I have a few pet peeves.

No, it's not the cheesy romance movies Gigi forces me to endure during "bestie bonding time," nor is it Shu's incessant attempts to coax me into modelling her elaborate—and sometimes baffling—fashion experiments.

Those are nuisances, sure, but manageable ones.

The real bane of my existence is far simpler. I'm a socially awkward introvert with a chronic case of panic attacks—and when I say panic attacks, I specifically meant—gay panic attacks.

Pretty girls are my kryptonite.

The sheer mental gymnastics it takes to function around them is utterly exhausting. My inner monologue devolves into a cacophony of nonsensical affirmations and sudden dread, like a duck trying to do calculus. Yes, I said duck. President Aria, my pet duck, could probably empathise with my plight better than most humans.

So imagine my surprise when my two extroverted tormentors—uh, I mean best friends—neglected to tell me we'd be hosting a new tenant. And that said tenant would be gorgeous.

No warning. No heads-up. No, "Hey Yumi, maybe prepare yourself because an absolute knockout is moving into our home."

Of course not. Social courtesy isn't in Gigi's vocabulary, especially when there's fun to be had at my expense.

So there I was, standing in the living room, blinking dumbly at the embodiment of charm herself. Ari Cho. Christ's sake. Even her name sounds gorgeous.

She had a soft, warm smile and a voice that could probably end wars. Meanwhile, I was clutching President Aria like a security blanket, praying he'd absorb some of my humiliation.

"Hi, I'm Ari Cho. Thanks for letting me move in!" she said, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I don't know what came out of my mouth, but based on her slightly amused expression, it wasn't words. Gigi, of course, was too busy cackling in the corner to help.

Thus began my life with Ari—the girl who was entirely too charming for my sanity.