Page 2 of Cupid's Curse

“Well, I hope you’re free tomorrow because I’ve made reservations for dinner. It’s time you meet Kent and his sons, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I roll my eyes, well aware she can't see me, and mimic a finger gun to my head, pretending to pull the trigger—I have no interest in her latest romantic venture, especially when I just caught mine fucking some random bitch in my fucking bed.

“I don’t have shit to do for Valentine’s Day or the day after, so fine, I’ll meet them, but I can’t promise to be on my best behavior. I’m kind of dealing with some shit right now.”

She sighs, probably rolling her eyes too, whispering to whom I assume is her boyfriend. “I’m sure you’ll find something to do tonight. It is Valentine’s Day after all. Thank you for agreeing to dinner. I’ll text you the details.”

As we hang up, I glance at the clock—12:03 a.m., officially Valentine’s Day, the absolute worst day of the fucking year. I pocket my phone and snatch my bike keys, stepping out into the empty hallway, my hands itching to grip the handlebars.

When I emerge into the chilly night air, I draw a shaky breath and feel hot tears slip down my cheeks. I quickly don my helmet to hide them. I refuse to waste tears on a man like him. I just want to feel the wind in my hair and the familiar vibrations of my bike beneath me. If that means riding all night to feel better, then so be it.

Swinging my leg over the seat and turning the key to start the engine, I silently vow to steer clear of all men from here onout. They aren’t fucking worth it. Cupid can take his curse and his fucking arrow and shove it up his naked ass, because this Valentine’s Day, it’s all about me, and for once, I couldn’t give two fucks about anything else.

Skylar

After riding until mylegs go numb from the vibrations and my hands feel like ice in the biting wind, I coast to a stop in front of a brightly lit bar, grimacing at the sight of gaudy pink and red balloons, as well as garish neon signs proclaiming love-infused platitudes for the pointless Valentine’s Day. Still, I need a fucking drink, and I need to warm up before I fucking freeze to death on my bike.

I park right in front, setting the kickstand and locking my bike with the wheel facing the curb. I leave my helmet on the seat as I pull out a cigarette and my phone, hoping my best friend is awake and can join me for a drink.

I shoot off a quick text and draw the smoke deep into my lungs, attention suddenly caught by an inexplicable prickling sensation along the back of my neck, as though someone is watching me.

I'm at The Pint. Come meet me for a drink.

That's funny, because I'm already inside. You'll see me when you walk in.

Sliding my phone into the pocket of my leather jacket, I tug up my jeans by the belt loops, ensuring my thong isn't on display when I sit down. No one needs to see my whaletail...

Snuffing out my half-finished cigarette, I exhale the smoke as I grasp the door handle and pull it open. Instantly, I’m greeted by the heady aromas of sweat, liquor, and something more primal. Of course, the Cupid Shuffle blares from the speakers, and a band of drunken idiots, mistaking their intoxication for love, clumsily attempt the dance in their boozy haze.

I scan the room and spot Luna at the end of the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of guys who look ready to devour her, their desperation almost palpable. Heads turn as I stride through the crowded space in my fitted jeans, swaying my hips deliberately; I don't bother acknowledging their stares, but I smirk straight ahead, knowing they're checking out my ass—I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me feel good about myself, especially right now, post-breakup.

As I get near her, Luna leaps up, patting the empty seat beside her, squealing with joy and arms wide open, awaiting a hug that I’m not in the mood to give... but I give her one anyway.

"It's so... strange seeing you out...alone," she shouts over the pulsating music as I plop down on the stool and signal the bartender for a shot.

"Yeah, well, get used to it. Kaleb's a fucking dick, and we broke up," I reply, tossing back the tequila without the customary salt or lime, gesturing for another as my gaze locks onto the handsome bartender just a few feet away.

"You... you broke up?!" Her eyes widen, mirroring my own shock when I caught Kaleb in the act with that other woman.

I nod, filling her in on the details between shots, a warm buzz enveloping me before long. By the time I’ve poured out my heart, she looks ready to fight, and knowing Luna, she could easily take Kaleb on with a grin and wet painted nails and still win.

"I can't fucking believe he cheated on you,” she sighs, shaking her head as she pushes away the cluster of guys circling her like she's their prey.

"It is what it is. I don’t want to dwell on it. I just want to get fucking drunk and just... be me, I guess." I down shot number five, blissfully numb to the burn it leaves behind, thinking back on the last four years and how much of them were a fucking waste of time.

A mischievous sparkle ignites in Luna's brown eyes, and I brace myself for the trouble she’s likely plotting for me tonight.

"What's that look for?" I ask warily, preparing for the inevitable nonsense about to unfold.

"You need to get laid. Like a no-strings-attached one-night stand," she smirks, set on breaking whatever Cupid's curse has me ensnared in.

I shake my head, unwilling; but deep down, I know I could use the distraction—it’s been too long since I felt any form of release,because, let's face it, Kaleb sucked at making me come, and most of the time I'd have to finish myself off because his ass was a two-pump chump. Why I was with him for so long is beyond me. But the sad thing is I don't know who I am without him. We became one in the years we were together, losing our identities, which is the reason I have no idea who I am now.

"It’s Valentine’s Day, girl. You absolutely have to get laid," she laughs, gesturing dramatically around the bar at the assortment of possibilities, her tight blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders as she laughs.

"It’s the early morning of Valentine’s Day; that doesn’t count. If I'm going to hook up, it’ll be when everyone else is doing lovey-dovey shit and being all sappy tonight."

"There’s a party down by the train tracks in that old warehouse; I hear it's supposed to be ahh-mazing," she says while sipping her martini, her demeanor more posh than either of us truly are.

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