There was no ass kicking. Never, in all my years of Just Dance had I experienced a draw. I didn't know it was possible. It seemed Oliver and I were perfectly matched. Neither of us were satisfied with a tie. With all the trash talk, someone had to be proven right and claim the title. Oliver came over multiple times that week, and the week that followed. Whenever I had a few spare hours before work? Oliver got a text, a friendly challenge to start our days. Sometimes it was a friendly challenge to end our night; competing in his basement after he finished a shift at the restaurant. Eventually I beat him, only for him to win the rematch. It seemed only fair to have to win twice in a row, to be claimed the clear winner. It was a never-ending cycle, each of my wins was followed by his. But I couldn't be bothered to complain, because I couldn't say that I wasn't enjoying his company.

     Having just had a particularly brutal Just Dance session, Oliver and I were sprawled on opposite ends of my living room floor, panting and sweaty.

     "Rematch, tomorrow?" Oliver asked once we had caught our breaths. "My place this time. I think your machine is rigged."

      "You know I'd never back down from a challenge."

     "Fantastic. Maybe I'll finally be able to put an end to this thing."

      "Don't count yourself so lucky." I forced myself to my feet, tossing him a water bottle. "I'll stop by before work... Assuming I recover well from tonight."

      He arched a brow. "Dinner with your mother or a date?"

     He knew me too well. "Date," I sighed.

     "I thought you didn't want to drink on dates anymore."

     "I don't," I agreed. It wasn't a hangover that I would have to recover from. "I need to recover mentally. You don't understand the disaster that is a date with Yasmine Sarraf."

     Oliver laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "Don't psych yourself out. It might go better than you think."

      "I'll channel my inner Bella and manifest a good night." Maybe I could call her. I would need all the help I could get, and she had basically designed her entire future.

      "That's the spirit," he chuckled. "Even if it doesn't work out, I'm sure you'll find a way to enjoy your night. If all else fails, make a friend."

     "When did you become such an optimist?"

     "I've always been optimistic."

     "I think you're just eager to be rid of this fake relationship."

     He rolled his eyes. "Nah. I've taken quite a liking to your family, and Macey hasn't texted me in weeks, which has been amazing."

     My family... They were already treating Oliver—or Arty—as one of their own. I was struck with horror. "They're going to be devastated... Why has this only occurred to me now?"

     Chugging his water, he watched me curiously behind the bottle.

     "When we call it quits," I explained, "They'll be heartbroken, and I'll start off at zero. What will have been the point?" I stared at the wall, almost mortified. Why had I ever thought this was a good idea? I was only delaying my mother's disappointment.

     "You're getting them off your back," Oliver offered.

     "Until what though? What am I waiting for?"

     "Until you decide what you want. Until you find something real."

     "That might take a while. And you're too nice, so you're stuck." I puckered my lips distastefully. "Sounds awful."

     "I don't mind." He smiled with that familiar glint in his eyes. "I'll stick around until you no longer need me."

     That glint. The sparkle that always made me freeze, that made my heart leap into my chest. And not in a good way. It was a hopeful glint; a glint that told me there was no way this would ever end well.