Jovan watched Camille’s denim jacket disappear around the corner of the hallway, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air like a taunt from the universe. His heart was still hammering a rhythm that felt far too fast for an eighteen-year-old’s chest, or maybe it was just the caffeine of a decade’s worth of regrets hitting him all at once.
"Earth to Jovan? You still vibrating, or did you finally glitch out?"
Jovan turned to see Leo and a lanky kid with thick glasses named Toby leaning against the classroom doorframe. They were staring at him with a mixture of pity and genuine concern. Toby was adjusting his glasses, looking like he’d just witnessed a public execution.
"I’m not vibrating, Leo," Jovan said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I’m manifesting. There’s a difference."
"Manifesting?" Toby snorted, hiking his backpack higher. "Is that what we’re calling a mental breakdown these days? Because you just told Henderson his class is a 'squiggly line' convention and then screamed about magic gold to a room full of people who just want to pass their midterms."
"It’s not magic gold, Toby. It’s the blockchain," Jovan said, then stopped himself. "Actually, never mind. You guys aren't ready for that conversation. Your brains are still in the 4G era."
"The 4G era? We just got 4G, man!" Leo laughed, punching Jovan’s shoulder. "What are you on? Did you accidentally smoke your toaster project? Because you’re acting like you’ve got main character syndrome."
Jovan’s eyes widened. "Main character syndrome? Wait, do you guys use that term? Is that a thing in 2014?"
"No," Leo blinked, looking confused. "I just meant you're acting like the world revolves around your weird outbursts. Why? Is that a 'future' thing too?"
"It’s a vibe," Jovan muttered, leaning back against the lockers. "Look, I know I looked like a psycho in there. But I’m telling you, I have the literal script for the next ten years. I know everything that’s going to happen. I’m the CEO of the future."
"Okay, CEO of Delusion," Toby said, crossing his arms. "If you’re from the future, tell us something that’s about to happen. Right now. Something specific."
Jovan smirked. This was his moment. He remembered this day. October 14th. In the original timeline, this was the day the vending machine in the cafeteria exploded because someone put a dry ice bomb in it. It was legendary.
"Okay," Jovan said, lowering his voice. "In exactly three minutes, the vending machine by the gym is going to blow its door off. Some freshman tried to be a chemist. It’s going to be chaos. Pure cinema."
Leo and Toby exchanged a look.
"A vending machine explosion?" Leo asked. "That’s oddly specific."
"Just watch," Jovan said, checking his iPhone 5. "Two minutes and fifty seconds. We should probably move away from the glass windows. You know, safety first. Very mindful, very demure."
"Very what?" Toby asked, his brow furrowing. "Demure? Jovan, you haven't used the word 'demure' since we had to read Jane Eyre in tenth grade. And what do you mean 'mindful'? Are you joining a yoga cult?"
"It’s a meme, Toby! It’s—" Jovan stopped, rubbing his temples. "Ugh, forget it. You guys are so behind the curve. Just wait for the explosion. It’s going to be the 'hawk tuah' of 2014."
"The what?" Leo asked, looking genuinely worried now. "Is that a German word? Are you having a stroke? Do we need to call the nurse?"
"No stroke! Just... just watch the gym hallway!"
They stood there in silence for three minutes. A group of cheerleaders walked by, whispering and pointing at Jovan. A teacher poked his head out of a room to hiss at them to keep it down. The clock on the wall ticked.
Three minutes passed. Then four.
The hallway remained deathly quiet.
"So..." Toby said, checking his own watch. "Is the vending machine on a delay? Or is it a 'digital' explosion?"
"Wait, it’s coming," Jovan insisted, his face heating up. "Maybe my internal clock is off. Time travel does that to a guy."
"Jovan, the only thing exploding right now is your reputation," Leo said, patting him on the back. "Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria before you start predicting the end of the world."
"No, I’m serious! I remember this!" Jovan scrambled after them. "Wait, check the school colors. Leo, what color is the Golden Eagle?"
"It’s... gold? And burgundy? Like it’s been since the seventies?" Leo replied.
"But it was a Blue Hawk! I swear it was a Blue Hawk in my—" Jovan stopped. He looked at a banner hanging from the ceiling. Go Eagles! Fight for the Gold!
"Oh no," Jovan whispered. "The Mandela Effect. It’s already happening. The toaster didn't just send me back; it shifted the frequency. I’m in a variant timeline."
"A variant what?" Toby asked, stopping in his tracks. "Bro, stop. Seriously. You’re sounding like a low-budget sci-fi movie. If you want to be cool, just be cool. You don’t need to pretend you’re a time traveler who lost his Blue Hawk."
"I’m not pretending! Look, I’ll prove it another way," Jovan said, desperate to regain his footing. "I’ll do something so revolutionary, so 'out there,' that it’ll trend... even if trending isn't a thing yet. I’ll show you the dance of the future."
"The dance of the future?" Leo grinned. "What, like the robot? The dougie?"
"The dougie is ancient history," Jovan said, stepping into the center of the hallway. "This is called 'The Floss.' It’s going to take the world by storm in a few years. It’s the peak of human coordination."
Jovan stood with his feet apart, stiffening his arms. He began to swing them back and forth around his hips, his body swaying in a rhythmic, albeit slightly jerky, motion. To a person from 2024, it was a cringe-inducing relic of Fortnite. To a group of teenagers in 2014, it looked like a catastrophic muscular malfunction.
"What are you doing?" Toby whispered, horrified. "Jovan, stop. People are looking."
"I’m flossing, Toby! Look at the rhythm! It’s iconic!" Jovan accelerated, his arms swinging wildly. "I’m a pioneer! I’m the Backpack Kid before the Backpack Kid was even a glint in the internet’s eye!"
"You look like you're trying to shake a bug out of your pants," Leo said, backing away. "Seriously, man, hide. The seniors are coming."
"Let them see!" Jovan shouted, feeling the adrenaline. "I am the future! I am the—"
"Jovan?"
The voice was soft, melodic, and instantly turned Jovan’s knees to jelly. He froze mid-swing, his left arm behind his back and his right arm thrust forward, looking like a broken windmill.
Camille was standing five feet away, holding her stack of papers. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape. She looked at his flailing arms, then at his sweating forehead, then back at his arms.
"Are you..." she hesitated, her voice laced with genuine concern. "Are you having some kind of physical crisis? Do you need me to get the AED from the gym?"
Jovan’s arms dropped to his sides. His face went a shade of red that shouldn't have been biologically possible.
"I... no," Jovan squeaked. "I was just... stretching. It’s a new dynamic warm-up from... California."
"California?" Camille repeated, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "They stretch by swinging their arms like they're trying to fly away?"
"It’s for the core," Jovan said, trying to regain some dignity. "Very high-level stuff. You wouldn't know it yet. It’s very 'skibidi'."
"Ski-what?" Camille asked, stepping closer.
"Nothing. Never mind. Ignore the 'skibidi'," Jovan said, wanting to crawl into a locker and die. "You’re back. You dropped off the papers?"
"I did," she said, her gaze lingering on him with a mixture of confusion and that old, familiar warmth that made his heart ache. "But Henderson told me you're officially suspended for the rest of the day for the 'Bitcoin' outburst. He thinks you're on something, Jovan."
"I’m only on the truth, Camille," Jovan said, though it sounded weak even to him.
"Well, the 'truth' looks a lot like a seizure," she teased, though her eyes were soft. "Come on. Since you're kicked out and I have a free period, let's walk outside. You can explain to me why you’re so obsessed with toasters and 'digital gold' and... whatever that arm-swinging thing was."
Jovan looked at Leo and Toby. Leo was giving him a thumbs-up, while Toby was just shaking his head in disbelief.
"I’d love to," Jovan said, turning back to Camille. "But fair warning, the explanation involves a lot of things that haven't happened yet. And possibly a very expensive toaster."
"I like toasters," Camille laughed, starting to walk toward the exit. "They make bread better. That’s a pretty good foundation for a conversation."
As they walked down the hall together, Jovan felt a strange sense of vertigo. He was failing his classes, his friends thought he was insane, and he’d just performed the most embarrassing dance in history in front of the girl of his dreams.
But as Camille’s hand brushed against his—just a tiny, accidental contact—he realized that the timeline might be fuzzy, and his predictions might be wrong, but the way she looked at him was exactly how he remembered.
He just had to make sure he didn't "floss" his way out of her life again.
"So," Camille said as they stepped out into the crisp October air. "Tell me about this 'Bitcoin.' Is it like a Chuck E. Cheese token?"
Jovan sighed. "It’s a long story, Camille. But let’s just say, if you have ten dollars, we’re about to become very, very popular in the future."
"I have five dollars and a coupon for a free taco," she offered.
"Perfect," Jovan grinned. "That’s basically a seed round. Let’s go."
Latest Chapter
Chapter 50: The Currency of Consequence
"Is there?" Leo asked, his voice losing its usual sarcastic edge. "Because from where I’m sitting, you’re treating our lives like a spreadsheet, Jovan. You’re trying to balance the ledger on human interactions, but people aren't numbers. You can’t account for the 'variable' of someone’s hurt feelings by simply calculating the cost of a bouquet or a conciliatory coffee."Jovan turned away from the screen, his chair creaking sharply in the silence of the library. The afternoon light slanted through the high windows, illuminating dust motes that danced in the stagnant air. "It’s not about the ledger, Leo. It’s about predictability. If I know how people react, I can mitigate the fallout. That’s what I’m doing—minimizing damage."Leo leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression hardening. "Damage? You’re talking about Camille like she’s a market
Chapter 49: The Architecture of an Empty Room
"She’s dramatic," Leo muttered from across the table, though he didn't look up from the stack of algebra homework he was grading for a sophomore who had paid them five bucks for the service. "But she’s not wrong, you know. You’ve been vibrating at a frequency nobody else can hear for months."Jovan didn’t answer. He stared at the spot where Camille had been standing. The air still held a faint trace of her perfume—something like vanilla and old library books—a lingering ghost of the argument that felt far more substantial than the lines of code and trend data on his screen."I’m not vibrating, Leo," Jovan said, his voice flat, forced into a monotone that he hoped sounded like indifference. "I’m focused. There’s a difference between obsession and optimization."Leo finally looked up, his brow furrowed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He dro
Chapter 48: The Ghost of the Present Tense
"It’s a lonely life, Jovan. You want to outrun the world, but you’re just running away from the people who actually live in it."Camille didn’t wait for a rebuttal. She pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the buckle clicking with a finality that sounded more like a gavel strike than a fashion accessory. She walked toward the heavy oak doors of the school library, her footsteps rhythmic and steady, echoing against the linoleum until they were swallowed by the muffled roar of the hallway chatter outside.Jovan watched her go, his hands hovering over his keyboard. The cursor continued to blink—a steady, rhythmic pulse on the screen that mocked the sudden, frantic thrumming of his own heart."She’s dramatic," Leo muttered from across the table, though he didn't look up from the stack of algebra homework he was grading for a sophomore who had paid them five bucks for the
Chapter 47: The Static Between Two Worlds
"I’m not absent," Jovan repeated, but the words felt like lead in his mouth. He looked up, his eyes meeting Camille’s rigid posture, but she was already turning toward the exit. "Camille, wait. If I stop moving—if I stop anticipating—we lose everything I’ve built. You know I’m right about the volatility. You’ve seen the spreadsheets."Camille stopped. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders slumped just enough to betray the exhaustion she’d been harboring. The library air felt recycled, stale, and thick with the scent of old paper and the sharp, ozone-tang of cooling laptop fans. "You’re always right, Jovan. That’s the most exhausting part about you.""That wasn't an insult," he countered, his voice rising a fraction of a decibel. He glanced nervously at the librarian, Mrs. Gable, who was peering over her spectacles from behind the circulation desk. "It’s a str
Chapter 46: The Cost of Living in the Future
Camille stood up, the chair scraping harshly against the library’s linoleum floor, a sound that seemed to slice through the oppressive silence like a serrated blade. She didn't look back at him. She just gathered her books, her movements sharp and clipped, devoid of their usual fluid grace."The problem isn't your planning, Jovan," she said, her back to him as she shoved a thick chemistry textbook into her backpack. "It's your absence. You’re physically sitting here, but you’re constantly somewhere else. You’re living in a version of 2025 or 2030, and you’re treating everything about today—this town, your friends, me—like it’s just a loading screen you’re waiting to get past."Jovan felt a sudden, frantic urge to stand up, to reach out and grab her sleeve, to explain that he was doing it for them, but his body wouldn't obey. He remained frozen, his gaze locked on the glowing
Chapter 45: The Mirror of Lost Intentions
"Why do you keep acting like everything is a survival scenario?" Camille whispered. The library was deathly quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing like a trapped insect against the stillness. "We aren’t in a war, Jovan. We’re in high school. And for the first time in my life, I don’t think I recognize the person sitting across from me."Jovan felt a sharp, metallic taste rise in his throat. He looked at his hands—hands that had spent months clicking through market trends, refreshing price trackers, and calculating the exact profit margins of prom corsage markups. They looked like strangers’ hands. He tried to laugh, a dry, hollow sound that died before it could fully leave his chest. "I’m just planning ahead, Camille. Is it a crime to want a better future? Is it so wrong to use the tools we have to make sure we aren’t stuck in this town ten years from now, working jobs that don’t ev
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