The Trivia Curse

Chapter 1 In for a Penny, In for a Pound

The warm Alabama night pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of their sleek Gulf Shores condo, the distant crash of waves mixing with the low hum of the ceiling fan.

Tyler sprawled on the oversized sectional, one arm draped along the back, the trivia box open on the coffee table between them.

The city lights of Gulf Shores glittered beyond the balcony, but his attention was locked on Ava as she leaned forward, that familiar competitive glint in her eyes.

“Really?” he said, voice laced with cocky amusement. “I’m about to smoke you at this game.”

Ava’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. She didn’t look away. “Why? Because it’s about sports?”

Tyler grinned, the kind of grin that usually got him in trouble and they both knew it. “Of course. Guys just understand this shit better. Stats, strategy, the whole thing. It’s biological or whatever.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was heat behind it—the kind of heat that had kept their relationship spicy for the last two years.

She pushed up from the couch with deliberate grace, and Tyler’s gaze followed the sway of her hips in those tiny sleep shorts, the way the thin tank top clung to the curve of her breasts.

She knew he was looking. She always knew.

Ava crossed to the tall bookshelf that held a mix of beach reads, family photos, and one very old wooden box.

She reached up, stretching just enough that the hem of her tank lifted, revealing a strip of smooth skin above the waistband of her shorts.

Tyler shifted on the couch, already half-hard from the casual teasing and the way she moved like she owned the room.

She came back with the small crystal ball cradled in both hands. It caught the warm lamplight and seemed to glow from within.

Tyler cocked his head. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than her.

Ava sat across from him again, the crystal ball placed carefully in the center of the coffee table like it belonged there. “Well,” she said, voice soft but edged with challenge, “do you really believe that? That men just know more about sports?”

Tyler leaned back, arms spread along the back of the couch, trying to look unbothered even as his cock gave an interested twitch at the way she was looking at him. “Yeah. I do. But don’t get all offended or anything.”

Ava’s smile turned sharper, more dangerous. She didn’t look offended at all. She looked like she was already three moves ahead. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She set the crystal ball down with deliberate care. “This was my grandma’s. According to her diary, it’s… special. Magical, supposedly. I always thought she was just being dramatic, but…” She let the sentence hang.

Tyler stared at the ball, then back at her. The air in the condo suddenly felt thicker, charged with something he couldn’t quite name. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Ava’s eyes never left his. “So let’s make it interesting. A real wager. We play the game. Every time someone collects a piece, part of the wish starts coming true. Loser gets stuck with whatever the winner wrote down.”

Tyler laughed, but it came out rougher than he intended. His pulse had picked up. “You’re really going full magic-realism on me tonight?”

Ava just arched one brow and slid two small pieces of paper and pens across the table. “Write it down. Keep it secret. No limits. You can wish for anything.”

The challenge in her voice went straight to his dick.

Tyler picked up the pen, rolling it between his fingers.

His mind was already racing—images from his private browser history flashing behind his eyes.

Stacked blondes. Curvy bodies built for pleasure.

Women who existed to look good, feel good, and take care of their man.

He’d never said it out loud, but Ava had caught him looking at that stuff more than once.

She noticed the shift in his breathing. Of course she did.

“You’re thinking something filthy right now, aren’t you?

” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “Let me guess… bigger tits? Blonde hair? Maybe the whole package—your perfect little fantasy girl who lives to keep you happy? Big boobs, eager to please, maybe even a little ditzy and completely focused on you?”

Tyler felt heat crawl up his neck. His cock was fully hard now, straining against his shorts. He tried to play it cool. “It’s just a fantasy. Don’t act like you haven’t snooped through my history.”

Ava’s smile was pure wickedness. “I have. And I’m giving you the chance to make it real. Or… you could wish for something else. Something smarter.” She leaned in slightly, the neckline of her tank dipping just enough to show the soft swell of her breasts. “But we both know what you really want.”

Tyler’s hand tightened around the pen. His heart was hammering. The idea of actually writing it down—of putting that filthy, secret desire on paper and letting magic decide—made his stomach flip with a dangerous mix of excitement and nerves.

He bent over the paper and wrote quickly, the words coming out dirtier than he’d planned:

I wish you’d become my perfect woman. Stacked, blonde, obsessed with pleasing me. Big tits, round ass, and completely devoted to keeping me satisfied—cooking, cleaning, taking care of everything so I never have to think about it. My personal fantasy come to life.

He folded the paper fast, like it might burn him, and set it beside the crystal ball. His cock throbbed in time with his pulse.

Ava watched him the entire time, then picked up her own pen. She wrote slower, taking her time, letting him stew. When she finished, she folded her paper and placed it next to his.

“Done,” she said softly.

The second both papers touched the crystal ball, something shifted in the air. The ball pulsed once, deep red, and the folded slips of paper vanished like they’d been sucked straight into the glass. The red glow intensified, casting both of them in warm, eerie light.

Tyler’s mouth went dry. “What the actual fuck—”

“I told you,” Ava said, calm and satisfied. She picked up the dice like nothing world-altering had just happened. “Ladies first.”

She rolled a six and moved her piece along the board. Tyler could barely focus. His skin felt strange—too tight, too warm. He grabbed the dice with slightly shaky fingers and rolled.

The game began.

Ava answered the first question without hesitation, her voice confident and smooth. She claimed her first colored piece and dropped it into the slot beneath her figure with a satisfied little click.

Tyler was about to make a smartass comment when the itch started.

It began at the crown of his head—sharp, intense, like his scalp had suddenly caught fire. He reached up instinctively, fingers digging into his short hair.

“What the hell…” he muttered.

The itch exploded outward. Thick, heavy strands erupted from his scalp in a rush, pouring down the back of his neck and over his shoulders in a heavy, silken cascade.

The weight of it was immediate and shocking—long, glossy brown hair tumbling halfway down his back, brushing against skin that suddenly felt far too sensitive.

Every strand that slid across his neck and shoulders sent tiny electric sparks racing down his spine.

Tyler froze, one hand still tangled in the impossible length of it. His cock, already hard from the charged atmosphere and the filthy wish he’d written, gave a hard, confused throb.

Ava looked up from the board, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as she took in the new waterfall of hair framing his face and spilling over his shoulders.

Tyler’s voice came out hoarse. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

The heavy silk of his new hair brushed the side of his neck again as he turned his head, and another unwanted shiver rolled through him—half panic, half something hotter and far more dangerous.

Ava’s smile was slow and wicked.

“Round one to me,” she said softly.