"Say aah . . ." Nessa brings a piece of smoked salmon bites to her date's mouth, and he complies with her sickening request.

The flames of jealousy in my chest turn into a blaze at the nauseating, lovey-dovey attitude. I shift my gaze to the square pieces of smoked salmon bites on Nessa's plate. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the soft Mexican flatbread, the delightful cream cheese in between the stacks of tortillas and fish, and the irresistible smoked salmon.

I stretch out my hand to steal a piece. But before my fingers can touch it, Nessa snatches the delightful bite I'm aiming for and lays it on Lovejoy's tongue.

"Hmm . . . this tastes amazing. Great choice, Precious. Great choice."

The beam painted on Lovejoy's face somehow makes me wish I were him, and there's an urgent desire to bolt out of this place, steal a motorcycle, and smash myself into an invisible wall—which is number two in my How I Want to Die list.

I click my tongue in disapproval. Torturing me with one of my favorite foods. I didn't think you could be this cruel, Miss Mochi.

In my desperate effort to retaliate, I grab a mozzarella stick and pull it apart to reveal the gooey cheese before dipping it into the tomato sauce. As I chomp on the crispy snack, I expect to see a glimpse of regret in Nessa's eyes. Yet she doesn't even spare me a single glance.

My best friend's heart has turned as cold as that dead, smoked fish she's feeding to her date. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Fine. I guess I deserve this.

I stuff several mozzarella sticks into my mouth and munch them. I can't believe I spent $3,193.99—plus taxes—to be tortured like this. I can't even eat my—

"Precious, one of the table's free." Lovejoy looks over at one of the pool tables on my right before he asks Nessa, "Wanna play?"

"Oh, no, no, Stud Muffin," Nessa replies with a shake of her head.

Stud Muffin. A wave of nausea rolls up my stomach every time I hear her call him by that pet name, and I gobble up another handful of mozzarella sticks.

"I suck at pool."

I jerk back in my seat at Nessa's comment, my face twisting in confusion. Nessa may not be a former professional pool player like me, but she's far from being awful at it.

"Let me teach you, then. It's not that hard." Lovejoy stands up and offers Nessa a hand. "Come on."

"Okay!" Tossing the last of the smoked salmon bites into her mouth, Nessa jumps to her feet and grabs Lovejoy's hand. A questionable grin breaks on her face as her gaze flicks to me. A hint of malice flashes in her eyes—the kind that rings an alarm bell in my head.

Great. What is she planning now? Fuck him in front of me?

Lovejoy turns to face Emilia and me, a ghost of a cunning smirk lurking beneath his placid expression. "Feel free to join us."

I swear I can hear a faint note of challenge in his voice, and it douses a bucket of ice-cold water all over the fiery-orange giant inside me. Donkey Kong wakes up from his sleep, determined to beat the living crap out of my rival—at the pool table of course, not in a literal sense.

Calm down, Oliver. Calm down.

Curling my fists into balls, I draw in a long breath and exhale in a quick huff. Yet the monsters in me refuse to go back to their cages when I see the two lovebirds striding hand-in-hand toward the vacant pool table.

My hand roams my plate for another mozzarella stick to butcher. But the only thing left on my plate is the tomato sauce. With a loud grunt, I finish my drink before ordering another shot and a plate of smoked salmon bites.

While I wait for my food to arrive, my eyes are drawn to the untouched plate of cheeseburger sliders across the table. The mouthwatering mixture of cheddar cheese and juicy ground beef in between the soft dinner rolls initiates a ravenous craving in the pit of my stomach.

Hmm . . .

I glance at the pool table to make sure Lovejoy isn't looking before I steal his plate and guzzle the sliders down. Stud Muffin, my ass. I bet my abs are much better than—

"So, are you ready to admit that you're jealous?" Emilia's voice snaps me out of my downward spiral.

"I'm not jealous." My voice rises a tone.

A teasing smile crinkles the corners of her mouth. "TJ said you would sound like that."

I seriously need to learn how to lie.

"Fine. Of course, I'm jealous. But you would too if your best friend replaced you with someone else and fed him a plate of your favorite food."

Emilia chokes back a laugh and shakes her head. "That's . . . that's not . . . Oh, this is too much." She bursts into a guffaw.

Great. Even someone I just met is laughing at me. What did I do to deserve this?

As I try to eat my frustration away, a waiter approaches me with a tray in hand. I sit straight up and stretch my neck forward, hoping to find a plate full of smoked salmon bites. But there's only a glass of scotch on the tray.

The young man sets the glass on the table in front of me. "Sorry, sir. But as it turns out, we're out of salmon."

"You're telling me I can't even eat my favorite—" I grit my teeth and inhale deeply before wiggling my glass in front of him. "Just bring me another shot, will you?"

As the waiter heads to the bar, I down a large gulp of my drink. This cannot get any worse.

"Oliver," Emilia begins, still chuckling, "I know it's not my place to say this, but why are you running away from your feelings?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not running away from my—"

The words stick in my throat.

It's as if . . . a part of me is tired of lying to myself.

My eyes trail across the room to the woman hopping like a rabbit from one end of the pool table to another, digging out the balls from the pockets as if they were carrots.

An amused chuckle slips out of me. She really does resemble Miss Mochi, huh?

As Nessa gathers the balls into the triangular rack, I catch her stealing a glance at me. Her eyes twinkle with a mixture of mischief, curiosity, and delight—perhaps because of the morsels of cheeseburger spilling out of my mouth.

I should be annoyed. I really should. Instead, warmth blooms in my chest.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell?

Shock freezes me, and the cheeseburger slider I'm holding falls onto my plate.

I . . . can't possibly have some feelings for Nessa, can I?

"See?" Emilia holds back a giggle and sips her vibrant glass of tequila sunrise.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I drop my gaze to my plate and continue murdering one slider after another, hoping to distract myself from these crazy emotions. Yet the warmth inside my chest becomes unstoppable, spreading through my system to my fingertips.

Did I drink too—

The loud yawn of a strange creature inside my mind—one that has been hibernating for too long—interrupts my thoughts. The bright yellow creature's eyes flutter and open; a pair of round, innocent ones that electrifies a beacon I didn't know exists inside my heart.

A faint, hopeful voice then whispers in my ears, telling me I should stop running away and start chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.

Oh, shut up, you stupid, weird . . . Pikachu! What am I supposed to do? Tell her I want to 'take our relationship to the next level'?

The idea surprisingly sounds amusing. But the beacon in my heart dims when an eerie sense of déjà vu crashes over me.

Huh? I never had any feelings for Nessa before.

It was a false alarm.

It had to be.

"If you ask me, you should just tell Vanessa how you feel," Emilia suggests.

An itch of suspicion crawls up my back. TJ told me Nina has been taking Emilia's prenatal yoga class over the past few months, but something seems off. Why would they talk about me in a yoga class? I know I look like a living, breathing Greek god, but am I really that popular—

With a loud gasp, I point an accusing finger at Emilia. "You're in Nina's gossip gang, aren't you?"

"Gossip gang?" She chortles. "Nina and I are not in a gossip gang, Oliver. We just hang out together, like you and TJ. Don't tell me you two never talked about us women behind our backs before." Before I can even open my mouth to rebuke her remarks, she continues, "And for your information, if you want to choose a name for us, we prefer the term women squad."

My shoulders slump in defeat, and I bury my pounding forehead in my palm. As I shove the last cheeseburger slider into my mouth, a sudden realization hits me.

This whole fake date thing is TJ's ridiculous plan to un-brainwash me.

I shoot a sharp glare at Emilia, yet her expression remains innocent. "TJ and Nina put you up to this, didn't they? This is why he asked me to hire—" I throw my head back in frustration and growl, "I can't believe he made me spend three-thousand-dollars-and—oh, I'm gonna kill that guy!"

"What are you talking about? I'm just saying what I'm seeing." But the teasing twinkle in Emilia's hazel eyes keeps my suspicion alive. She glances at the lovey-dovey couple across the room before returning her gaze to me. "You're madly in love with her, and it's obvious that Vanessa feels the same way about you too."

"She's just my best friend, okay? I mean, look at her." With a slight glower, I gesture at the woman standing near the head of the pool table. Lovejoy hands over a cue to her, and she gives him a sugary sweet grin. "She's having the time of her life with her," I clench my teeth and mutter, "stud muffin."

Emilia stifles a laugh. "You do realize their relationship is as fake as ours, right?"

"What?"

"They're putting on a good show, especially him. But I'm an actress, remember? I know when people are acting, and those two surely are."

"Acting?" I scoff. "Why the heck would they need to do that?"

Emilia rolls her eyes. "To make you jealous, of course. What else?"

A burst of cynical laughter erupts from my throat. "Why would Nessa go through all that trouble to make me—"

My eyes go wide as the most insane notion I've ever had pops into my head. Could it be . . . she . . . wants to be more than just my best friend?

But that means I have a chance—

Pikachu almost lights up the beacon of hope in me again. But Smaug delivers a low blow to him by unlocking the black box in my head.

Within seconds, the memory of all the awful predicaments that Nessa had to suffer because of me flows like a river inside my head.

What was I thinking? She deserves someone much better than a stupid chubby dumpling who only knows how to screw up like me.

"You realize you can't keep running from your feelings, right? I know you have a"—Emilia's tapered eyebrows wiggle up and down—"condition, but don't you think it's time to forgive yourself and face the truth?"

I lean back in my seat and heave out a remorseful sigh. "You have no idea what I did, Emilia." The chain around my chest tightens, and dreadful shivers run through my limbs. "I can't fix what happened. No matter how I try, I can't. I just can't erase those mistakes."

Emilia studies my reaction for a while before offering me a look of sympathy. "Everyone makes mistakes, Oliver, and there are things we can't erase. But it's what you do afterward that counts. You're not going to let your past ruin your future, are you?"

Pikachu squeals a no in my mind, waving a pair of pom-poms like a creepy cheerleader to push me forward. But Smaug keeps tightening the chains around my heart.

You don't deserve her, Oliver. You don't deserve to be happy. Not after what you've—

"You know, sometimes, there are other ways to make up for your mistakes. You just have to find the right way."

Emilia's advice tastes like ketchup to Pikachu. The strange creature goes into hyper mode and steers my gaze across the room to Nessa.

Is there really a way for me to atone for my sins? But what if I end up hurting her again?

As I ponder the burning questions in my head, Nessa bends over the pool table and aims her cue. Standing behind her, Lovejoy places one hand on Nessa's arm and another on her hand to direct her aim while whispering something in her ear. As he trails a hand along Nessa's arm, the green-eyed monster in me claws his way up my throat.

Calm down, Oliver. Calm the fuck down!

I bite my inner lip and bunch my hands into fists in frustration.

Nessa pockets a few balls at a time, or at least she must be because she pumps her fists into the air and jumps up and down like a 5-year-old winning a teddy bear at a carnival. Spinning on her heels, she throws her arms around Lovejoy's neck and hugs him.

A rush of wild, hot jealousy burns in my chest when he caresses the back of her head and plants a kiss on her cheek. While it's getting more and more difficult to control my emotions, what Lovejoy does next drives the Hulk into a rage.

That creep fucking smirks at me.

A part of me wonders if I have drunk too much, but that cocky smirk of victory plastered on Lovejoy's face—directed straight at me—seems all too real.

Oh, fuck it.

I snatch the glass of scotch the waiter just set on my table and chug it down. The alcohol burns my throat, but it can't numb my anger. If any, it serves as gasoline to the fiery blaze inside me.

I have to get rid of that creep now. Then I'll figure out what to do with my feelings for Nessa.

"Err . . . Oliver? I don't think you should drink that m—"

I slam the empty glass on the table and wipe my mouth using the back of my hand. "It's time to go back to Plan A."

"What's Plan A?"

A surge of determination burns in my veins as I fix my gaze on my love rival. "I'm gonna beat the living shit out of him."

Author's Note:

So, thoughts on this chapter?

Nessa's revenge will continue in the next chapter, and a bloodbath is coming! Who's excited?

Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you do, please don't forget to tap that little star button and make my day! Thanks for reading! :)