The burning-red dragon grows stronger with each second as I skim through the gossip magazines.

While some believe I cheated on Celia for the 99th time, others question her involvement in last night's incident, speculating whether or not she attended the supposed Swingers Club meeting. The paparazzi are trying to ruin that she-devil's reputation, and that means things are going to be much worse for Nessa.

We've been down this road before, and I know exactly how that she-devil's fans are going to react. They are going to defend Celia to the last drop of their blood and point the blame at Nessa for ruining their queen's relationship and reputation. Even though they should be unleashing their wrath on me.

This is all my fault. If I hadn't gotten so jealous of that creep, this wouldn't have happened. If I'd just let that creep choose the meeting place, then none of this would've—

"Hey." Nessa's voice snaps me back from my mental prison, and I quickly hide the magazines behind me. "I'm sorry you had to hear that earlier. Apparently, TheGossipDude-dot-com said we joined a swingers club and had an orgy."

She feigns an indifferent shrug and huffs a blasé chuckle. But the look in her eyes tells me she's on the verge of breaking down—and seeing her name on these damn tabloids will push her off that cliff.

"W-what? That's absurd." A burst of nervous laughter slips out of me as I try to cover the gossip magazine rack with my body.

"Tell me about it. My demoness cousin Barbara saw the absurd"—Nessa makes quotation marks in the air with her fingers—"news on the site, and she showed up on my mom's doorstep at five . . ." Her eyes catch a glimpse of one of the tabloids, and her cool façade starts to crumble.

"No, Ness, don't—"

Stepping around me, she picks the magazine with her name on it and lets out a hollow laugh. "This is worse than I thought, isn't it?"

The faint note of despair in her voice serves as a delicious dessert for Smaug. As the burning-red dragon slashes his sharp claws at my insides, Pikachu peeps from his hiding place and plays a recording of Emilia's advice last night.

"There are other ways to make up for your mistakes. You just have to find the right way."

No matter how hard I think about it, I still have no idea what to do. So, I allow Pikachu to take over.

"No, no, don't look at that." I pluck the magazine from Nessa's hands and put it back in the rack before she gets the chance to read the article.

"Wait, Ol—"

I grab her hand and pull her away from the newsstand, my thumb stroking hers. "Don't waste your time reading those crappy articles. They're just lies. No one is stupid enough to believe them."

"Yeah." She forces a cheerful tone, yet I can hear the faintest whisper of vulnerability in her voice. "But—"

"I mean, come on. Give me an article about cats finding the cure for cancer, and I'll believe it any day over this piece of crap." I toss the magazine I bought into a nearby trashcan.

She chuckles. "I'm pretty sure you'll run to Timbuktu if you see a picture of cats on the cover of Time."

"No, I won't. In fact, I'll adopt a litter of kittens if that happens."

"Ooh, careful what you wish for. The next thing you know," she lowers her voice and whispers, "they'll be taking over the universe."

A series of magazine headlines—along with photos of Yuna's army of super-cats—flashes before my eyes, sending a rush of terror through my veins.

Bruce Canner: The Incredible Kitty Found the Cure for Cancer!

Nick Purry and Steve Pawgers Led the Revolution of the Cats!

Super-Cats Taking Over the Universe: The End of Humanity as We Know It?

Nessa giggles. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

As a flush of embarrassment sweeps up my neck, I drop my gaze—and that's when I realize I'm holding Nessa's hand. Shit.

The fear of being followed by one of those pesky paparazzi kicks Pikachu back into his chamber.

I quickly release Nessa's hand and stuff my hands into my jeans pockets. "So are you okay?"

"Yeah. Kinda got used to the circus by now." She forces a reassuring smile, but the quiver in her voice prompts the burning-red dragon in my head to whip his tail around, smashing the insides of my skull.

I try to swallow the tightness in my throat. "I'm sorry, Ness. None of this would've happened if I—"

"No," she says, her voice soft but resolute. "Stop blaming yourself, Ol. It's not your fault. This is bound to happen sooner or later. And I knew the risks when I said yes to working with Celia. It's nobody's fault, okay?"

The burning-red demon fights to cling to my soul, yet a soothing breeze of wind blows into my mind. Maybe it's the sincerity in Nessa's eyes. Or maybe it's the warmth in her smile. Or maybe I'm just tired of blaming myself. Whatever it is, it manages to send the dragon crawling back into his cave.

"Now, come on." Nessa throws a playful punch at my arm. "You might get a day off, but I still have to go to work."

"Who says I'm taking a day off?"

Her expression turns serious. "Don't be ridiculous, Ol. The doctor told you to rest."

The pounding in my head has subsided, leaving a dull pain across my swollen forehead. But my whole body still aches, my legs feel heavy, and my right forearm hurts like hell. The thought of spending the day in bed sounds so tempting. Nevertheless, I can't allow Nessa to march into the warzone alone.

"No, I'm fine," I lie, struggling to keep my voice even.

As I scurry toward Lightning, Nessa chases after me. "You hit your head pretty bad, Ol. And you said it yourself, you almost died. You need to rest."

"I was drunk and high on painkillers, Ness. You can't hold that against—"

She stops right before me with an expression of grim resolution on her face. "Take a few days off. I can handle the session with Celia."

The concern in her eyes makes me reconsider my decision. But my conscience reminds me of our toxic coworkers.

Working in a male-dominated industry is never easy for any woman, moreover for someone as talented and hard-working as Nessa. Even though most of her bullies have left the studio, she still has some enemies in disguise, and these rumors will no doubt serve as a bucket of ammunition to them.

"What?" She folds her arms and cocks a brow. "You don't trust me?"

"No, of course, I do."

"Well, what is it then? Is it about the money? Because you've never taken any sick leave ever since you first started working in Camden Records, right? So you still have, like, I don't know, a month's worth of paid sick leave left. And if you don't use it, then—"

"I'm worried about you, okay?"

She blinks, dumbstruck.

I drop my gaze to the ground, my feet shuffling in place. "You know how people can get."

She's freaking out again, isn't she?

Feeling the powerful urge to smoke, I fumble in my pockets for my pack of mints, but I can't find any. So I try to satisfy my craving by chewing my inner lip like it's a bunch of candy. This is why I should've just kept my mouth—

"I'll be fine, Ol." Nessa leans forward and peeks up at me, a smile of reassurance on her face. "Nicole became a nun after getting hit by a truck, remember?"

"Yeah, but two of her minions are still around, right? That redhead and that receptionist . . . Taylor or something."

A snort erupts from Nessa, followed by a gust of astonished laughter. The heat of a blush rushes up my neck and into my cheeks. I said the wrong name again, didn't I?

"Her name's Rachel, Ol." She slaps a hand over her mouth, trying not to guffaw in the middle of a crowded street, yet her shoulders shake with mirth. "What is wrong with you and the name Taylor? Did you get your heart broken by a Taylor or something?"

I draw a sharp breath. "How did you know?"

Her laughter stops, and she gapes at me. "You did?"

"I-it's an old story." I scuffle toward Lightning and open the door for her. "The point is, I'm not taking a day off."

"You know what? I'll make it easier for you." Stopping next to my cherry-red Corvette, Nessa pulls her wallet from her bag and searches through it. "I . . . am using . . ." She fishes out an old Lovejoy's receipt and holds it up for me to see, her signature Pennywise grin returned. "My Golden Bestie Card."

A loud gasp of horror escapes me. "No."

"Yes," she says with a firm nod. "I am using my Golden Bestie Card and order you to take a week off."

My eyes fly wide. "A week? Y-you gotta be kidding me, right?"

A few passers-by turn their heads at my explosive question, yet Nessa remains as calm as a toad in the sun. "Nope. I don't want to see you near the studio until your stitches are removed. Since that won't happen until Friday, you'll have to take the week off."

The mention of Friday has my head throbbing profusely. The studio is going to hold its 50th-anniversary party this Friday, which Celia and tons of reporters will be attending. If I attend the party with Nessa, then those reporters will fabricate more stories about us. But if I don't, then Nessa will have to handle the harassment from our co-workers on her own.

"But what about the dinner party? Think about the free food, Ness. You can't tell me to skip—"

"What does it say here, huh?" She flips the receipt and reveals the vow I wrote one year, eleven months, and six days ago. "Read it out loud."

"Ness, stop playing around—"

With one hand on her hip, Nessa tilts her head up and raises an eyebrow. "Read. It. Out. Loud."

After a moment of silence, I click my tongue and do as told. "I, Oliver Lauren Morrison, vow to do anything the cardholder, Vanessa Hayes-Wong, says. If I don't, then . . ." I press my lips together before muttering through gritted teeth, "I'll be a homeless person for the rest of my life . . . lose my precious abs . . . and . . . be a . . . super-duper-chubby dumpling."

"And whose signature is this?" She points at my signature at the bottom of the receipt, a smirk lurking around the corner of her lips.

I heave out a defeated sigh and hang my head. "Fine."

"Atta boy." A winning grin spreads across her face as she ruffles my hair.

I snatch the receipt from her hand and point a warning finger at her. "You only have two more cards now, you hear me?"

"Yes, yes, now, come on! I'll be late for work!" She slides into the driver's seat and closes the door, giggling like a deranged rabbit.

Why, why, why did I give her that stupid card? The question resonates in my head along with a string of curses as I stare at the piece of paper in my hands. Even though I've always memorized each and every word in the vow, I truly forget why I wrote it in the first place.

Shaking my head, I shove the receipt into my pocket and circle the car.

The second I open the passenger door, Nessa flinches. A flicker of vulnerability remains in her eyes as she fumbles with the key in the ignition, and my concern resurfaces.

"Hey." I climb into the passenger seat and nudge her arm. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"

How can I not worry about her when the world is out to get us?

Still, I know she's not going to change her mind anytime soon. Right now, the only thing I can do is to distract her from the oncoming storm. So I caress the dashboard and joke, "Actually, I'm more worried about my baby over here."

She chokes back a chortle. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Mr. Dumpy."

Despite my growing irritation toward that nickname, a warm, fuzzy feeling rises in my stomach when I realize there's something different in Nessa's eyes. Her eyes are beginning to light up again, and it brings a small smile to my face.

Did Lovejoy reignite that spark in her? Or . . .

Pikachu peeks out from his bedroom—which, to my surprise, is becoming more and more luxurious. The crazy yellow creature winks at me and offers a plausible answer to the question that nags my mind earlier.

If I want to make up for my mistakes, first I should stop blaming myself and start facing the truth.

And the truth is . . . I have feelings for my best friend.

Author's Note:

Any thoughts about that ending? 👶

What do you think about the Golden Bestie Card? Why (and when) did Ollie give it to Nessa? Feel free to drop your theory here ;)

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading! :)