Chapter 6

I stared at him—or rather, at my own face looking back at me with genuine curiosity. Hearing my voice ask if I hated him while sitting inside Timothy Cullen’s six-foot-two frame felt completely surreal.

I shifted in my chair, Tim’s leather jacket squeaking against my back. “I don't hate you, Tim. I hated your attitude.”

He crossed my arms over his chest, tilting my head. “Then why the hyper-rigid, scary-boss routine with everyone else? You act like if you loosen up for two seconds, the sky will fall.”

I looked down at his broad hands resting on the tabletop. A bitter laugh escaped his throat—my throat. “Because if I loosened up, nobody was there to catch me,” I said softly, the deep rumble of Tim’s voice sounding unusually gentle.

“I didn't grow up with enablers or safety nets, Tim. Nobody coddled me when I made mistakes, and nobody handed me second chances. I had to work twice as hard just to be taken seriously. Being a perfectionist wasn't a choice for me. It was survival.”

Tim went quiet. My brown eyes widened slightly as he processed my words, the usual playful glint melting away into pure empathy.

“I had to earn every single inch of where I am,” I continued, pointing a large finger at him. “That’s why my perfect worker score matters so much. It’s the only proof I have that I belong here on my own merit.”

Tim let out a slow breath through my nose. He looked down at his hands—my hands—and rubbed his temples. “And here I was, making your life a living hell by slacking off,” he muttered quietly in my voice.

“Exactly,” I grunted. “Now it’s your turn. What’s your excuse? Why do you act like doing basic filing is a cruel and unusual punishment?”

Tim settled back in his chair, taking a sip of his iced tea. A sheepish, embarrassed look washed over my face.

“Honestly?” Tim sighed, his—my—cheeks flushing faint pink. “I’m not proud of it. At all.”

I raised Tim’s thick eyebrows. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I know, I know,” Tim said, waving a hand defensively. “Ever since high school, people just... let me slide. If I forgot an assignment, teachers smiled and gave me extra credit. If I messed up at work, bosses laughed it off because I made small talk and smiled. I got lazy, Stella. I realized I could rely on my pretty face and pretty privilege to pull through life without putting in actual effort.”

I slammed Tim’s heavy palm onto the table, making the glasses rattle. “And that is precisely why you drive me insane! A pretty face with a sloppy attitude is a complete waste of human potential! You’re smart enough to do the work, Tim, but you choose to let everyone else carry your weight because it’s easier!”

Instead of flaring up, he actually looked ashamed. He shrank back into my cardigan, biting his lip.

“You’re right,” Tim murmured, looking up at me with dead-honest sincerity. “It’s pathetic. Relying on looks is a garbage excuse for being a bad coworker. I promise you, Stella... when we get through this nightmare and get our bodies back, I’m going to change. I’ll actually do my job.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence by his genuine promise. The lingering anger in Tim’s chest melted away, replaced by a strange, fluttering warmth.

“Good,” I cleared my throat, turning my head toward the setting sun to hide the heat rising in Tim’s cheeks. “You better. Otherwise, I’ll personally reassign you to sort out the documents in the basement.”

The next twenty-four hours slipped by in a blur of unexpected harmony. By the evening of the sixth day—the final night before our weeklong holiday ended—we were lounging on my living room rug, devouring a box of extra-cheese pizza. We had spent the entire day talking, laughing, and casually navigating the apartment like a well-oiled team.

I was actually... going to miss this. I was going to miss the snarky texts, the arcade games, and the way Tim’s dimples looked when he smiled with my face.

“So,” Tim said, wiping grease off my chin with a napkin. “Tomorrow morning, we will head back to Reijin Travel Agency. Back to reality.”

“Back to reality,” I echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Which means we need to execute the note’s instruction tonight so we’re in our own bodies by 8 AM.”

Tim paused, his posture stiffening slightly inside my frame. “Right. The kiss.”An awkward tension instantly filled the room.

For days, we had carefully avoided talking about the golden piece of, but now time was up.

“Well,” I said, trying to sound casual despite Tim’s heart pounding against his ribs. “It’s just a quick swap-back ritual. Nothing to get worked up over.”

Tim scoffed softly, dropping the napkin onto the pizza box. “Right. Because you’re always so robotic about everything, aren't you?”

I frowned, looking over at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re already treating this like an item on your daily checklist,” Tim said, a sharp, defensive edge creeping into my voice. “'Item 1: Kiss Tim. Item 2: Fix posture. Item 3: Protect perfect worker score.' Do you ever react like a normal human, Stella, or is everything just a transaction to keep your control-freak ego happy?”

The words hit me like a slap to the face. The warm, delicate bond we had built over six days shattered instantly into jagged pieces.

My blood ran ice-cold inside Tim’s veins.“My control-freak ego?!” I roared, springing up from the floor into Tim’s large frame. “I let you into my home! I shared my past with you! And you’re turning around and calling me a mechanical control freak?!”

“Stella, wait, I didn't mean—” Tim began, standing up in my body.

“No, you meant every word!” I snarled, grabbing my keys and shoving my feet into Tim’s sneakers. “I was an idiot to think you actually changed! You’re still the same ungrateful, insensitive jerk you’ve always been!”

I slammed the apartment door shut behind me and stormed out into the cool night air, my mind spinning with furious, heartbroken tears.