless living room offered zero comfort.I walked straight to the bathroom and flipped on the light.

The mirror reflected Timothy Cullen looking back at me—messy hair, undone bow tie, and my exact horrified expression plastered across his face.

“This isn't happening,” I whimpered, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto my mattress. “I’ll wake up tomorrow as Stella Kingston.”

I closed my eyes and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.When morning light finally filtered through my blinds, I let out a sigh of relief.

My head felt heavy, but the nightmare wasn't over. I reached up to rub my eyes—only to feel a rough, stubbly jawline under my fingers.My eyes flew open. I was still in Tim’s body.

Panic clawed at my throat. I sat up abruptly, ready to scream—until a strange piece of paper on my bedside table caught my eye.It hadn't been there last night.

Written in an elegant, glowing gold script were nine words that made my heart stop cold: To return to your body, you must kiss Timothy Cullen.