Page 4

Chapter 4

Cupid's Arrow

Robyn

Four Years Ago

G lorious clouds roll in, blocking the scorching sun as I hug a blue-haired fan. I’m in the Gayborhood of Philadelphia with most of my team for the pride parade, and it’s been a hot one.

“I just love you so much,” the teenager, dressed head-to-toe in rainbow attire, tells me. “I’m going to start a rugby team at my school.”

“Do it,” I cheer, letting go but holding their shoulders. “Start that team and DM me when you do.”

“Really?” they ask, eyes wide.

“Yes! I’ll come talk to everyone.”

“Oh my god, seriously? That would be awesome!”

“Rugby isn’t going to grow itself. It’s people like us that need to make it happen,” I smile.

When the teenager leaves, Serwaa bumps my shoulder and hands me a cold bottle of water. “That’s the third team you’ve offered to visit.”

“And that is the third team you’re visiting with me.”

“Um, I’m not the famous one,” she remarks.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re coming with me. And if exposure is what they need, exposure is what I can give them.”

“Alright,” Casshole says, coming up to me and giving me a hug. “Your shift is over, Birdie. Go see your man.”

Everyone on the team signed up for a dedicated four-hour time slot to stand around and answer questions about rugby, the team, and spread our allyship in the community. A lot of players showed up with their significant others, who have been coming and going all day.

“That’s right,” Serwaa drawls, flipping her braids back and swaying her head. “It’s your three-month fuckaversary.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? Is it special to you?” she asks knowingly, and my lips curl against my will.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s special.” She smacks me on the ass. “Text me afterward and tell me everything. Get your fine ass outta here.”

As I walk to my car parked a few blocks away, I pull my phone out of my dress pocket to check the time and send a text to my boyfriend, Derek. Well, he’s kind of my boyfriend. I don’t know. I guess he doesn’t like labels.

I’m on my way!

When I look up and pay attention to my surroundings, a burst of warm summer wind whooshes over me, and my short sundress kicks up. After I fit it back into place, my eyes lock on a tall, golden man walking toward me. With the late afternoon sun behind him, his long blonde hair glows like an aura, and my heart stops.

It’s impossible not to stare at him—he’s beautiful. His shoulders are broad and muscular. Wearing a simple black T-shirt and pale pink shorts, it’s nothing special, but I’m transfixed nonetheless.

It’s then that I notice he’s watching me too. Our eyes meet and we both slow down—almost like we’re moving in slow motion. When he’s only a few feet away, I notice the cheap plastic rainbow beaded necklace he’s wearing, indicating he’s clearly coming to or from the pride event.

When he walks past me, for the first time in my life, I actually turn my body to shamelessly check him out.

He does the same.

Oh my god, he smells like mint. Colorful old-school American tattoos flow down his arms and thighs!

Am I drooling?

Big Handsome turns his whole body, stops, and removes his sunglasses. Unable to control my body, I mirror him.

I stop.

What am I doing?

“You’re… beautiful,” he says, like he was just struck by the same Cupid’s arrow as me and he can’t believe he’s doing this either. When he takes a few steps closer, I do the same, like my body has its own agenda.

“Thank you,” I reply, positive my cheeks are on fire.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts and smirks. “Where are you going looking that pretty?” he asks, his voice husky and confident.

I huff a little laugh. “I was just at the pride parade.”

He gives me a thorough body scan and takes his time. And I’m letting him. Why am I letting him?

“You wanna come with me to a friend’s barbeque?”

A giggle bubbles out of me before I can’t stop it. Who does this? Who meets a stranger and invites them to a barbeque? I’ve been catcalled before, but this is wholly different. I don’t have an ounce of fear. He’s staring at me, but I like it. I allow it. My mind has already shifted to attending with him—this perfect stranger—and flirting back and forth as I learn everything about him.

Something clicks, and it’s like a wet blanket is thrown on me.

“I’m sorry. I have to meet… my boyfriend.” Those last two words coming out slow and unsure.

My stranger lifts his chin in understanding. Every fraction of a second that passes tingles with electricity between us.

“Boyfriend,” he repeats, like he needs to hear himself say it. “Of course. Does he know how lucky he is?”

All of a sudden, my hands ache and my throat seizes. I can’t think—my brain doesn’t want to think about anything outside of this moment. I’m transfixed by this beautiful, golden-haired man with the cheap rainbow necklace and a melancholy smile.

Does Derek know how lucky he is?

The truth hits me like I caught a hospital pass, but I can’t show it. I have to believe in us. Sure, Derek has never fawned over me like this stranger just did, but it’s okay. He has a quieter love. We’re not a flashy couple, and I could never ask him to be.

But unloading my messy answer to the man in front of me is not a cute look. So I shrug. “I hope so.”

“I hope so, too.” His mesmerizing chestnut eyes lock on mine. He inhales a long breath and takes a couple steps backward. “Okay. I’m gonna walk away now before I say anything stupid.”

“Okay,” I say, toying with one of my gold earrings and trying to walk backward. I bump into the pole of a streetlight, and an unwarranted giggle bursts out.

My stranger bites his lip, stops, then walks toward me again. “Fuck, you’re cute. No!” he says, lifting his hands up and chastising himself. “Leave me alone, you siren.” He regains his backward steps and winks. “But think about me next time you kiss your boyfriend, okay?”

I roll my lips together and turn to walk away, but throw my chin over my shoulder to call back. “I promise no such thing.”

His only reply is to blow me a kiss. It’s harmless, but there’s something so powerful in it that I can’t explain.

Once I’ve safely rounded the corner of the building and I’m out of his range, I close my hand around his kiss and slip it into my pocket.

Thirty minutes later, I walk into Derek’s apartment and find him sitting in his room at his computer with his headphones on. He must be in the middle of a game because his concentration is fixed to his screen. I squeeze his shoulders, run my hands down his chest, and give him a weird back-hug.

Without looking away from his desktop, he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and says, “Hey, I’ll be done in a little bit.”

“Could you be done now?” I whisper. I’m trying to ignore the lingering electric pulses that have been surging through me since the encounter with my stranger. But if I’m honest, it’s one hundred percent the reason I’m worked up right now. I need to release this built-up tension.

“I… Can you just,” Derek stammers, warring between his game, the people in his ear, and me. “Shit,” he barks into his microphone. “Great job, team. Thanks for all the support, fuckers. Yeah, I gotta respawn.”

“Does that mean it’s over?” I ask, but I know the answer.

“No,” he sighs. “I gotta start over. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be there soon.”

Without another word, I step away and head to the bathroom. While I wash my hands, I take a long look in the mirror. My long tawny hair is twisted up in a sleek bun and shows off my strong shoulders. The bow-tie straps of my dress and the delicate jewelry I wear mock me. My soft red lipstick is pointless.

I quickly remove all the bobby pins and hair tie and fluff out my hair, guiding it over my small chest. Then I fling it behind me. Then back in front. Over one shoulder, then the other, adjusting my posture.

Right when I’m about to grunt and throw my hair back up into another bun, I think of him. My stranger. His kiss burns inside my pocket and my fingers twitch.

When I look back into the mirror, his voice comes back to me.

“You’re beautiful.”