Cupid’s Curse (The Wicked Meet Cute)

2. Chapter Two

Skylar

A fter riding until my legs go numb from the vibrations and my hands feel like ice in the biting wind, I coast to a stop in front of a brightly lit bar, grimacing at the sight of gaudy pink and red balloons, as well as garish neon signs proclaiming love-infused platitudes for the pointless Valentine’s Day. Still, I need a fucking drink, and I need to warm up before I fucking freeze to death on my bike.

I park right in front, setting the kickstand and locking my bike with the wheel facing the curb. I leave my helmet on the seat as I pull out a cigarette and my phone, hoping my best friend is awake and can join me for a drink.

I shoot off a quick text and draw the smoke deep into my lungs, attention suddenly caught by an inexplicable prickling sensation along the back of my neck, as though someone is watching me.

I'm at The Pint. Come meet me for a drink.

That's funny, because I'm already inside. You'll see me when you walk in.

Sliding my phone into the pocket of my leather jacket, I tug up my jeans by the belt loops, ensuring my thong isn't on display when I sit down. No one needs to see my whaletail...

Snuffing out my half-finished cigarette, I exhale the smoke as I grasp the door handle and pull it open. Instantly, I’m greeted by the heady aromas of sweat, liquor, and something more primal. Of course, the Cupid Shuffle blares from the speakers, and a band of drunken idiots, mistaking their intoxication for love, clumsily attempt the dance in their boozy haze.

I scan the room and spot Luna at the end of the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of guys who look ready to devour her, their desperation almost palpable. Heads turn as I stride through the crowded space in my fitted jeans, swaying my hips deliberately; I don't bother acknowledging their stares, but I smirk straight ahead, knowing they're checking out my ass—I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me feel good about myself, especially right now, post-breakup.

As I get near her, Luna leaps up, patting the empty seat beside her, squealing with joy and arms wide open, awaiting a hug that I’m not in the mood to give... but I give her one anyway.

"It's so... strange seeing you out... alone ," she shouts over the pulsating music as I plop down on the stool and signal the bartender for a shot.

"Yeah, well, get used to it. Kaleb's a fucking dick, and we broke up," I reply, tossing back the tequila without the customary salt or lime, gesturing for another as my gaze locks onto the handsome bartender just a few feet away.

"You... you broke up?!" Her eyes widen, mirroring my own shock when I caught Kaleb in the act with that other woman.

I nod, filling her in on the details between shots, a warm buzz enveloping me before long. By the time I’ve poured out my heart, she looks ready to fight, and knowing Luna, she could easily take Kaleb on with a grin and wet painted nails and still win.

"I can't fucking believe he cheated on you,” she sighs, shaking her head as she pushes away the cluster of guys circling her like she's their prey.

"It is what it is. I don’t want to dwell on it. I just want to get fucking drunk and just... be me, I guess." I down shot number five, blissfully numb to the burn it leaves behind, thinking back on the last four years and how much of them were a fucking waste of time.

A mischievous sparkle ignites in Luna's brown eyes, and I brace myself for the trouble she’s likely plotting for me tonight.

"What's that look for?" I ask warily, preparing for the inevitable nonsense about to unfold.

"You need to get laid. Like a no-strings-attached one-night stand," she smirks, set on breaking whatever Cupid's curse has me ensnared in.

I shake my head, unwilling; but deep down, I know I could use the distraction—it’s been too long since I felt any form of release, because, let's face it, Kaleb sucked at making me come, and most of the time I'd have to finish myself off because his ass was a two-pump chump. Why I was with him for so long is beyond me. But the sad thing is I don't know who I am without him. We became one in the years we were together, losing our identities, which is the reason I have no idea who I am now.

"It’s Valentine’s Day, girl. You absolutely have to get laid," she laughs, gesturing dramatically around the bar at the assortment of possibilities, her tight blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders as she laughs.

"It’s the early morning of Valentine’s Day; that doesn’t count. If I'm going to hook up, it’ll be when everyone else is doing lovey-dovey shit and being all sappy tonight."

"There’s a party down by the train tracks in that old warehouse; I hear it's supposed to be ahh-mazing," she says while sipping her martini, her demeanor more posh than either of us truly are.

"I might check it out. It’s not like I have any plans," I chuckle at my own plight, masking my melancholy with laughter to stave off the tears that threaten to surface.

Glancing up, I catch the bartender staring at me; an unreadable twinkle in his eye that lets face it makes me hot between my thighs. I nod, giving off a flirtatious yet subtle grin as I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. He smiles wider, focusing on me while drying a beer mug, oblivious to the world around us. I don't know who he is, but I'm sure I'll find out sooner than later. His eyes alone are enough to get me fucking pregnant, so I already know I need to stay away from him.

One of the guys Luna was with when I arrived sidles back, asking her to dance. She gives me a worried look, hesitant to leave me alone, but I nod encouragingly for her to go have fun. I’ll be just fine here at the bar, surrounded by drinks and hot men all around me.

After far too many shots to keep track, the pressing urge to pee ambushes me. With Luna lost in a dance with another guy, I hop off the stool and weave through the crowd to the back of the bar, squinting against the relentless flashing lights.

Just as I’m about to push open the bathroom door, I collide with a tall stranger I’ve never encountered before. His striking green eyes pierce into mine, stealing my breath away. He towers over me, easily six feet tall, looking down into my bloodshot, drunken gaze, a dazzling grin lighting up his face as dimples deepen in his cheeks. His dark curls flop into his eyes, and with a quick, smooth Bieber motion—like a puppy shaking off water—he sweeps them aside, his stare intensifying as he steps closer, igniting a thrill in my chest.

"Wow, you’re stunning," he blurts out, unabashed in his flattery.

"Uh, thanks," I stammer, hiccuping mid-sentence.

My eyes wander over him—his black shirt clings to his torso, revealing powerful biceps adorned with ink that wraps around his arms and neck in intricate designs. I find myself tracing the curves and lines, imagining the treasures hiding beneath his clothing.

His gaze flicks down my body, lingering for a moment before he meets my eyes again with a knowing grin, a brow arched, and that irresistibly sexy set of dimples on display. I clear my throat, trying to recover, as if I weren’t just undressing him with my gaze.

"Nice ink," he says, gesturing to the tattoos peeking out from my top, covering the area just above my tits, the only skin I have exposed.

"Thanks, yours are great too," I reply, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear as heat floods my cheeks from his relentless gaze tracking from my feet to my eyes.

"What’s your name, pretty girl?" He asks, his tone playful, stirring something deep within me.

"Sky... Skylar," I stutter, momentarily forgetting my own name under the spell of his allure.

He nods and sensuously licks his lips, revealing a barbell piercing, which sends a rush of warmth pooling low.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says smoothly, coaxing an involuntary smile from my lips.

"Thank you…?" I trail off, eagerly awaiting the revelation of his name.

"My bad, I’m—" he starts, but the escalating music drowns out the rest.

I don’t dare request a repeat. I simply nod and smile, moving closer to the bathroom door, caught in a daze until I find myself unexpectedly rising on my tiptoes and pressing my glossy lips to his. He kisses me back, momentarily stunned, before pulling away, shock etched across his striking features. A wave of embarrassment washes over me instantly.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—" Before he can finish the denial, I cut him off, shaking my head dismissively.

"Shit, my bad. I don’t know what I was thinking," I blurt, mortification flooding through me like a tidal wave.

Without waiting for his response, I rush past him and dive into the bathroom, locking myself in a stall, the heat of embarrassment coursing through me.

Fuck. This curse is no joke, and it’s fucking everything up. Besides, I'm not nearly drunk enough for this shit.

I'm not sure how long I end up hiding out in the bathroom stall, but by the time I dare show my face in the bar, the tall, handsome stranger is gone, and I'm able to breathe a sigh of relief as I make my way back to Luna and the gorgeous bartender with the same green eyes as the hottie I just fucking kissed.

"Where did you disappear to?" she asks, wiggling her perfect brows as if hinting at a hookup, to which I frantically shake my head no.

"Uh, the bathroom, yeah. I think I'm going to head out," I tell her, tossing a few crisp bills on the bar for my drinks, slipping my arms back into my jacket.

I'm not quite ready to brave the cold again, but I know I need to get out of here before I make another fool out of myself. I hug Luna and say my goodbyes, my eyes darting nervously around the sea of dancing people.

As I turn to walk away, I collide with a firm chest, feeling cold liquid soak through my white top as the sound of glass shatters as it hits the ground. Looking through fluttering lashes, I see the same guy I kissed standing in front of me, wearing the same drink that I am but with a smirk on his face while a look of horror washes over mine.

"So we meet again... I wouldn't peg you for such a clumsy person, Skylar," he teases, turning my cheeks bright red.

"My bad. I'm so sorry," I stammer, gripping my bike key extra tightly as if it's a magical trinket that'll take me to a faraway place—anywhere away from here.

Without waiting for another word to be spoken between us, I run out of the bar, saying fuck the cold because I just embarrassed myself for the second time tonight in front of the same man.

Cupid’s Curse is no fucking joke. That naked baby must really have it out for me.

The chill of the night air hits me like a slap in the face and puts my hard, pointy nipples on display through my wet shirt as I step further outside, but I hardly care; I just need to get away. My breath comes out in frosty clouds, mingling with the remnants of tequila still swirling in my belly.

I start trudging toward my bike, my mind a tangled mess of adrenaline and embarrassment, desperately attempting to suppress the memories of tonight’s cringe-worthy moments.

Then I hear a voice calling my name. “Skylar!”

I look back, and there he is—Green Eyes, the same handsome stranger, now hastily pushing through the bar’s door, his tousled curls dancing in the night breeze. His eyes lock onto mine, that cocky smirk still very much in place, and I both want to crawl into a hole and simultaneously throw myself at him. But as those thoughts swirl, I know one thing is certain: I can’t deal with this right now, not after what just fucking happened.

“I wasn’t finished talking to you!” he exclaims, closing the distance between us.

With each step closer, I feel my pulse quicken. The warmth from the bar, the noise, the laughter—all of it seems to dissolve into the background, leaving only me and him standing tense in the cold.

“Look, um, I’m really not in the mood to—”

He interrupts me, his green eyes softening. “I know I wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be dealing with after a rough night, but I still owe you an introduction.”

“Well, technically, you didn’t get to finish your last one since I, uh, well, you know,” I mutter, waving a hand dismissively, feeling heat rise to my cheeks yet again.

“Yeah, about that.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t exactly see that coming. Didn’t know I had such an effect on you.” There's that smirk again, and I want to roll my eyes, but instead I just want to melt into the fucking pavement.

“I’m really sorry,” I murmur, wishing that I could disappear. “Honestly, I’m not like that. It was just a weird moment due to a really bad fucking day.”

“Who says weird moments can’t lead to something good, especially after a bad fucking day?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. “I’m Kallen, by the way.”

“Kallen,” I repeat. It sounds good, rolling off my tongue, but I’m not sure I can handle the charms of a man like him right now. “So, um... what are you doing out here in the freezing cold?”

“I was gonna ask you the same. But I can definitely think of a warmer place where we could talk more,” he suggests, glancing back toward the bar as if he might turn me around and lead me into the chaos.

“Look, Kallen, I really need to leave,” I insist, feeling my heart race at the thought of prolonging this awkward exchange. Still, deep down, something is stirring—a small glimmer of curiosity, of possibility.

“Or,” he lowers his voice, leaning closer so I can catch the scent of his cologne, “you could let loose and have some fun for a change. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as a delightful grin creeps back on his face. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have someone like him holding me close, and the warmth that blooms in my chest tells me just how much I crave human connection that doesn’t involve heartache.

“I don’t know." I hedge, glancing back at my bike, the thought of that cold seat making dread pool in my gut.

“Just one drink. No strings attached.” His voice is smooth and persuasive, enough to make it hard to refuse when I’ve been so lonely tonight.

I take a deep breath and weigh my options. I could ride home, wallow in my thoughts, and reinforce the idea that I’m not worth risking further embarrassment. Or I could take a leap, and if it goes sideways, I can always tell myself it’ll just add to the night’s collection of awkward memories.

“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as the word forms from my lips like a commitment I didn’t know I was making. “One drink.”

“Perfect,” Kallen replies, his smile lighting up the night as he gestures toward the bar.

I pull my jacket tighter around me, caught in the uncertainty of what the night could hold, and for the first time in too long, I feel the shadows of my heart grow lighter. I might have kissed him too soon; I might have embarrassed myself; hell, I might be risking another stumble tonight, but something whispers that breaking free from Cupid's Curse may start with one wild decision to try again.