Stupid Cupid

15: The Writer and The Subject

- New's POV -

I blink at Tawan multiple times, trying to see if everything is real. My eyes are already starting to hurt, so I guess it is.

"What?" I ask him dumbfoundedly because I truly am dumbfounded. 

I've always seen this man as innocent and pure—not a virgin per se, but someone who takes his time. It takes him weeks to gather the courage to hold my hand and hug me, and now he's telling me he's an erotica writer?!

"Yeah... I know. If you hate me now, I completely understand," he says, his voice tinged with anxiety.

Huh. He claims to understand, yet I can clearly see how every word he just spoke tasted bitter in his mouth. 

"Wh-what are you talking about?! Why would I hate you?!" I fold my arms across my chest, feeling offended that he would think that about me. 

He looks at me with hopeful eyes, like a puppy's. "You aren't repulsed by that fact?"

I let out a deep sigh. This man, really. And yet he tells me he's an erotica writer? Where's the boldness, then? 

I flick his forehead, and he yelps, "Ouch!"

"You deserve it! Why would you think I'd hate you for being an erotica writer? I'm just surprised! Not repulsed!" 

A small smile forms on his face as he rubs the spot I hit, and I feel a pang of guilt for hurting that precious face. Again, where's the boldness in this guy?

"Sorry... it's just that when my first girlfriend learned about it, she looked at me with disgust and left. My second partner made me hide it from her friends and other people. I just thought... it's embarrassing," he whispers the last words, and I almost want to go search for those bitches who made Tay feel ashamed of himself.

I cup his face, making him look at me. "Do you enjoy it? Do you enjoy writing erotica?"

He nods slowly, his eyes wide and his lips puffed as I press his cheeks together. 

"Then never let anyone make you feel ashamed of something you enjoy doing, especially when it doesn't hurt anybody," I say with a smile. 

Slowly, his eyes turn into crescent moons, and I can't help but chuckle at how cute he is. 

"Aaaand, since you're being honest, I want to be honest too," I say, pursing my lips and taking a breath before letting him go. I rummage through the bottom drawer of my nightstand and pull out something.

I look at the item in my hand. I just told him to embrace who he is, and here I am, so red I can turn into a crimson pie. I glance at him briefly, then turn completely to give him the book. "I've always been a fan."

He breaks into a huge smile, and I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. 

In his hand is the latest book from my favorite writer, Orcarious—or him—entitled "When The Night Gets Deep."

"Seriously though, Tay, never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine you to be an erotica writer! For crying out loud, you look so innocent, like a lost puppy! You didn't even kiss me until tonight! Aren't erotica writers supposed to have like, a bold personality or something?"

He suddenly bursts into laughter. 

What's so funny about what I said? Isn't everyone thinking the same way? 

"Sorry," he says, wiping the tears forming in his eyes. "It's just that... you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Love."

What? Love?