Can't Fix Cupid

A smile spreads across my face. “I actually made a Match. Me,” I say with excited pride. Granted, it’s not love, but it’s a step in the right direction, and it’s the first cupidity thing I’ve managed on my own.

“I knew you had it in ya,” Sev tells me as he taps his fingers against the armrest.

I go all warm and fuzzy. “Aww, really?”

“Eh, not really, but it seems to be turning out alright, yeah?”

Maybe I should be offended, but...I didn’t really know if I had it in me either.

“Yeah.”

Sev stands and stretches, his wings flaring out on either side of him. “Okay, I gotta go, luv. Stayed too long watching your Z’s.”

“Yeah, can you not do that again?”

“I s’pose,” he says with a shrug. “Get to work, yeah? “

I nod. “I will.”

He waves a hand at my t-shirt clad form. “This is a good look on you, Triple X, but maybe run a comb through your hair, get it? It looks like a right fooking rat’s nest.”

“Bye, Sev.”

He disappears with a wink and a puff of pink smoke.

“Who were you talking to?”

A yelp comes out of my throat from Warren’s sudden appearance as he strides into the bedroom. He’s dressed in his slacks and dress shirt already, and he’s in the process of securing the tie at his neck.

He looks good, just like always. Combed but still tousled black hair, a little black scruff on his jaw that he usually shaves away, and dark eyes that set off his pale skin. And despite the clothing, it doesn’t conceal the strength of his body. Sweet buck-toothed beaver, his muscled form beneath his shirt would make any dam burst.

“You scared me,” I say with a hand over my heart as I quickly try to run my fingers through my hair. Some of it is still in the French braid that Blue did, and based on the way it’s getting stuck, I know I’m just making things worse.

“I didn’t think you had a cell phone,” he mentions as he comes in and then disappears into his closet.

“I don’t,” I reply as I rip out my fingers from my hair, wincing as I take several pink strands with it. “I was just, uh, talking to myself.”

“Oh? About what?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled.

“Well, it was more of a lecture, really. The ol’ ‘don’t eat spicy food and then throw up all over America’s hottest CEO in the middle of the sidewalk’ talk.”

“Ah. That one. And have you gotten through to yourself?”

A smile pulls at my lips so hard that my cheeks hurt. I never thought I’d see the day. Warren Knight is actually participating in banter. And it’s playful.

“I think I really made an impact on me.”

“We should also backtrack to hottest CEO.”

I snort. “As if your ego needs stroking.”

He mumbles something that I don’t catch, but I’m fairly certain it has to do with stroking something.

He comes back out of the closet, now with his suit jacket pulled across his broad shoulders. He looks mouth-watering. I’m pretty sure that I look like something a cat vomited up. Or something I vomited up. Either way, he wins.

And speaking of vomit, it is not a nice aftertaste.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, breaking the silence.