The Change

Jason Carter was used to getting what he wanted.

Star quarterback, campus heartthrob, and undisputed king of the frat house, he had his pick of women—and he never stuck around long. Why would he? Girls lined up to be with him, and Jason wasn’t the commitment type. He had a game to focus on, a legacy to build.

That night, Kappa Delta was throwing one of their legendary parties, and Jason knew exactly how it would end. He’d flash his signature grin, whisper a few sweet nothings, and by morning, another girl would be forgotten in his phone contacts.

The sorority house was packed. Music thumped, bodies moved, and Jason thrived in the chaos. He had already downed a few beers when a girl caught his eye. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a shot glass, staring straight at him.

Jason frowned. Something about her was familiar—long auburn hair, sharp green eyes—but he couldn’t place her name. That wasn’t unusual.

She smiled, but there was something cold about it. “Jason Carter. Still playing the same game, I see.”

He smirked. “Can’t help it if I’m good at it.”

She laughed softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. For a moment, Jason felt a flicker of something—unease, déjà vu, like he’d been in this exact moment before and forgotten how it ended. Her smile widened as she held out the shot glass.

“Then you won’t mind a challenge. Special drink, just for you.”

Jason never backed down from a challenge. He took the shot without hesitation. It burned on the way down, but there was something else—a strange warmth that spread through his body, making his head swim.

“See you around, Jason,” the girl said, turning away.

Jason barely made it back to the frat house. His vision blurred, his legs felt heavy. Shapes began to distort—faces stretching at the edges, voices echoing like they came from underwater. He blinked, but the world no longer made sense. By the time he collapsed onto his bed, he barely registered the strange tingling in his fingertips.

The next morning, Jason woke up to a nightmare. His body felt… wrong. The sheets clung to his skin differently, his limbs felt too small, his clothes loose in all the wrong places. And then he saw the long strands of hair covering his face.

His heart pounded as he stumbled out of bed, nearly falling over. His balance was off. His body was off. He turned to the mirror—and his breath caught in his throat.

A woman stared back. Wide brown eyes. Full lips. Shoulder-length hair. His mind screamed, but the reflection didn’t change. It was like watching a stranger wear his panic, his breath—but not his face. Was this a dream? A hallucination? Had he died and woken up in someone else’s skin? He clutched his chest and let out a sharp breath as he felt the unmistakable weight there. His hands traveled down—hips, curves, everything.

His voice came out in a panic. High. Feminine.

“What the hell?!”

Panic surged through him. His mind raced back to the party, to the girl with the shot glass. Then it hit him. She knew him. She set this up. But Jason couldn’t even remember her name.

He reached for his phone to call someone—anyone—but his own name on the lock screen looked wrong.

“Jason,” he whispered, staring at it. “Am I still Jason?”

The name felt foreign in his mouth, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of not having an answer.