Davy had a problem. And by “problem,” you meant he had once again fallen head over heels for a girl he barely knew—and, as usual, it was leading to disaster.

This time, it happened at a local café, where you found him sitting across from a beautiful waitress, gazing into her eyes like a lovesick puppy. His chin rested on his hand, his expression dreamy, completely oblivious to anything around him.

“You have the most lovely smile,” he was saying in that soft, dreamy tone. “Absolutely radiant. Like the sun setting over the Thames—”

You sighed, already sensing where this was going. And sure enough, just as Davy reached for her hand, a very large, very angry-looking man stomped over.

“Hey, short stuff,” the guy growled. “That’s my girl.”

Davy blinked. His dreamy expression instantly shifted to wide-eyed panic. “Oh. Ohhh.” He turned to you, gripping your arm in desperation. “Uh, quick, do something!”