"Randy?"

"He's the shady guy who lives two floors up."

"And he's bad because?"

"Because he gets dirt on the celebrities here and sells incriminating photos for a living. The last thing I need, is a phone call from the President asking me why I've ruined his family's reputation."

"I don't understand what the big deal is?"

"Don't you see, Zander Nolan in an apartment, walking around with some strange girl is bound to perk everyone's interests, including a begrudging fiancée."

"Good point, especially with your fashion sense and naïveté. Well, then just tell Zander he lives there and avoid him like the plague."

"Right, like Randy isn't sniffing his nose around looking for the country's golden boy right this minute," I nip out sullenly, refusing to discuss the contents of my tasteless and sad closet.

"I'd offer to help you but I have to visit my aunt for the weekend. The annual family bonding time, with dinner and crappy games."

She was being nonchalant for my sake, I knew Celia loved spending time with her family but she pretends not to care for my benefit. Because I was the friend who had nobody, I had no family and no other friends who cared about me or who I could care for in return. She was being nothing but sweet, but it was more patronising, given our age that she would attempt to spare my feelings and be overly cautious.

"Well have a great time, see you when you get back," hanging up on her, I decide to take a nap before going back through some files. Randy will have to be tomorrow's issue, or one I can tackle once Celia gets back. We'd either have to convince him to remain quiet by offering him a small profit or somehow interweaving him into our plans, using him as a means to an end.

*********************

Is it strange that I have my ear up against the wall trying to make sense of those muffled sounds? I think not! I can hear groaning and loud music not to mention occasional shouts, these shouts being the reason I'm awake and sleep deprived.

Glancing at the clock that reads half past three in the morning, I physically crumple in my chair and silently throw punches at the wall. What the hell is going on next door?

 My new neighbour has been nothing but annoying and for once, I'm considering going down to the lobby to get some work done to write out a set of emails due to be sent out in two hours. Sighing, I pull the strings of my hoodie tighter against my neck and will myself to walk out.

Ever so slowly, I take a huge gulp and step out and quickly knock on Zander's door before I can turn back and hide.

The door swings open and loud upbeat music has me cringing, the volume turned up so high, I'm sure he must be deaf by now.

"Well look who it is, what brings you over cupcake?"

Frowning at the name and the casual way he grins at me, I have this urge to sneer in his face and demand he turn the volume down. 

Deciding that words would mean nothing considering I wasn't in the mood to yell my lungs off, I walk right past him and head for the stereo. Turning the volume dial down to zero, I turn around and cross my arms, giving him my best death glare, "You know neighbour, it's polite to be considerate towards others. Please keep the volume down unless you want me complaining to the landlady." 

Even as I attempt to say this in a threatening manner, I know for a fact that Ms. Zhao could care less. As long as she had people of high calibre renting out rooms, she would permit anything.

I'm about to leave, when a sly smirk on his face turns cunning and slams the door shut. I realise exactly what I've done as he approaches me with ease.

I've walked right into the enemy's territory.

"Then why don't you stay and enjoy the party?"

"Is this the woman you were talking about?" Whipping my head around at the unfamiliar voice, I come face to face with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. 

"Cupcake this is Patrick, Patrick, Cupcake."

"Nice to meet you Cupcake."

 Gawking at both of them, I roll my eyes and make a run for the door but a strong hand pulls me back by the shoulder. Yelping, I'm dragged to a couch and seated in between them. 

"Ah, now the party can really start."

"Um, I really have to be going, so..." 

They share a look before grinning at me and I know my fate has been sealed. 

Lord help me.

"I don't think so Cupcake, you're going to stay right here and be my guest." A light shiver of unease runs down my spine at the word guest and I sink lower into the couch. Averting my eyes to the floor, I quickly look around to assess my situation.

Junk food is piled everywhere, the floor is littered with hockey sticks and water guns, the table in front of me contains four beer cans and a bowl of popcorn large enough to feed five families. Glancing at the television, last night's soccer game is being displayed and now the groaning and shouting make sense.

The groaning has to be from tripping and falling over everything lying on the floor and the shouts must be for the game.

Great, I just walked into a bro-athon. 

"Listen guys, I really didn't mean to bother you, I just needed you to turn down the volume."

"Nah, you already invited yourself over and threatened me, so stay awhile."

"Popcorn?" Patrick offers the gigantic bowl and I stare at it with disgust since a thick layer of mustard was dappled on top.

"No thanks."

Shrugging his shoulders, he takes a handful of it and downs his beer can before hooting at his favourite player who's about to score a goal. 

Well, observation number one: they both thoroughly enjoy sports, junk, and filth. 

"So Cupcake, tell us why are you really here?" Patrick smiles before rising and leaves the room, my eyes widen as Zander leans in closer, slinging an arm around my shoulders to reach for a half-eaten chocolate bar, an expectant look on his face as he waits for an answer. 

"It's exactly as I told you, I wanted you to turn down the volume so I could work in peace. Why is that so difficult to understand?"

"Are you sure? Because most of the females who walk in usually want something other than a simple hello, and then they're usually screaming about the mess and smell."

"I am quite certain all I ever wanted was and is peace, and for those other females...I refuse to comment, except they are absolutely right about the mess and smell," I remark passive-aggressively, expressing a smug look of triumphant when he grumbles while biting into his bar.

"People who ask don't barge in and practically tussle their way to a stereo on the other side of the room though."

"That didn't stop you from barging into my apartment and stealing my cupcakes."

"Touché."

"And what makes you think I would want to voluntarily step into a pigsty? Or for that matter, voluntarily want to see you?"

"Hey, it beats that freezing cold place of yours any day, and that hurts you know. I possess feelings too."

Scoffing at the sight of his phoney remorse, I yank his arm away from me and walk out the door. Patrick's head pops out from the corner and he grins at me, "It was nice meeting you Cupcake."

"Nice meeting you too Patrick, I hope you have nicer manners than your friend there," with an air of finality, I turn on my heel and enter my apartment.

Finding Zander Nolan a partner would be a sordid mixture of annoyance and agony, and the long hours ahead of me mean no sleep. 

Groaning, I enter the kitchen to finish off my batch of cupcakes and dramatically gorge one into my mouth. I'm in the middle of frosting my last cupcake and eating my third, when a few loud knocks make me jump.

Oh, for the love of God may it not be who I think it is.

Opening the door, I stare passively at Zander, wishing I could go crawl and hide under a rock, pretending as if our ill-fated encounter never happened. Food thieves never find themselves in my good graces and this one was beginning to have an awful habit of knocking on my door whenever he pleased.

"Hey Cupcake, listen I feel bad for what happened earlier so let me make it up to you."

"I'm sorry?"

Sighing, he looks at me suddenly before pushing past me. Heading for the kitchen, I close my eyes knowing exactly what he's about to do. 

"Man these are good."

"What do you want?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Oh yeah, I want to make it up to you for being annoying and slightly rude earlier. I know I asked you to help me out earlier and I should be more  pleasant if I ever want you to give me a hand."

"Don't bother, as long as you keep it down next time, it's all fine."

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth and I look at him in perplexity. "You do realise what you've just said?"

Restating my sentence in my head, I gasp in horror at his insinuation, "Don't twist what I'm trying to say!"

Chuckling, he devours another cupcake and I almost want to laugh in his face. Oh he thinks he's god's gift to humankind, well he doesn't realise his face is covered and smeared in frosting...and he's wearing a white shirt that's on the brink of being covered with chocolate as well. 

Offering a thin lipped smile, I point to the door so he gets the message loud and clear but before he can leave, I can't resist the urge to be petty, "you got something on your shirt there."

"Where? Here?" And without any coaxing on my end, he smears chocolate all over white cotton with a single glide of his hand.

"Just be ready by seven," he pipes, not noticing the stain.

"What's happening at seven?"

"We're going to have a sleepover, naturally."

Yeah...I'm glad he got a stain.

*************************

A sleepover.

I haven't had one of those since sixth grade and that was because Gran insisted I have one so she wouldn't be stuck watching reruns of my favourite teen comedy with me. But what and how does that have anything to do with finding the apartment's matchmaker and this so called public speech?

Pacing again, I'm tempted to run back down the hall, and tell Zander I've developed an ulcer and must take a rain check on whatever he has in store.

Grabbing my phone off my desk, I dial Celia's number and pray she'll answer.

"Hello, Cathy what's wrong? You never call when I'm with family."

"I have a major dilemma on my hands."

"And that is..."

"He wants to have a sleepover!" 

"Wow, you are making some great progress, especially in the physicality department."

"Celia! Our future client cannot be having a sleepover with me, it's....unethical! And what if I talk in my sleep? I don't even know if I do, but what if!"

"Will you calm down, it can't be that bad. I'm sure you'll just bore him to death anyways, plus you're twenty-one woman! Grow a spine! Call the police if you must! Do you feel endangered?"

"Gee, thanks. No, I don't feel like I'm in danger, although the mustard popcorn thing kind of makes them psychopaths. But I'm being serious, this is my worst nightmare come to life. Patrick Greene also happens to be over so I'm sure he's going to be a part of this sleepover."

"Popcorn....what? Whose place is it at anyways?"

"Um..." What a great question I forgot to ask Zander.

I hear her sigh on the other end, I'm sure she wants to pull her hair out but doesn't do it because it'll raise some suspicious questions from the family. "You're always supposed to specify these things, Catherine."

"Hey! Don't blame me, you know I don't know anything about human interaction!"

"It amazes me how you've even managed to get this far in our line of work and please do not go around saying that, especially to Zander."

"Will you just please tell me what I'm supposed to do to get out of this?"

"Okay, here's what you do. Pretend like you forgot and apologise saying you have a workload of papers you have to catch up on, you did tell him you were an editor."

"That just might work, it's believable and not very far off from the truth."

"Even though I suggested that, it is the perfect opportunity to do thorough research."

"Like what, their sleeping habits? And don't you dare try to make that sound inappropriate or so help me I will...do something."

"Not exactly, but you could have them come over to your place. It'll have you within your own comfort zone while they get to sleepover and you get additional information and wow, I am shaking in my bones. My skeleton is about to collapse from that threat."

"I hate you."

"It's for the-"

"I know! I know! The business," groaning, I run into my bedroom and scream into a pillow. 

I'm beginning to dislike my job.

A lot.

***************************