by Jenn Windrow
Heat warmed my body and reddened my cheeks like an un-welcome virus, and the need to apologize over my she-bitch attitude forced me to quickly rinse off, grab a towel, and run into the bedroom in search of Grayson.
The only thing left in the room were the memories of a night of hot sex. I hurried out the door. He was halfway down the stairs, undone jeans hanging off his hips, shirt slung over his shoulder. I rushed to catch up to him.
“Grayson, I’m sorry.” This time the apology was one hundred percent sincere and felt oddly comfortable rolling off my tongue.
My towel wasn’t doing the greatest job at covering all my womanly bits and I dripped water all over the carpet. He turned to face me, took one look at my wet body, and came up the two steps that separated us. His eyes were full of a hunger no man had ever shown me before, like my body and soul would be his breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I anticipated what he would do to quench his appetite.
Grayson pulled the towel away, exposing all of me, pulled me close and kissed me. A kiss that allowed those buried feelings to fight their way free, chipped away at the ice surrounding my heart, stripped away my fear, my hatred, my anger, my inhibitions.
A kiss that left me breathless and hoping for more.
We made it to the top of the stairs before every article of clothing disappeared and we were screwing like bunnies. This time the sex wasn’t gentle. It was fast and rough and wild. He used my body for a different kind of release, and his anger circled around us, filled the crevices between us. He rammed into me over and over again, taking me to the brink of climax, but pulling back before my orgasm hit. I matched his rhythm, wanting him to go deeper, harder. And he did. Ripples of desire raced over my flesh, through my body, and sent me over the edge. Our bodies peaked at the same time and tremors once again shook my core.
Grayson didn’t offer any words or soft touches. He stood up, took one long angry look at me, and then picked up his clothes. “I’ll meet you at the library at four.” He took a few moments to finish dressing and headed down the stairs, leaving me naked and used and without any regret. I couldn’t tell if my weakened knees were a result of fast and furious sex or the shame I felt over the way I had treated him.
I reached for the towel, and covered myself, not sure why a melody of sadness and loss plucked the strings of my heart.
He crossed the foyer, reached out, and took the knob in his hands, but didn’t get a chance to twist before the door swung open and in walked Len.
And just like that, my day went from bad to this-fucking-sucks.
Eight
Your Lube Or Mine?
Naked and panting at the top of the stairs. Not how you want your ex-fiancé to find you one day after you’ve broken up. Especially if the man who made you naked and panting was the one you confessed to cheating on him with. In other words, I had just been dumped into a big pile of oh-my-God-I’m-screwed.
Len’s hand fell away from the doorknob and he cupped the sides of his head, shaking it slowly, probably trying to dislodge the sight of my nakedness and what it meant. “Not even one night?” His whispered words felt like the verbal-bitch-slap they were meant to be.
My treacherous heart tried to pound its way out of its bone jail. I tightened the towel around me, doing a much better job covering all my exposed parts than I had the first time. “Len, wait. It’s not what you think.” But that was a lie. It was exactly what he thought and so much more.
I rushed down the stairs, pushed past a now fully clothed Grayson, whose smirk was so smug I wanted to swipe it from his face. I ignored the reason for my current dilemma, and went to Len. I searched his eyes, hoping when I looked deep the words to smooth things over, make things right would magically find their way out of my mouth.
But there were no Hallmark sentiments for I’m a cheating whore who broke your heart.
When I approached Len, he raised his head, meeting my gaze with one of his own. The depth of how much I had hurt him showed in the gloss of his brown eyes, the disapproval of his down-turned lips, the way his eyebrows met in the middle.
“Please, let me explain.” I placed the tips of my fingers on his wrist so he would know I wanted him to stay.
He didn’t brush my hand away, which I considered a good sign he was willing to listen. Instead, he looked at Grayson and pointed to the half-open door. “Can you get out so we can have a private conversation?” His sadness replaced with anger. I guess that’s what happens when you find out the woman you love is a lousy piece of crap.
Grayson pulled the door wide open, but before he walked through, he lowered his lashes, hiding his thoughts and his true feelings. “I’ll see you in an hour, Noel.” And with that last little nail in the coffin, he left.
The door closed, and Len turned on me, pointed his finger in my face. “How could you? Two years of our lives trampled because you wanted to screw a male model?”
He was obviously making up for a lifetime of skipped swear words.
Len’s gutter talk vocabulary wasn’t the only noticeable change. His usually perfectly coiffed hair was rumpled, but more than a stiff breeze rumpled, more like slept in and not brushed. His perpetually pressed-to-perfection clothes sported more wrinkles than a Shar-pei puppy.
I did this to him. No. Cupid did this to him.
I pulled the towel up around my throat, leaving me wishing there was more towel to cover the lower parts that had just been exposed. “I never expected to see you this morning.”
“I came to get the rest of my stuff. You’re usually gone by this time.” His gaze traveled from my very naked calves to the edge of the towel. “I never expected to walk in and find you like this.” He plucked at the edge of the towel.
“I didn’t think you were coming back.” I sounded sad and pathetic and unconvincing.
“And you couldn’t let the sheets cool for one day before you moved him in?” His face was right in mine. “You owe me an explanation.” He exhaled and his breath warmed my cheeks.
I had never been afraid of Len. Even when we argued, he wasn’t unkind or vicious. But, right now, he terrified me. Not because of the anger that radiated off every square inch of his body, but because I knew deep inside that there wasn’t anything I could do or say to ease his pain. I didn’t know what he wanted to hear.
“Will knowing all the details make you feel better?” I’d spill my guts, break Cupid’s rules if that meant it would help him stop hurting.
“I don’t want the details. I want to know why?” He paced in front of me, like an FBI interrogator. Guess that made me the perp. “What made you start sleeping with him?”
I had to find a way to tell the truth, because the new and improved Noel wouldn’t lie to him anymore.
“You have to believe I never wanted to sleep with Grayson. With anyone else but you. Hell, I didn’t even know him until four weeks ago.” There, baby steps of honesty.
His eyebrows raised and he cleared his throat. “How long after you met did you fall into bed with him?”
Damn. This all-the-truth-all-the-time thing wasn’t easy. His questions were too hard and probing and painful, but he deserved my honesty, even if honesty would cause him to hate me more. “The first night.”
“You slept with him the first day you met? Within what? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? How long did it take for you to betray me?” His head dropped low and a soft sigh filled the silent room. “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. I’ll be gone in no time and then he can have you.” He stormed past me, his shoulder bumping into mine, and into our home office, slamming the door on what little bit of love he had left for me.
I sat on the couch and listened to the man I loved shuffle his belongings so he could remove them out of my house. My heart stuttered at every slam of a drawer, every bang of paper hitting a hard surface, every closing of a book.
Len emerged from the office, over-stuffed briefcase in one hand, file folders piled in his arms. He stopped in front of the couch and took one disgust
ed look at the garbage-covered floor. He placed the file folders on the corner of the coffee table, leaned down, and righted the bottle of tequila, ran his finger over a dried glob of ice cream, then settled his hands on his hips, his head moving from side to side, taking in the mess. “Clean up your crap or you’ll get bugs.” His last words before he walked out of my house and my life…again.
This time I didn’t try to stop him. Hurting Len was Cupid’s way of getting back at me. His way of controlling me. Sick, sadistic, piece of shit.
Greek gods be damned; somehow, some way, someday I was going to get Len back, and we’d get over this Cupid-bump in our lives. But until that day, I would give Len the only thing I had to offer…freedom from my crazy life.
Enraging my boss wouldn’t get me any closer to my goal. I had half an hour to get dressed and get to the library to do my job. I rushed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and tank top, then slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops on my way out to Doris.
The thought of seeing Grayson was a combined feeling of bile rising anger and first-date nerves that turned my belly sour. I hadn’t taken a moment to process his declaration of love, but I knew Grayson Adler didn’t love me. He didn’t love anyone. Declaring his love was a tactic. Just another tool, like his perfect features and muscular bod, that helped him get laid.
One I had fallen for. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But he didn’t need sweet words or fake declarations to get me in the sack, not when you’re armed with supernatural horniness. So, why the sudden I-want-your-love’s?
With ten minutes to spare, I pulled up in front of the Mira Mesa Library. The building was made up of hard angles and glass, nothing warm or fuzzy about the design. Which matched my mood. I parked Doris and looked around for Grayson’s car, but the lot was empty except for three other cars.
Walking through the doors, the smell of old books assaulted me. Rows and rows of knowledge filled the large room. Knowledge. Information. Research. Answers. Arming myself with Cupid’s history would be one step in finding my way to a Cupid-free life. I should have done this weeks ago, but was too busy being bitter.
The computers that held the information I needed sat in a square in the center of the room. I walked over and punched in my search term, “Eros/Cupid.” A colorful wheel spun on the screen while the machine cranked and whirled, until a list of books filled the screen. I ignored the bodice-ripping romances and found the ones that dealt with mythology, wrote a few titles on a piece of paper, and went in search of the appropriate section.
I walked through the stacks so focused on finding any bit of dirt on Cupid that I almost missed the green arrow bobbing over a college-aged boy. His blond head was stuck in a book while he furiously scribbled notes. I leaned against the stacks and watched him work. Every so often he would look up, move his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose, but then he’d start writing again, and they would slide right back to where they started. Charming in an odd sort of way. I made a mental note of the section where he sat and continued on my way.
The section on Greek and Roman history was six stacks over. I ran my fingers along the spines until I found the ones on Cupid. Three of the titles were available so I pulled them off the shelf and rushed to check them out. I had just stuffed the last book into my bag when Grayson walked into the library.
In dark jeans that hugged his hips, butt, and thighs, and a pale-blue dress shirt, he was over dressed for the library, but his confidence always allowed him to fit in wherever he went. I stood and gawked at the walking definition of sexy. My sex drive flipped into fifth gear, squealing my tires, and greasing my engine. Fucking do-me-now sex appeal. Hadn’t my unpleasant past taught me that there was more to a man than a handsome face and sexy body?
He noticed me gawking like a groupie and smiled. “Made the most of your time?” He pointed to my bag of books.
I pulled the bag tighter to my body, making sure what my research entailed was covered. “I found our boy.” I pointed to the center of the stacks.
“His match?”
“Haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Let’s take a walk.” Grayson put out his hand and indicated I should go first. “How was the talk with Len?”
I stopped short and Grayson almost plowed me down. “How do you think?” I willed the tears that wanted to topple to stop. When my eyes dried I said, “He hates me.”
Grayson looked me right in the eye, no smile or teasing tone, and said, “With good reason.” Then he walked past, leaving me with a gaping mouth.
Anger built to top-blowing proportions.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I waited for the librarian to finish shushing me before clenching my fists and rushing to catch up. “You’re the reason he hates me.”
“It’s called accountability, Noel. You should try it sometime,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“What haven’t I been accountable about?”
He stopped his search for our matching green arrow and turned around. “You love to blame others for the bad things in your life, but if you had been honest with Len four weeks ago, this wouldn’t be happening now.”
“Honest about what? You? Cupid?” Tiny rage cyclones circled my belly. “What was I supposed to say? Len, a winged freak with a bow and arrow picked someone else for me, so, thanks for the past two years, but we’ve got to break up now?”
His gaze flicked toward the ceiling for the briefest second. “That’s not what I’m saying. But he deserves better than a wife who can’t be one hundred percent honest with him at all times.”
“That’s why I am searching for a way out of this mess.” My voice sounded as helpless as I felt. “For an escape from Cupid. From you.”
“Hopefully you find your escape soon. I wouldn’t want you to waste another minute with me than you have to.” With a smile that left a lot to be desired, he turned his back on me and continued his search for today’s lucky soul mate.
Time and distance hadn’t healed the hurt from this morning’s shower incident. Sex on the stairs hadn’t either. My words had just made things worse.
The words I wanted to spew wouldn’t come out, but I followed him around thinking how easy it would be to rip out Grayson’s heart and fling it deep into the ocean.
“There’s our other arrow.” He pointed to a raven-haired girl in black, skinny jeans, an Adventure time T-shirt, and beat up Doc Martens. Grayson checked his watch. “The library closes in thirty minutes. Let’s do a Scenario Eight when they leave.” He covered his watch with the cuff of his shirt. “I’ll watch Romeo, you keep tabs on Juliet.” He wandered off, not even noticing that I hadn’t spoken a word.
I threw my bag on a table and watched our green arrow. How did Cupid know that she didn’t already have the perfect man at home waiting for her? I pulled the books out and hugged them close to my chest. The answer I needed to relieve me of Cupid, Grayson, that unwanted physical attraction, had to be in there somewhere. I just had to find it before Len lost faith in me and disappeared for good.
The librarian announced closing time over the loud speaker and the girl packed her messenger bag. I followed at her heels, not wanting to screw up their connection. Grayson came around the corner following behind her perfect match. We walked to the exit in pairs. When we were close to the door, Grayson stepped on the boy’s shoelace. Mr. Sliding Glasses tripped and knocked into his match, sending her bag crashing to the ground.
He reached down, picked up her bag, and held it out to her. “Sorry about that.”
When she took the strap, their fingers touched and their arrows faded. A perfect Scenario Eight and one of the fastest connections I had ever witnessed.
Grayson and I didn’t stop to gawk. The arrows were gone; they would spend the rest of their days blissfully in love. We walked out through the door into the cool evening air. I headed toward Doris and Grayson went to his car. He didn’t spare me a second look when he got in and started up the engine. Didn’t stop and roll down his win
dow as he passed me by. Didn’t utter one inappropriate or lewd comment.
I watched his tail lights fade in the distance, not sure why I felt an achy loneliness. Maybe it was because the only thing waiting for me was an empty house, the ghost of a relationship, and a life more messed up than my living room.
My life made pathetic look like a party.
Nine
Once a Man-Whore Always a Man-Whore
My daily Cupid text. Screamers. 10:30p.m. Yellow arrow.—Q
Followed by a text from Grayson. Dress sexy. Something tight, short, and see- through.
Looks like he decided I wasn’t the devil on earth after all.
A late night assignment meant a free day for me, and there was only one place I wanted to spend it. In my studio.
I traveled to the Rail Yard, dressed in the rattiest clothes I could find. My train car sat at the end, right before the caboose. I opened the rusted red door and sucked in the smell of art. The space was small, but all mine and what I needed. Canvases, some empty, some already finished, leaned against the corrugated metal walls. Sculptures covered tables and clay-splattered drop cloths covered the floors. Everything chaotically organized.
Before I met Len, I used to work out of the house, but he complained about the mess, so I searched until I found this little slice of heaven. Now, no one complained if I left footprints of blue paint on the floors, or globs of clay hanging off the ceiling.
I stuck my hands into a bucket of clay, grabbed a hunk, and threw it on the potter’s wheel. I spun the platform and molded the mass into something strange and beautiful. A free form, nothing I would ever sell, but the process helped me settle, helped erase the dark cloud that hovered so close to the surface, helped me focus on something besides the complications in my life.
Once my hands warmed up and the creativity flowed, I pulled out a painting I had been working on since Grayson entered my life.
Lost in a world of canvas and creativity, I almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. I put one last stroke on the gallery piece in front of me, placed the brush on the stand, and pulled back the door. Grayson leaned against the wall, one hand in the pocket of his perfect-fitting dress pants, and a bar of chocolate and caramel goodness in the other.