All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(5)
He was mocking her.
She shook her head. “I have no intention of socializing with you. I’m not your entertainment.”
He swayed back a bit, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that look on his face was … hurt?
No. That didn’t make sense.
“Ah. I see.” The cynical twist to his smile had returned. “You’ve assumed the role of sanctimonious bore instead. No doubt it’s the part you were born to play.”
That time, there was no hint of humor in the insult. It was a jab meant to wound.
No delightful. Just asshole.
She gazed into the distance for a moment, allowing the faint sting to fade before she responded.
“I apologize.” His words were unexpected and abrupt. Raw with exhaustion. When she looked back at him, he was frowning. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”
He sounded sincere. Surprisingly so.
She nodded in acceptance of his apology, and he let out a slow breath.
“I have no good excuse.” His jaw worked. “I’m just …”
She waited, but he didn’t continue.
Instead, he simply sighed and gestured to their left. “Why don’t I show you to my trailer?”
GODS OF THE GATES: SEASON 6, EP. 9
INT. VENUS’S PALACE ON MT. OLYMPUS – DUSK
PSYCHE lies on a low couch, eyes closed and unresponsive, edging closer to death with every hour she sleeps. When CUPID enters and sees his beloved, he rushes toward her, distraught. VENUS raises a commanding hand, and he immediately stops. From behind Venus, JUPITER steps into the room, his expression fierce with rage and determination.
VENUS
I told you not to come.
CUPID
She is my wife, Mother. My heart. Let me wake her. Please.
Venus glides toward him, sneering.
VENUS
Your heart is mine. Your loyalty is mine. Your eternal existence is mine.
She grips his chin in one hand, squeezing until his face twists in pain.
VENUS
The life of a single mortal girl matters not. Your place is at our side, fighting our foes: Juno, that treacherous bitch, and her allies.
CUPID
If I fight alongside you, will you promise to spare Psyche? To save her?
Jupiter strides toward Cupid, livid, and backhands his grandson, who crumples to his knees.
JUPITER
A puny, mewling demigod does not question the will of all-powerful Jupiter. Your precious mortal will be dead before this battle ends, a fitting punishment for your defiance.
Cupid weeps. Venus clasps him to her bosom and dries his tears.
VENUS
Do you understand, my son? Do you now understand what obedience means?
CUPID
I do. I will obey.
Cupid strides from the room without another glance at Psyche.
2
THE FIRST TIME ALEX ENCOUNTERED THE CONCEPT OF “extra,” he’d related to it immediately, on an almost visceral level. Oh, yes, that’s what I am. Much like the moment his mother had explained what his diagnosis of ADHD meant.
Not everyone appreciated his personality, but so be it. Not everyone appreciated deep-fried turkey on Thanksgiving either, and that was their loss. If he was congenitally, delightfully “extra,” however, the dour woman across the room was the opposite.
Nondescript tee. Cardigan. Dark jeans. No jewelry or makeup, and no natural color in that pallid face. Even her eyebrows were relatively pale. Her avian qualities—her sharp features, her short, round frame—were the only memorable things about her appearance, really, other than those eyes.
It might help if she actually said something. Anything.
But she didn’t. If at all possible, she didn’t even acknowledge him.
“Hey, Lauren, pass me that medicine ball,” he called out to her. “The one to your left.”
She answered without looking up. “Nope.”
An hour ago, she’d settled herself on a weight bench in the hotel’s empty fitness room, eyes on her e-reader and not him. Even though he was both sweaty and shirtless, states which—he had been informed by trustworthy sources—showed him to best advantage and reliably drew the attention of anyone attracted to men.
Huh. Maybe—
“Hey, Lauren, are you into dudes? Like, at all?” He raised his arms over his head in a luxuriant stretch, then flexed his biceps appealingly, in hopes the incentive might induce her to raise her head.
Again, not a single glance upward. “Not your business.”
Half a dozen lunges. A handful of burpees. All his athletic prowess and his carefully honed body, displayed right there in front of her. And …
Nothing. Nada.
“Hey, Lauren.” This time he waited for a response, banking on her inherent politeness.
She finally raised her gaze from her e-reader, head tilted in inquiry, and he basked in the smug glow of victory.
“I once starred in a movie where my love interest was a mime, and my costar spoke more than you.” He did a few jumping jacks, as long as he had her attention. “Just FYI.”
Her voice was patently unimpressed. “Because she wasn’t really a mime. She was an actor.”
He frowned at her. “I meant she spoke more on camera.”
“Then she wasn’t a very good mime.”