The smell of pancakes drags me from the depths of sleep like a fishhook. For a moment, I lie perfectly still, my groggy brain trying to separate reality from dream. Yesterday's memories flood back, the twins, the sex, the bizarre realization that I'm somehow in an alternate universe where women outnumber men three to one.

I groan and roll onto my side, checking my phone. Seven missed texts from Rose and Lilly, all variations of "good morning" and "can't wait to see you." A stupid grin spreads across my face before I can stop it.

The pancake smell grows stronger, wafting under my door like a cartoon finger beckoning me to follow. Evelyn must be cooking breakfast for Chris. After last night's weird interrogation about my hickeys, I'm not exactly thrilled to face her again, but my stomach growls in protest at the thought of skipping breakfast.

I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror. The hickeys on my neck have darkened overnight.

The hot shower helps clear my head a little, steam rising around me as I try to make sense of everything. Two days ago, I was just a normal guy with a hopeless crush on the Harris twins. Now I'm dating both of them in some gender-flipped reality where men are treated like a protected class?

‘Does that make me a minority now?’

I turn off the water and towel myself dry, running my fingers over the marks on my neck. There's no real point in trying to hide them. In this weird alternate reality, maybe it's not even that big a deal for a guy to be covered in hickeys.

I throw on a clean t-shirt and head downstairs, following the scent of maple syrup.

When I get to the kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks. Chris is sitting at the table, but instead of his usual superhero action figures scattered around his plate, he's carefully arranging what look like male fashion dolls in business attire. His pancakes are drowning in a literal lake of syrup that's threatening to spill over the edges of his plate.

Everything else looks normal, though, same kitchen, same little brother with his sandy brown hair sticking up in the back. I slide into the chair next to him, relieved I didn’t lose him.

"Morning, squirt," I say, reaching for the stack of pancakes in the center of the table.

Chris looks up with his usual dimpled grin, but it freezes halfway when his eyes land on my neck. His mouth drops open slightly.

"Seth?" he asks, fork paused midway to his mouth, syrup dripping onto the table. "Did you get in a fight?"

I nearly choke on my first bite of pancake. "What? No, why would you think that?"

"Your neck is all purple," he says, eyes wide with concern. "Ms. Peterson taught us that violence is never the answer and that we should even report our Moms if they hurt us.”

I have to stifle a laugh at his serious expression. "It wasn't a fight, buddy. These are, uh..." I trail off, suddenly realizing I have no idea how to explain hickeys to a nine-year-old.

"They're love bites," Evelyn's voice cuts in from behind me. I jump slightly, not having heard her enter the kitchen. "Someone was being very affectionate with your brother."

I turn to see her standing by the refrigerator, arms crossed over her chest. Her expression is calm, but there's a tightness around her eyes that wasn't there yesterday.

"Love bites?" Chris repeats, looking confused. "Like vampire bites?"

"Sort of," I mutter, shoveling another forkful of pancake into my mouth to avoid elaborating.

Chris seems to accept this explanation, turning his attention back to his male dolls.

"What are you playing there, bud?" I ask, gesturing to his dolls with my fork, trying to change the subject away from my neck situation.

Chris looks up, arranging the dolls in what appears to be some kind of beach scene. "Bachelorette!" he says with enthusiasm. "These guys are all competing for who gets to marry the boss lady." He points to a female doll wearing a power suit that I hadn't noticed before.

‘Do men even fight over women here?’

"Hell yeah," I nod, genuinely amused by his innocent interpretation of what I assume is some reality dating show in this world. "That's awesome."

I watch him play for a moment, creating little voices for each character, completely absorbed in his own imagination. Something warm spreads through my chest despite all the weirdness of this new reality. No matter what bizarre parallel universe I've landed in, Chris is still Chris. My little brother, whom I'd do anything for. I’m confident the other me feels the same way.

Evelyn clears her throat, reminding me of her presence. She slides into the chair across from me, her eyes fixed on my neck with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable.

"So," she says, stirring her coffee with deliberate slowness, "are you going to tell me who gave you those marks now?"

I take another bite of pancake, chewing slowly to buy time. "I told you last night, it's new. I don't want to jinx it."

"Seth has a girlfriend?" Chris announces, not looking up from his dolls. "Is she pretty? Is she nice? Can I meet her?"

"She's very pretty," I admit, unable to keep the smile from my face. "And yes, she's nice too."

Evelyn rises from her chair and moves around the table, stopping just behind me. I can feel her presence hovering there, making the hair on my neck stand up. She leans down, her mouth uncomfortably close to my ear.

"Seth," she whispers, her voice dropping so low that Chris can't hear, "if you'd like, I could teach you how to properly please a woman. Remember our lessons? We never quite finished those, did we?"

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth as memories flood back, the way she'd guide my fingers against her clothed body to show me where women like to be touched. How I'd always find some excuse to leave when she suggested we take our clothes off.

‘I see this worlds events are quite similar to my own.’

"I mean, you clearly need the help," she continues, her eyes flicking meaningfully toward my hickey-covered neck. "A woman who marks her territory like that needs special handling."

I swallow hard, setting my fork down carefully. "No thanks, Evelyn," I say quietly but firmly. "I really appreciate the offer, but I'm good."

Her fingers brush against my shoulder, lingering just a second too long. "Are you sure? You were such a quick learner before."

"I'm positive," I reply, shifting away from her touch. "Besides, I think I'm doing just fine on my own."

She straightens up, her face a careful mask of neutrality, though I catch a flash of something darker in her eyes. "Well, the offer stands if you change your mind," she says with forced lightness, returning to her seat.

Chris, oblivious to the tension, makes explosion sounds as one of his male dolls dramatically falls off the table. "This one didn't get a rose!" he announces.

"Tough break, buddy," I tell the fallen doll, grateful for my brother's innocent distraction.

I check the time on my phone. "Shit, I've gotta go. I'll be late for class." I stand up, shoving the last bite into my mouth and grabbing my backpack from the floor.

"Language," Evelyn reminds me automatically, though her focus is clearly elsewhere. "Do you think you'll be staying out late again tonight?"

I pause at the kitchen doorway, already mentally mapping out my day with the twins. "Yeah, probably. Don't wait up."

Evelyn's face tightens, her lips pressing into a thin line as she stares at me. The look is pure irritation, maybe even anger, with something else lurking beneath the surface. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes follow me like targeting lasers.

"Bye, Chris!" I ruffle my brother's hair as I pass, deliberately ignoring Evelyn's death glare. "See you tomorrow, buddy."

"Tomorrow?" Chris looks up, confused. "But you'll be back tonight, right?"

"Probably super late," I hedge, already backing toward the front door.

A/n:

Evelyn: