Jordan exhaled as he packed the last of his belongings into the thin cardboard box that had been sitting on the floor of his cubicle all summer. Internships were supposed to be stepping stones toward the future, glimpses of the career you were about to embrace, but this one had turned into something far less promising. Not because the work was bad. The tasks themselves were what he expected—briefs, filings, the occasional research rabbit hole. No, it wasn’t the work.
Jordan glanced toward the office down the hall, the one with the door half-open. Inside, Angelo’s portrait hung on the wall, larger than life, showcasing the full extent of his obnoxiousness. The picture was a glossy, oversized headshot of Angelo in a suit. Eyes narrowed in a “I know better than you” expression—it was hard to imagine anyone liking the guy. But they didn’t have to imagine. They all knew.
Jordan knew it the moment he arrived at the firm for the internship. Angelo was the first to “welcome” him in his own special way.
“Coffee’s on the second floor. Better get used to making a lot of trips down there if you plan on staying,” Angelo had said without even looking up from his desk, flicking his fingers toward the door like Jordan wasn’t even there. After that, it had been a never-ending stream of condescending remarks, impossible-to-please assignments, and public humiliation. Once, during a meeting, Jordan had dared to offer a suggestion about how to streamline a client’s case documentation. Angelo had cut him off mid-sentence with a sharp laugh.
“Leave the legal advice to those of us who actually passed the bar, kid,” he’d sneered.
The rest of the room had laughed along awkwardly, but Jordan felt every word sting.
Now the summer was over, and he could almost taste the freedom of law school ahead. Almost. First, there was the matter of the conference.
Jordan’s last official task as an intern was to attend the firm’s annual legal conference with none other than Angelo himself. Three days in a plush hotel, surrounded by some of the biggest legal minds in the state, and Angelo was going to make sure it was unbearable. But this time, Jordan had a plan.
The conference hotel was grand, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in the luxury and forget about everything else—at least, if you weren’t sharing the experience with Angelo.
From the moment they arrived, Angelo took center stage. He boasted about his cases at the networking events, hogged the attention at panels, and made crude jokes to anyone who got close enough to hear them. By the time the second day rolled around, Jordan was already at his limit. He had a single goal in mind for the evening: put his powers to use.
That night, they were at the hotel bar, Angelo already half a bottle of whiskey in, his voice booming as he told some exaggerated story about how he had “single-handedly” saved a client from bankruptcy. Jordan smiled thinly from the stool beside him, sipping his beer, eyes flicking toward Angelo’s glass as the liquid swirled inside.
Jordan had a secret, something Angelo had no clue about. He had powers, powers he hadn’t revealed to anyone at the firm. With just a little focus, he could turn people into skin suits—empty shells of their former selves, which he could wear and control like a costume. Jordan rarely used this ability, but for Angelo, he was willing to make an exception.
Angelo drained his glass and slammed it on the bar, his face flushed with booze. “Alright, time for another round! You ready, kid?”
Jordan glanced at him. “I think you’ve had enough, Angelo. You don’t look so good.”
“Pssh. You’re just jealous I can hold my liquor. Gotta be a real man to do that.” Angelo stood, swaying slightly, but immediately waved off any offer of help.
“You sure about that?” Jordan said, getting to his feet. He placed a hand on Angelo’s shoulder, just enough to steady him and activate his power. Angelo wouldn’t notice the change yet, not until it was too late.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Angelo muttered, but there was a slight wobble in his voice. “Let’s get back to the room. I need to lay down for a minute.”
Jordan suppressed a grin. “Sure. Let’s get you back.”
Once inside the hotel room, Angelo collapsed onto the bed, groaning. “Must’ve been something I ate,” he mumbled, his face pale, eyes shut tight.
Jordan calmly shut the door, locking it behind him. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out.”
Angelo tried to sit up, but something was happening. He couldn’t quite place it, a deep discomfort spreading through his skin. “What the hell…?”
His voice faltered as his limbs began to weaken, skin becoming loose and rubbery. Panic flickered in his eyes as he looked down at his arms. They were shrinking, collapsing inward like deflated balloons. “Jordan… what the… what’s happening to me?”
“You’ll be fine,” Jordan said, walking toward him. “Just relax. You’ve had a long summer.”
Angelo's protests turned into garbled noises as his body gave way, softening completely. Within moments, he was nothing more than an empty skin, a suit lying crumpled on the bed, a blank, lifeless replica of himself.
Jordan stood over the hollow Angelo and smiled. He picked up the suit, feeling the weightless form in his hands. The arrogance, the cruelty, all of it was gone. Now, Angelo was nothing but a tool. A new skin for Jordan to wear.
He slipped into the suit effortlessly, feeling the rush of taking on Angelo’s form. His body molded into the lawyer’s, the familiar muscles and sharp jawline of Angelo’s face now his own. He walked to the mirror, admiring Angelo’s physique, enjoying the reflection.
“This summer’s gonna be fun.”
Jordan sat on the bed, pulling out his phone and opening the dating app he hadn’t touched since the start of the summer. It was something Angelo would use, wasn’t it? A guy like him had no shortage of charm or people interested in the well-polished lawyer with a lifestyle to match. Jordan’s thumb hovered over the screen, the pictures and profiles passing by quickly until one caught his eye.
Max. Fit, stylish, and close by. The bio was simple: “Looking for a good time. Let’s make it memorable.” Jordan, still in Angelo’s skin, smirked. Perfect.
He swiped right, and almost immediately, there was a match.
Within minutes, Max had messaged him: “What are you up to tonight?”
Jordan typed back quickly, leaning into the persona of Angelo as much as possible: “Staying at the Marriott downtown. You should come over. I’ll get us some drinks.”
There was a pause, but it wasn’t long before the reply came: “Sounds like a plan. Be there in 30.”
Jordan grinned, the rush of anticipation making his heart race. He walked over to the hotel minibar, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring two glasses. As he stood there, looking around the room, it struck him how surreal this all was—inviting a stranger over while pretending to be someone else entirely. But he couldn’t deny the thrill of it. This was a side of Angelo he’d never seen but could easily imagine—flings, no strings attached, and the confidence to pull it all off effortlessly.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Jordan took a breath, steadying himself, then opened the door.
Max stood there, just as sharp and attractive as his profile suggested. He smiled, his eyes scanning Jordan—or rather, Angelo—with interest. “You must be Angelo.”
Jordan nodded, stepping aside to let Max in. “That’s me. Glad you could make it.”
Max walked in, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on the drinks. “Nice setup. Fancy.”
Jordan handed him a glass. “Only the best.”
They clinked glasses, and as Max took a sip, Jordan couldn’t help but observe the whole situation. He’d never been this bold before, never felt this in control. Maybe it was Angelo’s skin giving him that extra edge, or maybe it was the freedom of pretending to be someone who didn’t have to care about the consequences.
The conversation flowed easily, Max leaning against the hotel couch as they talked about the city, work, and the places they’d traveled. Jordan kept up the act, channeling everything he knew about Angelo into his responses. Max seemed impressed, clearly taken by the confident, smooth version of Angelo Jordan had crafted.
But as the night went on, Jordan found himself relaxing more. It wasn’t just about pretending to be Angelo anymore. There was something liberating about being someone else, someone who wasn’t afraid to take risks.
As the evening wound down, Max glanced at his watch, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Well, this was fun. But I’ve got an early morning.”
Jordan nodded, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. “Yeah, it was. Thanks for coming by.”
Max gave him a knowing look, then made his way to the door, pausing for a moment before turning back. “Let’s do this again sometime.”
As the door closed behind Max, Jordan let out a long breath. He collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still wrapped in Angelo’s skin. The whole encounter had gone perfectly—smooth, seamless, just like Angelo would have handled it.
Jordan spent the first few days in Angelo’s skin navigating the law firm as if nothing had changed. Nobody batted an eye, not the coworkers who usually fawned over Angelo nor the interns he ignored. Being Angelo wasn’t hard—he had practiced Angelo’s condescending swagger for weeks before he put the plan into motion.
At the firm, it was business as usual. Angelo had a high-profile case that Jordan now had full control over, and thanks to his experience as an intern, Jordan knew how to keep up appearances. The only difference? Jordan was a better Angelo than Angelo had ever been. He wasn’t cruel or dismissive. Instead, he was sharp, methodical, and, surprisingly, more likable.
While everyone marveled at Angelo’s sudden shift in attitude, Jordan took full advantage of his new-found power. He enjoyed the attention, the lavish dinners, and the status that Angelo’s reputation granted him.
But when he wasn’t at work, Jordan was spending time with Anthony.
They had met at a café the first week Jordan took on Angelo’s life. Anthony was charismatic, laid-back, and totally different from the people at the firm. The attraction between them was instant, but the real surprise for Jordan was how much he enjoyed their time together. Being with Anthony was easy—Anthony found “Angelo’s” sudden kindness refreshing and had no idea that the man sitting across from him was really Jordan in disguise.
The summer drifted by faster than Jordan anticipated. Angelo’s life had become his own, and he’d mastered the art of faking it. But as August rolled around and law school approached, Jordan knew his time in Angelo’s skin was coming to an end. He couldn’t keep living this double life forever.
On the final day of summer, Jordan stood in front of the mirror one last time, looking at Angelo’s face. The real Angelo would never know what had happened, but he would feel the consequences for months, maybe even years. Jordan pulled at the collar of Angelo’s suit, his heart racing slightly.
He stood in front of the mirror, staring at Angelo’s reflection—strong jawline, neatly groomed beard, sharp eyes filled with an arrogance Jordan had learned to mimic all too well. But the time had come to shed the skin he’d worn for the summer, to let go of Angelo’s life and return to his own.
Jordan took a deep breath, fingers brushing against the smooth, taut skin of Angelo’s chest. He could feel the edges of the suit, where the fabric of another man’s existence began to peel away from his own. Slowly, carefully, he tugged at the seam beneath Angelo’s ear, the skin stretching and giving way like a second layer, still warm and lifelike.
The sensation was strange—like peeling off a tight wetsuit, but more intimate, more visceral. As he pulled the suit down over his shoulders, the air of the room hit his bare skin, cool and refreshing against the sweat that had gathered underneath. Angelo’s form, muscular and defined, slowly gave way to Jordan’s slimmer, more familiar build. The difference in weight, the change in posture—it was like shedding a burden he hadn’t realized he was carrying.
The suit continued to loosen and slide off in a fluid motion, inch by inch, as Jordan tugged it down past his chest and over his hips. The arms came free, then the legs, until Angelo’s skin finally slipped away entirely, pooling at his feet like a discarded costume. Jordan stood there, breathing heavily, his own body now exposed. Angelo’s empty skin lay crumpled on the bed, lifeless and hollow, nothing more than a shell of the man who had once worn it with pride.
For a moment, Jordan stared down at the deflated suit. It looked almost pitiful now, a far cry from the powerful figure Angelo had once been. He felt a twinge of satisfaction—he had lived in Angelo’s shoes, tasted his life, and now, he was leaving him humiliated in more ways than one.
Jordan turned back to the mirror, and for the first time in weeks, his own face stared back at him—sharp cheekbones, a mess of brown hair, and wide eyes that held a mix of relief and something else. Something conflicted.
He moved to the bed, grabbing the clothes he had worn when he first arrived at the hotel. The familiar texture of his jeans and t-shirt grounded him as he slipped into them, the fabric a little too loose compared to Angelo’s tailored suit. He buttoned his jeans, tugging his shirt into place, and ran a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of emotions settle in his chest.
Once dressed, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and opened the camera. He stood in front of the mirror, tilting his head slightly and snapping a selfie. His own eyes stared back at him, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was completely happy to see himself again.
Angelo would wake up in a few minutes, confused, with no memory of the last few months.
But Jordan would remember. And for him, that was enough.
As he packed his things and prepared to leave Angelo's home for the last time, Angelo's phone buzzed. A message from Anthony, asking when they’d meet up again.
Jordan smiled to himself. Maybe his summer wasn’t over just yet.
