The Ripple Effect
Chapter 10: Practice makes perfect.
Declan surfaced first, not fully awake—just aware of warmth beside him. The weight of someone curled close. The steady rhythm of breathing that wasn’t his.
When he opened his eyes, Sarah was half-wrapped in the blanket, most of it pulled up around her shoulders, as if she’d instinctively hidden herself sometime during the night. A few strands of auburn hair had fallen across her face, catching the pale morning light filtering through the blinds. For a second, he just watched her.
Then she shifted. With a small inhale, her eyes opened, unfocused at first but quickly settling on him. And then she smiled. “Good morning, boyfriend,” she murmured, her voice soft with sleep but edged with that same quiet confidence.
Declan let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Morning.”
She studied him for a second longer, like she was checking something—making sure it was still there. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her.
“Still real,” she said under her breath, almost to herself.
Declan frowned slightly. “What?”
“Nothing.” The smile came back, a little sharper now. “Just making sure you didn’t disappear on me.”
Then her eyes flicked past him. Declan followed her gaze. Skye was back, curled on his bed, one arm thrown over his face, still fully dressed from the night before.
Sarah’s lips pressed together for a second, like she was suppressing a laugh. “He came back,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Declan said. “At some point.”
They both watched him for a moment as he lay in his bed, out cold.
Then Sarah leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just a little further. “So,” she said, eyes sliding back to Declan, “are we telling people?”
Declan blinked. “Telling people?”
“That I’m your girlfriend.” The way she said it wasn’t questioning—it was framing. Establishing. “Or are we pretending this is some kind of secret?”
Declan hesitated—not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. “I mean… we don’t have to hide it,” he said. “If you don’t want to.”
“I don’t,” she said immediately.
Of course, she didn’t. This version of Sarah didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second-guess. Whatever uncertainty she might have had before—about how she looked, how she was seen, what people thought—was gone, or at least buried under something stronger.
With a small, satisfied exhale, she let the blanket fall away. It slid down her body in one smooth motion, revealing her completely naked form. The morning light caught on her skin, soft and even, unguarded in a way that made it hard to look anywhere else. Her full, round breasts were impossible for Declan to ignore, her waist dipping into the gentle curve of her hips, every line of her body fresh and inviting in its natural beauty.
As she stood, she seemed more comfortable like this than in any other way. She stretched slightly as she stood, then reached down to grab her overnight bag from the floor. She moved with a fluid grace toward the bathroom, every step deliberate and unselfconscious, aware that Declan’s eyes were tracking her the whole way. At the bathroom door, she paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder, showing Declan a small smile before she disappeared inside.
A few seconds later, she came back out, wrapped in a towel. “Give me a few minutes,” she said. “I want to clean up before I face the world.” Then she slipped out into the hallway.
When she returned, her hair was still slightly undone, makeup not yet touched, but even that seemed intentional, like she was letting the process unfold instead of rushing to a final version.
She dropped her bag onto the desk and sat, pulling a small mirror closer as she began going through her makeup with practiced ease.
“I already know what I’m wearing today,” she added, almost casually.
Declan raised an eyebrow. “You planned that already?”
Sarah glanced at him, amused. “I was thinking about it last night. It’s perfect—exactly right. Ji-won’s going to hate it.”
Declan huffed out a quiet laugh. “That’s a selling point?”
Sarah’s smile widened, just a little. “It doesn’t hurt.”
She let that sit, then leaned in slightly again. “Lunch,” she said. “After my lecture?”
Declan hesitated again—but this time, it was different.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” he said. “That reading… I kind of skimmed it yesterday. I should actually go through it.”
“The Dennett thing?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Then tonight,” she said instead.
Declan opened his mouth, but she kept going.
“Trust me,” she added, her tone light but edged with confidence, “you’re going to want to see what I’m wearing today.”
He studied her. “That confident, huh?”
She leaned a little closer, just enough to make the moment feel intentional.
“I’ve been thinking about day one of our relationship for a long time,” she said.
“I’ll text you,” she said. “Don’t take too long with your… philosophy.”
There was a hint of a smile there—playful, but certain.
The door opened. “See you, boyfriend.”
And then she was gone.
Declan sat there for a second, staring at the door, like part of him expected her to walk back in. He needed a moment. The energy she left behind hadn’t fully caught up with the fact that she was gone. Skye snored softly across the room, grounding him as his reality settled back into place: He was a nineteen-year-old college freshman. He had a day to start. Classes. Studying. And now— a gorgeous girlfriend.
And possibly reality-changing powers.
First things first. He grabbed a towel from the back of his chair and headed for the public showers. He stepped into the hallway, the dorm still quiet at this hour. A few doors closed, a faint hum of plumbing somewhere down the line. Declan pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside. The water came on with a sharp hiss. Declan stepped under it, letting the heat hit his shoulders, his chest, the back of his neck. For a few seconds, he just stood there, eyes closed, breathing. Letting everything settle.
Sarah’s voice lingered—not the words exactly, but the certainty behind them. Like everything she said had history. Like it had always been true. Day one… for a long time. Declan exhaled slowly. That was the part that mattered. Not what he had done, but what it had become. She was choosing… choosing him.
He hadn’t turned her into something artificial or hollow. If anything, it seemed like he’d done the opposite. This Sarah seemed more real, more certain, and confident in herself.
He shifted slightly under the stream, grounding himself again. What mattered wasn’t whether or not he had changed her—she was still her—what mattered was what he did next. He needed to set a line he wouldn’t cross—something clear, something he could hold to. He’d work that out later, once he understood it better.
He could try to use his power again…he just couldn’t let it happen by accident. He couldn’t lose control of it as he had in the coffee shop.
Because if it worked the way he thought it did—if it rewrote things cleanly, completely—then using it wasn’t inherently wrong. The results were real; people still made choices and had agency. They felt like themselves…but different.
He reached up, running a hand back through his hair, water still cascading down around him. “Careful,” he repeated quietly. That was the rule. Start there.
A few minutes later, he turned the water off. The sudden silence hit harder than the sound. He stepped out, grabbed the towel, and dried off quickly
When he stepped back into the room, Skye hadn’t moved. Still snoring. Still dead to the world.
Declan paused for a second, the towel in his hands. He ed buying it with his mom before moving in, at a Target back in New England. She’d told him to grab a set—something decent, nothing cheap—and when he came back with plain white, she’d raised an eyebrow and called it an interesting choice. Said he’d have to be careful not to stain them.
“Okay,” he said quietly. He focused—not on forcing anything, not on imagining something dramatic—but on the simplest version of change he could think of. For a second, nothing happened. Then—Blue.
Declan stared at it. Turned it slightly in his hands. It was still the same fabric, had the same weight and texture, and tag identifying it as Room Essentials. But now it was blue. His memories hadn’t changed.
He still ed buying it white. But the towel in his hands…didn’t match that memory. If his hypothesis was right, then reality hadn’t just changed the towel—it had changed the choice. Declan stared at the towel for another second. Then let out a slow breath. One test didn’t mean he understood.
Skye shifted slightly in his bed behind him, then settled again—just enough to catch Declan’s attention. Skye was still completely out. No help there. Declan would need to find someone else to his suspicions. He grabbed a clean set of clothes and got dressed quickly.
The dorm cafeteria was already half full. Morning light spilled through the wide windows, catching on trays, tables, and the low hum of conversation that never really stopped. Declan grabbed a plate and moved down the line. His usual preference was for an omelet; scrambled eggs on their own were a rather bland way to start the day, but he chose them anyway. He added a cup of coffee and some bacon before tapping his meal card at the unmanned terminal.
He scanned the dining room. Long tables broken up by smaller ones, scattered unevenly across the room. Clusters of students were already mid-conversation, others half-awake, moving through their morning routines. A large group would be harder to read. Harder to isolate anything.
Emma’s style was very different from Sarah’s. Where Sarah looked deliberate—makeup precise, every detail considered—Emma was pretty in a way that felt easy. Effortless. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely, her skin warm-toned in a way that hinted at her Latin heritage. There was nothing overly styled about her—just a hoodie, leggings, the kind of generic morning outfit people threw on without thinking.
He could see it. Why Skye was into her, pretty but without edge or pressure.
Declan adjusted his grip on the tray and walked over. “Hey,” he said, stopping beside her table. “You’re Emma, right? Mind if I sit?”
“Yeah—sure,” she said, offering a small smile. “Go ahead. You’re Declan, right? Skye’s roommate?”
Declan nodded. “Yeah.”
“I heard from Jordan Reese that you have a new girlfriend,” Emma added, like she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the mostly stranger sitting with her.
Declan gave a slight nod. “Yeah—Sarah Yim. Do you know her?”
Emma let out a short laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “I think everyone on campus knows Sarah. She has a very… bold sense of style. People notice. That’s probably why Jordan thought it was worth slipping into my DMs last night.
Declan huffed lightly. “I guess it’s true—people notice Sarah,” he said. “Still… I’m a little surprised news travels that fast.”
Emma gave a small shrug.
“Jordan, Skye, and I are all in CS together, so it’s probably not that widespread. Not yet, anyway.”
Declan gave a small nod. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean… I’m not exactly trying to keep it quiet. If the whole campus knows, I’m good with that.”
Declan glanced down at his plate. Scrambled eggs. They looked exactly the same as they had when he’d sat down. Slightly dry. A little uneven. Nothing remarkable about them at all.
He shifted slightly in his seat. This was stupid. It had worked once—but that didn’t mean anything. People mis things all the time. Filled in gaps. Convinced themselves of patterns that weren’t really there. Except—the towel had changed.
He exhaled slowly, eyes still on the plate. “Careful,” he reminded himself under his breath. Across from him, Emma was focused on her coffee, scrolling briefly through her phone before setting it down again. Completely normal. “I chose an omelet,” he thought.
He looked back down at the eggs. No scrambled eggs. Omelet.
Then something shifted. The loose pile of eggs seemed to settle, edges pulling inward. The texture tightened, smoothing, folding in on itself in a way that hadn’t been there before. Declan’s grip on the fork tightened slightly. The color deepened, and the shape changed… now an omelet…his usual preference sat on his plate.
Declan let out a slow breath through his nose, forcing himself not to react.
Emma noticed. “Something wrong?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Declan blinked, then shook his head once. “No—just…” he hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Thinking maybe I should’ve gone with scrambled eggs.”
Emma glanced down at his plate, then back up. “Huh,” she said. “I always thought scrambled eggs were kind of bland.” A small, casual shrug. “But everyone’s got their thing.”
Declan nodded. “Yeah.” He should’ve said something before. Something clear. Something he could measure against.
Declan’s eyes shifted—subtle, quick— to Emma’s plate. Half an omelet. She didn’t get the omelet. She got scrambled eggs. Across from him, Emma didn’t react. She just picked up her fork and took another bite… of Scrambled eggs.
Declan tilted his head slightly. “If you think scrambled eggs are bland… why’d you go with them?”
Emma glanced down at her plate, like she hadn’t really thought about it before.
“I don’t know,” she said, with a small shrug. “Probably just on autopilot.” She took another bite, unfazed. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I won’t make that mistake again tomorrow.”
He hadn’t meant to change Sarah.
That had just… happened. And if he was being honest—some of what he’d changed about her…wasn’t exactly neutral. Something small. Something harmless. Something no one would question.
Declan’s gaze dropped briefly to her plate. Scrambled eggs were her favorite.
Emma took another bite. Then another. Before long, she had finished the rest of her eggs.
Declan watched her for a second, then tilted his head slightly. “Hey—sorry,” he said. “I missed part of what you said earlier. Sometimes there’s just… a delay, I guess. Between hearing something and it actually clicking,” He gave a quick, self-conscious shrug. “Could you say it again?”
Emma blinked once, a little surprised—but not put off.
“Huh. That’s… kind of weird,” she said, though her tone stayed light. “But yeah, I said I picked scrambled eggs because they’re my favorite. If you don’t like your omelet,” she added, glancing at his plate, “you should try them next time.”
Declan’s fingers tightened slightly around his fork. She believed it. Completely. Which meant the change didn’t just overwrite the outcome—it rewrote the reasoning, it rewrote the self.
Dennett. If this was real—if it actually worked the way it seemed to—then this wasn’t just about control. It was about choice. Identity. He didn’t have the framework for that; he’d only skimmed the reading before being too distracted by Sarah to finish it. That wasn’t going to cut it.
Declan glanced back up at Emma. This didn’t have to be like Sarah. This was..smaller. Not changing who she was, just pushing her in a direction that was good for everyone. People did this naturally all the time. This would just— skip the guesswork. Skye liked her, and this would make things easier for everyone. And it would be good to get along with his roommate’s girlfriend.
Declan’s gaze lingered on her for a second. Declan and Skye were the kind of people Emma enjoyed spending time with.
Emma glanced up again, a little more focused this time. “So… are you heading to anything after this?” she asked.
“I’ve got this… pretty dense reading I need to get through,” he said. “For cognitive psych.”
Emma nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a 9:00,” she said. “Just an English elective.” Then, almost casually—
“Maybe after that we could hang out for a bit,” she added. “You, me, Skye.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. I’ll be around. Probably in the room.”
Emma nodded back, as that settled it. “Okay.”
Emma glanced at the time on her phone and let out a small breath. “I should go,” she said, standing and gathering her things. “If I’m late again, he’s going to start noticing.”
Declan nodded, standing as well. “Yeah. Good luck.”
She gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll see you later. Don’t disappear into your reading.”
Declan huffed lightly. “No promises.”
Emma smiled once more, then turned and headed out, weaving easily through the morning crowd until she disappeared into the hallway.
Declan sat there for a second. Watching. Then he looked back down at his tray. The omelet was still there. He picked up his fork again and took another bite. It tasted— normal.
Declan chewed slowly, finishing the rest without rushing, his thoughts moving faster than he was. Preferences. Choices. Memory.
If it worked the way he thought it did, then none of those things were fixed. They just… felt like they were.
He set the empty plate down and exhaled quietly. Dennett. Declan stood, grabbed his tray, and dropped it off with the rest before heading out. If he was going to keep doing this—and he was going to, that much was clear—he needed to understand what it meant.