Twelve cats.

Twelve cats eye me as if I'm their dinner.

Although I don't fear cats as much as I used to, being in the same room with a dozen of those little monsters still gives me the chills. My heart thumps in my ears as the small monsters and their human general march past me, disappearing into the next-door apartment.

"Ol?" Nessa says, a teasing smile on her pale face. "Are you okay?"

I clear my dry throat and push my hands into my jeans pockets. "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you were surrounded by twelve cats that were about to eat you alive?" As Nessa stifles a giggle, a flush of embarrassment warms my cheeks.

I close the apartment door, scurry to the kitchen, and set my grocery bag on the countertop. "Brought you a little something." I pull out today's newspaper from my grocery bag and hand it to Nessa. "Open page four."

She does what I tell her to and reads the highlighted review of her latest work. "It's Always You could've been another one of Celia Adams' regular piano-driven ballads. But like last week's new release Fight for Our Love, the gorgeous production details bring a fresh approach to the otherwise repetitive track, turning it from what could've been a disaster to a beautiful, heartfelt love song to remember. Four-point-five out of five stars."

"Congratulations." I give her my warmest smile.

A mixture of pure joy and honest pride shines in her eyes as she puts the newspaper onto the countertop. "T-they're praising our work? I'm not hallucinating, am I?"

"Technically"—I steal a fish-shaped cake from the lunchbox on the countertop and chomp it—"since you came up with most of the idea, they're praising your work."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ol. We worked on it together. I couldn't have done it without you." Nessa beams in humility, drawing a chuckle from me.

"Either way, this calls for a celebration. That's why I bought you . . ." I take out a paper bowl and a paper cup from my grocery bag and set them on the countertop. "Ta-da!"

"Pork dumpling soup! I knew it!" Her eyes light up in an instant. "And what is . . ." She sticks a straw into the orange paper cup and slurps through it. "Hmm, chocolate banana smoothie, my favorite. Thanks, Ol!"

Warmth spreads across my chest when I see the ineffable joy sparkling in her eyes. As she dives into her dinner, I glance at the TV across the room. "So . . . do you wanna watch some movies?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

I have no idea what has gotten into me. Maybe I miss the adorable glee on Nessa's face every time she's watching one of her favorite cheesy movies. Or maybe I want to make her happy. Or maybe I just don't want to lose against that creep, Lovejoy—who seems to know the way into Nessa's heart.

Whatever the reason is, I blurt out, "How about a rom-com marathon?"

Nessa gapes at me, her spoon slipping out of her hand and falling into the soup with a plop.

A hot blush races up my neck and heats my cheeks. "O-or we can just watch Friday the Thirteenth."

"Nope. Romcom it is." Nessa hops off her seat and scuffs to the living room. As I follow behind her, she settles on the floor with her legs bent to the side and opens one of the doors of the TV cabinet. "What should we watch today?"

"Let's see." My eyes go wide with horror when I see the heap of DVDs inside the cabinet. "Holy mother of . . . Why the heck is Lilo and Stitch on top of I Know What You Did Last—how do you find anything in here?"

"Oh, shut up. Not everyone sorts their DVDs alphabetically by genre like you."

I click my tongue, take all of the DVDs out of the cabinet, and rearrange them—alphabetically by genre, of course. As I start to lose myself in one of my favorite activities, Nessa picks up Cupid's Arrows from the pile.

Oh, shit.

Cupid's Arrows was Celia's first movie. When that she-devil invited Nessa to the premiere two years, two months, and twenty-two days ago, I thought she was being nice. But as it turned out, it was a part of her evil scheme to prove to me that Nessa didn't belong in her world.

That she-devil got her bitchy new friends laughing at Nessa's appearance, and when I tried to help Nessa, the paparazzi cooked up a story about Nessa being the third person in my relationship with Celia. The next day, Celia's psychopathic fans created the IHateVanessaHayesWong account on TweetyGram and began harassing Nessa online.

As Nessa stares blankly at Celia's face in the middle of the heart-shaped photo collage, I joke, "I can't believe you still keep that crap."

"It's not crap, Ol. It's one of my favorite rom-coms. I mean, yeah, Celia was awful in it, but—" A snort bursts from my throat, and she gives a remorseful chuckle. "The storyline is awesome. Tell me you don't think so. I dare you."

The movie revolves around a dating expert, who goes by the nickname Cupid, and the couples he helped. In other words, the movie is as cheesy as Swiss cheese fondue. But to be honest, while I don't believe it's based on a true story like it's marketed as, the storyline is a hilarious one.

"Fine, I guess you're right."

"Well . . . do you wanna watch it?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun."

Hesitation lingers in my mind for a moment, but the excited gleam in her eyes eases my anxiety. "Okay."

I'm about to go back to arrange the DVDs when, to my annoyance, Nessa sweeps everything back into the cabinet and closes the door.

As the sound of rain pelting the windows of the apartment fills the room, we sit side by side on the couch, ready to watch the movie. The opening credit rolls, and The Blue-Eyed Cupid—the movie's theme song sung by that she-devil—blares from the TV speakers.

A tight knot of concern twists my stomach when I remember the threat letter Nessa received from her hater yesterday.

"Hey." I nudge Nessa's arm. "Any news on that letter you got?"

Nessa pulls her mouth into a tight line and shakes her head. "Jack's still searching for the girls who slushied me two years ago. He said it's going to take a few days."

"A few days?" The knot in my stomach squeezes tighter, but before I go into full-on panic mode, Kiki hops onto my lap and curls into a ball. As I stroke her soft fur, her purr eases my anxiety.

Right. Calm down, Oliver. Calm down.

In the meantime, scandalous superstar Ethan Hunk appears on the TV screen. Strutting into a packed restaurant, the buff man flashes his charming smile at the swooned women.

"My name is Romeo Lowell." The actor's booming baritone voice narrates the scene. "Most people recognize me as the owner of The Love Hut—the best vegan restaurant in LA. But to many hopeless romantics out there, I'm known as Cupid. Yes, that Cupid. The same Cupid behind the best-selling book you have in your pocket right now. As of today, I've helped nine-hundred and ninety-six . . ."

A weight settles on my right shoulder. The thought of Nessa resting her head on my shoulder sends Pikachu gliding to the center stage. Yet the strange yellow creature soon bolts away in fear when something soft—something furry—sweeps across my cheek.

What the—

My heart leaps into my throat when I realize a fluffy white kitten is sleeping on my shoulder.

Nessa turns her head in my direction and gasps. "Miss Freezy Paws? What are you—"

A frantic knock on the door resonates through the apartment, and Nessa bolts toward the door, leaving me alone with my greatest fear.

A trickle of cold sweat runs down my temple as I try to remove the furry little monster from my shoulder. But just as my trembling hand is about to touch her fur, she yawns and presses her fluffy paws on my shoulder, her sharp teeth inches away from my skin.

She's going to eat me. She's going to eat me. She's going to eat me!

"Sorry to interrupt your date, V," Yuna says from the door, an edge of panic in her voice. "Is Miss Freezy Paws still here? I could've sworn she was with her brothers and sisters when I left your apartment, but—"

"Yeah, yeah. Calm down," Nessa answers, and Yuna murmurs her relief. "She's over there."

"Oops." Yuna lets out a guilty laugh. "Sorry, Oliver!"

I raise my trembling hand and give her the thumbs-up sign, my gaze fixed on the kitten who is tilting her head at me. Fear shoots down my spine as Miss Freezy Paws' big blue eyes scan me up and down. To my complete and utter horror, the long-haired feline sticks out her tongue and licks my chin.

That's it. I'm dead.

I fall sideways onto the couch's armrest with a thud, my soul leaving my body. While Kiki hops off my lap and saunters toward her pink bed next to the bean-bag chair, Miss Freezy Paws climbs onto my head.

"Aww . . . They're bonding," Nessa coos, giggling with her accomplice by the door.

I want nothing more than to hop on a flight to Timbuktu right this very second, but I can't. My soul is stuck in limbo. It feels like an eternity before Nessa removes the little monster from my face and reunites her with her human general.

Everything is a blur until Nessa taps a finger on my shoulder, bringing my soul back to my body. Keeping a straight face, I sit upright and redirect my attention to the TV. Yet my excellent peripheral vision allows me to see Nessa holding back her laughter.

A tiny chuckle slips out of her gnarled lips, causing me to frown. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" She puts on a fake innocent expression, a spark of teasing twinkling in her eyes. "I didn't say any—whoa!"

I lock my arms around her and tickle her stomach. "You think it was funny, huh?"

"Ol, what are you—" Nessa giggles and wriggles in my arms like a puppy. "Ol, stop it! You're tickling me!"

"No." I keep tickling her until tears stream down her face. "You're the one who started it. You could've just picked that little monster up before it tried to eat me, but you didn't. I know you're a sadist, but that? That was just crossing the—"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Her chest heaves up and down as she rests her head on my lap, still chortling. "You are so gonna pay for that."

"Yeah?" I push her flyaways from her face and smirk. "I'd like to see you try."

"You'll see," she huffs, rolling onto her side to watch the TV as I toy with her hair.

There's something so delightful and cozy about having her on my lap. Before we went on that date last night, there were physical boundaries between us that we'd never overstepped. We never even tickled each other before tonight. But now that we've crossed that safety line, I can't help but become excited about what the future holds for us.

Ugh. What am I doing?

Within our five years and two months of friendship, I've always been the more responsible one. In a way, I have been acting like a big brother to Nessa, and stopping her from making awful mistakes has always been in the job description.

When I took her on a date last night, I didn't think. And I certainly didn't think when I kissed her. I was over the moon when I heard that she'd stopped seeing Lovejoy, and for once in my life, I just did what my stupid heart told me to—and I'm glad I did it.

But the thing is, I've screwed up her life once, and I can't help but think that doing this—whatever this is—will mess up her life even more.

What if I screw up again?

The Cheshire Cat lurks in the dark, his round yellow eyes shining with a creepy gleam that terrifies me to the bone. "Of course, you will. That's what you do best. You always screw up. After all, it runs in the family."

"Ol?" Nessa stares up at me. "Are you okay?"

There's something in her eyes—warmth, kindness, and something else I can't quite decipher—that manages to kick the Cheshire Cat back into the deepest, darkest part of the jungle. How did she do that?

An amused chuckle slips out of me. "Yeah. I'm fine."

We spend the next hour laughing at the hilarious movie, even louder at Celia's over-the-top performance as Romeo's stuttering client.

The story gets more interesting as Romeo is seduced by Juliet, a beautiful corporate spy working for The Love Shack—a rival restaurant to Romeo's The Love Hut. The surprisingly gullible guy falls for her trick and shows her his cookbook, only to find out she's just using him to steal his secret recipe when he's about to propose to her.

Now that its competitor sells the same food for a much cheaper price, The Love Hut loses most of its customers, and the heartbroken Romeo struggles to pay the large sum of money he owes to some funny-looking gangsters. He's about to flee to Timbuktu to escape a gruesome death when he sees a bickering couple at his restaurant.

"More free food? They'll go bankrupt for real!" the woman in the cat-printed T-shirt scolds her boyfriend.

The man in the blue denim jacket clicks his tongue. "They won't know who wrote it, Hun. Just write something so we can get the free veggie burger, will ya?"

Just like the first time I watched this movie, a sense of déjà vu sweeps through me. But this time, it finally hits me why this scene always feels so familiar. Holy fuck. Don't tell me Romeo Lowell is—

The sound of Nessa hissing in pain snaps me from my thoughts.

"Hey, what's wrong?" As she clutches her stomach tighter, I gasp in horror. "It's the food, isn't it? Oh, I'm gonna sue that creep—"

"No, no, Ol." She chortles, squirming a little on my lap. "It's just cramps."

I lay my hand on hers to try to comfort her, but the unexpected coldness heightens my concern for her. "Dammit, your hands are freezing. You should go to a—"

"No, no, I'm fine." Wincing, she strives to pull herself into a sitting position. "I just need some more painkillers. That's all."

"More? How many have you taken?"

"Just two."

Just two? How many does she usually take? Although a part of me wonders if it's safe to take so many painkillers in a day, I help her to her feet and follow her to the kitchen. She spends some time searching through her messy medicine cabinet before she mutters a soft curse.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She hisses a breath through clenched teeth, one hand holding her stomach and the other gripping the edge of the cabinet. "I'm running out of painkillers."

"Wait here. I'll go buy some—"

"No, no, Ol. It's raining out there. You'll catch a cold." She glances at the window as a rumble of thunder roars outside the building. "I'll be fine. Let's just go back to watching the movie."

She drags herself back to the living room, her back bent like an old woman's. As she takes a careful seat on the couch, I rack my brain for a way to help her.

Honestly, I have no idea how to help a woman with her period cramps—other than by giving her a mind-blowing orgasm, of course. But I doubt she's going to allow me to do that. Yet.

Oliver Lauren Morrison. You've gone insane, haven't you?

I push the crazy thought away and grab my jacket. I'm about to go buy some painkillers for Nessa when I remember the book I bought on my way here—the same book TJ lent me one year, eleven months, and twenty-two days ago.

I make sure Nessa isn't looking before I pull the book out of my back pocket and blow out a determined sigh. Let's see what you've got, Cupid.

Author's Note:

Can you guess who Romeo Lowell is based on? 👀

The cheesiness will continue in the next chapter, so stay tuned!

As always, if you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to show some support by voting and/or leaving comments. Thanks for reading!