After the lightning strike, my childhood best friend and I woke up.

He was the obsessive psycho male side-character. I was the vicious, bitchy female side-character. We were, in short, the villains.

In the original story, after failing to win the protagonists' love, he frames the hero, and I torture the heroine.

After waking up, we were both just... tired. We decided to take one for the team and just date each other.

At our engagement party, the stoic hero and the sweet heroine cornered us, their eyes red. "Why?" they demanded.

1

Asher and I were your classic, bored rich kids.

He was a Level-5 simp, hopelessly chasing Lily, the brilliant, broke scholarship student who wouldn't give him the time of day.

I was a Level-10 psycho, desperately obsessed with Connor, the ice-king CEO. I was so in love I'd actually tried to drug him.

That night, a thunderstorm was rattling the city. I’d cornered Connor in his office. I was going in for a kiss. He was motionless, his perfect mouth an inch from mine.

Just as I was about to make contact, he shoved me back. He actually brushed off his suit jacket, his face twisted in disgust.

"You're pathetic, Sloane. Get out."

I just stood there, stunned.

Meanwhile, Asher had just been brutally rejected by Lily—again. His offer to pay her tuition had, apparently, wounded her pride.

"Stop trying to buy me, Asher. I will never like you."

He was standing outside my condo, soaked to the bone, when I pulled up. He told me his sob story. It was the only thing that made me feel better.

"God," I sighed, "you look like a drowned rat."

He sneered. "And you look like the psycho they just kicked out of the party. We're a matched set."

We stared at each other. A massive crack of thunder split the sky, and a bolt of lightning hit the sidewalk right between us.

As we were thrown back, the last thing I remember was yelling:

"What the hell did you do to piss off God? And why am I getting dragged down with you!"

2

When I woke up in the hospital, my head was full of a story that wasn't mine.

I was a character in a trashy romance novel.

I was Sloane, the "vicious best friend," whose job was to make the heroine's life hell.

Asher was the "psycho male friend," who loved the heroine so much he eventually kidnapped her, only to be brutally murdered by the hero.

My ending? Even worse. The hero, Connor, has me committed to a high-security asylum—even though I'm perfectly sane—where I eventually set fire to my own room and die.

A chill went down my spine. Note to self: Stay away from Connor.

I sat up. Asher was sleeping peacefully in the next bed. His face was angelic, his eyelashes ridiculously long. A total waste. He had the face of a K-Pop idol but the brain of a lemming, chasing a girl who hated him.

I was about to sneak out when his eyes snapped open and he grabbed my wrist.

"Sloane? But... you were supposed to burn to death."

My jaw dropped. "You know? You're a 'character' too?"

He looked around, confused. "Am I... did I get sent back?"

We stared at each other. In that moment, we both had the exact same thought: What a dumbass.

The door burst open. My father and his mother rushed in, both crying.

His mom grabbed my dad's arm. "I knew it, Robert! They've been best friends since birth! They were always meant for each other. Even a lightning strike couldn't separate them!"

My dad nodded, his eyes wet. "The psychic was right! It's fate! The second we signed the engagement papers, they both stabilized! It's a miracle!"

I'm sorry, what?

3

Apparently, in the ICU, we were both circling the drain. Our parents, in a fit of rich-people desperation, had consulted their high-end spiritual guru.

The guru told them our souls were "dangerously intertwined." If we weren't "bound" in this life, our "negative karma" would kill us both.

So, while we were in comas, they had their lawyers draw up a marriage contract.

And it worked. We woke up.

Asher looked at me. "So. What now?"

I looked at the diamond ring they'd put on my finger. I sighed. "What can we do? I'm the villain. No matter what I do, I lose."

Asher actually smirked. "You know... maybe we should just go through with it. Save ourselves the trouble of harassing the heroes. We can just... I don't know... harass each other."

It was like a lightbulb went off.

He was right. Connor already thought I was toxic. Why waste my energy? I could just stay here and "ruin" Asher. Maybe I'd even survive the final chapter.

I grabbed his hand. "Asher, you're a goddamn genius."

He immediately looked horrified. "Sloane, I was kidding. I think of you as my sister. I can't... I don't feel that way about you..."

That pissed me off.

I climbed onto his bed, straddled his hips, and pushed him back against the pillows. I leaned down until our noses were almost touching.

"You don't?" I whispered. "Are you sure?"

My fingers traced the outline of his T-shirt, slowly sliding down his chest until they rested right above his jeans.

His eyes went dark. His voice was a strained whisper.

"Sloane. Stop playing."

I felt the unmistakable twitch under his waistband. I laughed and jumped off the bed.

"See? You feel it."

4

Asher went to the bathroom, presumably to take a cold shower.

I immediately grabbed my phone and posted a picture of the ring.

@Sloane_Official: Tomorrow, 6:40 PM. Marrying this idiot. @Asher_King

My phone exploded. Congrats!!! Is this a joke? Wait... what? You two? Since WHEN?

I was replying with smiley-face emojis when a new text popped up.

From Connor. My "Do Not Answer" contact.

?

A second later: Sloane, what game are you playing now?

He was the hero. I probably shouldn't piss him off.

:) Getting married tomorrow! You should come!

He didn't believe me. Is this fun for you, Sloane?

I heard the bathroom door open. Asher came out, his hair wet. The water droplets on his chest made him look... sharp. Dangerous.

I stared. I'd known him for twenty years. When did he get hot?

He flicked my forehead. "What are you staring at?"

My face felt warm. "Nothing. Just texting."

He saw the name on my screen. His face went dark. He snatched the phone out of my hand.

"I thought we were getting married. Why are you texting him?"

5

He held the phone over his head. I jumped for it.

"Give it back!"

He just laughed, holding it further away. "Not until you kiss me."

"Asher, we're friends! That's weird!"

Just then, the phone started ringing. Connor. He was actually calling me.

Asher hit "Decline."

"Okay, fine!" I said. I lunged up to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last second.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a collision.

His lip split. Blood welled up instantly.

He just stared at me, then licked the blood off his lip. It was... surprisingly hot.

"Sloane," he said, "are you part-dog? Why do you always bite?"

My heart was hammering. "I... I'm sorry."

I'd spent my whole life chasing Connor. I'd never actually kissed anyone. Asher, obsessed with Lily, was in the same boat. We were two 25-year-old disasters.

How... how do you do it?