by Melody Rose
With a quick glance at the blade, I snapped open my hand. The rapier zapped into my palm, and I didn’t have time to be relieved that everything went according to plan. I had to continue the performance to finish what we had started.
I felt the cool metal in my hand and released a roar from my mouth. I swung the sword up and over my head. It aimed straight for Ansel’s collarbone, poised to slice right through him.
However, Ansel caught my wrist in his hand. His strength halted my swing and stopped my body. We posed, head to head, face to face. Our legs were stretched to brace up against one another, while my sword gleamed over our heads.
With one swift movement, Ansel jabbed his rapier forward.
His sword sliced along my side, making it look as though he stabbed me straight through. I arched my back and threw my neck backward, releasing an agonizing moan. It was in perfect harmony with the loud climatic note during the symphony accompanying us.
As the music sloped into something somber and quiet, I noticed our positioning. It was quite the tableau that the pair of us stood at. Ansel held my wrist in his hand over our heads as he kept my sword from slamming down on him. The end of his sword stuck out the back of me while I leaned into him with my legs in a wide stance. It was powerful and dramatic. The entire audience was silent as the soft notes cascaded over them.
This was the moment where I was supposed to die. My next move was to collapse into his arms so that Ansel could hold me and remove my mask. But I made the mistake of opening my eyes ever so slightly to look at my scene partner.
A sheen of sweat covered Ansel’s structured face. His green eyes pierced mine with an intensity that transcended beyond the choreography. He looked at me, Cheyenne Paulos, and that intensity traveled right to the core of me. It was terrifying and vulnerable.
Here was this beautiful man that I fought side by side with. I laughed with him and held him in intimate moments where we thought the world might explode. My heart soared through my chest and fell right into his lap. Something about being in this position and being in this moment with him forced me to confront my feelings.
As I looked into his eyes, I saw that he felt the same way. There were no signs of Love Struck in them. There wasn’t infatuation or any other fading feeling. This was pure adoration and something else that I was scared to name.
The rest of the world melted away. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to extend the moment into something that lasted for the rest of my life. The feeling surprised me. What surprised me even more was when I leaned into the feeling by leaning in towards Ansel.
He was still frozen at the moment, waiting for me to collapse. When he didn’t respond to my advances right away, I closed the gap and made my intentions as obvious as they could be.
I kissed him.
My lips crashed into his with no elegance or tact. It was full of passion and no technique. However, Ansel responded right away. He moved his lips to caress mine, and suddenly, I remembered how to do this. I relaxed into his body, pushing myself up against him. Ansel slid the arm, holding my wrist down my arms with the back of his fingers. They roamed along my rib cage with the grace of a pianist stroking the ivory keys.
Shivers ascended along my spine as the music swelled. I lost myself in the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, and the sound of the instruments that accompanied our magical moment. Only when my knees buckled from the weight of the emotion coursing through me, did I remember what I was actually supposed to be doing.
I broke away from Ansel and let my legs go slack. My trust in him was rewarded when he dropped the rapier and caught me instead. With a surprising amount of gentleness, he lowered me to the ground and cradled me. I released the tension from my muscles and went completely limp.
Ansel pressed a light hand to the back of my head while I laid across his lap. His other hand slipped my mask off my face. I heard the audience gasp in tandem with him, caught up in the moment. Ansel, as a mix of Achilles and himself, leaned forward and planted a kiss on each of my cheeks.
The music dipped and trailed off as Ansel wept into my neck. We held our moment, stayed in it even in the silence from the audience. Even though we weren’t kissing, we were connected. Ansel held my entire body, and I let him.
A steady slow clap cut through the air, as sharp as breaking ice. My eyes pinched in time with the sound, painful and prickly. I didn’t want to open my eyes and step on to the next moment.
Until I felt Ansel’s breath beside my ear. It rippled down my neck and along my spine, making goosebumps on my skin.
“Cheyenne,” Ansel whispered, “he’s here.”
A surge of triumph and pride burst through me, forcing my eyes to snap open. I didn’t need to ask who he was. I knew it was the god of the hour, the honored guest we’d hope would eventually show up and save the day.
Eros had arrived.
25
The culprit of the slow clap was a burly man wearing no shirt. He looked like he’d just stepped off a fashion runway since he was wearing well-fitted dark denim pants and no shoes. His skin glittered with a perfect, even tan, while the blond hair curled in perfect spirals atop his head. The man glowed as he walked across the dance floor and headed for Ansel and me, who still stayed in our pose on the floor.
While he was undoubtedly beautiful, the man’s aura exploded around us. It was powerful and intoxicating. The way he moved was alluring and drew me towards him. It was a feeling that struck my core and tugged. My mouth ran dry, and my fingers twitched in anticipation of his arrival.
There was a sense of perfection about him. The unnaturalness of it made me feel uneasy. When I examined every inch of him, my eyes roaming over his body, the attractiveness was certainly there. However, that weariness prevailed. He was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, dangerous and lethal despite his attractive demeanor.
He commanded the quad, all heads following him as he moved closer towards Ansel and me, who remained on the floor in one another’s arms. Despite the trained warriors that we were, neither of us moved. We could only seem to stare at the man who approached us.
Until Oliver swooped in. He literally slid across the dance floor, his exuberant robes flitting behind him like a flag. The round man steadied himself as he separated the incoming man and his students. Oliver’s knees cracked as he bent into a low and reverent bow.
“Mighty Eros,” Oliver announced. “It is an honor that you grace us with your presence.”
Eros’s eyes narrowed on the drama teacher, precisely sculpted eyebrows coming together suspiciously. “The honor is mine, son of Dionysus. It has been a while since I’ve had the chance to visit the Academy.”
“We always welcome the gods to our humble establishment,” Oliver continued, laying on the flattery.
“Normally, I wouldn’t waste my time,” Eros said. His voice boomed across the quad, reaching the ears of every stunned student who watched in awe. For some of them, including myself, this was the first time seeing a god in the flesh.
Unfortunately, most of the gods were aloof and distant. They rarely ever visited the mortal world, and when they did, it was mostly to whoo a mortal, have sex with them, and then head back to Mount Olympus or wherever they resided in this modern-day world. Many demigods never had the opportunity to meet their godly parents. Eros’s arrival, while expected and anticipated by those of us who knew the true nature of the dance, was still a sight to behold.
“You see, the Academy never engages in anything of interest to me,” Eros continued. He threw out his hands and gestured to the decorations and the environment created by the rest of the committee and me. “But this, this is a marvel. Very out of character for the Academy, so I had to see what it was all about.”
“We hope it pleases you, Eros,” Oliver said, still bent into an impressively low bow.
“It is decent enough,” Eros said with an offhanded shrug, clearly not too impressed. “But the true prize is these two and that performance.”
Eros’s thick
finger pointed between Ansel and me. I knew the god was offering us a compliment, but I couldn’t help but feel like a child being caught by a parent under the accusatory point. Ansel squeezed me tighter, and it was the first time I realized I was shaking in his arms.
The magnitude of his grace, his beauty, and his power overwhelmed me. I had never met anyone like him. His godliness shone in a superior glow around him. The god of lust knew the power he held here, over us demigods. I could only imagine what mortals must feel like around them. And then I thought that Eros was only a minor god. Fear struck me like the wrong note on a guitar, slamming into my ears. If Eros had this must affect, I could only imagine what the Olympians did to us.
“You two,” Eros made a noise in his throat as if he were enjoying a delicious meal. He began his slow clap all over again but raised his hands in our direction, indicating that the applause was meant for the two of us. “You stole the show. Your depiction of Achilles and Penthesilea was magnificent. I’m surprised the campus didn’t explode because of the chemistry between the two of you.”
A blush raced to my cheeks, making them grow hot. I looked down and shied my eyes away from Ansel’s, unsure if I would be able to look at him directly at that moment. I had been so lost in the performance that I wasn’t sure how it looked to the audience. But I knew the passion I felt in my heart, how it pulsed through me. It must have translated very well in order to impress the god of lust.
“Thank you, Eros,” I said, finally finding my voice. I peeled myself from Ansel’s grip, albeit reluctantly, and got to my feet. The soldier followed suit, though the minute we stood up, he took my hand in his, as though he couldn’t bear to be disconnected from me. I let him and tried to hold back a smile playing at my lips.
“A son of Apollo and a daughter of Hephaestus.” Eros’s head ticked back and forth between us, and he clicked his tongue. “An unusual pair for sure.”
Then the god sidestepped the drama teacher and went to circle the pair of us. Oliver had to let Eros pass, but he kept a watchful eye on the god at all times. I didn’t know what power Oliver thought he might have over a god, but I appreciated his protectiveness at that moment.
Eros circled Ansel and me with an eager look in his eye, like a vulture hovering above a carcass until it was dead enough to eat. My muscles twitched at the thought of being judged so obviously and so publically. We were still surrounded by fellow classmates, who seemed to hold a collective breath. They watched with an admirable level of attention, completely entranced by the god and his mere presence. They waited with bated breath to see what he would do. Most of us had never seen a god in action, and this was a rare but special moment for the demigods.
“I approve of this.” Eros pointed between the two of us. A half-smile prickled at his lips, and his eyebrows bounced suggestively. He gestured as though he were encouraging us onward. “Go on then.”
Ansel and I shared a look of confusion.
“Uh, what?” I asked, seeming to find my voice before Ansel.
“Go on,” Eros beckoned. He flicked his fingers at us and then shifted his weight so he could lean back and observe us. “You have my permission to kiss.”
Before I had a second to gather my thoughts amongst the shock of this line, someone out in a crowd of students hollered their approval. Then our fellow soldiers burst into applause, encouraging us.
The god of lust seemed to just notice that everyone was watching him. He looked around at the students, decorated in masks and elaborate clothes. Eros pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
I sent Ansel another look and was surprised to see the fear in his eyes. Instead of the desire and want, Ansel was filled with hesitation. The public nature of this relationship was an immediate turnoff. Still, the cheering propelled him forward, towards me.
But I put a hand on Ansel’s chest. While the fire sparked between my touch and his, I held firm. I kept Ansel at bay and turned to face Eros.
“We don’t need your approval,” I said, keeping my voice sharp with pointed edges on my consonants. “But, thanks anyway.”
“You reject my approval, daughter of Hephaestus?” Eros said with a dramatic hand on his burly chest, stunned at my words. “It is an honor to be granted approval over your relationship by my mother or me.”
“Well, thanks, I guess,” I said, feeling defiant. “That’s nice and all, but we’re not monkeys to perform when you tell us to.”
“Cheyenne,” Ansel said out of the corner of his mouth, a tense warning.
I ignored him. I understood that Eros was a god, and I was taking a huge risk by defying anything he said or commanded. However, I didn’t appreciate how he made Ansel feel uncomfortable. We were not here for his entertainment.
Eros’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline so fast, I thought they might fly right off his face. “You have a bold tongue, daughter of Hephaestus. I suggest you put a leash on it quickly and keep it in your mouth.”
I opened my mouth, preparing another strike when a hand landed on my shoulder, interrupting me. It was an elegant hand adorned with a series of gold rings. I looked up into the face of Aphrodite’s daughter, Tené. Fiona appeared on the other side of Ansel, with her own hand on his shoulder.
“Mighty Eros,” Tene said with a soothing voice. “We are honored to have you here. How about we migrate off the dance floor so the demigods can enjoy the rest of this party with their loved ones?”
Her word choice was precise, her tone measured. The Olympic Official spoke like a politician, defusing a situation. Eros smirked at Tené, realizing what she was doing in taking the attention off me and my rudeness. At first, I wasn’t sure he would oblige her request. The way his glare burned into me, he looked as though he was trying to make my head explode with a simple look. I held my ground, though I could feel my muscles tense under Tene’s tight grip.
“I noticed the tableaus on my way over,” Eros said with a lazy point behind him to the garden setting. “We can occupy one of those and watch the festivities.”
“What a marvelous idea,” Tené said with a cheery voice and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She removed her hand from my shoulder, and I sighed, relieved.
The daughter of Aphrodite approached the god with outstretched arms. He took her hands and kissed each one with a surprising amount of respect and decorum. Fiona, on the other hand, hiked up her flowing dress and skipped up the steps of the cafeteria building, leaning over the DJ’s table. Soon after, the music began again, a thumping, heavy beat that made me want to tap my foot. However, I stayed still, my eyes never leaving Eros as he took Tené’s arm in his and led her off the dance floor.
The daughter of Hermes approached Ansel and me before joining the god and her fellow official.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she reached out and squeezed my hand. “We’ll speak with him, and all of this will soon be over.”
The Olympic Official followed the pair while Ansel and I just watched them go. They settled themselves in the garden scene, Tene and Eros sharing the bench while Fiona laid out her skirts at Eros's feet, like a devoted lover. Her eyes grew wide as she listened intently to his words. Even though I couldn’t hear them from here, I knew that it couldn’t be as interesting as Fiona looked. Her doting on the god was completely exaggerated and purposeful.
Part of me wanted to be over there, hearing Eros’s explanation for the Love Struck infection. But I fought the urge to move and kept my feet on the dance floor, even though it swarmed with a new round of eager dancers. I had to take a step back and let the officials handle this situation.
Frankly, I didn’t trust myself around the god, either. His arrogance annoyed me, and I didn’t like how little he thought of us, like playthings that he could throw away whenever he wanted. The god of lust clearly believed us to be below him. He could play with my emotions however he wanted, but when it came to Ansel, or any of my other friends for that matter, he would have to go through me before he made any of them cry. I never wanted to se
e the look of discomfort and unease on Ansel’s face ever again.
Oliver’s round face appeared in my line of sight, a smile so wide and bright it bordered on frightening. The drama teacher clapped his hands together excitedly.
“That was incredible!” Oliver cheered. “Marvelous. Spectacular. I knew you both had it in you.”
“Uh…” I stammered, “thank you.”
Then, surprisingly, Oliver reached out and grabbed my hand. He pulled it to his chest and held on tight. I tried to yank away from the meaty, sweaty grip, but the son of Dionysus kept a firm grip.
“For what it’s worth,” Oliver said softly, almost unhearable under the constant beat of the music. Then he reached out and took Ansel’s hand, cradling it to his chest as well. “I approve of this as well. Why do you think I put the two of you together in the first place? It’s meant to be.”
Then Oliver united mine and Ansel’s hands. He quickly patted the tops of our intertwined hands, then he stepped away, seemingly having said his piece.
Ansel and I stood there, in the center of the dance floor, with both of our hands holding on to the other. When I examined him, his expression was unreadable. The blankness of him worried me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
“Why did you kiss me?” Ansel spat out like the words had been building in his chest for hours.
I blinked at him, surprised by the sudden question. When I didn’t answer him right away, Ansel barrelled on, the words spilling out of him like a waterfall.
“Because I thought you wanted to stay friends. I thought I was doing really well at keeping a safe distance. I know I’ve been flirting, but I thought that was okay with you. But then you go and kiss me like… like that, and I don’t know what to do with that information.” Ansel took a big breath to catch up to himself. I tried to interject again, but he barrelled over me, too focused on his rambling thoughts.