You don't know why Oliver has been spending so much time with you outside the bedroom, especially considering your reputation has never been worse. The whole world is against you, so he must like you for... well, you.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says as you walk into the kitchen in the morning. A soft smile graces his lips. He's shirtless and the sun is shining on his gorgeous abs. The man is a sight to behold. "I was just about to make breakfast. How do you feel about pancakes?"

God, Oliver is handsome and he can apparently make something that isn't instant noodles. What a catch. You're cooked. You're baked in every possible way. Burned in the oven, really. You want to keep him all for yourself. But you know that it's delicate.