Date 1.

The beginning of her life was often a difficult subject, regardless of the plentiful times she'd been forced to treat it.

Before her college years, Sage had no life. Not a life of her own, at least. The first four years of law school almost felt like the same thing. If her life had really started at any point in her twenty-five years, it would've been the time when she deboarded from her international flight to London, England, hoping to get a job there and fulfill a long-term dream of her mother's. More life came when she'd run out of money for the hotel she stayed in and moved in with her second ever best friend. Although she lived under someone else's rules and couldn't get employment, she felt so much better than when she lived with her mom.

But whatever life she had changed the very second she met Dylan.

Dylan had always been a bit eccentric to her. The first time she met him he went away without a word. That pattern repeated every time he noticed her presence. He could be engrossed in a conversation with her friend Amanda and she'd think she could quickly get a glass of water; then he'd see her, stop the chit-chat abruptly, and politely walk out the door without an explanation.

Like some life-changing experiences—such as cancer—the side-effects didn't manifest in a hurry, but when they did, they had dangerous results. So it made sense that Sage didn't think anything about it for the next six-and-a-half months.

Until that one time…

For the first time in almost two months, Janet Jackson was her alarm clock.

Sage grabbed her phone, despite her unusual grogginess for four in the afternoon. If Mandy had to call her, it was beyond necessary.

She picked up.

'Hello? What's up? What do you need?'

'Oh my gosh, Sage,' Mandy screeched. 'What happened to your phone? I've called you like six times now.'

'Reception's bad around here,' Sage apologized. 'Is everything okay? This is the literal first time you've called me in two months.'

'Jesus Christ, Sage; how shallow do you think I am?' Mandy asked. 'I get, we've parted ways and haven't crossed since; but remember you were the one that moved out, and I didn't call because I respected your decision and was really busy. Now I call, you think I want something? Don't you think I can call you for you?'

'Sorry,' Sage muttered.

'Aww, I'm just playing.' Mandy completely exhaled. 'Anyway, I need you. Like now. Come as quickly as you can.'

'What happened?'

Mandy brought her voice down. 'There's a huge tarantula in my room upstairs. It's hidden somewhere, and I'm too freaking scared to find it.'

Sage paused to reason that statement. 'You're calling me to your place—after my two months of self-exile—to kill a tarantula?'

'I'm really scared,' Mandy whined.

She rose to her feet. 'I'll be there in an hour.'

In about forty-five minutes, she stood at the doorstep of Amanda "Mandy" Bailey Kyle's white two-bedroom duplex. It felt a lot like last time, except she felt annoyance instead of sorrow.

As usual, she used their secret knock: four rap-tap-taps on the wooden fuchsia door.

She heard Amanda's click-clack heels approaching. Mandy always wore heels. No one knew why.

'Oh my God, Sage.' Mandy hugged her so tightly she felt her ribs start to crack.

'Release,' Sage begged.

Mandy let go. 'I'm really happy to see you after so long—Jesus Christ, what the heck are you wearing?'

Sage looked down at her green lumberjack shirt and jeans. 'What's wrong with it?'

'I get you're always wearing green, but green plaid? How dare you?' Mandy asked. 'You look so—I really can't say anything good about this outfit even with a gun to my head.'

It was then that she remembered one of the many reasons why she left in the first place.

'I thought you wanted me to kill a spider. This is the appropriate attire for that kind of stuff,' Sage explained.

'I said find and kill the spider. Even the bugs of my house hate plaid. How are you supposed to find a plaid-hating spider in plaid?'

Sage's six-month internship didn't give her enough experience to argue with that.

Mandy sighed. 'Come inside and stay in the kitchen. I'll find something more alluring.'

With that said, Mandy click-clacked inside.

Sage followed, except going in a different direction.

Mandy's kitchen was quite petite compared to the rest of the house. The refrigerator took up most of the space, then there was the counter at the centre. On said counter was a single green cup of lemonade.

The funny thing about the green cup was that it was Sage's favourite cup for the near two years she had spent in Mandy's house. Mandy never used it while she was around, so why did she use it now?

Unless the lemonade was for her.…

Sage eyed the kitchen door, then took a sip of the drink. There was a lot of sugar, but it wasn't nearly short of awesome.

She took a little more out of temptation. Then a lot more. When she dropped the cup, it was almost empty.

Holy granola, how would she explain? What if the lemonade wasn't for her? What—

Mandy's shrill scream paused her game of What Ifs.

'Oh my God, Sage,' Mandy said for the billionth time. 'The spider came out while I was picking something out for you. You see what I said about bugs hating plaid?'

'Uh, sure.' Sage waited for Mandy to see the not-full glass.

'So, uh, I couldn't get anything,' Mandy said. 'But you've still got to get rid of the plaid.'

An invisible light bulb shone above her head. 'You want me to take off my shirt?'

'It's just a spider. A seven-foot one, but at least it's totally not a guy.' Mandy shoved the last drops of lemonade down Sage's throat. 'Godspeed, Scar.'

Sage swallowed. 'But that would leave me—'

'Godspeed, I said,' Mandy urged.

Rolling her eyes, she headed to Mandy's upstairs bedroom.

She leaned on the door. Why did climbing the stairs make her so tired? She had gone through six flights of steeper stairs than Mandy's without a broken sweat, now Mandy's two flights drained her of the ability to stand straight.

Nonetheless, she pushed her weight on the door and opened it.

Mandy's room was a huge place to start looking for a tarantula, no matter how seven-foot it was described to be. Combined with how tired she felt, her only hope was that she didn't collapse halfway.

She unbuttoned her lumberjack shirt and started the search

An unspecified amount of time was spent bending over, turning over nightstands, and trying to keep her eyes open—the last task more difficult than the rest—but no spider.

At last, she was left with just Mandy's closet.

Sage staggered to the closet door with Mandy's least-favourite heels in one hand. If the spider wasn't in there, it would've all been for nothing. She would've wasted her energy, her pride, her late afternoon nap—for nothing.

She slammed the door open.

'How do you—'

Screaming, she slapped Mandy's heel against the voice's face.

'Bloody heel,' a man's voice cursed. Looking harder, she traced the voice to the actual body of a man, who had his hand on his left cheek. 'I'm five feet taller than you, Scarlett. Is that the average height of a tarantula?'

'Um, no?' Sage answered. 'And you can't be five feet taller than me. You wouldn't fit into this room if you were.'

'Well, I didn't invent the Imperial system,' he said. 'I wouldn't have needed to if you Americans didn't—'

Sage rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. No, she had to be dreaming. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

But she had to confirm.

'Dylan?' she called.

'Oh dear,' Dylan said pitifully. 'You look sexy—I mean, sleep deprived.'

'Sleep.' Her head spun. 'I really need sleep.'

'There, there, sweetheart.' Dylan spread out his arms.

Without meaning to, Sage fell into his embrace.

What she failed to realize until when her cheek rested on him was that his chest was bare, and so was most of his torso. He wasn't wearing pants either, just a towel.

Another thing that popped into her head: Dylan had just spoken to her, which he had never done in the seven months she'd known of his existence. If he couldn't speak to her on average, why was he being so chummy with her?

Lastly, her shirt was somewhere by the door, which meant her knee-length jeans and bra were her only covering. Well, her bra was one of her coverings until Dylan unfastened the hooks. Because it was handleless, it fell off her body the second he did.

Holy granola.

She tried to move, but her bones had inexplicably turned to mush. She couldn't even lift her head.

'Let me go,' she muttered.

'Are you certain? I thought I felt quite comfortable,' Dylan said.

'Let me go you deceitful, dastardly, son of a—'

Dylan let her fall backwards.

'If the floor feels any better, I suggest you go to sleep. I've heard enough about you to know you would hate to be consciously aware of what I'm about to do with you,' he said.

That statement led to her fourth realization. She felt too tired to scream, or frown, or even insult him more than she already had.

'I know: how do I know you so well despite the fact that we haven't spoken a word to each other? That's what's on your mind, right? I'm an expert at reading women's minds,' Dylan said. 'The answer to that is also why Mandy won't be able to help you or come to this room for the next, say, three hours.'

Mandy betrayed me? Sage thought.

'Oh, yes. Mandy betrayed you. Long story.' He knelt beside her. 'She'll explain it to you when you wake up—if you even remember anything I just said.'

Somehow, she found the strength to struggle. That, or she was seeing two.

'That's right. Close those beautiful eyes.' She felt a hand graze her face. 'I've been waiting for this moment too long for any more delays.'

Contrary to his statement, she forced her eyes open. She saw his full figure stand over her: a head of neck-length black hair, a devilish smirk, a finely toned upper-body, and his lower body…

Her eyes shut tight in disgust. From there, sleep took over.

That was some nightmare, she thought as she sat up in bed.

Sage had the strangest dream:Amanda had called her back to her house to kill a tarantula. When she stepped through the door, she had compulsively stripped down to her underwear and let the spider land on her head. It went round her body, covered her with its silk, then bit her, after which she collapsed on the floor. The spider transformed into a handsome man with no clothes on.

It was just a dream, right?

Her lack of clothes begged to differ.

Taking a good look at her surroundings, she knew she was in Mandy's room, in Mandy's bed, covered from the neck down in Mandy's super-expensive sheep-wool blanket. When she turned her head in a careful ninety-degree angle, she saw a head lying face down on a pillow, its ears and neck hidden by stringy black locks. The rest of the head's body was covered in the same blanket

Her heart-rate shot up. It's not a guy. It's not a guy. It's totally not a guy. Guys don't have hair this long in Britain, right?

But didn't that mean she did it with a girl?

Inquisitive, she pulled the pillow from under the head.

'Noo,' whined the head's voice, which was male beyond reasonable doubt.

Sage screamed. It was no ordinary scream. It was the one her mother taught her to use as a child to expel thoughts or references of male genetailia and romance.

The head shot up, so did the body it belonged to.

'Bloody blazing fire, Sage,' Dylan swore. 'I didn't even do anything.'

Why did Dylan look so much like the guy from her dreams?

Wait a minute.

'You,' she cried. 'You're literally the man of my dreams.'

He had the exact same smirk as the literal man of her dreams. 'I didn't suppose you would be this grateful.'

She screamed again, even louder.

'I stand corrected,' he said, frowning.

She averted her eyes from him and searched for her clothes. 'Where did you put my jeans and underwear?'

'That's, er, classified.'

She screamed again.

'Can I ever say something without you yelling?'

In answer, she screamed three more times. On the third time, he kissed her.

For a while, she turned to stone. No matter how quick he was, it felt amazing. It led her to think many dangerous thoughts: did a hot guy actually kiss her? Was that how good kissing felt? Should she kiss him back? Would he freak out if she said she wanted another one?

An imaginary gavel bonked her head, then she opened her mouth to scream again.

'Do you really want me to do that again?' Dylan asked. 'Maybe you're not as much as a prude as I had thought.'

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

'Good. Well, it's quite bad, since I'm more than willing to kiss you again—but that's by the way.' He turned her head, making her look him eyeball to brilliant-blue iris. 'I have to explain something to you, and you're not going to like it.'

Sage frowned. 'Explain what? That you took advantage of me? That you poisoned my favourite drink? That you had a wonderful time forcing yourself on me but now you have to leave?'

'Um—'

'Oh, you want me to shut up about it, right? You want to threaten me and make me too scared to imprison you. You want to—quote-unquote—explain that if I go so much as a step towards my nearest police station, you'll find me and do even worse. Well…too bad, bozo. Nothing can be worse than what you've already done.'

Dylan sighed. 'Speaking of done—'

'Why did it get into your schmucked up, miniscule head to do this to me? Have you no conscience? Would you want anyone to treat your sister or daughter or any important female person in your life this way?' Sage roared. 'How would you feel if you found out that someone treated Mandy the way you treated me?'

'Very thankful, because—'

'Because people like you are freaking heartless! You hear about this kind of stuff every day, but it's not your problem because you do it all the time. You were too scared to talk to me, but you had all these—eww—thoughts about me. I'm not the only one you've done this to, huh? Give me all the other girls' names. Answer me, nitwit.'

The door opened.

'Woah,' Mandy exclaimed. 'This is going pretty well.'

Sage pried Dylan's fingers off her face and ran to Mandy. 'Your friend's disgusting. Could you believe—'

'That he acquaintance-raped you? I believe that whole-heartedly,' Mandy said, not so much as batting an eyelid.

'You know that he does this a lot?' Sage asked. 'You—you knew he wanted to do this to me?'

'He doesn't do it a lot. Prince is too much of a darling to do such a thing.' Mandy smirked. 'Right, darling?'

'Why not, dear?' Dylan replied.

Sage's mouth dropped.

'You see; you were a challenge, that's why his hand was forced,' Mandy said. 'Dylan Boris Anthony has no problem getting girls. Maybe a number of guys, but that's a longer story. But you? You've never felt sexual attraction in your life. I doubted that even my Prince Charming could get you, so I encouraged him to use—other means.'

Mandy betrayed you.

Her fists clenched. 'After all I did for you? After all the trust I've put in you?'

Mandy laughed evilly. 'What have you done for me, Sage Scarlett? What do you think you've done that places you above the love of my life? Did your trust ever pay my bills? Did you really think that all the time you spent under my roof wouldn't come at a cost? Even the hospitality industry gets something in return for everything done in it. This is my payment, along with leaving my house this minute and never coming back.'

Sage didn't know exactly what happened next. Maybe all the anger she'd held back for twenty-five years which led up to that point had broken out of its holding cell and flowed through her like convicts on a street.

'You might want a tip with that,' she said.

With a supernatural ease, Sage picked up a fallen nightlight and swung it through Mandy's head like a pro batswoman.