14 DAYS OF VALENTINE'S

Some people say life isn't like the movies, but I beg to differ. Every school has its main characters—the love interests, the comic relief, and of course, the villains. And standing before me, in all her overly accessorized, mean-girl glory, was the antagonist of my personal collage school drama.

"Well, well, if it isn't the school belle—" she cut herself covering her mouth dramatically with her well long manicured glittery fake nails and gasped, " —or should I say, former belle?"

I resisted the urge to groan. Here we go again.

Sylvia, my nemesis stood before me, one hand on her hip, the other flipping her suspiciously platinum hair. She was wrapped in a garish yellow mini skirt, a blue crop top, and a matching jacket. Her makeup was layered thick enough to survive a hurricane, and she reeked of someone who spent more time picking out an outfit than developing a personality.

And let's not forget—it was the peak of summer.

"Sylvia," I muttered, tasting bitterness on my tongue.

"The one and only," she said, flashing a smug smile, as if her presence was a gift to the world. Why does every school come with a mandatory mean girl? Do they grow in a lab somewhere?

"So," she continued, "are you participating in that little school activity? I saw one of your friends—the ostrich-looking one—buying a diary for you." I internally fumed at her jab towards Carrie but did not let to show on my face. It was predictable and I refused to give her the reaction she wanted.

"You're mistaken, Sylvia," Triza, one of her lapdogs, chimed in. "That extra diary might be for someone else. I mean, it's not like she's seeing anyone, is she? and let's not forget how boring she's become." My eyebrow raised at her statement.

"At least she is not someone's dog," Tanya retorted earning a glare form Triza.

"But she bought three of them," Emma, the other Silvia's loyalist spoke ignoring Tanya's existence.

Sylvia tilted her head, faux curiosity dripping from her voice. "And what exactly do you plan to write in there? No offence but it's not like you have much of a love life to document."

Her minions giggled, and for a split second, I considered ignoring her. But where's the fun in that?

I sighed dramatically. "You know, I just realized something about your name."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, clearly both intrigued and amused.

"Every name has a short form," I began. "Like, Mandy is short for Madison, Tanya for Ty… but you?" I paused, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "Let's see. Sylvia… Silly. Silly mind. Silly girl. Silly, silly, silly…"

Tanya burst into laughter at the absurd connection. It was childish and lame, sure—but totally worth it for the way Sylvia's face twisted in outrage. Her cheeks flushed to match her ridiculously loud outfit. Even Triza and Emma were biting back giggles.

"Annoying, isn't it?" I said, tilting my head. "But hey, maybe your parents knew exactly what they were signing up for."

Having had enough of the ridiculous, childish banter, I grabbed Tanya's hand and brushed past Sylvia with a deliberate bump.

Just as we were almost out of earshot, I turned slightly and called back, "Oh, and by the way? Carrie's a peacock, not an ostrich. But I wouldn't expect a duck like you to know the difference."

I shrugged and kept walking as Tanya doubled over with laughter.

"A duck!" she wheezed between gasps. "I can never unsee that!"

I tittered, her laughter contagious, bubbling into my own.

...

Evening arrived faster than I had anticipated, wrapping the campus in hues of deep amber and dusky violet. Normally, I would have lingered, tucked away in the library, lost in pages of some obscure film theory, or wandering with my camera, capturing fleeting moments of light and shadow.

But today felt different.

An unfamiliar eagerness tugged at me, a nervous energy humming beneath my skin. It wasn't the comfort of home I longed for—it was the possibility of seeing him again.

The thought alone sent a rush of warmth to my cheeks.

Should I wait until tomorrow?

The absurdity of my own hesitation made me snort softly, a sheepish smile curling at my lips. I was being silly...and giddy. I should probably wait till tomorrow, I told myself yet, as I neared the familiar fork in the path—the one leading to my house on the left and his on the right—my feet had other plans.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I found myself veering toward his house, drawn forward by an invisible thread of curiosity… and something more. The first thing I heard when I neared his house was a rhythmic clang of hammer against wood.

What was he doing? I wondered, pressing on.

"Nick?" I hesitantly called, nudging the door open a little wider. I would have knocked but the noise from the house sounded like a construction site during rush hour.

"Nick!" this time I called out louder, stepping inside, but stopped on my track at the sight before me. Chaos. Absolute, unfiltered, hurricane-level chaos. There were clothes draped over furniture like abandoned flags, half-empty cups balanced precariously on shelves, and tools were scattered across the floor like some sort of DIY crime scene.

"What in the world…" I muttered, gingerly stepping over a pile of what I hoped were clean socks. For a brief, absurd moment, I considered the possibility that Nick wasn't my neighbor at all—maybe he was actually a very confident burglar who had made himself at home. I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived, though it still lingered long enough to amuse me.

I realized the house was quiet and when I glanced up, I found him standing there, watching me. My heart stuttered. He wore a fitted grey vest that clung to his broad shoulders, a hammer still gripped in one hand, and a few nails casually clamped between his lips like some kind of rugged, home-improvement model. His dark eyebrow arched as if to say, Well? Enjoying the view? or what the hell are you doing in my house, you weirdo, my rational side snide.

"Oh! Uh—did I just interrupt? Yep, I totally did. Sorry! I should, um, probably go—" I babbled, my words tripping over each other as I awkwardly gestured toward the door. Why did I suddenly have the social grace of a malfunctioning robot?

Would he think I was the nosy neighbor now? The type who pokes around for gossip and accidentally walks into people's houses uninvited. Oh goodness! What was I thinking coming here?

Nick, meanwhile, seemed completely unfazed. If anything, he looked amused. "It's alright, beautiful. I was just wrapping up," he said smoothly, removing the nails from his lips and flashing a slow, knowing grin.

Oh. Well, okay then. My brain short-circuited for a second as his words—and that pet name—registered.

"Uh… It's Mandy, remember?" I managed, hoping to ground myself in reality before my thoughts wandered somewhere they really shouldn't.

"I know," he replied easily, his gaze steady. "But like I said earlier, I prefer 'beautiful."

Oh. Oh. If possible, my inside became a volcano and I'm pretty sure my face said a lot because Nick's grin only widened.

"And you love it when I call you that, don't you?" he added, voice laced with playful confidence.

Yep. There went my ability to form words.

"Well, no woman wouldn't enjoy being called beautiful by a… a handsome guy," I blurted out before my brain could slam the brakes. Oh no. Oh no. The words hung in the air like a neon sign flashing Look at me, I just fed his ego!

His smirk was instant. Of course, it was.

"You think I'm handsome?" he asked, tilting his head, his gaze locked onto mine like a challenge. He leaned against the wall with the kind of effortless confidence that was frankly unfair.

I huffed, crossing my arms. "Do you think otherwise?" I countered, praying my face wasn't betraying me.

His chuckle was deep, warm, and entirely too pleased. Great. Just great.

"So," he said, pushing off the wall and setting his hammer down, "what brings you here?" right.

"I was just passing by and heard the noise," I replied, all innocence. Nick shot me a look.

"…Thought your house was being robbed, so I came to check, being the good neighbor that I am," I added, layering on just the right amount of self-righteousness to sell it.

"Uh-huh," he drawled, clearly unconvinced but amused nonetheless.

He disappeared into another room, only to return moments later, rubbing his hands together. "Sorry about the mess." He eyed me, then stooped to gather some scattered cartons.

"Thieves, huh?"

"Yes," I said, doubling down, feigning utmost confidence. "It's not every day we hear sucj noise." at that Nick straightened, smirking at me. "And if you were right? Were you planning to take them down yourself? Like… Catwoman?"

I opened my mouth to speak but my brain sputtered like an old car trying to start. Oh. Right. Normal people call the cops. They don't just—show up. I did not think of that.

"You must be quite the guardian of the neighborhood," he mused, tilting his head. "Or… is it just me you're looking out for?"

Oh, for the love of—

"Ha! In your dreams," I shot back, barely managing to keep my grin in check.

His laughter came easily, rich and full of amusement. Meanwhile, I was internally facepalming at my own ridiculousness.

"Okay, fine," I admitted, sighing. "I guess I didn't think that through."

Nick just grinned, as if I'd made his day. Fantastic.

"Why is the house in such disarray?" I asked, clearing my throat as I took in the battlefield of clutter. Anything to steer the conversation away from my own verbal misstep.

Nick barely looked up as he tossed more debris into the trash can beside the couch. "Giving it a bit of a facelift. The old place was showing its age—needed some freshening up."

"I noticed. The previous owner was…" I trailed off, searching for the right word, but Nick beat me to it.

"Filthy," he supplied, deadpan.

I snapped my fingers. "Right. Filthy was exactly the word on the tip of my tongue." Though, lazy had also made the shortlist.

Bob, the former tenant, had been the kind of person you'd cross the street to avoid. His… nightly escapades were legendary, and not in a good way. The whole neighborhood had unwillingly become an audience to his loud, uh, performances.

"Oh, look at that! You're installing soundproofing," I noted, spotting the half-finished insulation.

Nick smirked. "You look so relieved."

"Immensely," I admitted, turning to face him. "You know, Bob's nightly… endeavors were hardly a secret."

"You mean his fuckfests?" his bluntness landed on me like a grenade, sending my brain into immediate system failure as I was not expecting that from him.

"Yes. Exactly," I managed, though my voice was strangled with secondhand trauma. "It was unbearable. Our ears suffered just as much as he seemed to revel in his pleasure." I cringed at the memory.

Discussing this, of all things, with Nick—the man who had unwittingly lodged himself into the mess that was my feelings—was far from comfortable.

"Would you have preferred to join in the fun?" he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief and I almost spluttered out of sheer embarrassment as heat flared up my neck, blooming across my cheeks. The worst part was that I literally chocked on air.

Nick burst into laughter at my reaction, a deep, rich sound that sent an unwelcome warmth spiraling through me. It wasn't fair—how could someone's laugh feel like a full-body experience?

It was getting dangerously difficult to keep my heart in check with him around.

My daydream shattered as Nick reached out his hand and playfully tousled my hair, his fingers ruffling through. I tried to ignore the prickling pleasure that came with it as the whole thing felt like a scene from Kdrama. 

 "Cute" he murmured.

"Hey! I'm not a child, stop that," I huffed, swatting his hand away. Not because I disliked it, but because I was almost leaning into it.

He tilted his head, his goofy smile somehow both endearing and infuriating.

Oh no. That tilt.

Every time he did that—just a slight shift, his eyes brimming with mischief—it made my knees threaten mutiny. Him doing that was my weakness.

"You sure look like one," he teased, oblivious to the absolute mess he was making of me.

"What did you just say? That I look like a child?" I scowled at him, absolutely mortifying. The last thing I wanted was to be relegated to the 'little sister' zone—especially not by him.

Straightening my shoulders, I fixed him with my fiercest glare. "Hey! Look at me properly. Do I really look like a child to you?"

Nick's brows lifted, full of mirth at my indignation. Then, with agonizing slowness, his gaze dragged over me, taking me in from head to toe. It wasn't just a glance—it was thorough. Lingering. The kind of look that set every nerve ending on high alert, sending heat rushing up my neck.

When his eyes finally met mine again, they held an intensity that made my breath hitch, as a pulse of electricity danced in the air between us.

Say something, say something before you melt into a puddle on the floor.

I swallowed. "Like what you see?" I asked, feigning boldness, though my voice wavered just slightly.

Nick's smirk deepened, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. "Very much," he said, his voice low and gruff, every syllable dripping with intent.

Oh.

My stomach flipped. My skin felt too warm, too tight. Was it the weather, or was it just… me?

I let out an awkward chuckle, desperate to ground myself before I spontaneously combusted. My hands fumbled for the nearest distraction, my legs shifting

"L-let me help with that," I stammered, bending down to grab a stray box, my fingers shaking slightly.

Nick immediately reached out to stop me. "No, you don't need to. It's filthy—"

But I was already lifting a box filled with cotton scraps, determined to busy myself before my overactive heart gave me away.

"That's why they invented the word 'washing'," I quipped, flashing him a triumphant grin. "Besides, it's about time you take advantage of your kind-hearted neighbor." I shot him a playful wink and continued gathering up the mess, all while pretending I wasn't still reeling from those two little words—

Very much.

I heard him exhale a resigned sigh before joining me.

"Then, you should make me some of those homemade cupcakes. They were divine," he said. A wave of joy coarsed through me at his words.

"You liked them? I'll definitely make more—AaaAAAHH!!" A shriek exploded from my throat as sheer; unfiltered panic took over.

My body moved before my brain could catch up. One second, I was standing on solid ground, the next, I was airborne, launching myself at Nick with the kind of desperation usually reserved for life-or-death situations. My arms latched around his neck, my feet scrambling for safety; landing right on his.

But it wasn't enough.

The horror of knowing that thing was still in the room sent me into full survival mode. My legs coiled around his waist, clinging to him like my life depended on it. 

Nick went completely still.

"What… what are you doing?" His voice was laced with shock, maybe even a little concern. Poor man. He had no idea was probably wondering what kind of psycho he'd let in his house.

I couldn't even form proper words. My breath came out in frantic gasps, my fingers digging into his shoulders like a vice. The thought of tiny, scuttling feet being on me. Or it, running up my leg—OH GOD.

"G-g-gecko," I finally stammered, my voice barely above a strangled whisper.

A beat of silence. Then—

"You mean that gecko?" his voice sounded shocked, as if he could not believe me.

"Please, just get rid of it," I whimpered, clutching him tighter, every muscle in my body wound tight with terror.

Nick sighed, but I heard the telltale rustling of movement, the shifting of items on the floor as he presumably hunted down the demon in question.

Meanwhile, I was actively trying not to cry.

My heart thundered in my chest, my brain playing a horrifying loop of every possible scenario where the gecko wasn't actually gone—where it had merely hidden, waiting to jump out when I least expected it.

Nick's voice rumbled against my cheek.

"You don't need to worry. It's gone."

Relief hit me like a wave, my body sagging against him.

"What was it even doing here?" I muttered, more to myself than him.

I felt the chuckle before I heard it, his chest vibrating. "I forgot I had an appointment with them today," he quipped dryly.

A burst of indignation shot through me, overriding my residual terror, and before I knew what I was doing, I bit him.

On. The. Neck.

The moment his body tensed, the realization hit me like a truck.

Oh. Oh no.

It was then that I became fully, horrifyingly aware of our position.

My arms locked around his neck. My legs wrapped firmly around his waist. His hands—oh god, his hands—were planted firmly on my ass.

And to make matters infinitely worse, I had just bitten him like some feral animal.

Holy. Freaking. Hell.

I stopped breathing. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

Then, his voice.

"Mandy."

It was the first time he had ever said my name and it was deep, strained and husky.

Was he… mad?

Panic flared anew, snapping me out of my daze. I all but launched myself off of him, unhooking my legs and scrambling backward. My heel caught on a box, and for one terrifying second, I thought I was going to fall.

Somehow, miraculously, I steadied myself.

"So... S-sorry! Oh, my goodness, I just— I didn't mean to— My mom told me I used to b-bite people when I was young—yes! That's why when you made that joke, I didn't think—"

Nick's sudden burst of laughter cut me off. I closed my eyes, cringing and grimacing internally as a wave of shame flow within me.

"So let me get this straight…" he mused, his amusement very much at my expense. "You go around biting people just because your mom told you that you used to?" Now that he said it like that made it even worse.

My face burned as I wished for a portal to another dimension, preferably one where I didn't exist.

"Please don't make fun of me," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

How was I even supposed to look at him after this?

I was considering the very real possibility of bolting from this place and avoid him to the end of the time when warm rough hands gently wrapped around my wrists.

Slowly, cautiously, I peeked up through my fingers only to find Nick standing right in front of me. His dark eyes sparkled with mirth, like ink stirred to life. I coudn't breath with how close he was to me.

"No need to be shy," he murmured, his voice low and coaxing like a fox he was. Which, naturally, only made me squirm harder.

And then, he leaned in close.

Close enough for his breath to graze my cheek... then curl against my ear like a secret.

"I love wild cats," he whispered, each word dragging slow and deliberate.

I gulped.

I knew I was done for. By the time I managed to process that, he was already walking past me, completely unfazed, leaving me standing there riled up, flustered, and so damn turned on.

"Are you helping me, or are you backing out already?"

His voice—smooth, effortless, cocky—shook me loose from the spell I'd fallen under.

I started moving on instinct, my body working while my mind remained utterly fried.

Oh, I was done for.