The classroom was quiet, afternoon light painting golden stripes across the floor. I moved slowly between desks, heels clicking softly, each step more confident than the last. Something deep inside me pulsed with warmth — like I was glowing from the inside out.
And then I saw her.
The class representative. Always so composed, so precise. Her uniform was perfect. Her hair, tied tightly back. Clipboard in hand, she looked up at me with her usual quiet authority.
“Miss,” she said, clearly trying to stay composed, “your attire doesn’t match the faculty guidelines.”
I smiled. “Maybe that’s the point.”
Before she could respond, I leaned in — close enough to feel her breath catch — and kissed her softly, right on the lips.
She gasped, freezing in place. Her clipboard slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.
A quiet shimmer passed between us, as if the air itself trembled. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her body trembled, then began to change.
Her crisp white blouse brightened, glowing faintly before fading into a soft pastel lavender. The fabric tightened gently around her chest, the top two buttons undoing themselves as the collar relaxed into a more open, flirtier shape. Her dark skirt shifted as well — the navy blue fading into a light buttery yellow, the hemline lifting just a few inches, swaying more freely around her thighs.
Her posture loosened; she seemed to breathe deeper, her entire body unwinding. Her tightly bound hair unraveled on its own — dark waves with pink tips spilling over her shoulders, glossy and full. Her lips shimmered as if freshly glossed, and a faint pink blush bloomed on her cheeks.
She opened her eyes. They sparkled like glass under sunlight.
“Ohhh…” she breathed, looking down at herself in amazement. “What just… I feel so different…”
I stepped back, letting her take it all in. She ran her fingers through her new hair, then across her pastel-yellow skirt and lavender blouse. Her touch was slow, almost reverent.
Then, blinking, her expression shifted — a flicker of realization lighting up her face.
“Oh my gosh,” she said slowly, lips curling into a playful smile, “we are contagious.” Her voice was higher now, lighter — with a bubbly, lilting tone. “Like… if I kiss someone, they’ll change too, right?”
She bit her lip, a little pink shimmer catching the light. “That’s so cute.”
I nodded. “Exactly. And it feels natural, doesn’t it?”
She giggled, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, fingers grazing the lace-trimmed edge of her lavender collar. “It feels right. Like I’ve always been meant to be like this… I just needed a little help.”
She looked at the nearest student — her eyes bright, lips parted, energy radiating from her like perfume.
The sparkle had caught.
And I knew what would happen next.