My Eros (Modern Cupid and Psyche Dirty)

Because he thinks I'm scared of him.

I did not mean to make you live in fear because of me.

I am not used to making so many mistakes.

But with you somehow, it is the only thing I seem capable of doing.

There's something in those words...something about it feels so wrong, but I don't get a chance to think things through.

"Wait—-"

But it's too late.

He's gone.

And I'm no longer dreaming.

Chapter Twelve

It's another day in Rosethorne, and since Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays have the same schedule, it's the professor I find standing before me once again, first thing in the morning. His clothes are a tad more laidback this time: loose, black dress shirt tucked into belted khaki pants that expose his ankles and loafers. He's also left a few buttons undone, just enough to reveal a bronze expanse of hard, muscled skin, and the sight alone yields an impressive amount of drool.

Hmph.

The professor's gaze slides to me every so often, and it's making my heart race and ache at the same time. How is it possible that I still find him beautiful...even as I hate him? Why do I feel this strange connection to him...even while a part of me is still reeling from the pain of being abandoned by a god?

I used to secretly look down on people trapped in love triangles, but since karma always fucking bites, I'm not only ensnared in my own triangular dilemma, but it also happens to be the very worst of its kind.

There's me, the girl who has to make a choice.

But what kind of choice can I make when one man only wants a fuck buddy while the other man has already quit the game?

Whatever.

What's done is done, and I should get on with my life. I'm going to ignore all of these pesky, pathetic feelings churning inside of me, and I'll keep ignoring them until they fade away in time. That's the plan at least...but the plan goes up in flames the moment class ends, and I hear the professor ask me to stay behind.

Shit.

A few girls attempt to hang back in order to listen in, but the professor only has to look at them with his cold, near-black eyes, and they're already scurrying away like mice. In mere seconds, it's just me and the professor, and even though I still think he's the world's biggest jerk, it doesn't seem to make any difference to my heart, which is now pounding like crazy against my chest.

"It's rare for someone to take me by surprise, Ms. Mariposa."

Okaaaaay.

"But you managed to do that yesterday," he says levelly.

Shit.

I can't help stiffening in my seat, knowing right away what he's talking about.

"Was it the truth, or were you simply saying what you thought would keep me away?"

"It was the truth." And it was. I'm using the past tense, so it's not exactly a lie.

"And this god's name?"

"I can't say." Because I don't know what the god's name is, so that, technically, isn't a lie either.

"I hope you're not playing any games with me, Ms. Mariposa."

"I'm not." Because there isn't any game to play.

"And you are truly choosing this god over me?"

I allow myself a slight nod, and the professor's lips tighten in response. "As you wish then." He nods at me in dismissal, and I find myself watching him walk out of the classroom. I know I shouldn't have been surprised by his callousness, but I am.

I force myself to get up, and I bite down hard when I feel my lower lip start to tremble.

Get your shit together, Halyna.

The professor said it himself from the start: I'm his intriguing little thing...and today, he's just letting me know I'm not intriguing enough for him to go up against a god.

The days fly by, but the nights move slow, and before I know it, my first week in Rosethorne has finally come to an end, but with more of a whimper than a bang. A part of me had dreaded history repeating itself, but other than the usual mean and jealous bees either throwing shade or giving me the cold shoulder, it's actually a lot more peaceful here compared to how things were in my former school.

I can feel Nia's gaze following me as I get up from my chair and settle down somewhat restlessly on the window nook.

"You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine." I've always been pale, and it's likely to stay that way. If my skin's refused to tan even under scorching California summers, I doubt there's anything mild Vermont rays could do to change the status quo.

A glance outside reveals a full moon gleaming above empty and quiet roads. It's only six o'clock on a Friday evening, but just like how it was the last weekend I came here, most other students have left, and Rosethorne is once again this vast, beautiful...ghost town.