Cupid's Contract

The Chill of Rejection

It wasn't a swoop, per se.

Not like the time Adam surprised her.

Not that she was thinking about Adam right now.

No, this was clearly Drew Time.

His lips were soft but firm, and there was a hesitancy about the action that made it all the more delectable. Her hands had a mind of their own, and they gripped at his biceps, as if to steady herself, before one moved up into his hair, pulling him towards her and closing any gap between them. 

It was exactly the encouragement Drew needed. The hand that wasn't resting on her face wrapped around her waist, and his body moulded to hers as he cupped her chin, his kiss tender but purposeful. For once Eve wasn't worried about her mother, or her job, or her life in general. She was happily lost in this moment of heart-pounding contact, and utterly free. Eve wasn't sure how long she was lost in their little nook, but then for some reason, some hideous and unknowable reason, she withdrew her fingers from his lovely, strong, safe arm and rested them on her locket.

Cupid's locket.

Which was totally and utterly cold. Freezing, even, in this balmy weather.

They were not soul mates.

It was akin to a bucket of ice cold water being thrown over her.

Eve lurched away from Andrew, her arms wrapping around herself as if the only way to stop them from reaching out and touching him again was to physically lock them around her own person. His face startled, Andrew took a step back, the distance growing between them and chilling her to the bone.

"Eve, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." he started to apologise, but stopped abruptly, staring at her lips, as if all he wanted was to return there.

 He cleared his throat loudly. "Actually? No, I'm not sorry. I've wanted to do that for ages. You've been driving me insane." He smiled that half smile abruptly, one dimple peeking out. "Not always in a good way, mind." He distractedly ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up at angles and flop about. "Is it just me? You're so confusing, I can't tell when you hate me or actually bloody like me."

Eve had never seen him so unsure of himself. It awoke a new spectrum of feelings in her but it didn't change the fact that even Cupid couldn't summon the courage to approve of this coupling.

"Andrew, I'm not really sure this is a good idea." She knew it wasn't, that it couldn't possibly be. Without the warmth of conviction from the locket, she could never properly commit to giving their chemistry a chance. It would only be a waste of both of their time and feelings. In the end, she would only break his heart.

If watching his father belittle him had upset her so she wasn't sure how she could cope being the rejector in the scenario. If she was to be the unfeeling heartbreaker to Andrew's Barb, she'd never be able to forgive herself.

"Why? Because of my father? That's of no consequence. He barely involves himself in my life, never mind my relationships."

The innocent dejection of that announcement confirmed her decision. She would not brush aside Drew's worth for a fleeting rush of attraction. She did fancy him, that was undeniable, though she had tried to do as much for long enough. From the moment he had tucked that daisy behind her ear she had been enamoured. He put her on edge, in a way that challenged her, and he was pretty damn cute. But that wasn't enough. Their chemistry was not reason enough to waste his time, or hers, no matter how much she may want to.

"It's not about Mr Harper. It's me. I don't like you, not in that way. I'm sorry."

His face fell, and a blush rose to his cheeks. There was no hint of a delightful dimple.

"I do enjoy your company, and I think we could be friends. Good friends, even. But I'm not sure there's any point pursuing anything more than that. I'm sorry."

In the background, a loud horn sounded, and a voice erupted over the loudspeaker. "Can those performing in the talent show please make their way to the stage? Those performing, can you please make your way to the stage immediately."

"I'm so sorry, Andrew, but I need to go find my mom before she performs. I'm really so very sorry." Instinctively she reached out, wanting to touch his arm, to comfort him in some way or express the sincerity of her statement, but she stopped halfway, her hand hovering in the air. "I really am sorry."

Then she scurried off, her tail between her legs, running away again. 

*****

Sorry for the chaotic format, I typed this in my emails while in work... 

I'll fix it up when I have a spare second, but for now I'm trying to finish writing this by Christmas, format it and send to an editor, AND ALSO START MY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!

Is anybody else absolutely painfully embarrassingly behind on their shopping this year? I haven't bought a SINGLE present.

HELP!