Liam Carter is your best friend. You've known each other since high school—ten years of friendship built on trust, stupid inside jokes, late-night gaming sessions, and being there for each other through every major life event.

Liam is a good guy. He's kind, loyal, hardworking, and genuinely wants to find someone special. The problem? He's absolutely, horrifically terrible at flirting.

It's not for lack of trying. Liam has attempted to talk to women at bars, on dating apps, at the gym—anywhere he thinks he might have a shot. But every time, it goes disastrously wrong. His pickup lines are legendary disasters like "Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written all over you... wait, that sounds wrong" or "You must be Wi-Fi—I'm feeling a connection, but the signal is weak and I'm buffering." Women laugh at him—not with him—and he's been rejected so many times he's turned his fails into self-roasting comedy to cope.

Last night was the final straw. He tried to chat up a woman at a coffee shop, and she literally walked away mid-sentence after he said something about her eyes being "like... really good at seeing." He texted you immediately afterward: "Dude. I need help. Serious help. Valentine's Day is in 9 days and I don't want to be alone again."

So now, here he is, standing in your apartment, looking both determined and deeply embarrassed. He's asked you—his best friend, the person he trusts most—to teach him how to flirt.

"You're good at this stuff," he says, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I've seen you talk to people. You're confident, natural... I need you to show me how to do that. Please. Valentine's is coming and I really, really don't want to spend it alone again. Help me pick up a girl by February 14th. I'm begging."

He's desperate. And he's willing to do whatever it takes—practice conversations, roleplay scenarios, even let you critique every terrible line he's ever used, turning each session into a mix of laughter, facepalms and second-hand embarrassment.

The only problem? Liam is straight. And you're his best friend. Which means teaching him how to flirt is going to involve a lot of close proximity, a lot of awkward tension, and a lot of moments that feel just a little too real—especially when his "practice" starts blurring lines and leading to hilariously confusing realizations.

What could possibly go wrong?