Cupids Peak

by Lee Jacquot

“Please explain to me how my having sex has anything to do with my quality as a roommate?” She brushes her hands over her cream pantsuit. The gorgeous fabric ripples under her touch. “It’s like coming home to a sad cat lady with no cats, and it’s progressively making your aura suck. You need a good O to bring back some life to those cheeks.” “A good O,” I repeat, taking a small sip of my drink and turning back toward my paused Hallmark movie. “I get those every Friday, thank you.” It’s the truth, I really do. In fact, I actually have an assortment of toys—all ordered from a discreet shipping site—and rotate them out every Friday while Eleni’s on her dates. I’m what some would call a “shy masturbator,” and can’t seem to find the spot if I know anyone’s around to hear.

I’ve never liked being front and center. There’s just too much pressure that comes with people watching you,

Hell, now that I think about it, I haven’t liked a guy as much as I did this one from my senior year in high school. The funny thing about him was that we never even dated. I’m not even sure if you could define us as real friends. We had random hallway conversations, and then I later tutored him after his math grade threatened to have him benched. Eli Brooks. He was the school’s it guy. Polite, charismatic, with a good sense of humor. A solid trifecta I haven’t been able to find since graduating a decade ago. Somewhere in between the late nights and textbooks, I grew really attached to his company. Too bad I couldn’t ever muster up my sister’s tenacity and tell him. But even though we didn’t become something, he did. He’s been dubbed the most valuable player on his team in the National Hockey League three years in a row. Not to mention he has somehow become hotter.

Some would say it’s a missed opportunity, but I couldn’t imagine a worse fate. The man lives in the spotlight. I would have to pop an antacid every twenty minutes.

As someone who’s lived in Colorado her whole life, I know how sometimes the news can be completely wrong. This is definitely one of those times. My fingernails dig into the soft padding of my palm as I clench them harder around the rubber handle holding me inside the ski gondola. White flurries slap angrily against the window while the whistle of growing winds seems as loud as an oncoming train. The storm came out of nowhere and decided to descend on me when I was thirty feet off the ground. My heart thrums in my chest with every second as the lift ascends up the mountain. I know I’m safe, but if the wind doesn’t stop, and they have to stop the gondola… well, I can’t think of a worse outcome than some rescue crew coming to get me. For the next few minutes, I send silent pleas to Mother Nature to get me to the top. I want to take this as a sign that I should have kept my ass on my comfortable couch, but try my best to stay positive. It’s hard, though, when my body’s swaying with every gust and the chains above are singing their sweet melody of tension.

My stomach twists as she takes me around to a row of booths next to the tall glass windows overlooking the slopes. It’s an incredible view of the current storm, but it’s also extremely intimate and not really meant for a first date. Especially not a blind one. “Excuse me,” I try again. “Can you please tell me—” “Here we are.” The host stops abruptly at the last small U-shaped booth, where a man sits with his back to me. “I’ll have your server right over.” I don’t even get to thank her before she disappears, but then again, I probably wouldn’t be able to. Not when the man has turned around and crushed gray eyes collide with mine. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “Hey, Mia. It’s been a while.”

The best, or in my case, the worst, part about him is how kind he is. He doesn’t let the popularity get to his head, and he’s not your typical jock who gets around for the sake of getting around. He’s humble, cordial with everyone, and he’s funny. Like actually funny, for crying out loud. As if the gray-eyed anomaly can hear my thoughts, his gaze finds mine, stealing a soft gasp from me.

“Either way, Em, take a chance before you regret it. He’s a real catch.” That he is. But even if I did get over the massive lump lodged in my throat when I look at him, I’m not even sure what I’d say. What I’d want. Being with someone like Eli Brooks would mean life in the spotlight, and that’s one of my few hard limits. So what would even be the point? My eyes flash to the hockey player whose gaze I find still locked on me. The air thins as he quirks the faintest of smiles and winks.

The whole reason Eli sought me out is because of a recommendation from his math teacher. If he doesn’t pass this semester, he won’t be playing, and from what I know about him, hockey is his life. It’s understandable why he’d get confused under the pressure. I must admit, though, there’s something kind of intimate about seeing Eli get nervous. He usually gives off nothing but easy-going confidence, and I’ve heard he performs even better on the ice when it’s crunch time. Seeing his vulnerable side over the past few weeks has done stupid things to my brain and even dumber things to my heart.

“Sounds like the start of every high school romance movie plot.” He smirks before walking his fingers over to my plate. “May I?” Ignoring the flurry of butterflies making waves in my stomach, I nod. “Yes, and it’s a recycled plot because it works.” Before I started tutoring Eli, we’d bonded in the hall over our shared love of eighties movies. Most of them were comedies, but quite a few were romantic. He shrugs and pops one of my fries into his mouth. “I see. So is this the part of the movie where the jock and his quiet tutor fall for each other? Over shared fries and math problems?” I’m pretty sure my entire face is on fire at this point as my mind tries to formulate real words. “Uhm—I—no.”

Ten years ago, I was dumb enough to let Mia de la Cruz slip through my fingers. I knew her quiet and reserved nature was the opposite of mine and what I had in store for my life, and I figured it would be best for her to be the one to make the first move. That way, I’d know without a doubt she wanted me despite it. My intentions were there, but the execution wasn’t, which is why I finished high school having to admire my girl from a distance.

I watched her kill it at the top percent of our class and give an inspiring, heartfelt speech during our graduation. She’d struggled to start at first. Her eyes were darting around, her hands fisting the edge of her gown while she shifted from foot to foot. But then, out of nowhere, those brown eyes landed on me, and she started speaking as if it was just her and I in the whole damn stadium. It rekindled my hope that maybe we could try to be something regardless of our obvious differences. But when I went to find her after the ceremony, I overheard her with her sister and learned it wasn’t me she was looking at, but Eleni, who was sitting right behind me.

I’d thought when I graduated and went off halfway across the country for college, I would forget about her. That those few weeks we spent together would be a distant memory belonging to a time everyone usually tries to forget. But I didn’t, not entirely. Every once in a while, I would do something or see something that would remind me of her. It could be as obscure as eating out and sitting in a booth or as direct as drinking a chocolate shake. The moments would be fleeting, but her smile, he...

I won’t lie and say I haven’t been nervous as hell. In fact, it’s all I’ve been. Part of me was worried that I’d been using her as this good feeling for so long that when I actually saw her, it wouldn’t be the same. That I let her memory turn into something so great in my mind that it would no longer be realistic. But the moment my eyes meet her big brown ones, I realize how much of an asshole I’ve been. How nothing I’ve imagined or remembered has held a candle to the real thing.

“Hello, my name is Veronika. Can I start you off with a glass of our house wine?” My eyes flash to Mia, whose lips curl in a polite smile. “Just a tea for me, please.” Veronika’s brows furrow in the middle, as though Mia asking for a warm drink in the middle of a blizzard is outrageous.

Aren't you going to specify what type of tea??

After another beat, she gives her a curt nod and turns to me, an absurdly large smile on her face. “Um, yes, of course. And for you, sir?” “You wouldn’t happen to have chocolate shakes, would you?” Mia covers her mouth, doing a horrible job of hiding a laugh, while the server looks genuinely bewildered. Veronika passes a look between Mia and me before clearing her throat. “For you, I’m sure I can work something out.

I shake my head, plucking the pick from my milkshake and holding it out to Mia. “You still like the cherries, right?” “You remember that?” She scooches over the U-shaped booth slightly, taking the stick from me and putting it on her napkin. “How can I forget when you stole every single one of mine?” Her mouth drops open. “I would never! Do you know how nervous I used to be when we’d get together?” “No, you weren’t. Not the way you used to be on my ass about getting the Order of Operations wrong.” Mia scoffs. “I was the nicest tutor.” I shrug. “Debatable.”

She tilts her head back with the laughter I also didn’t quite remember right. It’s light and infectious, spreading through me and making everyone else in the damn restaurant disappear.

“Says the nice guy who gets put in the penalty box once every game.” “So you’ve seen more than one game,” I point out, trying a bit of the chocolate shake. It’s more nostalgic than it is good, and it sends me to a place with little of life’s troubles. “Your mom’s shakes are way better.” “Yeah, I’m sure. Some things are better left to mom-and-pop restaurants.” I wash the thick chocolate milk down with some of the water. “I see how you skipped over that part about watching my games.” Mia hides her smile behind her mug as sh...

When she walks away, I try my fucking hardest not to watch, but my eyes don’t seem to care and follow the curves of her frame all the way through the sea of tables. My blood rushes through my veins, a vision invading my thoughts of having her come undone at the table with people just a few feet away. How she’d have to muffle her moans and hide the orgasm ripping through her as nearby couples enjoyed their Costolette Brasato. The thought is sudden and reminds me why this didn’t work back then and why it definitely wouldn’t work now. Mia has always been the type to stay out of everyone’s line of sight. She likes keeping to herself and probably prefers her orgasms to be inside, in her bed, hidden in the dark.

My life in the light has done nothing but move into a bigger ray, and my desires in bed are pretty much the same. All this time and I doubt our story would ever change. She’ll simply remain a sweet dream, just out of reach.

“I’m literally going to strangle you. Eli Brooks?” I push my mouth closer to the receiver of the phone, making my whisper sound more like an incoherent hiss. “Eli fucking Brooks, Eleni? What were you thinking?” I snuck off to the bathroom to call my sister.

An odd combination of annoyance and gratitude swirls together in my gut, forcing a sigh from deep in my chest. “Had a crush. And having a one-night stand with a celebrity hockey player is not on my Bingo card.” “Bucket list. And had, my ass. I know you have that dumb sports channel programmed on the clicker.” Glasses clink together in the background, and the faint sound of lofi can be heard somewhere behind her. “Also, I threw you my phone. It had his damn picture on it.”

My sister releases a long breath. “Em, please go out there and have a good time. Take a couple of shots, make out, and please, for the love of everything, fuck that man in the gondola on the way down.” “Eleni!” She laughs. “I’m serious. Live a little, girl. It’s one night. No more what-ifs.” No more what-ifs. I’ve been lucky enough to not have many, but Eli has always been my biggest one.

His angular jaw is now covered in a short, neat beard. A few faded scars that I find unreasonably sexy decorate his slightly crooked nose, temple, and left cheek. All of them courtesy of tussles on the ice, and all of which I watched through tiny slits in my fingers that covered my eyes. His body has filled out as well. Lean muscle has turned into bulk mass, his white button-down fitting a little snug across his shoulders and arms, displaying the strength required to fight off angry opponents. The years have done him justice.

Eli chuckles. It’s low and sensual and sounds like something I’d very much love to hear in the crook of my neck. Or running down my side. Or between my thighs. My face heats at the vision trying to invade my mind. Holy shit. I need to get myself together.

His hand closes around his glass of water on the table, thumb moving up and down slowly, disrupting the drips of condensation. The act itself is innocent enough, but it incinerates the weak hold I have on my raging horniness.

“When I say I barely made it through without puking on everyone in the first row, I mean barely.” He chuckles, the sound twisting with his smooth voice. “I mean, at first, yes. You looked a little like a deer in headlights. But once you locked eyes with your sister, it was great. I was proud of you.” “My sister?” My head tilts to the side slightly. “I was so frazzled, I couldn’t even find her in the arena.” Now it’s his turn to look confused. His mouth parts twice, and a deep valley forms between his brows. “She sat right behind me. You stared at her the entire time.” I’m not sure what’s funnier. Him thinking I could see anyone behind his large frame or him believing I wanted to see anyone else besides him.

Maybe it’s my sister screaming in the back of my head or the reality that I really don’t want to leave this dinner with any regrets, but I tell him the truth. “I was staring at you, Eli.” He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “No way. I saw you after the ceremony. Your sister was saying she was glad you were able to focus on your happy place.” A vicious heat blooms across my cheeks. Okay, maybe I didn’t want to be that honest. Luckily, the waitress appears with our food and grunts disapprovingly in my direction when she eyes the nearly full appetizer plate.

“This looks really good.” I pick up my fork, hoping to redirect the conversation, but Eli shakes his head. “Uh-huh. No way. What’s the happy place thing about?” “No chance of dropping it?” He shakes his head. “Not one.” Rolling my eyes, I give in. “I’ll tell you, but I need your word that you're not going to judge me.” Eli holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

A nervous shiver runs through me as I explain how my happy place has always been the diner. My mom and dad opened it before we were born, and I loved being there all the time. Even though it was usually full of people, I still had my slice of peace in the midst of it all. Those weeks that Eli and I worked together made me realize a few things, the main one being that the booth wasn’t the only thing that could calm my nerves. He could too. I’m still not sure what it was about him, but even though I still experienced my typical shyness, I always felt safe. Unjudged. Free to be me. So when I was giving my speech, and I found him in the crowd, I imagined it was just him and I, back in my parents’ diner, sitting in our corner booth. Eli eats his food in silence as I ramble on, and when I’m done, I’m a little winded and confident my heart has left a bruise on my ribcage.

“Will you play a game with me, Mia?” Somehow, I’m able to keep the shocked laughter in check. “A game?” He nods. I start to open my mouth to ask a question but decide against it when none come to mind. I basically just told this man he was a cure for my social anxiety, and he’s asking me to play a game. Some of the withheld laughter seeps out. “Um, sure. What game did you have in mind, Mr. Brooks?” A smirk that looks like something the devil would wear before sealing a deal slips across his face. “Truth or dare.”

His jaw flexes as he chews, and there’s something about his working throat that does wicked things to my imagination.

Truth. Ha. My truth right now is that I’m very quickly taking on a whole new persona. How I feel like now I could very easily scoot around the U-shaped booth and close the increasingly annoying gap between us, despite the number of eyes that have slowly begun shifting in our direction. There’s always been something about being with Eli that eased the nerves of being around others. I’m not sure if it’s his general, easy-going personality, those damn eyes of his that lasso me in and refuse to let go, or just how nice he is to look at. But right now, it’s encased us in a little bubble, similar to how it did back in high school. There’s only him and me, and a little game I intend to use to give myself some closure. Of knowing what I felt back then wasn’t one-sided.

Let’s do this. “When’s the last time you’ve been on a date?” He takes a slow drink of his mojito and smirks behind the rim. “Does our time in the diner count? Because if so, ten years ago.” I scoff, unsuccessfully tampering down the influx of excitement threading through me. “The game is called truth or dare, Eli. Not say cute things you think’ll help get you under my dress.” As soon as the words come out, my eyes snap open and my hand flies over my mouth. I can feel the heat of embarrassment flush over my face and suddenly it seems as if there’s a dozen more eyes looking our way.

“I doubt you have to say anything at all. You probably get more attention than you know what to do with, just like in high school.” On a few occasions, Eli would have to shut off his phone during our tutoring sessions. It would vibrate in his bag at least four to five times every couple of minutes, and I could tell it was sometimes too much. One of his shoulders lifts half-heartedly. “The only attention I ever wanted, I’m getting right now.” My eyes flash to him, but my throat is suddenly so thick all I can do is stare. So maybe it wasn’t so one-sided after all. Elation works its way through me, my body warming at the notion.

He huffs out a small chuckle, stabbing his fork through another tender green. “And just so you know, it wasn’t a lie. I’ve been, what some would say, a little too busy to date. And to the latter, I have no intention of saying anything cute to get in between your thighs.” Even though I’m sure his words are meant as another way to calm my nerves, it only ramps them up more. They could mean a million different things, and with the way my pussy clenches, demanding to know exactly what he means, I can’t stop myself from figuring it out. “More of a dirty talker, are we?” Oh my god, Mia. Shut up! That was definitely not what I meant to say.

But instead of responding at all, Eli tilts his head slightly, letting those gray orbs roam over me slowly. I feel the heat of his eyes as they touch every part of me. My lips. Across my jaw. Down my neck. Over my collarbone. Goose bumps prickle along my skin and the moment his gaze finds mine again, I’m all but panting. I don’t remember Eli ever being this… intense.

The boy version of him tugged on every soft part of me, threatening to steal my heart with the wink of his eye. But this Eli—the man he’s become—is promising to own every part of me, and that is equally erotic and terrifying as hell. “You could say I’m direct,” he finally says. “I like to say what I want, how I want it, and how they’re going to give it to me.” Fire immediately erupts deep in my core. Fuck me. I worry at my bottom lip and readjust in the booth. My clit is now throbbing, and tightening my thighs does nothing to relieve the sudden influx of pressure.

“And what is it that you want, Eli?” “Hmm. But it’s my turn now, Mia. Truth or dare?” The temptation to demand an answer is strong, but I push it down. “I just told you all of my truths, an embarrassing amount, in fact, so I think I’ll pick dare.” His brows lift. “Are you sure?” His tone is somewhere between a warning and a challenge. Excitement and trepidation take hold of me, and for a second, I consider changing my mind. We’re in a restaurant full of people—over half of which know who he is—what could he really even dare ...

Being this close to him, I can make out the warm earthy scent of his cologne and feel the pure heat radiating off his body. My nerves ignite, my muscles tense, and no matter how much I attempt to channel my inner confidence, I can’t drag my eyes up to meet his. “Comfortable?” “Yes.” My voice is a lot breathier than I want it to be. “Then why is your body so stiff?” A humorless laugh shakes my body. “I’m a tense person.” He “hmms” before returning to his food.

I wonder if he even remembers our little gesture. It was something like a secret handshake, inspired by our love of movies made in the seventies and eighties. We figured out that little tidbit our sophomore year when he was wearing a high school shirt from the Ferris Bueller movie on the same day I was wearing a shirt with ET on it. We ended up talking in the hallway until we were both late, and he stuck his finger out for me to touch. We became “passing acquaintances” after that. Sometimes striking up conversations about movies during our passing period and giving trivia every once in a while to see who knew them better. When we left for class, we always touched our index fingers.