Page 4 of Cupid's Curse

Cupid’s Curse is no fucking joke. That naked baby must really have it out for me.

The chill of the night air hits me like a slap in the face and puts my hard, pointy nipples on display through my wet shirt as I step further outside, but I hardly care; I just need to get away. My breath comes out in frosty clouds, mingling with the remnants of tequila still swirling in my belly.

I start trudging toward my bike, my mind a tangled mess of adrenaline and embarrassment, desperately attempting to suppress the memories of tonight’s cringe-worthy moments.

Then I hear a voice calling my name. “Skylar!”

I look back, and there he is—Green Eyes, the same handsome stranger, now hastily pushing through the bar’s door, his tousled curls dancing in the night breeze. His eyes lock onto mine, that cocky smirk still very much in place, and I both want to crawl into a hole and simultaneously throw myself at him. But as those thoughts swirl, I know one thing is certain: I can’t deal with this right now, not after what just fucking happened.

“I wasn’t finished talking to you!” he exclaims, closing the distance between us.

With each step closer, I feel my pulse quicken. The warmth from the bar, the noise, the laughter—all of it seems to dissolve into the background, leaving only me and him standing tense in the cold.

“Look, um, I’m really not in the mood to—”

He interrupts me, his green eyes softening. “I know I wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be dealing with after a rough night, but I still owe you an introduction.”

“Well, technically, you didn’t get to finish your last one since I, uh, well, you know,” I mutter, waving a hand dismissively, feeling heat rise to my cheeks yet again.

“Yeah, about that.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t exactly see that coming. Didn’t know I had such an effect on you.” There's that smirk again, and I want to roll my eyes, but instead I just want to melt into the fucking pavement.

“I’m really sorry,” I murmur, wishing that I could disappear. “Honestly, I’m not like that. It was just a weird moment due to a really bad fucking day.”

“Who says weird moments can’t lead to something good, especially after a bad fucking day?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. “I’m Kallen, by the way.”

“Kallen,” I repeat. It sounds good, rolling off my tongue, but I’m not sure I can handle the charms of a man like him right now. “So, um... what are you doing out here in the freezing cold?”

“I was gonna ask you the same. But I can definitely think of a warmer place where we could talk more,” he suggests, glancing back toward the bar as if he might turn me around and lead me into the chaos.

“Look, Kallen, I really need to leave,” I insist, feeling my heart race at the thought of prolonging this awkward exchange. Still, deep down, something is stirring—a small glimmer of curiosity, of possibility.

“Or,” he lowers his voice, leaning closer so I can catch the scent of his cologne, “you could let loose and have some fun for a change. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as a delightful grin creeps back on his face. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have someone like him holding me close, and the warmth that blooms in my chest tells me just how much I crave human connection that doesn’t involve heartache.

“I don’t know." I hedge, glancing back at my bike, the thought of that cold seat making dread pool in my gut.

“Just one drink. No strings attached.” His voice is smooth and persuasive, enough to make it hard to refuse when I’ve been so lonely tonight.

I take a deep breath and weigh my options. I could ride home, wallow in my thoughts, and reinforce the idea that I’m not worth risking further embarrassment. Or I could take a leap, and if it goes sideways, I can always tell myself it’ll just add to the night’s collection of awkward memories.

“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as the word forms from my lips like a commitment I didn’t know I was making. “One drink.”

“Perfect,” Kallen replies, his smile lighting up the night as he gestures toward the bar.

I pull my jacket tighter around me, caught in the uncertainty of what the night could hold, and for the first time in too long, I feel the shadows of my heart grow lighter. I might have kissed him too soon; I might have embarrassed myself; hell, I might be risking another stumble tonight, but something whispers that breaking free from Cupid's Curse may start with one wild decision to try again.

Skylar

One fucking drink... yeah, right.

One drink flows effortlessly into another, and as the evening unfolds, all our cares and inhibitions are cast aside. Kallen pushes me against my front door as we stumble into my apartment, our lips locked in a fervent embrace. Our tongues dance in a passionate duel, each of us determined to claim dominance in a battle neither of us is willing to concede.

His strong hands glide down my sides, landing on my ass, where he cups it firmly and lifts me, using the door as support. My back presses into the wood, the doorknob digging uncomfortably into my tailbone, yet the intoxication of his kiss makes the pain fade into the background. I know it will linger tomorrow, but for tonight, all I want is to feel every inch of him against me.

"Let me in," he murmurs seductively against my lips, urging me to surrender control of the kiss.

And oh, how I’m glad I did.

---