Jenn Windrow

“Len’s arm brushed against mine. I pulled the cream and gold comforter overmy shoulders and cuddled closer, wishing I could stay in bed all day and snuggle.But Cupid’s minions didn’t get sick days or holidays or time off for good behavior.Instead, I got a demanding boss, no pay, and chained to a man-whore till death dous part.I’d complain, but I didn’t think Cupid’s minions had a union.”

“Who was I to meddle in people’s love lives? Mine was a mess. My heartwanted the one thing it wasn’t allowed to have — love with someone besides mycupid-appointed soul mate. I was so screwed up, I made the dysfunctionalrelationships on Jerry Springer look wholesome.”

“Hello to you too, sunshine.”Pulling a book out of my bag, I cracked it open and settled into my time-toignore-Grayson pose. A pose that took me weeks to perfect. “Let’s not pretend weenjoy each other’s company.”“Don’t you get sick of always being…” He waved his hand back and forth inmy direction like a conductor guiding an orchestra. “You?”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“Just that if the stick in your ass got any higher we could hang a flag over yourhead and declare you your own state.”

“With a tug, I pulled Len off his knees, wrapped my arms around him, andhugged him close. Behind his back, I flashed a middle finger of defiance I hopedCupid saw high up on Mount Olympus.Fuck soul mates. Fuck Grayson. Fuck Cupid.I was keeping the ring.”