“Definitely,” I reply as she hands me the dessert menu.
“You pick, we can share.”
“Can we get two?” I ask, and she nods.
We order the raspberry cheesecake and the chocolate lava cake, because how are you supposed to choose between the two?
We each have our own spoon as we eat and it seems like with every moment, the tension rockets a little higher. Some of my nerves from earlier start to dissipate, and I let myself live in the moment and not second guess everything.
Mors flips the spoon to lick off a piece of chocolate, and I nearly choke on a piece of cheesecake like a moron.
I have a feeling the reaper knows what she’s doing to me, because she doesn’t look perturbed or frustrated with my lack of decorum, in fact, she seems to like it.
I think about the shamrock in my pocket and just let Lady Luck guide the way. I’m not going to overthink things or be toohard on myself. I’m going to enjoy this date and Mors’ company and see where it goes.
I lied, my hopes are totally up. I want Mors to find me as intriguing as I find her, and hope that this attraction isn’t one sided. Her gaze hardly left me at dinner, that has to mean that she’s also interested, right?
“Would you like to walk by the river or we could go back to the party?” Mors says when the server comes with the bill. Mors doesn’t even look at the check. I guess Death didn’t cover the bill after all. That thought makes me smile.
“That sounds lovely.”
She grabs a large umbrella from outside of the restaurant and my breath hitches when she takes my hand in hers, dragging me under the umbrella and keeping us both dry. My heels click against the gray cobble stones and water splashes against the clear plastic of the umbrella as we walk.
There are a variety of shops and reapers wandering about, and I realize that Purgatory is actually quite beautiful. Or perhaps it’s the company I currently find myself in.
Cool air brushes against my face and I lean in closer to Mors, not only because of the chill and splatter of the rain, but because I find her closeness comfortable.
None of the other cupids in Cupidale seemed to interest me, and part of that was my naivety of being a new cupid. It’s gross when I realize that’s the only reason Eros chose to pursue me. I felt lost—I guess I still do—and he was happy to guide me. I took up his offer, but I think it’s made me even more nervous in the pursuit of my own love story. But the reaper next to me, I find myself wanting to know a little better, even if the idea is slightly terrifying.
I watch humans get their heart broken all the time. The thought of that is scary, and something tells me this reaper couldeasily shatter someone’s heart. Yet, there’s a part of me that knows it would be totally worth it.
She’s intense and has this aura of confidence in the way she holds herself. I find myself drawn to her soft but firm nature. It’s clear she can hold her own, surrounded primarily by male reapers. But so far, she’s been nothing but amiable with me, and I find myself clinging to some hope that maybe this could be more.
There’s a black wrought iron gazebo by the inky river where Mors takes me. Its cover is just enough to appreciate the trickle of rain while still staying dry ourselves. Mors closes the umbrella and I sit on the bench. She boldly sits right next to me.
She’s close enough that her thigh is touching mine, and I do my best not to look too deeply into the touch.
Though the greeting press of her thigh has my breath hitching, I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone’s touch. The only affection I’m getting right now is from Love. She says you should always hug your best friends. I’m not sure if it’s an aspect of being a cupid, or if it’s just my personality, but by the way I respond to the gentle touch, I know I’m going to crave more.
Eros wasn’t affectionate, or at least he wasn’t with me. We never even got to the point of sex, just some kissing and over the pants stuff.
I guess I’m kind of a born-again virgin, considering I don’t remember anything since becoming a cupid.
Old insecurities creep up, and I’m about to let them win and head back to the party when Mors places a hand around my shoulder, and her thumb gently caresses the tip of my wing.
Holy fucking sensitivity.
I shiver and bite my lip, forgetting my train of thought as I look over at the reaper.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look. That dress is amazing on you.”
“Oh, thank you. Love let me borrow it. It’s a bit short,” I say, heat creeping up my neck. I try not to focus on her thumb rubbing back and forth on my soft, pink, downy feathers.
I swear I think I might come from her touching my wing alone. I can barely even feel self-conscious about the ridiculous amount of thigh showing in this damn dress Love forced me to wear tonight.
All I can think about is the warm press of her fingers against my wings.
Mors’ dark eyes glance down at my legs, and then she looks back at me. “I’m definitely not complaining.”
