Felicity's POV.
Penelope was perched at the edge of my bed like some evil fairy godmother plotting chaos. Meanwhile, I was lying face-down in my pillow, praying for lightning to strike me and half wondering if my heart could just stop racing every time Christopher's name came up.
"You know what you need?" Penelope announced, tossing her glossy hair like she was about to hand me a makeover contract. "A system."
I peeked one eye open. "A system? Penelope, this isn't math class. This is my life. And my sanity."
She smirked like the cat who just stole the cream. "Exactly. Which is why I've decided—you're going to test them. Both. Two weeks with Christopher. Two weeks with Alex. Then you'll know who's serious."
I shot upright so fast my hair smacked her in the face. "Excuse me?!"
Penelope, unfazed, dabbed her cheek like a queen recovering from scandal. "Yes, darling. Two weeks. Call it…a dating audition."
"Penelope, that's insane! You can't just—"
"Oh, but I can," she cut me off smoothly. "Unless, of course, you'd rather keep bouncing between denial and heart palpitations until you combust."
I groaned so loudly, the girl in the room next door probably heard. "This is so unfair. I came here to study, not star in a tragic rom-com."
"Correction," Penelope said, wagging her finger. "You came here to get a degree and a love story. Now, the sooner you admit it, the easier this will be."
I buried my face back into the pillow, muffling, "No me catch feelings, common. Or am I catching feelings?"
Penelope cackled like a witch. "Oh, you're catching them, Felicity. And honey—they're contagious."
The next morning, chaos officially detonated. Penelope slept here.
I was still in pajamas, hair looking like a bird's nest, while Penelope sipped her latte like she was at the front row of a royal drama when there was a knock on my dorm door.
Before I could answer, the door opened. Christopher.
Followed immediately—like the devil himself was orchestrating comedic timing—by Alex.
Both stopped dead in the doorway. Both saw each other. Both saw me.
Penelope nearly fell off the bed in excitement. "Ohhhh, this is going to be fun."
"Morning, sweetheart," Alex said smoothly, flashing that grin that could probably melt glaciers.
Christopher's jaw clenched so tight, I swear I heard it creak. "Don't call her that."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Why? Planning to trademark it?"
"I don't need to trademark what's already mine," Christopher snapped.
My soul left my body. Penelope clapped like she was at a live taping of her favorite telenovela.
"Wait, WAIT," I threw up my hands. "Both of you showing up at my dorm like some Netflix crossover event is NOT on my schedule today—"
But Penelope was already sipping her coffee, eyes gleaming. "Actually, gentlemen, it is."
Both turned to glare at her. "What?" they said in unison.
Penelope gestured between them like a boxing referee. "Two weeks. Christopher first. Alex after. Whoever wins her heart…keeps it."
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "PENELOPE!"
Alex smirked, adjusting his collar like he was walking into the Olympics. "Sounds fair to me."
Christopher looked at me, fire burning in his eyes. "Fine. Two weeks. But I don't need two weeks to prove it—I only need one."
Penelope squealed. "Ohhh, the confidence! I love it."
I groaned, collapsing into my desk chair. "This is my villain origin story. I'm telling you now."
<<<<<
Christopher's POV.
Two weeks. That's the ridiculous "deal" Felicity somehow let Penelope talk her into—with her little mischievous grin and Penelope hyping her like she was the host of The Bachelor: Oxford Edition.
Two weeks with Alex. Two weeks with me. Winner takes…her heart.
And honestly? Chicken change. Two weeks is nothing. If Alex thinks a few hand kisses and his fake British charm will win her over, he's in for a rude awakening. Because this isn't just a game to me. This is Felicity. My Felicity.
He thinks he can steal her away? No chance. Not while I'm here. Not while I'm breathing.
Alex can flash his rehearsed smiles and stage his little gestures all he wants—cute. He thinks this is a competition, a flirtation, something to laugh about.
But me? I've never been more serious in my entire life. Two weeks? That's nothing. That's a warm-up.
Because the truth is, I've already made my choice—I'm going to fight for her with everything I have. Not because of a bet. Not because of pride.
But because I love her. And when these two weeks are over, Felicity will know it too.
Even if I have to burn every bridge, outwit every stunt Alex pulls, and put my whole heart on the line—I'll prove to her where she belongs. With me. Game on.
The next morning, I showed up outside her dorm, fueled on black coffee and rage. Alex—bloody Alex—was already standing in front of Felicity's dorm with that smug "I floss with violin strings" look on his face. Penelope was there too, eating biscuits like she bought front-row tickets to this circus.
Oh, look who it is," Alex smirked when I walked up. "Oxford's resident grump."
I glared at him. "And here's London's biggest mistake."
"Boys," Penelope said, clapping like she was moderating WWE. "Calm down. Remember the rules. Two weeks each. No sabotage. No fistfights outside Felicity's dorm. Keep it classy." She pointed a biscuit at me. "And Chris, stop glaring at him like you're plotting his funeral."
I folded my arms. "I'm not plotting. Yet."
Felicity popped her head out of the doorway, looking like she regretted every decision that brought her to this moment. "Why do you both look like you're about to duel in front of my dorm?"
"Because he started it," Alex and I said in unison.
Her eyes widened. "Oh my God. I cannot do this. This isn't a rom-com. This is a nightmare."
Penelope cackled. "Correction: this is exactly a rom-com. And I, as the wise best friend, get to provide live commentary." She pulled out her phone. "Should I make a group chat called Two Weeks of Chaos?"
"NO!" Felicity and I shouted together.
<<<<<
Felicity's POV.
The Negotiation.
"Okay, ground rules," I snapped, planting my hands on my hips like a fed-up teacher breaking up a school fight. "Two weeks each. Alex, you get the first half. Chris, you get the second. No overlapping. No sabotaging. And for the love of God, no testosterone explosions outside my dorm."
Alex grinned like he'd already won. "First half is all I need, darling."
"Stop calling her darling!" Chris snapped.
I groaned. "Chris, don't start."
He bit his tongue and leaned closer, his voice low enough only Alex could hear. "Enjoy your little trial run, mate. Because when your two weeks are over, she won't even remember you existed."
Alex's smirk widened. "We'll see."
Penelope fanned herself with her biscuit wrapper. "Whew. The tension. Somebody get me some popcorn."
<<<<<
Christopher's POV.
My Thoughts.
Look. I know how this sounds. Immature. Petty. Like two dogs fighting over the same bone. But hear me out—this isn't just rivalry. This is about proving to Felicity that I'm not some broody prince or arrogant flirt or grumpy bodyguard-wannabe. This is about showing her the truth.
That I love her. With every stupid, stubborn, reckless beat of my heart.
Two weeks? That's a gift. I'll wait it out. I'll watch Alex trip over his fake smiles and rehearsed lines. And then—when it's my turn—oh, it's game over.
Because this isn't about winning a challenge. It's about showing her the truth. Felicity Paddington isn't a prize. She's everything, she's mine. Even if she doesn't know it yet. And I'll fight with everything I have to make sure she knows it.