*CUPID'S MATCH BOOK 2* FIRST DRAFT
Lila receives an ominous Valentine's Day card.
Cupid & Cal are keeping a dark secret.
Fate is being interfered with.
And a sadistic, and extremely powerful banished cupid is intent on stealing Lila's heart. Literal...
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After the text confirmation from Crystal, Cupid and I head back inside – the air feeling heavier than before.
Tomorrow we meet with the Fates...
When we get to his bedroom door we stop. Cupid lingers in the doorway. Crystal's text has shifted something between us – placed a barrier between our bodies, our minds, our souls. Though we're stood in close proximity the distance between us feels vast, cavernous.
Because they want to talk to us about the match...
What if me and Cupid were never meant to...?
I don't allow myself to finish that sentence. I swallow hard, looking up at Cupid.
"Are you worried about meeting Morta again tomorrow?" I ask.
Something – that looks very much like worry – flickers across his face. But he grins and waves a hand in dismissal.
"Nah. The Parcae are hella scary, and they don't usually get involved in our fights. But at least, for now, they seem to be on our side. Morta won't be happy that Valentine has found a way to bring back the dead. It'll be fine."
"But she said something about..."
"It'll be fine, lovebug. Don't worry," he interjects – stopping me from talking about what's really bothering me.
He's still smiling but it doesn't reach his eyes. It darkens my mood, pressing a heaviness against my chest. He's pretending it's all fine, but he's worried - I can tell.
There's a heavy pause between us.
Cupid looks through his open doorway at his four-poster bed across the room. The mood between us suddenly feels a little awkward, and it's not just about the Fates.
How is this going to go down? Are we sharing a bed?
Cupid looks down at me – the bright landing light highlighting the bronze in his hair. He takes a deep breath, then grabs the corners of the red blanket that still hangs over my shoulders. He pulls me a little closer to him, then brushes an errant strand of my dark hair out of my face.
"Lovebug..." he says - his voice sounding a little choked.
He gives me a sheepish smile – and I see the barriers slide down over his ocean eyes, the barriers that had come up briefly earlier when he told me he didn't want to lose me. The barriers I hadn't seen when we were talking over dinner.
I feel a sadness swell inside.
He takes a hesitant breath. Hesitance looks odd on Cupid. He usually seems so sure of himself.
"As much as I'd love to come in there with you, I want to keep a lookout in case Valentine or any of his friends stop by..." he says.
There's something in his tone that makes me think that's not the whole truth. His words from earlier ring in my ears.
