Stupid Cupid

Cupid

Cupid

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."-Henry David Thoreau

I never understood the importance of kissing. Exchanging our saliva and food particles by sucking on each others lips like sucking on straws. That's why I couldn't help spitting into my hand and wiping it on my jeans when I pulled away from Josh. (He 'tasted' weird as well.)

“I'll call you.” He said, walking away from me. His twisted his saggy shirt in his hands and flashed me a fake smile.

“Yeah.” I said, twisting my ankle and walking inside my apartment.

“I'll call you.” I repeated in my head. That's the kiss of death...no doubt. I sighed and set my piano patterned purse on the old coffee table in the center of my living room while flipping on the lights. They dimly lit the living room, reflecting off the tan walls and allowing me to see the small white loveseat and teal bean bag chair near the T.V.

I slipped off the ridiculous high heels and shoved them in a corner. I hobbled into the the small, cluttered kitchen and slipped my jacket on my favorite wooden chair. My ankles and feet were sore from hours of wearing the seven inch heels. I bought them on a theory that they would make me seem more alluring. Never again. I kept missing steps and falling on my ankle's sides.

I sighed again, this time from relief, making my way toward the refrigerator. Leftover pizza...gross. Not again. I tapped my hand against the table and took it out anyway. I heated it up and gobbled it down while watching cartoon reruns, content that tonight would be like the nights before.

When I was done, I cleaned the dishes and put everything away. I stretched until my back popped and let out another relieved sigh. I walked down the hallway, passing the shelf of family pictures and worn books.

I walked into my room and let out the biggest scream of my life. A man was laying down on my teal loveseat in the corner, lounging there like he owned the place. He had short, gelled blonde hair and was wearing a button down white dress shirt and dark jeans. The creepiest thing though, was he had bright pink eyes.

“Hey,” He said easily. My hand was pressed to my heart from the scare he gave me.

“W-what are you doing here?” I backed up a little bit. My phone was in my purse. I might be able to make it. But then again, that plan wasn't really accurate.

“You wouldn't make it and I'm not here to hurt you.” He smiled at me and sat up. “Scarlett, I know it's confusing right now but you can trust me.”

“How do you-”

“-know you're name?” He finished. “I know a lot about you actually.” He gave me a small smile and stood up. Out of fear, I took a large step back and searched for a weapon.

“Man, you're edgy.” He stepped closer to me. “I just need to talk. Will you hear me out?” He looked hopeful, not at all worried that I found him in my room. He wanted to get caught.

I knew I should have called the cops. He was probably a sociopath. But against my better judgment, I followed him over my couch and sat down as he stood up.

Rubbing his head, he shifted and took a deep breath.

“Well,” He smiled. “I'm not going to lie to you, and I promise that I haven't and never will.”

“Okay,” I snapped, glaring at his freakish pink eyes. “get to the part to why you're in my room.”

He laughed. “Alright, well first of all, I'm Cupid. But you can call me Eros.”