1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓ - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
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ANOTHER TWO MONTHS COME AND GO, AND RYLIN CARTER FINDS HIMSELF WAKING UP AND PULLING THE SMALLER GIRL'S BODY CLOSER TO PRESS AGAINST HIS, NOSE CONSTANTLY BREATHING IN HER SUNFLOWER SCENT. It's electrifying and crazed all at once, and he realizes that he wants to spend every morning looking at his girlfriend and whispering sweet (but not so sweet) things into her ear.
The had a fight last night about texting and calling (Rylin's terrible at it, and so is Sora), so they were both irritated at the other with the lack thereof, but he hoped that they'd be fine with the rising of a new day. And when the sun had reached its glorious peak, Sora blinked open sleepily and hugged him closer.
Yeah, Rylin thinks secretly. Yeah, we'll be okay.
"I still hate you," Sora whispers against his chest, fingertips soft as he brushes through her colored hair.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pulse escalating and spiraling out of this universe like a shooting star. "I love you too, pretty girl."
And he does.
Adrian Chalmetón's parties are something of a legend (as stated before), and Sora cocks her head at the birthday party invitation at the hottest club in the text he'd sent her the night before. Maybe it's a way of sending his gratitude even though she should honestly be the one thanking him—he's the one that introduced her to Rylin Carter, after all.
She texts him back and says she can't make it (she just doesn't feel like going), and they decide to catch up at Sue's Corner during her shift. Sora's ankle is just about to finish its healing process, and sometimes when she gets unbearably frustrated, she'll yell at her leg and beg it to hurry up. Usually while she's working, her boyfriend will read something with a long limb casually bent and the other dangling over the cushion to wait for her, but she remembers that he's celebrating his neighbor's birthday at a new karaoke bar (Rylin must hate it there).
Across the counter, the blond casually flips through the menu and rests his elbow on a half-ripped napkin. Even on his birthday, Sora thinks he looks uncharacteristically blue, and so she smacks a strawberry shake down right in front of him and grins wickedly as he jolts.
"Happy birthday, Chalmetón," Sora remarks, arching a single brow up as he shakes his head and laughs loosely, mumbling something in the foreign language that's impossible for her to understand. "It's on the house."
Adrian hands her the menu. "You and Rylin are demons sent from hell," he mutters, "but thanks, Sora."
She doesn't really know why, but she likes the way that sentence sounds.
"Still leaving Chase in the dark?" Sora asks, adjusting her white apron around her waist so it'll stay up. She's lost a bit of weight from the lack of appetite she's had recently (a symptom of the painkillers) and Sora often finds comfort when Rylin yells at her to eat the goddamn food he makes her—he doesn't express his emotions like she does, but it's nice to know that she's the only one who can draw it out of him.
The boy sighs and bites down on his bottom lip, worrying it anxiously between his teeth. "Don't feel like talking about it right now," he mutters in defeat, and Sora knows she should stop pushing—she knows this, and yet doesn't particularly care.
"You know," the waitress continues, "you'll lose her if you don't do something, and then she'll be in someone else's arms before you can blink. And who knows?" Sora wipes down a dish and turns her attention to the blond. "I might not be around to help you anymore."
"You met Rylin because of me."
Sora snorts. "Are you going to keep hanging that over my head?"
A pause. "Probably."
"I don't care if it's your birthday anymore," Sora snaps with no real bite. Instead, she reaches out and steals his shake before taking a sip. "Get out."
Adrian frowns and attempts to snatch the drink out of her hand with no success. "Has anyone ever told you that you're heartless?"
She grins. "I don't need one anyways."
Sora Lee finishes sophomore year with golden grades and a carefree outlook, and her attitude is nothing short of contagious as she takes a short road trip with her friends, travelling through the bottom left edge of Nevada and visiting Arizona (she almost stabs her finger on a cactus). This summer, she tells herself, will be filled with late night adventures and frozen watermelon popsicles and drunken memories. Maybe she'll get a tattoo, or maybe she'll go parasailing (even though she's broke).
The possibilities are endless.
She takes up a few hobbies: instead of skating on Tuesdays, Sora stays inside her new apartment—she has an apartment now!—to paint and stay up all night with savory popcorn and a movie. After a few months of sitting down on the couch and resting the cast outside the bathtub when she took a shower, Sora is more than happy to get back on the ice even if it means her moves are limited.
Which is fine. It's better to be able to walk than to skate, and although it takes a lot of convincing from Adeena and Claire, she'll be okay. She's more than okay, in fact—Sora glows now, and maybe it's the stress from school being pushed off of her shoulders or maybe it's the fact that she's still more in love than ever, but adrenaline constantly pumps through her veins and loops itself around the slender shape of her wrists.
When Sora had first skated after being stagnant for so long (although very, very active in bed), Rylin had been right by her side, pinkies entwined as per usual and gaze locked on her legs as if predicting if she'll fall.
She didn't.
But of course, when Rylin Carter's irises flash quicksilver, Sora knows better than to stop him, and so she holds his hand for the entire half-hour that they spend on the ice: him in his hockey uniform, and her in a pair of jeans and a thin pullover.
His lashes look like crystallized snow as he holds her from the back and wraps two arms in the dips of her waist, pulling Sora against him so that he finds comfort in the feeling. He still has the undercut that Sora claims to hate but really, really doesn't; Rylin touches her like she's a blessing and a curse, and he's still mean to her when his fingertips trace the outline of her lips.
Sora's mean right back.
And although he calls her a brat and his Ice Queen (her personal favorite), she knows that he'll be there for her—always. Like her own personal guardian angel, even if a heavenly being is far from what Rylin Carter is; Sora thinks he gets prettier as time goes by, and when she picks him up after a long shift at the campus library, sometimes she just leans against the bookcases and admires his silver concentration and the small beauty mark on his face. They even argue about which songs to play in the car, where he favors indie and she's waiting restlessly to listen to L.A. Lee's new album. It doesn't mattter, though, because he always lets her pick with a roll of his eyes and a rough kiss.
I love you.
At the bonfire by the beach, the night sky is peppered with constellations and smeared with pastel-colored stars, and it seems that even the clouds agrees with the burning flames soaring from the sand.
If she's being honest, Sora's been thinking of doing this for quite a while but didn't have the nerve to face a period of confrontation. But now, as she gazes at the blue-tinted flames curling around soggy pieces of wood, Sora Lee has no regrets.
Thirty minutes ago, Rylin's shirt had caught fire from a bit of gasoline she'd spilled (on accident, but her boyfriend doesn't seem to believe her), and she glances at the defined and lean muscles on his stomach as the chain from around his neck glints in the moonlight. He's always so pretty.
"You're so fucking difficult," Rylin had complained when his shirt had turned to ashes.
Sora winced. "I said I was sorry! And who wears that kind of stuff to the beach anyways?"
"That was my favorite shirt."
A pause. "You literally say that for every goddamn thing you own."
"Shut up," Rylin had hissed.
She wasn't bothered in the slightest, however, and instead kept on pushing his buttons. "Ask nicely," Sora murmured in a sing-song voice, hand reaching over and sliding it up his arm. "No," she corrected. "Can you beg for it instead?"
Rylin had huffed and pulled her in for a rough kiss, but when they both pulled away, a smile swirled on his mouth.
And right now, as she throws all of her applications into the flames and watches the edges of the papers curl up and dissolve in a whisper of black smoke and love-stained air, Sora turns around in his arms and bites her bottom lip.
"How do you feel?" Rylin asks softly—a rare tone for him, and that's all it takes for Sora to melt and allow her bottom lash line to collect a few drops of glistening tears before blinking it away.
Sora's matchmaking business is officially over.
Sora's matchmaking business is on a permanent hiatus.
And Sora's matchmaking business will always remain to be one of her best creations yet.
"I feel good," she says honestly. "Lighter, somehow. And relieved."
He nods as if it makes perfect sense, and it does. At least to her. "I'm proud of you, Ice Queen," Rylin praises, and she lets a smile grace the edges of her mouth and tug it up so that a dimple pops out on her left cheek.
"Really?"
"Really," her boyfriend says with a soft flick to her nose, laughing as she glares and yelps.
Sora sighs. "Well," she realizes, "I guess people will have to fall in love without my help. Do you think they'll manage?"
"Don't care," Rylin whispers against her neck, and soon, Sora doesn't find herself caring either as she kisses him back—slowly, so slowly, but intimately. "Those fuckers can find somebody else to bother."
They'll be fine, Sora thinks, and for the first time in her life, she looks forward to what tomorrow's glowing sunrise has to offer her.
"Where to now?" Rylin asks, turning around to look at her as he slides a hand in her pocket.
Sora lets her fingers trail the line of his jaw, loving the way he looks against a backdrop of shimmering stars and how his hair is just the right amount of messy and tousled and so, so beautiful.
"Home," she whispers, and he smiles, teeth pearl-white and irises flashing with arrogant affection.
Home. Let's go home.
And so according to the rumors on campus, Cupid (with the pink highlights) retired later that summer much to the dismay of many students and found herself in love with a boy with pierced ears, black silk, and a killer devilish smirk.
Cupid doesn't really mind, though.
Not when Rylin Carter loves her, and especially not when Sora Lee loves him right back.
Maybe happy endings exist after all.
The had a fight last night about texting and calling (Rylin's terrible at it, and so is Sora), so they were both irritated at the other with the lack thereof, but he hoped that they'd be fine with the rising of a new day. And when the sun had reached its glorious peak, Sora blinked open sleepily and hugged him closer.
Yeah, Rylin thinks secretly. Yeah, we'll be okay.
"I still hate you," Sora whispers against his chest, fingertips soft as he brushes through her colored hair.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pulse escalating and spiraling out of this universe like a shooting star. "I love you too, pretty girl."
And he does.
Adrian Chalmetón's parties are something of a legend (as stated before), and Sora cocks her head at the birthday party invitation at the hottest club in the text he'd sent her the night before. Maybe it's a way of sending his gratitude even though she should honestly be the one thanking him—he's the one that introduced her to Rylin Carter, after all.
She texts him back and says she can't make it (she just doesn't feel like going), and they decide to catch up at Sue's Corner during her shift. Sora's ankle is just about to finish its healing process, and sometimes when she gets unbearably frustrated, she'll yell at her leg and beg it to hurry up. Usually while she's working, her boyfriend will read something with a long limb casually bent and the other dangling over the cushion to wait for her, but she remembers that he's celebrating his neighbor's birthday at a new karaoke bar (Rylin must hate it there).
Across the counter, the blond casually flips through the menu and rests his elbow on a half-ripped napkin. Even on his birthday, Sora thinks he looks uncharacteristically blue, and so she smacks a strawberry shake down right in front of him and grins wickedly as he jolts.
"Happy birthday, Chalmetón," Sora remarks, arching a single brow up as he shakes his head and laughs loosely, mumbling something in the foreign language that's impossible for her to understand. "It's on the house."
Adrian hands her the menu. "You and Rylin are demons sent from hell," he mutters, "but thanks, Sora."
She doesn't really know why, but she likes the way that sentence sounds.
"Still leaving Chase in the dark?" Sora asks, adjusting her white apron around her waist so it'll stay up. She's lost a bit of weight from the lack of appetite she's had recently (a symptom of the painkillers) and Sora often finds comfort when Rylin yells at her to eat the goddamn food he makes her—he doesn't express his emotions like she does, but it's nice to know that she's the only one who can draw it out of him.
The boy sighs and bites down on his bottom lip, worrying it anxiously between his teeth. "Don't feel like talking about it right now," he mutters in defeat, and Sora knows she should stop pushing—she knows this, and yet doesn't particularly care.
"You know," the waitress continues, "you'll lose her if you don't do something, and then she'll be in someone else's arms before you can blink. And who knows?" Sora wipes down a dish and turns her attention to the blond. "I might not be around to help you anymore."
"You met Rylin because of me."
Sora snorts. "Are you going to keep hanging that over my head?"
A pause. "Probably."
"I don't care if it's your birthday anymore," Sora snaps with no real bite. Instead, she reaches out and steals his shake before taking a sip. "Get out."
Adrian frowns and attempts to snatch the drink out of her hand with no success. "Has anyone ever told you that you're heartless?"
She grins. "I don't need one anyways."
Sora Lee finishes sophomore year with golden grades and a carefree outlook, and her attitude is nothing short of contagious as she takes a short road trip with her friends, travelling through the bottom left edge of Nevada and visiting Arizona (she almost stabs her finger on a cactus). This summer, she tells herself, will be filled with late night adventures and frozen watermelon popsicles and drunken memories. Maybe she'll get a tattoo, or maybe she'll go parasailing (even though she's broke).
The possibilities are endless.
She takes up a few hobbies: instead of skating on Tuesdays, Sora stays inside her new apartment—she has an apartment now!—to paint and stay up all night with savory popcorn and a movie. After a few months of sitting down on the couch and resting the cast outside the bathtub when she took a shower, Sora is more than happy to get back on the ice even if it means her moves are limited.
Which is fine. It's better to be able to walk than to skate, and although it takes a lot of convincing from Adeena and Claire, she'll be okay. She's more than okay, in fact—Sora glows now, and maybe it's the stress from school being pushed off of her shoulders or maybe it's the fact that she's still more in love than ever, but adrenaline constantly pumps through her veins and loops itself around the slender shape of her wrists.
When Sora had first skated after being stagnant for so long (although very, very active in bed), Rylin had been right by her side, pinkies entwined as per usual and gaze locked on her legs as if predicting if she'll fall.
She didn't.
But of course, when Rylin Carter's irises flash quicksilver, Sora knows better than to stop him, and so she holds his hand for the entire half-hour that they spend on the ice: him in his hockey uniform, and her in a pair of jeans and a thin pullover.
His lashes look like crystallized snow as he holds her from the back and wraps two arms in the dips of her waist, pulling Sora against him so that he finds comfort in the feeling. He still has the undercut that Sora claims to hate but really, really doesn't; Rylin touches her like she's a blessing and a curse, and he's still mean to her when his fingertips trace the outline of her lips.
Sora's mean right back.
And although he calls her a brat and his Ice Queen (her personal favorite), she knows that he'll be there for her—always. Like her own personal guardian angel, even if a heavenly being is far from what Rylin Carter is; Sora thinks he gets prettier as time goes by, and when she picks him up after a long shift at the campus library, sometimes she just leans against the bookcases and admires his silver concentration and the small beauty mark on his face. They even argue about which songs to play in the car, where he favors indie and she's waiting restlessly to listen to L.A. Lee's new album. It doesn't mattter, though, because he always lets her pick with a roll of his eyes and a rough kiss.
I love you.
At the bonfire by the beach, the night sky is peppered with constellations and smeared with pastel-colored stars, and it seems that even the clouds agrees with the burning flames soaring from the sand.
If she's being honest, Sora's been thinking of doing this for quite a while but didn't have the nerve to face a period of confrontation. But now, as she gazes at the blue-tinted flames curling around soggy pieces of wood, Sora Lee has no regrets.
Thirty minutes ago, Rylin's shirt had caught fire from a bit of gasoline she'd spilled (on accident, but her boyfriend doesn't seem to believe her), and she glances at the defined and lean muscles on his stomach as the chain from around his neck glints in the moonlight. He's always so pretty.
"You're so fucking difficult," Rylin had complained when his shirt had turned to ashes.
Sora winced. "I said I was sorry! And who wears that kind of stuff to the beach anyways?"
"That was my favorite shirt."
A pause. "You literally say that for every goddamn thing you own."
"Shut up," Rylin had hissed.
She wasn't bothered in the slightest, however, and instead kept on pushing his buttons. "Ask nicely," Sora murmured in a sing-song voice, hand reaching over and sliding it up his arm. "No," she corrected. "Can you beg for it instead?"
Rylin had huffed and pulled her in for a rough kiss, but when they both pulled away, a smile swirled on his mouth.
And right now, as she throws all of her applications into the flames and watches the edges of the papers curl up and dissolve in a whisper of black smoke and love-stained air, Sora turns around in his arms and bites her bottom lip.
"How do you feel?" Rylin asks softly—a rare tone for him, and that's all it takes for Sora to melt and allow her bottom lash line to collect a few drops of glistening tears before blinking it away.
Sora's matchmaking business is officially over.
Sora's matchmaking business is on a permanent hiatus.
And Sora's matchmaking business will always remain to be one of her best creations yet.
"I feel good," she says honestly. "Lighter, somehow. And relieved."
He nods as if it makes perfect sense, and it does. At least to her. "I'm proud of you, Ice Queen," Rylin praises, and she lets a smile grace the edges of her mouth and tug it up so that a dimple pops out on her left cheek.
"Really?"
"Really," her boyfriend says with a soft flick to her nose, laughing as she glares and yelps.
Sora sighs. "Well," she realizes, "I guess people will have to fall in love without my help. Do you think they'll manage?"
"Don't care," Rylin whispers against her neck, and soon, Sora doesn't find herself caring either as she kisses him back—slowly, so slowly, but intimately. "Those fuckers can find somebody else to bother."
They'll be fine, Sora thinks, and for the first time in her life, she looks forward to what tomorrow's glowing sunrise has to offer her.
"Where to now?" Rylin asks, turning around to look at her as he slides a hand in her pocket.
Sora lets her fingers trail the line of his jaw, loving the way he looks against a backdrop of shimmering stars and how his hair is just the right amount of messy and tousled and so, so beautiful.
"Home," she whispers, and he smiles, teeth pearl-white and irises flashing with arrogant affection.
Home. Let's go home.
And so according to the rumors on campus, Cupid (with the pink highlights) retired later that summer much to the dismay of many students and found herself in love with a boy with pierced ears, black silk, and a killer devilish smirk.
Cupid doesn't really mind, though.
Not when Rylin Carter loves her, and especially not when Sora Lee loves him right back.
Maybe happy endings exist after all.
End of 1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓ Chapter 10. Continue reading Chapter 11 or return to 1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓ book page.