How Did This Happen?

Brooke had told me time after time about her loser boyfriend, how he could never keep a decent job or contribute around their apartment. I tried to be a supportive friend, but one day I finally blurted out, "I can't listen to this again. All you ever do is complain about this guy! I'm trying to think of one good reason out of everything you've told me why you shouldn't just break up with him!"

She stood there openmouthed for a minute searching for a response. "I know he's not great, I just can't bring myself to do it."

"Why not?" I grilled. "Clearly there's something keeping you together."

"You're a guy, you wouldn't get it. Whenever I'm around him, the littlest thing gets me going, and I..." She trailed off as her cheeks turned red.

Now I was the one at a loss for words. "You can't be serious. Holy shit, if I thought he'd listen to me, I'd go break up with him for you right now, for your own good!"

Brooke went silent again, then after a long pause asked, "Would you? If I could guarantee that he'd believe the message was coming straight from me, would you break up with Clint for me?"

"Sure, of course." Weird phrasing aside, I wasn't about to let her lose her resolve in this moment.

"Oh my god, thank you! And, I'm sorry in advance for what's about to happen."

I barely had time to stammer out "Huh?" before my world flipped inside out and sideways. I felt like throwing up, then passing out, then all of a sudden everything was fine again. Or at least, I thought it was, until I realized I was looking up at my own body standing across from me.

"What the--" I clapped my hands over my mouth. My brain locked up as it struggled to accept what was going on.

"I did say sorry," Not-Me said awkwardly. We walked back to her apartment, with me practicing acting natural in Brooke's body and mentally rehearsing what I was going to say to Clint.

I opened the door, heels clacking on the floor as I looked around for him. It wasn't a very big apartment, where was he? I nearly jumped three feet when a pair of hands wrapped around my waist from behind.

"Hey you, I'm glad you're home," Clint said, lips just above my ear as he pulled me close. God, he smelled incredible. I'd been to that apartment dozens of times and never smelled him like this before. My head was suddenly swimming and my knees felt weak; if he hadn't been holding me, I very well might have dropped to the floor.

"Yeah, hey... hey babe, me too," I stammered. Hastily trying to collect myself, I pulled his hands away and turned to face him. It was like I was seeing him for the first time: Clint wasn't particularly tall, fit, or generally handsome, but something about him made it feel nearly impossible to look away. Remembering the reason I was there in the first place, I cleared my throat. "Clint, there's something we need to talk about."

"Yeah, no problem. Oh, before I forget, I washed a load of laundry while you were out." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I know it's not much, but since I'm still looking for a new job, I figured you'd appreciate it."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, that was really thoughtful of you." The thing was, that actually was really thoughtful of him. I didn't even know he could operate a washing machine, so to think that he recognized how hard Brooke had been working and that he wanted to help? I felt so tripped up that I didn't even notice Clint lean in for a kiss until his lips had already made contact with mine. It was just a quick peck, a fraction of a second, but long enough for me to taste the sweetness of whatever soda he'd been drinking and to fully realize the sway this man held over my friend.

"Aw, man," he grumbled. "I should've thrown this in the wash too. Oh well." I stood, rooted to the spot, as he peeled his shirt over his head. My heart pounded and my face flushed. "Sorry, you were saying you wanted... something?"

I don't even know if I said anything before I pounced. It didn't matter who I was when I woke up this morning, right now Clint saw me as his girlfriend and I couldn't let the opportunity pass to do what I was about to do. If he was caught off guard, he didn't show it. Maybe this was typical for him.

The next few minutes were a complete blur, with a trail of clothing following us to the bedroom. As I lay there on my back, being rocked in ecstasy, I silently prayed that Brooke would let me try to break up for her again tomorrow.