"Ffff-fighting?" I repeated, dumbfounded as I try to envision Zander in a boxing ring but only come back to the image of him inhaling a chocolate bar whilst looking like a sad knockoff of Sheila.

"Yeah, I do mixed martial arts." 

Oh. I am so dead if he finds out I lied to him and pretended to be a helping neighbour when I'm really the matchmaker he's been looking for. Was it possible to severely karate chop a human into various gruesome pieces till they're unable to move or breathe?

Given information: Zander Nolan does mixed martial arts...

"You seem a little pale?"

"It's the tequila," I said absently, waving a hand to dismiss his look of concern.

"Alcohol makes people flushed not pale."

"Listen, wise guy, are you a doctor to tell me that?" Gasping, I cover my stupid mouth and stare wide eyed at him.

Please don't kill, please don't kill me, pleeaassee don't kill me...But oh my god, he could kill me right now for what I've done to his face!

"O-kay, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Your turn, ask away," I quickly try covering up my mistake with fake kindness, hoping he doesn't notice my shrill tone.

"Favorite hobby."

"Baking."

"You're supposed to pick either truth or dare." Frowning at me, I stay quiet and pour myself a shot before downing it.

"Fine, you're turn to ask me something." I sense the bitter petulance behind his voice and I simply roll my eyes. Of course he wasn't a fighter, fighter! What tough guy would let a girl doll him up in makeup and then feel wounded over a simple game of truth or dare? My overactive imagination will be the death of me one of these days.

Clearing my throat, I decide to ask more generic questions to play it safe and for the purposes of his file, the tedious work can be dealt with here and now without Celia having to attempt to tail him in the foreseeable future.

"Favourite colour."

"Hmm, I recently like the colour of light brown."

"Um, could you be a tad more specific?"

His green eyes bore into mine, and I lean back involuntarily. What is he getting at? The coffee table? Because it definitely is a luxurious shade of brown.

"And you were supposed to say truth or dare," I suddenly add.

"I prefer your method, the direct approach is always better."

"Is it?" I asked meekly.

Smirking at me, he gets up and walks into the bathroom before emerging with all the makeup wiped away. 

Gulping, I stare at his face as water droplets were still dripping from his hair but the lipstick and eyeshadow left glittery traces begging to be photographed. Biting my lip, I quickly look away before deciding I needed to avoid drinking anymore alcohol, otherwise I could be sent to an early grave from all the blackmail photos I've gathered.  

"Do you have anymore cupcakes?" 

"Um..."

"Hey, don't hold back the goodies besides, you look like you're about to bolt from your very own place. I won't force you to continue, so what do you say? Cupcakes?"

"Yeah, I have some," I mumbled under my breath, surprised by his thoughtfulness. I did want to bolt but I assumed, at least to myself, that I was as cool as a cucumber, except of course, my moment of panic when I thought he was a professional ring fighter.

Even though Zander Nolan was oddly kind at the present moment, I wasn't about to go write him down as a good guy in my books. He made it quite clear with his secret pursuit for the matchmaker (me) that he was anything but a humble and sincere man; for all I know he may have cheated on this fiancée of his without caring for how that might effect his family. I may be overly judgemental but wasn't it wiser to be overly cautious and skeptical then to give in and be chummy? 

Walking into the kitchen, I take out the massive container in my fridge and place it in front of him. Taking out three cupcakes, I offer him two on a plate and he looks down at the rest of the cupcakes in the abnormally large container.

"Who do you make these for?"

"Myself." He did not need to know they were offerings originally meant to coax him into becoming chummy neighbours with me. I managed to win him over with baked goods without any convincing on my end.

"Seriously?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I make a pot of tea and munch on my vanilla cupcake. Licking any remaining icing on my mouth, at the sound of the kettle I look up to find Zander's gaze settle on on me momentarily before blinking and glancing elsewhere.

"Um..." Glancing at the kettle and back at Zander, I wonder if offering tea will fill the awkward silence and give him the invitation to exit once his cup is empty.

"Do you take sugar?" 

"One spoon is fine." His sweet tooth is more serious than I thought and a fact that will be applied to his file.

Mixing the sugar in his cup, I hand it over to him and sit across from him at the kitchen table. Dabbing my tea bag in and out, my eyes purposefully avoiding his.

"Since we're done with all concepts of fun, can we discuss business?"

Nodding my head, I wait for him to continue. So this is the real purpose of this 'sleepover.' He wanted to talk about an action plan to find the matchmaker of the apartment complex. Of course he didn't want anything to do with Catherine Lewis, the pathetic girl who was too dorky and a far cry from his type...not that it matters. His business being expressed meant I was in the loop and could avoid being detected even further.

"Do you think the matchmaker is a man or woman?" Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I look up from my cup of tea. He actually blushes and I almost laugh. Things like this made Zander Nolan uncomfortable?

"I have no idea, why do you ask?"

"Because it'll narrow our search significantly, I mean it doesn't really narrow things down but it's a start."

"I think it's highly possible for it to be either a female or male." A girl has got to save her own skin.

"Nah, just something about this business screams female."

Taking a quick sip of my tea to hide the panic on my face, the hot liquid burns my tongue and I wince in pain. 

"How come?" I asked through gritted teeth, "And don't you think that's a tad sexist? Men can be successful when it comes to marriage arrangements."

"Well, I looked into a few cases of this so called mysterious matchmaker, and I happened to stumble upon a few of the clients. I know some of them personally, so I asked them the name of the matchmaker and they all said they didn't have a clue other than the fact that the matchmaking company is named C&C."

Crap, he is onto me but what could the company's name possibly reveal that is so obvious?

"And?"

"Well what guy would name his company C&C? Sexist I know, but still something about the two C's seems too feminine. And if it were a man, he would have to be already married and settled down but if that's the case then why the secrecy? No offence to my own gender and sex, but single men aren't artists in this field of work, and if they are then I'll eat my words. But I wouldn't exactly trust Patrick to find me a match if you get my drift?"

"But if it were a female, what reason would she have to hide it? I mean, a girl would basically boast about something like that," I add almost too hurriedly, "Speaking about Patrick well...he puts mustard on popcorn, I don't think anyone, regardless of how close their relation to him is, would ever consider letting him find their significant other."

"You're right, I'll have to dig into this some more."

Please don't.

"Shouldn't you consider the possibility that the matchmaker no longer lives here? If it were me, I would buy a house with all the money I'd make."

You are so laughable right now Catherine, my girl. I'm actually quite appalled at the idea of living alone in a house that would leave me entirely broke from trying to afford paying for a mortgage and running around to mow a lawn, not to mention the very sad fact that I already live off of ramen and cupcakes.

"That could be it but with all the previous cases, they all started off from this place, and my gut tells me that this matchmaker is close."

And your gut isn't lying.

"Then I guess we should start from the bottom up, make our way from the first floor to the...thirty-fifth?" 

"Shit, that's going to take a while."

"No kidding," I mumble under my breath ever so sarcastically. We are skipping this floor no matter what! I don't need the tenants living on my floor to get suspicious or know of my existence with or without the label of matchmaker.

If I wasn't such a pushover and had my own ulterior motives for being around Zander, I would have given him the finger, telling him he could go screw himself. But no, Catherine Lewis is too shy, too cowardly, and too afraid of the President sending out the secret service to murder me in cold blood.

"There is, however, one problem."

"What's that?"

"Randy, he's a reporter who lives two floors up. If he finds you here, you're as good as dead. He's pretty nasty and cruel in his articles."

"Leave him to me," There's a dangerous glint in his eyes that sends warning bells to my mind.

"What are you going to do? Karate chop him?" I blurt out. 

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, he takes a moment to digest my insulting tone. It soon vanishes and a smirk replaces his frown, "Maybe, would you like to see me do that to him? I was thinking more along the lines of him winning an all paid for vacation though."

"Nnn-nno, I prefer non-violent acts whenever possible, the vacation sounds like a good idea." 

"You know cupcake, I'm starting to think that's just a coverup for the little devil living inside of you."

"Shut up," Snapping at him, I briskly grab the tea cups and plop them into the sink snd turn to Zander with a hand stretched out to shake, "okay, that settles it I guess, I'm going to bed now and I suggest you do the same or keep watch over your friend there. I think he kicked a few of my candles."

"First you tell me to shut up and now you want to shake on it? Is this some kind of new subculture behaviour I'm not aware of?"

"Just shake will you? We're shaking because your plan is sound and could actually work."

"Ah, okay," reaching out to give my weak hand a squeeze, he nods silently before dropping it and heading towards Patrick who's now grumbling something incoherent.

Glancing at the clock, I slump down to the floor once I've closed the bedroom door behind me. It's only nine o'clock, far too early for any twenty-one year old, regardless if they're a partier or not. 

I'm about to crawl into bed and read a battered old book when the door opens and Zander strides in, "It's not much of a sleepover when the hostess leaves her guest."

"Wha-" Before I can even ask, I'm thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried to the living room. Shrieking, my glasses fall to floor and the hair tie comes undone, my hair tumbling down to block my vision like a hairy curtain. I try kicking and yes, I give a few punches but to no avail.

Zander's entire body vibrates in laughter and the chuckle that escapes his lips just infuriates me, "Put me down!"

"No."

"I have functioning legs!"

"If I put you down now, you'll run away."

"Yes I will, so put me down! I barely know you and you have the audacity to haul me like a saddened dog?"

"Nope." Popping the 'p' he does the most unthinkable thing and whips my hair away for me only for it to spiral back with whiplash.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" 

"Just trying to shut you up, Cupcake."

Grunting, I feel the blood rush to my face as he continues to stride with the air of a total asshole.

Observation: Zander Nolan is a violent aggressor.

"Put me down!"

"Okay." All too quickly, my feet touch the floor and my legs feel wobbly as dizziness overcomes me. Gripping his arm for support, I move my hair away from my face in an unladylike manner, spluttering and spitting against sticky strands and control my laboured breathes. 

Glaring at him, I'm about to yell when he takes a step forward, and I'm taken aback by the dark look on his face. To make matters worse, his face inches closer to mine and my eyes look everywhere but at his.

What is he doing?

My squeak of surprise is everything he needs in answer to gently grab my hair and tussle it mockingly against my head, "ah there. A masterpiece that will outdo your makeup job any day. Now hold for the camera please," a smile of ridicule is all I can make out before I catch a phone in his hand having a go at my misery.

What now? Why is this happening to me of all people.

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