Worst Cupid Ever

There's Something In The Cake

Genevieve grabbed the plate and took a bite before Lisa changed her mind.

"The hell am I eating?" Genevieve stared at the cake, thoroughly stupefied. How could something so disgusting-looking taste so heavenly? What sorcery was this? It tasted chocolaty with faint traces of caramel. There was also this... this divine taste of something else. She couldn't recognise or describe it. Even the texture of the cake was sublime. It melted in her mouth, flooding her taste bud like nothing she'd ever had.

Wow.

"I guess that's an 'A' huh?" Lisa asked, hope shining in her eyes.

"Nah. Don't flatter yourself. It still looks horrible."

Lisa tossed her dreads over a shoulder and gave a proud shrug. "It's the taste that matters. I'd go clean the kitchen. Don't finish the cake."

***

That night, Genevieve and Lisa lazily watched reruns of Impractical Jokers and stuffed their faces. It felt like the cake had a high effect because every prank in the show made them bray like donkeys, slap their thighs, and hoot.

It was 12:15 AM when they decided to go to bed. Half asleep and disoriented, Genevieve made her way to the bathroom. Even though she was exhausted, she was happy and light-headed. As she absently dragged her panties over her hips and walked out of the bathroom, she didn't notice the spilled shower gel on the floor.

Her fall was swift and painful, but almost as soon as a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head, it disappeared. Groaning in confusion, Genevieve sleepily stared at the ceiling for a solid minute.

"Nope, not getting up." She turned over and managed to crawl on her hands and knees to bed. Thankfully, sleep came the second she pulled the sheet over her head.

***

"Hey, wake up!"

Genevieve shifted and hugged her pillow tighter.

"Come on, wake up," the voice urged. It sounded like a child's, loud and high. "Getting up early is a trusted success regimen."

Genevieve pulled the pillow over her head and sighed as sleep gently lulled her back into its loving embrace.

"It's 9 AM already. You're so late for work, I bet that nice boss of yours will fire you this time."

Flinging the pillow aside, Genevieve rolled off the bed in a tangle of sheets and confusion. Hopping on one foot, she stumbled then landed hard on her butt. She blinked like an owl then frowned at the sound of a giggle. "Huh?"

That's weird.

Then Genevieve saw her.

There was a child sitting at the foot of her bed.

Gripping her chest, Genevieve sprung to her feet and crashed into her dresser. She glanced at the small silver-rimmed clock at her bedside. 6:02 AM. What was happening? How did a girl end up in her bedroom? Cold sweat formed at her brow as her head throbbed in time with her racing heart.

"You look like you saw a ghost." The girl glanced behind her. "There is no ghost behind me."

Genevieve stared. The girl was probably seven years old. Dark curly hair held in two buns. Extremely cute facial features that seemed almost cartoonish. She had on a white shirt and dark pink jean dungarees.

"Stop staring," the girl said and observed her feet as if she was suddenly shy.

"W–what are you doing in my room?" Genevieve detangled herself from the sheet and approached the girl.