[ALSO KNOWN AS "MATCH MADE IN HELL" ON WEBTOON ORIGINALS]
He's. . . hot, popular, and proud.
She's. . . plain, eccentric, and persistent.
There's nothing common between them except that they hate each other. Not good, right? But why is he determine...
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ღ Finding Cinderella-7 ღ
-Tristan-
I glanced at my watch for the twentieth time and sighed impatiently. Grey and I had been waiting for Clark outside the gym for almost a whole half hour, but no luck so far. He'd probably fallen asleep in the restroom or something.
Several people had stopped by to hang out and kill time, but I wasn't really up for socializing. I stayed on the side, leaning my back against the wall, faking laughter when someone cracked a joke. It didn't matter. These people didn't matter—they didn't stay long anyway. Fuck. I couldn't explain why I was feeling like crap tonight. Things just didn't seem right since the day Kylie had brought up the Erik issue again.
"Man, this may be an unpopular opinion, but formal parties are better than house parties," Grey muttered as he ogled at the girls when they passed by. He whistled. "Women are sexier when they wear dresses like this, showing a bit of skin. It's hot, you know? Enticing."
"Sounds like you need a forty-year-old sugar mom who works at the casino," I said monotonously. "So, have you checked on Clark? Where the hell is he?"
"The fuck should I know? I've called him many times, but all I get is his voicemail."
A sound crackled from inside the gym, echoing across the crowd and cutting off the music that had been blaring for ages. "Welcome to Broadway Heights' 23rd Valentine and Commemoration Ball!"
The speaker had to be the student body president, finally opening up the program. Wherever Clark was, he'd be arriving at the dance so late.
"Whatever," I said, stepping away from the wall. "Let's just go inside without him. The others might be missing us already."
As I started to walk toward the entrance, I saw Grey grabbing a blonde girl out of the crowd and wrapping his arm around her. Her name was Sylvia if I remembered correctly.
Suddenly, a random guy bounced in front of me from out of nowhere, making me jump back in surprise. He was grinning so wide I thought his cheeks would crack.
"Hey, good evening!" he greeted. "I'm Cupid, and—"
"Nope." I frowned. "You are Steven Davis."
He dramatically rolled his eyes as his shoulders dropped. "Wonderful, Hartford. You just ruined my act, thank you so much. Seriously, do you see these wings?" He pointed at his back. "I'm Cupid now. Duh."
What kind of spirit possessed him tonight?
Looking around, I noticed that several student council members wore the same bizarre get-up as his. Each of them was holding a colorful bunch of ribbons, and I wondered what they were for before turning back to Steven—I mean, Cupid. Whatever.
"What's going on?" I asked.
He easily returned his crazy smile. "Well, you have been chosen as one of the participants for the Fate Dance, which will be right after the King and Queen's performance!" he exclaimed and lifted five ribbons that were also in different colors and designs. "Please take a string."
