The door swung open with the force of someone who believed hinges bowed to her power.
A tall figure stepped inside without waiting for permission, bringing with her the smell of expensive perfume and expensive attitude.
Her heels clacked on the floor like she was walking down a runway instead of... someone's home. The air around her practically whispered:
She thinks she's better than you, Noah.
Liam forced a smile I didn't trust. "Hey, Lila."
Lila Frost: platinum hair, sharp nose, lips perfectly glossed, cheekbones that could cut diamonds, and an aura of "I only drink sparkling water filtered by angels." Even her coat looked like it cost more than my laptop.
She hugged Liam—no, not hugged. She latched onto him like a starving mosquito that only fed on attention. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her body into him with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
"Liam, you look exhausted," she cooed, stroking his back. "You shouldn't live alone. You need someone to take care of you."
Take care of him? I would dump water on his head before accepting that role. She acted like he was a fragile Victorian boy with tuberculosis.
Liam awkwardly patted her back, eyes darting to me like he was silently screaming HELP. I crossed my arms and pretended to admire the floor.
Lila finally released him and turned her head slowly toward me. Her eyes scanned my entire being with the expression of someone discovering a cockroach in their smoothie.
"Oh," she said flatly. "It's you."
I forced a polite smile that probably looked like gas pain. "Hello, Lila. Nice seeing you invade someone's property."
Her nose wrinkled. "The apartment smells weird."
Liam cleared his throat. "No, it doesn't—"
"It smells like cheap instant coffee." She waved her hand dramatically in the air as if trying to erase an odor with pure judgment. "Bitter. Artificial. Desperate."
I stared. Liam stared. She stared.
Then she sniffed again with surgical focus.
"It's coming from—"
She leaned closer to me, sniffing, nose wrinkling harder.
"—you."
I blinked. My shampoo. My affordable, on-sale shampoo.
She just insulted my financial condition via fragrance.
"It's budget coconut," I corrected with dignity. "Very exclusive. From the aisle with discount stickers."
Liam snorted into his hand to avoid laughing.
Lila flipped her hair. "You smell like a coffee vending machine that broke."
"That's the vibe," I said dryly. "I offer budget air too. Want some? Fresh oxygen, 100% unbranded."
She stared at me like she would pay someone to remove me from her eyesight.
"So why are you here?" she asked, looking at me like I didn't deserve speech.
Before I could answer, Liam stepped between us, almost protectively—I liked that way more than I should have.
"Lila, he's staying with me," he said quickly.
Lila blinked. "Staying?"
I nodded. "Living. Breathing. Occupying space. Very inconvenient, I know."
Liam took a breath as if bracing for war.
"Lila, he's staying with me…"
Silence. Thick, suffocating, drowning-in-expensive-perfume silence.
Lila's eyes widened, lips stiffening.
She whispered slowly, like she'd just witnessed a crime.
"You're kidding, right?"
Here's the thing about Lila Frost: ever since childhood, she treated Liam like her personal property. And me? I was the annoying stray cat who kept sitting on her favorite cushion.
Her voice broke through the silence, louder now.
"He's a writer, Liam. He needs space. Peace. A library. Not—" she gestured around the apartment like it was a slum— "a cozy little bread-scented box with plants."
I stared at the plants. They looked offended.
Liam raised his hands gently. "It's temporary. He needs help. Rent's—"
"Rent?" She gasped dramatically. "You're charging him rent?"
"Yes," I said proudly. "I'm a paying parasite."
Lila ignored me, staring at Liam with betrayal. "How could you? You always helped him for free. When we were kids, you shared your lunch with him. You let him copy your homework—"
"I wrote half of Liam's homework," I corrected.
Liam nodded casually. "Yeah, he did. I would've failed math without him."
Lila's mouth opened and closed, fish-like.
"BUT STILL—"
She looked ready to combust. Her heels were digging into the floor like she was clawing territory with them.
"Liam, you need a reliable roommate. Someone who won't make your apartment… smell like desperation."
"Again, my shampoo is 'tropical struggle.' Please respect it," I said.
Lila looked like she didn't know whether to slap me or hand me deodorant. She chose neither. She marched deeper into the apartment instead, inspecting every corner like a judgmental home inspector.
"You bought a desk?" she asked, pointing at my writing space.
"It's his," Liam said proudly.
Lila turned slowly, glare suffocating me like secondhand smoke. "You gave him a desk."
"It was cheap," Liam lied.
"It has fairy lights," I added, because that detail deserved respect.
Lila's jaw tightened. "He's not going to write anything worth reading."
My fists clenched. I imagined multiple murder scenarios: strangling with fairy lights, drowning her in caramel syrup, shoving her into a bread oven. All very artistic. Hey, I could use those ideas for my story.
Liam stepped forward, voice firm. "Lila, Noah's talented."
She blinked, stunned. "You're… defending him?"
Liam looked surprised by the idea that he shouldn't.
"Of course," he said. "We grew up together. He's family."
Family. Great. My heart liked that too much.
It fluttered and then died a little at the same time. Because family is safe… and completely romantic-free.
I wasn't sure whether to smile or break a window and jump out.
Lila crossed her arms. "Family? So he'll be living here permanently, huh?"
"No," I cut in quickly. "Temporary parasite. Just a few months. Then I'll leave and stink up a different home."
Liam shook his head at me. "It's not a burden, Noah. Stay until you're stable."
Stable? At this rate, I'd emotionally combust first.
Lila's eyes narrowed. "Fine. If you're so supportive of him, Liam, then I guess I'll just have to support you more. Starting now."
She marched into the kitchen and washed her hands like she was preparing for surgery.
"What are you doing?" Liam asked.
"I'll cook," she declared. "Proper food. Not your… experimental steaks."
"HEY," Liam protested.
I stepped behind him like he was a shield against oncoming doom. "Can we evacuate?"
"You're staying," she snapped.
She grabbed a knife, striking a dramatic cooking pose. I had never feared vegetables until now.
Minutes later, the crime scene unfolded.
Carrots flew. Potatoes cried. Onions were massacred. Lila chopped with the wrist precision of someone attacking their cheating ex. The kitchen looked like a vegetable war zone.
Liam hovered, panicking. "Lila, careful—"
"I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!"
She sliced through a bell pepper like she was cutting off a rival's career. The knife skidded. Liam lunged to steady her hand. I saw my life flash before my eyes.
"STOP HELPING ME!" she yelled, jerking her arm. The knife nearly took Liam's thumb with it.
I threw myself between them instinctively, pushing Liam back. "If anyone's killing him, it'll be me, not you!"
Silence.
Lila set the knife down and breathed dramatically into her palm like she was calming inner demons. "Fine. I'll order takeout."
She looked at Liam, flipping her hair. "See? I take care of you."
I whispered under my breath, "She almost took care of him permanently."
Liam bit back a laugh.
Her phone buzzed. She answered it with a sweet voice that didn't match the kitchen carnage. "Hello darling? Yes, just helping a friend. I'm such a good person."
I gagged.
She hung up and switched back to venom mode. "Anyway. I'll visit more often. Liam needs support. A soft heart like his needs someone mature, dependable, and elegant."
"You mean you?" I asked.
"Yes. Not—" she gestured to my entire existence— "whatever this is."
Then Lila walked to the door, grabbing her bag like she owned the place already.
Before leaving, she turned, frost-blue eyes locked onto me. "Just so we're clear: I'm not letting you get too comfortable here."
I smiled sweetly. "Comfort gives me hives. Don't worry."
She narrowed her eyes, then switched back to sugary sweetness as she faced Liam. "See you soon, Li."
She waved and left.
The door closed.
Silence.
I turned to Liam slowly. "THE HELL WAS THAT DEMON?"
He burst into tears—of laughter. He leaned against the wall, shoulders shaking.
"She just… cares," he choked out.
"She 'cares' like a toddler hugging a hamster too hard."
He laughed harder. I kicked a carrot slice off my sock.
Liam wiped his eyes. "Sorry. She's just… intense. But she means well."
"She just meant murder," I corrected.
He grinned, eyes soft again. "You'll survive her. Promise."
I groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "If I don't, bury me with that desk. It deserves better than her judgment."
Liam sat next to me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. "So… you're okay?"
I took a breath. "I'm okay. Just… overwhelmed by perfume."
He chuckled. "Great. Then let's get takeout."
Before I could answer, a text pinged on his phone. His expression changed again—uneasy, cautious.
He swallowed. "Uh… about that promise…"
I raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
He looked at his screen, dread growing.
Then he whispered:
"Lila's coming over tomorrow too."