Page 8 of Cupid's Curse

Then, I add,

See you tonight?

The reply is almost instantaneous

Tonight there's a Valentine's Day party at the bar. I was sorta hoping I could take you.

Fine, I'll go, but just so you know, I fucking hate this holiday, so don't expect me to be dressed all pretty in pink and shit.

Just get your ass to the fucking bar.

A grin stretches across my face. Tonight is going to be a very long night. And with my utter hatred for the pointless holiday, if it means I have another opportunity to see Kallen, I guess I can deal with it for a few hours.

I start the engine, the familiar growl a promise of more adventures to come, and head back towards the city, the moon still my silent companion, the night still young, and my heart full of a different kind of ache—the good kind.

Not even a mile away from the bar, I spot a fellow biker stranded on the side of the road, his arm stretched out with his thumb up, signaling he's looking for a ride. Being the nice bitch that I am, I pull over, stopping my bike in front of his and climbing off once the kickstand is down.

I keep my helmet on but flip the visor up as I approach him. He turns his head and puts his arm down, lifting his visor, a familiar yet distant twinkle in his eyes making my breath hitch.

"I hate to state the obvious, but I take it somethings fucked with your bike and you need a ride?" I ask, scanning his bright red bike, shiny enough to see my reflection.

The look he gives me is one of shock; even just by looking at his eyes, the only part of him I can see. He wasn't expecting some chick to pull over and save the day, but guess what? It looks like I am.

"Yeah, shit won't stay running. I thought it was the gas, but the tank's still about halfway full," he says, still piercing his eyes into mine. "I was heading to this party at some bar down the street. You think you can give me a lift. I'm not from around here, so I don't know where the fuck I'm going."

I laugh, a little surprised he's going to the same spot as me, but in a small town, it's usually the place where everyone goes.

"The Pint, right?" I ask, running my hand over his bike, savoring the touch of the smooth finish.

"Yeah, you know it?" He takes his key out of the ignition and pockets it, doing a quick check to make sure he has everything he needs.

"Sure do. Matter of fact, I'm heading there myself." I smile even though he can't see it, but my eyes squint, giving him the faintest hint of one that he returns, a low chuckle leaving his chest. "Come on, I don't mind giving you a ride."

I turn to walk back to my bike, feeling his eyes burning straight into my ass, even without having to turn around. I swing my leg over the seat and inch forward so there's room for him.

"I'm Roman," he announces as he climbs on behind me, his hand gripping the sides of my bike instead of wrapping his arms around me.

Which, let's face it, I'd rather anyway since I have no idea who this fucking man is. For all I know, I could end up on the side of the road, dead in a ditch, before we even get to the bar. But that wouldn't even be the worst part. The worst part would be that I was murdered on fucking Valentine's Day, the day I despise the most.

"I'm Skylar," I reply, closing my visor and then gripping the handlebars, feeling better than I have in a long fucking time all because me, some little biker chick, came to a grown ass man's rescue. Shit, it makes me feel good.

With the engine rumbling to life beneath me, I pull smoothly back onto the road, my heart racing not just from the thrill of the ride but from the intriguing presence behind me. I can feel Roman's energy—a mix of excitement and a hint of recklessness—radiating against my back. It’s fucking intoxicating.

"Hold on tight!" I shout over the roar of the engine, the world around us blurring once more.

I lean into the curves, my instincts taking over as I maneuver through the occasional potholes and sudden turns, navigating toward the bar that pulses with the nightlife of the city. The night air rushes past, cool and refreshing, and despite my usual disdain for Valentine’s festivities, there’s a thrill simmering inside me. The sheer act of speed and freedom envelops me like a favorite song I haven’t heard in ages. Roman’s presence—with his newfound energy and those easy, breezy vibes—adds a new layer to my ride, making it one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve had in a long time.

As we approach The Pint, I can see the neon lights glowing like a beacon, drowning out the darkness surrounding it. The thumping bass from inside spills over into the street, a reminder of what awaits. I slow down and pull to a stop, cutting the engine. The sudden silence plunges us back into reality.

Roman swings his leg over, dismounting gracefully before he steps around to where I am. I pull off my helmet, tugging at my hair to get rid of the messy nest it has become. Roman keeps his helmet on as he pulls out his phone, I assume calling someone to take care of his bike.

“Wow,” he says, cracking a smirk. “You really know how to handle that bike.”

I roll my eyes, unable to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “It’s just a bike, but thanks. You’re not too bad yourself for a runaway roadside hitchhiker.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I had my doubts when a badass chick like you showed up to rescue me,” he responds, his eyes lighting up as his grin spreads wider. “But I’m glad I took my chances.”

I chuckle and step closer to him, drawn into his magnetic presence. “Well, let's see if you’re still glad after we’ve both had a few drinks. Might find out I’m more trouble than I look.”

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