CHAPTER 43: PREPPING THE TRAP

The screen lit up with her face the second she picked up, like she’d been waiting.

"Babe," she drawled, leaning back in bed with her hoodie slipping just enough to show one bare shoulder. "Miss me already?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to sound casual but feeling way too obvious. "Uh... you’re still coming over tonight, right?"

Her brows lifted slightly, a slow smile curling her lips. "Why, Kai? You lonely?"

"I just—" I shrugged, avoiding her eyes on the screen. "It’s... quiet here."

"Mhm. Quiet." She tilted the phone so I could see more — her legs stretched out, one knee peeking from under the hoodie. "You mean you want me there."

"Something like that," I muttered.

She smirked like she’d just been handed the keys to a kingdom. "You know," she said, leaning closer to the camera, "if I came over right now... I’d make sure you weren’t quiet for long."

My throat went dry. "Oh?"

"Mhm." She tucked one leg under herself, the movement pulling the hoodie higher on her thigh. "I’d knock on your door, all sweet and innocent, and then the second you let me in—" She paused, her voice dipping low. "I’d pin you against that wall where you keep your keys. Make you forget about... everything."

"Pretty confident for someone who’s not even here," I said, shifting in my seat.

"I could be there in less than an hour," she teased, dragging her fingers lazily along her collarbone. "And you’d open the door for me, wouldn’t you, Kai?"

"...Probably."

She gasped in mock offense. "Probably? No, no — you’d drag me inside, and then..." She bit her lip, holding my gaze through the screen. "Well, I’ll let your imagination handle that part."

My mind was already running laps. "You’re dangerous."

"And you love it."

"I didn’t say that."

Her grin widened. "You didn’t have to."

Then, like flicking a switch, she sat back and stretched, voice suddenly light. "Anyway, I’m not coming over tonight."

I blinked at her. "...What?"

"I’ve got things to do, stuff to prepare" she said, shrugging like she hadn’t just spent five minutes making me picture every way she could wreck my evening.

"Prepare for what?"

She tapped her lips like she was debating whether to tell me. "A surprise."

My eyes narrowed. "Good surprise or bad surprise?"

She grinned. "Depends on how much you like me."

"I feel like this is one of those trick questions where I can’t win."

"Mm-hm," she hummed, refusing to elaborate.

"Val—"

She grinned knowingly. "Aww, you’re pouting."

"I’m not pouting."

"You totally are."

"I—" I stopped mid-sentence, realizing she’d win no matter what I said. "You’re evil."

"Maybe. But I’m your evil."

Before I could protest further, she leaned in until her face filled the screen and said, "Sweet dreams, babe."

Then the call ended, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the black screen, very aware she’d just set me up and walked away without looking back.

---

The next afternoon, I heard the knock before I heard the engine outside. Celestia never texted to say she was here — she just showed up like a storm. I opened the door and found her grinning, wearing that smug "you’re not ready for what’s about to happen" look.

"Hey," she chirped, stepping past me without invitation. "Come help me with my things."

"Your... things?"

"Yeah, from the car."

I frowned but followed her out. She’d pulled up in a glossy blue Mercedes GLE SUV — not her usual ride. I was about to ask where she got it when she popped the boot.

And I froze.

Two full-sized suitcases. One medium one. And three cardboard boxes stacked like some kind of moving day pyramid.

I blinked at them. "Uh... what’s all this?"

She shot me a duh look. "Clothes. And shoes. And skincare. And accessories."

"Val—"

"Oh, don’t look so shocked." She waved a hand like I was overreacting. "I’m spending the next three weeks here. Semester break just started, my parents are out of the country for a month, and I’m not about to waste precious time not annoying you in person."

I just stared. "Three weeks?"

"Yes." She said it like she was confirming the weather. "And before you even try to argue, think of this as pre-marriage prep."

"What?" I choked. "What marriage?"

"Ours," she said sweetly, grabbing one suitcase handle and shoving it toward me. "You need to learn how it feels to live with me full-time."

"I— we— that’s—" My brain scrambled for words and found none that made sense. "You can’t just decide you’re moving in for three weeks without—"

"I just did." She beamed at me, then pointed to the boxes. "And don’t drag them. There’s expensive stuff inside."

"This is insane," I muttered, but my hands were already lifting one of the boxes.

"Insanely romantic," she corrected, strutting toward the front door with the smallest suitcase. "You’ll thank me later."

By the time we got everything inside, my living room looked like a boutique had exploded. She didn’t even hesitate — she unzipped a suitcase and started arranging things like she’d done this a hundred times before.

"Where are you even going to put all this?" I asked, watching in disbelief.

"In your closet. Duh."

"You can’t just—"

"I can. I am. And you’re going to like it." She said this while humming to herself, hanging up a dress I was 80% sure cost more than my monthly rent.

I leaned against the doorway, watching her with a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement. She was glowing — genuinely happy, almost... too happy.

"You’re enjoying this way too much," I said.

"Of course I am. I get to play house with my boyfriend." She smiled over her shoulder. "And maybe drive him crazy in the process."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, definitely." She giggled.

---

By the time she shoved the last suitcase under the bed, I was already exhausted—and I hadn’t even done anything. Val, on the other hand, looked like she’d just won a small war. She stood there, hands on hips, surveying my tiny room like a general checking the battlefield.

"Perfect," she declared, satisfaction dripping from her voice.

"You’ve turned my bedroom into your boutique," I muttered.

She shot me a grin. "Correction: our bedroom."

I groaned. "Val..."

"Yes, babe?"

"Nothing. I’m just—" I dragged a hand down my face. "Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?"

"Because you’re a pessimist," she chirped. "Also, you clearly don’t know what a privilege it is to live with me."

Before I could respond, she clapped her hands together like she’d just remembered something monumental.

"I’m starving."

"Order something," I said, already half-collapsing onto the couch.

She gasped. "Order something? In this economy? No, no, no, babe. I’ll cook."

That sentence alone should’ve been my warning to stop her.

Before I could protest, she was already in my kitchen, flinging open cabinets like she was searching for Narnia.

"Wow. You have... nothing." She turned to glare at me like I’d committed a felony. "Do you always live like this?"

"I eat like a normal person," I defended.

"This isn’t normal, Kai. This is sad. This is... cereal and two packets of instant noodles sad."

"I like... cereal," I said weakly.

She ignored me entirely, moving on to the fridge. "Milk. Expired. Eggs. One cracked, the other one is... Kai, why is your egg green?"

"It’s not—" I peered over. "Okay, yeah, that’s bad."

"Babe, if I didn’t love you, I’d call the health department."

She started pulling things out—half an onion, some limp spinach, and a bottle of ketchup—and stared at them like she was doing a math problem in her head.

"Okay. I can work with this," she said finally, tying her hair up into a messy bun. "It’ll be fine."

I watched her move around my kitchen like she’d been living here forever—barefoot, humming under her breath, opening drawers without asking, putting utensils back in different drawers without telling me.

"Val, that goes in the top one," I said when she dropped a spatula into the wrong spot.

"Not anymore," she replied simply.

I exhaled slowly. "You’re rearranging my kitchen?"

"Improving it. You’ll thank me later."

I leaned against the doorway, watching her boss my kitchen around. She was chaos in an oversized sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up, hair falling into her face. It was maddening. It was adorable. It was exactly the kind of thing that made me wish I’d dated her earlier so I’d be used to it by now—and also the kind of thing that made me wonder why I’d signed up for this madness in the first place.

She caught me staring and smirked. "What? Realizing how lucky you are?"

"More like realizing I’ve made a huge mistake," I deadpanned.

She tossed a piece of spinach at me. "You love me."

"Debatable."

"Mm-hm. Keep telling yourself that, babe."

Fifteen minutes later, my kitchen smelled... edible. Somehow, she’d turned my fridge rejects into something resembling food. She plated it dramatically, sliding the dish in front of me with a little bow.

"Your dinner, sir."

I poked it with my fork. "This won’t kill me, right?"

"No promises," she said with a sweet smile.

And just like that, sitting there in my tiny kitchen with Val acting like she owned the place, I realized she kind of did.

---

To be continued...