Seven in the evening. 

My subconscious mind has conjured up a scene with a shady dressed man in a trench coat, on a dark stormy night as thunder and lighting set the perfect atmosphere. My scene also is placed in the early 50s, so naturally it's a black and white movie in which the femme fatale figure conveniently goes missing for the majority of the film.

I could whack myself on the side of the head for even giving myself the time to think such thoughts when Zander Nolan was about to come rapping a hand against the door.

And before I can even calm my nerves down, the dooming sound of knuckles knocking fill me with dread...can I conveniently disappear like a femme fatale?

With trembling hands and shaky nerves, I open the door ever so slowly and look from Zander to Patrick with dread. They're standing in sweats and fitted tees that would make any normal female, other than this one, swoon from the sight. Zander holds two sleeping bags while Patrick holds a bag of snacks and a bottle of tequila, his other hand is full of action DVDs.

"Hey, Cupcake," they say in unison. 

"Look guys, I'm really sorry but I completely forgot about this sleepover. I have a ton of paperwork to catch up on that has to be finished tonight," I manage to say this without pausing to take a breath, and keep my eyes focused on the wall behind Patrick's head in order to avoid facing them.

"Cupcake!" Startled by the tone of Zander's voice, I glance at him with frightened eyes.

"Ye-yeah."

"Just shut up. You're a terrible liar."

"Wha-aa-what?" I try faking pure innocence but this has no effect.

"We're having this sleepover whether you like it or not."

Excellent. That's exactly the answer I was expecting; rather than inviting them over, creating a situation that would naturally have them coming over was what I was aiming for. I originally did want to squawk out an excuse to keep my distance but Celia was right, this is an opportunity we can't miss out on. I needed information on both of them, and this was my chance.

I'm not a psychologist and nor do I have expert knowledge but Zander Nolan seemed like the type of guy who took no poorly. He refused to be rejected and not idolised, a commonality among a lot of C&C's male clients.

Pressing my lips together to suppress a smile, I nod my head and sigh dramatically before stepping aside to allow them entrance to my humble domain. My nervousness derived from my lack of acting skills, I didn't think they'd fall for this so easily.

Lucky me, I guess...

"Why the hell is it so cold in here?" Patrick's teeth chatter as he says this and I simply role my eyes before addressing Zander, "You didn't warn your friend about how I like the temperature?"

"No, because you're going to turn up the heat in this place or else we'll all die of pneumonia." 

"Why don't the two of you layer up and I don't know, maybe wear winter appropriate clothing? Ever heard of a piece of clothing called a sweater? It's amazing."

Narrowing our eyes at one another, we glare silently before Patrick clears his throat to get our attention, "Hey guys, why don't we just settle this like humane and civilised beings."

Zander smiles broadly at the suggestion while I stare cluelessly at him, "how?" I ask.

"Simple. A quick game of truth or dare. Shots of alcohol involved of course." 

Zander rubs his hands in a sinister manner while Patrick clears the coffee table of my scented candle. As he's placing two shot glasses on the table and the tequila bottle in the centre, I sigh in exasperation. And how is this even considered a civilised and humane manner of settling a temperature related spat?

"Forget it, I'll turn up the heat but you're going to pay for this bill," I direct this at Zander and he has the nerve to raise an eyebrow before rolling his vibrant green eyes.

 "What a kill joy. Why do you have to reject every fun thing?"

"I don't recall you ever suggesting anything fun, so there's nothing to reject."

Patrick whistles before giving me a thumbs up while Zander shakes his head in pity, his eyes lingering on the shot glasses a fraction longer. 

Turning the temperature fifteen degrees higher, I walk back to the living room to find the sleeping bags rolled out on the floor and the coffee table pushed aside. Patrick inserts a DVD and Zander eyes me curiously before grinning.

I didn't like that look at all, it sent something spurring within the pit of my stomach. This feeling may have to do with the fact that I had zero to barely any contact with males, so I just didn't know what to make of these feelings. For all I know, it could be a new version of dislike and displeasure.

 I only ever studied men on paper, I am a matchmaker granted, but when it came to personal experience with the opposite sex...I'm hopeless. 

"Come sit next to me Cupcake," patting the spot on the floor next to him, I look at Zander slightly terrified.

"Don't worry, I don't bite."

"That isn't true."

"Shut up, Pat!"

"It's true, man. You almost bit me for touching your damn TV."

"Nobody touches Amy!"

So he likes the name Amy...

"Um, no thanks. I prefer the couch."

Walking with caution towards the couch, I take a seat and think everything is fine until Zander lightly yanks my arm, and I nearly fall head first onto the floor. 

Yelping, two strong arms securely hold either side of my waist, and he places me gently down. 

With wide eyes, I stare at him in horror trying to calm my heart and pulsing blood, "Are you crazy! I said I preferred the couch!"

"And I said you should come sit next to me, it's not a genuine sleepover unless we're lined up like this." 

Grunting, I move away from him and cross my legs. Patrick comes and sits on the other side of me and we sit in silence and watch a movie about a stupid mummy hunter. 

I actually do enjoy this movie, it's almost a personal favourite but I refuse to give Zander Nolan that kind of satisfaction, especially considering what he just pulled. How old does he think we are? 

He needs to learn to be less demanding.

Observation number two: Zander Nolan is the controlling type.

Sighing, I cross my arms over my chest and watch the movie passively as Patrick stuffs handfuls of chips in his mouth before throwing back a few shots.

Observation number three: Patrick Greene loves food, especially junk food. 

A girl with an appetite who isn't so picky about what she eats is most compatible for him. Believe it or not, but these little fine details tend to matter to either match(ee) and with his unique tastes, he'll need someone who can physically and mentally stomach his food indulgence. 

Filing this bit of information in my head for later, I peel off my coat and knitted sweater as the heat in the place begins to make me feel sweaty. 

From the corner of my eye, I notice Zander's gaze on me but refuse to meet his eyes. Sighing in satisfaction fro discarding so many winter layers, I find myself in a single tank top as the heat in the apartment continues to rise. I haven't experienced heat like this since July! I feel slightly exposed as my arms are visible, it's even more surprising to me to see my own arms out like this for more than five minutes this time of year.

Examining my hands now, I almost scream as Patrick's head falls on my shoulder. Staring down at him, I can hear his laboured breaths and gape in bewilderment.

Observation number four: Patrick Greene is a dozer. Movie dates were a terrible idea. 

Scrunching my nose up from the smell of his strong cologne assaulting my nostrils, I try lifting his heavy head. This close contact is setting my nerves into panic mode, my space and sense of privacy feel completely violated.

"Hey Cupcake can you-" Zander stops what he's about to say once he glances at Patrick's head against my shoulder.

Frowning, he looks at my panic stricken face before nearly shoving Patrick's head aside.

Groaning, Patrick's groggy eyes crack open and he looks from me to Zander, "What?"

"You fell asleep again, man."

"Oh, sorry, Cupcake. I guess you just smelled really nice, like lavender," giving me a lopsided smile that's induced with sleep, he heads for his sleeping bag and is sound asleep in seconds.

"He goes to bed this early?"

"Patrick's still getting used to time zone differences, he just came home from a semester overseas."

"Oh."

"So much for movies," he runs his hand nervously through his hair and I offer a reassuring smile.

"I actually really like Mummy Hunter Ryoto."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Grinning, he leans over and pushes the coffee table closer to us with just one arm. Raising an eyebrow in question, he smiles down at me before placing a shot glass right in front of me. 

"Ready to play a little game of truth or dare?"

"Uh, no."

"And why not?"

"Because I prefer to watch the movie or go to sleep."

"You tend to prefer a lot of other things."

Shrugging my shoulders, he pours tequila into glass in front of me and I sigh heavily.

I guess I should be grateful it wasn't vodka I'd be getting shots of.

"And no matter what I prefer, you seem to ignore what I say," I mumble under my breath.

"Here's how it goes, I ask if you rather do a dare or tell a truth and if you decide to do neither then you take a shot or if I catch you lying through your 'truth' or backing out of your 'dare' then you have to take a shot too."

Nodding my head in understanding, he clears his throat before directing his attention towards me, "so Cupcake, tell me would you rather do truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What was your most embarrassing moment as a kid?"

"Why pick that question?"

"Just answer it."

Thinking back, I recall one of my most favourite and horrid memories, "when I was in the fifth grade, there was a boy who lived on the same street as me. I remember he was picking on a younger boy and I just couldn't stand there and watch, so I walked right up to him and pulled his pants down."

"A hero of all young vulnerable boys."

"No, I was always the quiet kid who never got involved but I guess I saw myself in that little boy."

"Seems more embarrassing for the poor kid who got his pants pulled down."

"No it was embarrassing for me because all the parents in the park looked appalled at what I did."

Laughing, he shakes his head and I take a moment to realise that I actually managed to speak about my past with someone other than Celia, but of course it was a harmless question that's entirely meaningless.

"My turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Startled, I ponder on a dare before grinning mischievously. Rising, I walk into my room and pull out a small bag from a dresser drawer. Placing the bag in front of Zander, he opens it and stares at the contents inside.

"Seriously?"

"Just try to look like Sheila Ganesse as much as possible."

"Shit."

Taking out all the necessary makeup out of my small makeup bag, he picks up each of them in wonder and confusion before hastily applying red lipstick and powder all over his face.

"That's still not good enough."

Setting mascara in front of him, he groans before trying to put it on, "Ow, ow, ow, owww."

I almost feel sorry for the guy.

"How do chicks put this stuff on? It hurts like hell."

"Don't forget to put on the eyeliner and blush, oh and some smoky eyeshadow too. You'll need to apply some more lipstick, just isn't red enough."

Frowning, he picks up the hand mirror I've brought along and examines his features before looking back at me like a lost puppy, "a little help." 

Rolling my eyes, I get up and sit next to him, "don't blink, just close your eyes."

Applying the eyeliner and eyeshadow first, I scrunch my eyebrows in concentration. Pulling an eyelash curler, I grin wickedly.

"You can open your eyes now."

"Wait, what is that."

"Just a modern female torture mechanism."

"Wha-"

"It'll help if you don't move."

Curling his eyelashes, he almost cries by the time I'm done."

"Not finished yet," taking out the mascara, I apply it several times but stop once his eyes water- they were turning a bad shade of red too.

"Shit, that's painful."

"The small price you pay to look like Sheila. Oh! I should have told you, I actually think she lives on the twentieth floor. Maybe we should go pay her a visit, she should have a good look at her look-alike," I'm grinning wickedly now, imaging a horrified Sheila and Zander gawking at each other.

"I'll..." He trails off lost for words.

I've finished a tragic makeup job but nod appreciatively at my fine work, taking out my phone and snap a photo for proof of my poor capabilities or for blackmail in the future. 

"Please tell me I'm finished."

"You are, this will teach you to be careful next time. No incessant knocking on my door, no more spur of the moment sleepover, and no more cupcake thieving."

"You really do have a little inner devil in you," narrowing his eyes, he smirks at me in all his done up makeup and I snort lightly at how awful he looks.

"Truth or dare, Cupcake? I'm really hoping you pick dare."

"Truth."

"Fine, what's your favourite colour?"

"That has to be red-"

"Wrong. Drink up."

"How's that wrong? Like you would know-"

"Drink up, Cupcake before I make you drink the rest of the bottle."

Gawking, I stare at him in disbelief, what a sore ass loser.

"Fine," pouring myself some of the clear and potent liquid, I take the shot and lick my lips before turning to him.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Favourite hobby." This will be perfect, I couldn't have asked for another easier way to get the information I needed, why has this only occurred to me now?

"Fighting."

"What?"

"Fighting. I love fight competitions."

Observation number five: Zander Nolan, son of the President is a fighter. 

A fighter.

And I let him walk right into my apartment.

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