I've been pacing back and forth in the middle of Nessa's living room for twenty-four minutes and thirteen seconds, glancing at my watch every ten seconds or so. And my patience is wearing thin. Where the heck is that guy?

Earlier this morning, Nessa's cop friend Jack called and said he had a lead on the identity of BlueEyedCupid. He promised to meet us at Nessa's apartment at 7 p.m. sharp. But it's already 7.25, and he's still not here.

Hmm. What if BlueEyedCupid got to him and run him over with a truck or something? That always happens in movies. So—

"Ol, would you just sit down?" Nessa says from the couch. "I'm trying to watch a movie here, and you're making me dizzy."

I glance at the TV, where Jason Voorhees is chasing his victims in the subway. Nessa chooses this movie to keep me distracted, but my anxiety prevents me from getting lost in my favorite film series.

"Calm down, Ol. He'll be here. It's just who he is. When we were in high school, everyone used to call him The Sloth. Smart, but super lazy. Once, my classmates and I even bought him an alarm clock for his birthday." With a giggle, she adds, "Well, it was supposed to be a cruel joke, but I'd like to think he wouldn't have graduated if it wasn't for it."

"How so?" I sink next to her and rest an arm on the back of the couch behind her.

"Before we gave him that clock, he was on the verge of not graduating because he was always late to class. But he got so pissed when I gave him that clock—and that nickname—that he ended up showing up five minutes early to every class just to prove me wrong."

"Sounds like you got some pretty awesome high school years, huh?"

"It was okay," she answers, but the shimmering light in her eyes tells me it was so much more than just okay.

A knock resonates from the door. I'm about to jump to my feet when Nessa beats me to it.

"I'll get it." Pointing a warning finger at me, she commands, "Stay."

I click my tongue and scowl. "What am I? A dog?"

Choking back a giggle, she bounces toward the front door. How can she be so calm? This is her life we're talking about!

I pause the movie, kneel on the sofa, and strain my body to see who's at the door. Disappointment sweeps through me when I find out it's just the pizza delivery guy. Huffing out a frustrated breath, I sit back on the couch and cross my arms.

"Thanks. Keep the change," Nessa says to the pizza delivery guy. "Wait, Ryan?"

My ears perk up when Nessa mentions that creep's name. Whoa, whoa, whoa. We didn't order anything from Love—

"Vanessa?" Lovejoy's voice resonates from the hallway, awakening the green-eyed monster inside my head.

The Hulk roars, demanding for me to confront my love rival, and I gladly do as he asks. Curling my fists into tight balls, I stomp toward the door. What is that creep doing here? He's supposed to be on a trip to Timbuktu for, I don't know, forever!

"What are you—" Lovejoy stops talking as soon as I step out of the apartment, an expression of surprise passing over his countenance. "Morrison."

"Lovejoy," I reply with a hostile tone.

A haughty smile creeps over his crooked lips—almost as if he's challenging me into a staring contest. Oh, game on, you creep!

Accepting his challenge, I inhale a deep breath and step forward. The theme song of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly plays in my mind, and with each passing second, bolts of lightning shoot from our eyes, trying to blind each other. After ten seconds, I swear his eyes almost fall shut. Still, he refuses to give up. Standing up straight, he scrunches his forehead in concentration.

The urge to blink is almost unbearable, but I puff out my chest and raise my chin. To my exasperation, he mirrors my action and takes another step forward. As we stand inches apart from each other, I realize his darn-sky-blue eyes are about two—maybe almost three—inches higher than mine. What the heck? I don't remember him being taller than me.

Oh! It's gotta be the shoes. This pathetic creep is wearing one of those elevator shoes, isn't—

"Ol?" Lovejoy and I blink at the same time as Nessa's voice breaks my concentration. Oh, dammit. "Can you give us a second?"

"Sure." I glance at my watch and wait until the second-hand ticks once. "Done."

"Ol," she growls, the golden flecks in her chocolate-brown eyes flaring with annoyance. There's a wealth of promise in her gaze: a promise that she'll turn my life into a living hell if I don't comply with her request.

I'm not the very least bit intimidated by her. I swear. I'm not. But I'm aware that I should be the more . . . sensible person here. After all, if Nessa and I fight in front of that creep, he'll think he has the upper hand. And the last thing I want is for him to think he's winning.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll wait inside."

"Thank you." Nessa hands the pizza box to me.

Walking back into the apartment, I glance at Lovejoy's black leather shoes. Yeah. That's one of those expensive platform shoes. I'm sure of it.

As I shoot the guy a winning smirk, Nessa closes the door in front of my face.

"Oh, you little—" The Hulk inside my mind slams his fists into the ground over and over again, his bulbous muscles growing with anger.

Nevertheless, I manage to keep him under control.

I stride toward the kitchen island and place the pizza box next to the magazine on the countertop, frowning a little when I see the she-devil on the cover. Why did Nessa even bother to spend her money on this stupid gossip magazine?

Shaking my head, I flip the pizza box open. The rich, smoky aroma of Barbecue Chicken Pizza wafts into my nostrils, and my stomach gurgles. I'm about to pick up a slice when Nessa's laughter from outside the room stops me.

The green monster inside my head goes into a super-jealous mode. Pushing my hunger away, he orders me to do the one thing I should never do.

No, no, no, Oliver Lauren Morrison. Have you gone crazy?

I try to muster up the energy to keep the green monster from running loose. But he brings an ally with him to the golden ring—that mischievous yellow creature, Pikachu. Two against one is an unfair fight, and the next thing I know, I'm standing at the door with my left ear pressed on the wood.

"I thought you were on a business trip to New York?" The thin walls allow me to hear Nessa's voice, albeit rather faintly.

"I was," Lovejoy answers. "The negotiation finished earlier than planned."

Yeah, right. I bet he never went to New York in the first place. I bet he was stalking and torturing another naïve person to death within the last few days.

"I just visited your neighbor to finalize the deal, actually. Yuna Mizusawa? Do you know her?"

Pikachu and Hulk wave a red flag, launching rockets of questions in my mind. How does he know Yuna? Has he been stalking her too?

Hold on a second. My mouth forms an O of horror as the most brilliant explanation pops into my head. What if he's BlueEyedCupid?

"Yeah, yeah. She's my friend," Nessa replies. "If you don't mind me asking, what does anything have to do with her?"

Good question, Ness. Good question.

"Can you keep a secret?" Lovejoy asks.

"Yeah, sure."

Lovejoy then whispers something I can't catch. As I press my ear harder against the door, Nessa squeaks in excitement, "What? Are you serious?"

"Mm-hmm. I knew you'd love that. I went to New York to seal the deal with some investors who'd like to produce the show with me, and . . ."

Wait, wait, wait. What show? Is he producing a sick, twisted reality show on the dark web or something? Pikachu goes into a full-on panic mode, running around my mind with a bucket of holy water in his tiny hand as if something was on fire. What the heck is—

Nessa's delighted squeal pierces my ears, causing me to jerk my head away from the door. "Oh my God! I can't believe there's going to be a Mr.—"

"Shh," Lovejoy hushes her.

"Sorry," Nessa replies with an unapologetic giggle before lowering her voice into a whisper-shout. "Seriously, though. That's the most exciting news I've ever—"

The sound of someone clearing her throat from behind me stops me from finding out what the hell Nessa and Lovejoy are talking about. Looking over my shoulder, I find Mac standing a few feet away from me with her arms crossed.

"Are you eavesdropping?" She keeps her tone light with just the perfect hint of teasing.

"No, I'm not." I struggle to keep my voice even. "I'm just . . ." Spotting a layer of dust around the hinges of the door, I quickly wipe it with the long sleeves of my blue sweatshirt. "Cleaning the door."

Dammit. That is the stupidest excuse you can come up with, Oliver.

The blonde woman stifles a chuckle and saunters toward the kitchen. As I rub my sleeve over the door handle, I try to listen in on Nessa's conversation with Lovejoy again.

". . . ask you to marry me."

My jaw cracks open, my eyes bulge out of their sockets, and I swear my heart stops beating for a second. He . . . He's . . . He's proposing to her?

The two creatures in my mind wreak havoc; one smashes the insides of my skull while the other attempts to order the cheapest toy ring from TweetyBuy.

Nessa snorts. "Are you serious? That's—"

The whirring noises of the blender from the kitchen fill the room, preventing me from hearing a damn thing. Still, my burning curiosity forces me to peer through the peephole into the hallway. As Nessa tips on her toes to hug Lovejoy, Pikachu and Hulk collapse to the ground.

Dead.

Maybe.

The presumed death of the two creatures in my head drains my energy. As I hold on to the door handle to steady myself, Mac switches off the blender.

"Oh, no, no, Ry," Nessa says, "you shouldn't—"

"No, I insist. I've already prepared it. It should be ready on Valentine's Day."

What should be ready on Valentine's Day? Curiosity swirls through me, but it's not enough to take my mind off the fact that Nessa just said yes to Lovejoy's marriage proposal. My limbs become so weak I can't even stand straight, and the ringing in my ears blocks out all noises around me.

How could she say yes? This is absurd! We agree to go on a date—

Nessa opens the door from outside, and I stumble, gripping the door handle tighter to keep my balance.

She perches a hand on her hip, her mouth tightening in disapproval. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

"No." My voice soars in pitch, and she raises a judging eyebrow. "Okay, fine. But only because that man is suspicious as fuck. I mean, have you noticed the color of his eyes? He might be BlueEyedCupid!"

A wild round of laughter explodes from Nessa as she turns around to close the door. "Oh, Ol. I know you're jealous, but that is just ab—"

"Yo, V!" Someone outside the apartment puts a hand on the edge of the door. As Nessa pulls the door wider, Jack waves the manila folder in his hand and greets her with a huge grin. "How's it going?"

The muscular man in the tight, black leather pants and even tighter white T-shirt lets himself in. The smug grin plastered on his face broadens when he sees me.

"Oliver!" He gives me a hug and a pat on the back. "Nice to see you're still sticking with our girl here." He gestures at Nessa, who glowers at him in response. "Bet she's a real handful, huh?"

I let out a confused chuckle. What is he talking about?

The scowl on Nessa's face deepens as Jack swings an arm around her neck and playfully ruffles her hair with his left hand.

"You're late, Sloth." Nessa grabs his arm, ducks her head, and shoves him away. "As usual."

"Chill, V. I have a perfectly good reason for—ooh, pizza."

Nessa rolls her eyes as Jack rushes to the kitchen island. Hopping onto one of the stools, he snatches a slice and opens his mouth. He's about to sink his teeth into the pizza when he notices the blonde woman pouring smoothies into five glasses across the island from him.

"Oh, where are my manners." He holds the pizza with his left hand and wipes his right hand on his pants before extending it to Mac for a handshake. "Jack Johnson."

"Mackenzie Goode. Nice to meet you." Mac returns the gesture with a sweet, polite smile. As Nessa settles on the stool across from Jack, Mac sets three of the glasses in front of us and takes the other two with her. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Thanks." Nessa flashes a smile at Mac before switching her attention to the man who's busy gobbling down the pizza as if he hasn't eaten in years. Donning her resting-bitch face, she asks, "You said you had some news?"

"Right," Jack mumbles. "So, bad one first? Or good one first?"

"Let's go with the good one first," Nessa answers as I sit on the stool next to her.

"Good news is—drum roll please." Swallowing the food in his mouth, he plucks a pair of chopsticks from the utensil holder and taps them against the countertop as if they're a pair of drumsticks. After a few beats, he holds his arms wide open and grins proudly. "I've figured out who BlueEyedCupid is!"

Pikachu rises from the dead. As quick as lightning, he hones his butter knife and fills his water gun with as much holy water as possible.

In the meantime, Kiki hops onto Nessa's lap and stares at the man who claims he's found the person responsible for her missing leg.

"Who is it?" Nessa asks.

A disappointed frown twists Jack's features. "That's it? No," he claps his hands together and imitates a woman's voice, "'oh my God Jack, you're a genius!' or 'Jack, you're such a lifesaver!'?"

I blink at him, stunned.

"Tough crowd, huh?" He shifts his gaze between Nessa and me before he blows out a defeated breath. "First things first, I talked to the girls who slushied you, V. The remaining four, at least."

"What happened to the other one?" Nessa sticks a straw into her smoothie and slurps.

"Died in a car accident." Jack picks up another slice of pizza and chomps into it. "Drunk driving. Crashed into an angel statue in Grand View Memorial Park. The statue fell right on top of her car, and she was crushed to death by it. You know, I was one of the officers handling that crime scene last year. And I'm telling you. It wasn't a pretty sight. Her head was—"

"Jack," Nessa interrupts, deadpan. "Focus."

"Right. Two of the girls who slushied you just got back from a six-month spiritual trip in Tibet while the other two are currently serving time in juvie for assault and robbery. Long story short, there's no way they could've taken that photo you received last week. All of them said they've never met BlueEyedCupid in person, and—oh!" He snaps his fingers together before pointing his forefinger to Nessa. "Which reminds me, they told me to tell you they're sorry for what they did."

"Oh," Nessa says. "What about the concert tickets?"

"Good question." Licking the barbeque sauce on his fingers, he opens his manila folder and pulls out the white envelope Blake gave us last week. "The sender of the tickets is The Orchid Mantis, Celia Adams' concert promoter two years ago."

"What did they say?" I cross my arms on the countertop and lean forward a little.

"Now, here comes another bad news. They closed last year after the owner died of a drug overdose. I talked to some of the people who used to work there, and none of them remembers the buyer. All records also have been deleted when the company closed, so . . ."

"It's a dead-end." Disappointment colors Nessa's tone.

"That one, yes. This one, however, isn't." Jack extracts the threat photo Nessa received last week from his folder and sets it on the countertop. "You know that fancy apartment right across the street from where this photo was taken?"

"Yeah." Nessa props her chin in the palm of her hand. "What about it?"

"It has a security camera that caught this"—Jack fishes out a CCTV photo from the folder and hands it to Nessa—"at the same time your photo was taken."

A warm blush of embarrassment creeps up my neck when I remember the time I took a photo with a black Lamborghini in front of that fancy apartment building. Dammit. I can't believe they caught my cringe-worthy action on camera. I wonder if they still have the—

"Jules?" Nessa gasps.

Jules? Isn't that Nessa's bitchy former trainee? I pluck the photo from Nessa's hand and squint at it.

The petite woman is photographed holding a camera behind the bushes, which leads me to believe she must be the person who took the picture of Nessa, Kiki, and me two weeks ago. The tanned woman wears a black hoodie to cover her long, black hair. But there's no mistaking those prominent cheekbones, ever-present pout, and backstabbing eyes.

"Meet Julianne Fisher." Jack gestures at the photo in my hand. "Your colleague, who is also our mysterious photographer. The security guard of that fancy apartment ID-ed her as—and I quote—that suspicious young woman snapping pictures from behind the bushes."

"So she's BlueEyedCupid?" I set the CCTV photo on the countertop.

"Err . . . no."

A wave of disappointment and frustration rushes through me. If not her, then who else?

"I came by her place earlier." Jack glances at the CCTV photo. "That's why I was a bit late. And lucky for you, she got so terrified when I mentioned she was looking at jail time for stalking you and sending those threatening letters. So, she spilled all the beans."

As Nessa and I sit bolt upright, a vain smirk stretches across Jack's face. "Well, she also offered to have sex with me to avoid jail time. But of course, being a good police officer, I—"

"Jack," Nessa interrupts, annoyed. "Focus."

"Right. Just like your other coworker, Blake Berry, Fisher claimed she was asked by BlueEyedCupid to snap a picture of you two with your cat and send those threatening letters. In other words, she's just another pawn."

As frustration swells up in my gut, Nessa asks, "So basically it's another dead-end?"

"Err . . . no. Not exactly."

My frustration reaches the boiling point, and I lay my fist on the countertop. "Just tell us who they are, will ya?"

"Whoa, calm down, Lover Boy." My jaw goes slack as he cackles. "On second thought, you two don't really make a good couple. Both of you are too—"

Nessa reaches across the island and grabs him by his collar. Through gritted teeth, she mutters, "I swear to God, Johnson, if you don't tell me who BlueEyedCupid is right now, I'm going to tell everyone in Sunnyville about what happened in eighth grade."

Fear drains the color from his face, his hazel eyes bulging with panic. "Okay, okay. Chill, V. Chill. I'm getting there."

As Nessa plops back onto her seat, Jack reaches for another slice of pizza and continues, "Unlike your dumb colleague Berry, Fisher claimed she did it because BlueEyedCupid promised her the golden opportunity to produce Celia Adams' next album."

Something in my gut churns, screaming there's something terribly wrong about that offer. What is it?

"Plus," Jack mumbles with a full mouth, "she's super jealous of you, V."

A surprised grin splits Nessa's face. "Really?"

"Uh-huh." Jack sips his smoothie before grimacing in disgust. "It's kinda like tenth grade all over again. You remember that redhead who spread that absurd rumor about us, right? What was her name again?"

"Martha McBitchy," Nessa snarls.

"Yeah. What you did to her hair was epic." Jack chortles, clapping his hands in approval. "I still can't believe people actually believed that you, of all people, would give me a—"

I click my tongue. "Guys, guys, focus."

"Right. Anyway, that whole producing Celia Adams' next album got me thinking, how could they promise her such a golden opportunity? Normal people can't guarantee that. Unless . . ." His hand makes circles in the air as if encouraging us to finish the word for him. "BlueEyedCupid is . . ."

Realization washes over Nessa's face. "Are you saying BlueEyedCupid is—"

"Yep." Jack nods. "She has the means, motive, and opportunity. When you think of it, she's the perfect suspect. The only problem is we don't have any evidence against her. I must say, she's covering her tracks very, very—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out." I form the T-sign in my left palm. "She?"

"Think about it, Ol." Nessa swivels on her stool to face me. "Who chose us to work on Celia's EP? Who's the only person who can guarantee Jules would get the opportunity to work on Celia's next album?"

As the gears in my mind spin at maximum power, Kiki hops onto the countertop and limps toward the half-empty pizza box.

"Kiki, honey, don't—" I'm about to pick her up when she stops right before the gossip magazine.

Kiki then rakes her claws against the face on the cover of the magazine like a possessed cat. It's almost as if she's trying to tell me . . . the identity of her attacker.

I gasp, my mouth forming a huge O. "Y-you're telling me BlueEyedCupid is . . ." I point at the magazine Kiki's destroying and switch my gaze between the other two humans in the room, too shocked to say that she-devil's name out loud.

Nessa and Jack confirm my theory with sympathetic nods.

All the monsters inside me wake up at the revelation. Celia is an awful human being, that much, I know. But I never thought she'd go as far as to terrorize Nessa and cut Kiki's leg just to get back at me for being an awful boyfriend.

Holy fuck. I dated a psychopath, didn't I?

Pennywise's giggles snap me from my thoughts.

"Whoa, V. Don't tell me that's your phone?" Jack teases, cackling a little.

"Shut up." Nessa strides toward the living room and picks up her phone from the couch.

"Dude," Jack whispers to me, mischief glittering in his eyes. "Has she ever told you about her fifth birthday party?"

"No. Why?" I narrow my eyes and lean forward, eager to hear the story.

"Her mom hired this creepy clown for her birthday party. And guess what she did when she saw him." He allows a short pause. "She—"

"Oh, boy." Nessa stares at her phone, her eyes widening with dread.

Pikachu rings the alarm in my head, and I ask, "What's wrong?"

"It's Blake." Her fingers move furiously over the screen. "BlueEyedCupid just asked him to do one more thing."

Every monster inside my head goes on red alert. Pikachu quickly unlocks the armory, arming the other monsters with their weapons of choice. As they get ready for the inevitable battle, Nessa shifts her gaze to Jack and me.

"We better think of a way to stop BlueEyedCupid once and for all. Because things are gonna get really ugly."

Author's Note:

So, that's the identity of BlueEyedCupid! Did you guess it right?

Why do you think she did it? And what is she asking Blake to do now?

Also, what do you think Ryan and Nessa were talking about? Did Ryan really propose to Nessa? 😏

The final battle against BlueEyedCupid is up next! Are you ready?

Well, as always, if you enjoyed this chapter, please show some support by voting and/or leaving comments. Thank you so much for reading! ❤