If someone had told me a week ago that I'd have four women fighting for my attention, I would've laughed so hard I'd choke on my cereal. But there I was, sitting at my favorite café table, trying to untangle my earbuds while realizing I was, somehow, the center of a romantic hostage crisis.
And I was the hostage.
"I'm serious," Rina said, dropping into the chair across from me like a declaration of war. "We're doing this. Officially."
"Doing what?" I asked cautiously, like someone poking a suspicious-looking microwave meal.
She smirked. "Competition. Romance style. You. Me. Whoever wins your heart first, wins."
"Wins what?"
"My eternal bragging rights," she said, like it was obvious. "Plus I'm competitive. You know that."
Before I could even respond, Zoe walked up from the counter holding two drinks. She caught the tail end of Rina's speech and raised one perfectly judgmental eyebrow.
"Bragging rights?" Zoe repeated, handing me my drink. "That's cute. You think this is a contest."
"It is now," Rina fired back. "Unless you're scared."
"Please." Zoe took a long sip of her coffee like it was a power move. "If this were a contest, I've been playing since sophomore year."
I froze mid-sip.
"...Wait. What?"
Rina's eyes narrowed. "Interesting."
"What's interesting?" I asked, glancing between them like a dog at a tennis match.
"Oh nothing," Zoe said sweetly. "Just that someone here doesn't realize how completely, devastatingly in love with him someone else might be."
I was starting to get a headache.
"Ladies," I said, hands up, "I am not a trophy, okay? I'm not something to win like a stuffed bear at a rigged carnival game."
"Sure you are," Rina said, leaning back in her chair. "You're adorable. You're like… emotionally constipated, but with good cheekbones."
"Is this happening?" I whispered to myself.
"Damn right it's happening," Scarlett said, appearing out of nowhere and sliding into the chair next to me. She wore oversized sunglasses and a cropped hoodie, like she'd just come from dodging paparazzi. "Also, the fake dating thing? It's not fake anymore."
I blinked at her. "...What?"
"People are eating this up," she said, showing me her phone. Comments scrolled by at a terrifying speed: "They're so cute together!""Protect Eliot at all costs.""When's the wedding??"
"Scarlett," I groaned, "I don't want—"
"Oh, relax, you're popular now. I'm doing you a favor."
"I don't want to be popular!"
Zoe gave Scarlett a lazy glare. "Do you even like him, or is this just for views?"
Scarlett pulled her sunglasses down, eyes sharp. "Maybe I don't know yet. But maybe I want to find out."
Then, as if things weren't spiraling fast enough, Dahlia appeared by the door, holding a folder of handwritten pages and giving me that soft, hopeful smile that made me feel like I was breaking someone's favorite antique clock just by existing.
"I brought the next chapter," she said, voice quiet. "For… um, the book."
"Oh, for the love of—" I started, but Zoe cut me off with a sharp grin.
"Looks like the harem's officially assembled," she said dryly. "Congrats. You've unlocked protagonist mode."
"Can I uninstall it?" I muttered.
"Nope," Rina said, stretching like a cat about to start a fight. "You're the main character now."
Somewhere in the back, the espresso machine hissed like it was laughing at me.
And in that moment, as I sat surrounded by four dangerously attractive women, all looking at me like I was some kind of emotional piñata full of unresolved trauma…
…I realized something horrifying.
This might be the most fun I've ever had.