In which Saskia Martinez met Eros, the god of love himself, and got her heart entangled in a major love disaster. Except nobody told her the supposed mythical being was a teenage boy wearing a ripped varsity shirt, who dangled men in the air-by the...
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MONICA'S PAGES WERE staring back at her, as though questioning her unusual silence.
Saskia tapped her pen on her bedroom's table, brought it to her lips, and then bit it.
Once, twice. Thrice—before she finally brought the pen's tip on the paper's surface, and all she could write was one word.
One, lingering word that had clung to her mind in the library and never let go.
Selfish.
She wrote it again and again, at the same time replaying everything that happened in the library earlier.
Eros had looked like a pen about to spill its very last ink.
Saskia could tell he was nearing the end of his patience as he stared long and hard at her, the moment her proposition went out of her mouth.
"I will give you the bow back, but I have one small favor to ask," she'd said, almost pleading, whether for her short story or for her life she didn't know. "Let me ask you a few questions about this whole shooting-people's-hearts thing and making them fall in love, and I promise, I promise I'd never bother you ever again."
She had seen how a vein in his head pulsed angrily. She knew she needed to stop talking, but she also knew that once she had set her eyes on something, she just couldn't stop trying until all hopes were gone.
"Do you have it with you now?" he asked, so dreadfully calm that it had made her heart beat even faster.
"No," she replied, and his eyes instantly became cutting. "But I will give it to you!" she hastily added, "I will give it to you, I swear, just promise me you'll do this interview."
Eros towered over her; his frame practically hiding her from everybody's view.
"Why do you need to ask me questions?"
"It's..." Saskia breathed out, almost relieved to know he seemed to consider it. "It's for this story I have to write to help me get into this great college—I mean, it's not a guarantee, but it will—"
"You're no different."
It was barely a whisper, but the venom behind the words was more than enough to make her stop talking.
But he wasn't done yet.
"Do you know what you are?" he asked, the cold green eyes had reappeared again. "You are a selfish creature. And here I thought you were—" He abruptly stopped, his chest heaving hard, as if he couldn't stand looking at her. "Was the pain... not enough? "
Saskia gasped softly at the rush of heat behind her eyes. Because she knew, she knew all too well what he was referring to... what those words meant.
"Interview for your story? College?" he mocked in utter cruelty. "Do you have any idea what your selfishness is doing to other people right now?" His grip tightened on the shelf behind her; the veins in his arms even more visible. "Do you have any idea what is happening because you refuse to give me what is rightfully mine?" He sneered viciously. "You should know. You've felt what it's like."
