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Maybe it was the bouquets of long-stemmed roses or the ‘I love you’s’ and ‘Be mine’s’ printed in red across pastel candy hearts. Maybe it was the memory of carefully practicing her cursive as she outlined each of her classmates’ names onto cartoon Valentine’s. Maybe it was the fact that she could turn on her TV at any time of day and one of her favourite rom-coms would be playing. Maybe it was the boxes of chocolates, the champagne toasts, the cheesy pickup lines, and the elaborate proposals. Maybe it was the fact that she could almost feel it—the love.
Whatever the reason, Elain adored Valentine’s Day.
She’d never had a date on the 14th of February, yet somehow, year after year, being single never dimmed her appreciation of the day. Maybe she just loved the idea of love. Maybe that was enough for her.
It was certainly how she found herself hosting a speed-dating event in the middle of the week. Whereas many of her friends were spending their evening on dates throughout the city, Elain hummed along to a familiar love song as she tucked her clipboard beneath her arm and smoothed her jittery palms over the tiny red hearts that patterned her dress.
The bar was filling up—a mix of regulars and those here for the event. Each drink poured and each person to enter the space had the ambient noise of the room growing louder. As the people around her took up conversation, Elain scanned the space, trying to make out anyone she knew.
She was expecting two of her friends.
“Lainy.”
There was one.
A grin had only tugged up on Elain’s lips when she felt the press of Cassian behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her until she let out a high-pitched laugh. She could hear his low chuckle, could feel the rumble that worked its way through her as he shifted his head, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek before letting her down.
Spinning on her heels, Elain wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Her skin was warm beneath her touch, and she knew she must have been blushing.
“Where’s Azriel?” she asked, standing on her toes and peering over Cassian’s shoulder as if she could make out the shadowed form of their mutual best friend.
“Az finally got a date,” he told her. He shook his head, as if he couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to go out with Azriel. A loose strand of dark hair fell into Cassian’s face, and Elain couldn't help but laugh again as she reached up and tucked it behind his ear.
“You sound surprised.”
“It’s Az.”
Elain bit her lip, for just a moment. “Az is hot, Cassian. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“He— well, yeah.” Cassian crossed his arms, even as his hazel eyes glowed with amusement. “But’s he’s so broody, Lain. He rarely smiles, has atrocious taste in music, and I once saw him pour spoonfuls of dry cereal in his mouth and drink milk only after he already chewed it.”
“The cereal thing was you,” Elain reminded him. She’d been there—it had not been pretty. “And a lot of women like a sad, sulky, wet cat of a man. Plus, he’s funny.”
“I’m also funny.”
“You try too hard.”
He barked out a laugh. “At least I didn't bail on you.”
Elain was grateful for him—she truly was. Still, it was fine that Azriel hadn’t shown up. One person had cancelled, sick with the flu, so that left them with an even number of people.
Instead of reassuring Cassian, however, Elain simply poked the bear.
“That’s because you have nowhere else to be since Nesta wouldn’t agree to go out with you.”
“That’s… only partially true.”
It was entirely true. She had been speaking to her sister earlier, had tried to convince her to finally give Cassian a chance. Nesta wanted him—Elain knew her older sister and she could tell—but there was still something that was preventing her from accepting his advances.
Try as she might, Elain couldn’t tell what.
Cassian was, well, Cassian. He was charming and kind and, above all else, loyal. It was all his positive qualities that had Elain meeting his eyes with what she knew was a sympathetic look. After a second, his gaze softened, mirroring the warmth reflected in hers.
Then he offered her a genuine smile as she shifted to grab the clipboard beneath her arm.
“I didn’t want Azriel to mess up your event,” he said, just as Elain’s gaze dipped down to her writing scrawled across the clipboard’s topmost paper.
She opened her mouth—to correct him—but he continued.
“So I invited someone else.”
Elain’s head shot up, eyes once again landing on Cassian. As she pursed her lips, she could see his widening in a self-satisfied grin.
Another person put them at an odd number of people for speed-dating.
Still, Elain was mostly skeptical, so she asked, “Who?”
“You don’t know him.”
“Of course I don’t.” She tried to swat him with her clipboard but he sidestepped easily. “I also don’t trust your taste in friends, Cass. Do you remember the last blind date you set me up with?”
“It went well, didn’t it?”
Elain gaped at him. “He tried to take my shoes off in the middle of dinner.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes,” she nearly shrieked.
He had the audacity to shrug. As much as she loved Cassian, as much as she enjoyed his teasing and their easy friendship, sometimes he got on her nerves.
“Lucien’s not like that.”
“You mean he doesn’t have a foot fetish? How charming?”
He considered this for a moment. “He might.”
“Cassian.”
“What? I never asked him, Lainy. He could very well have a foot fetish. How would I know?”
“You’re horrible.” She swatted her clipboard at him once again. This time, the corner grazed his elbow. “Text him and tell him not to come.”
“Can’t. He’s on his way.”
“One person cancelled, so we have an odd number,” she told him. “Tell him he doesn’t need to come.”
“I already asked him.”
“Un-ask him.” Maybe she sounded rude, but the idea of the event not going as planned made her incredibly nervous. She tried to ignore the tiny ball of dread in her stomach as she thought about her options. “Actually,” she said finally, “you can step out and he’ll take your place.”
“I can’t.” There was that word again—can’t. “I need to show Nesta that I care enough about her to support her sisters’ interests. I already spent the morning modelling for one of Feyre’s art classes.”
She couldn't believe him. “Step out, Cass. I don’t care about your attempts at getting Nesta’s attention—not today at least. You’re messing up my plans.”
“You can step in.”
She blinked at him. “I— What?”
He was nodding now, like this was an amazing idea. “Whoever cancelled, you can take their place.”
“I’m supposed to be the one planning this, not participating.”
Those hazel eyes of his widened, almost puppy-like as they caused something in Elain’s heart to tighten at the sight. “Please, Lainy? For me?”
Oh, he was good.
“You mean so you can convince Nesta to go out with you?”
He nodded—a quick up and down. “I’ve already cleared out next Valentine’s Day and everything.”
She was going to do this, wasn’t she?
“And this Lucien,” she asked, “he’s not a creep?”
“Would I introduce you to a creep?” He paused, thinking his words over, then continued with: “Actually, don’t answer that.”
Elain scoffed.
“He’s not a creep. I promise. Lucien is entirely respectable. I can’t comment on his bedroom habits, but I’d say he’s exactly your type.”
She raised her brow, fixing Cassian with a pointed look.
“Does it even matter?” he asked. “You’ll be paired with him for, what, a few minutes? I’m sure he won’t scandalize you in that time.”
“You’re sure?”
She wasn’t.
But Cassian only smiled wider and said, “I am.”
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
The rules of speed-dating were simple: each round would last three minutes before one person from each pair rotated tables. It was enough time to get a conversation going, but short enough to keep someone wanting more—if there was a connection. Elain had wanted to hover, had wanted to see relationships forming right before her eyes, but she settled for taking a seat, announcing that the first round was beginning as she started the timer on her phone.
The seconds counted down.
Her eyes darted to the empty chair across from her before shifting down to her clipboard. Taking a pen in her hand, she started to cross out names and rearrange the groups since it didn't seem like Cassian’s friend was coming.
She must have been lost in her work, but she heard a chair slide back against the vinyl flooring, heard the unmistakable sound of someone sitting down.
“You must be,” she began, words drawn out as she scribbled one last note.
Her eyes flickered up.
Elain’s lips must have parted because she took in a sharp breath.
“Lucien,” he said, finishing her train of thought with his name. His voice was low enough that Elain could feel the reverberations of it. That—and the way he leaned back in his chair, as if getting comfortable—short-circuited her brain.
A single corner of his lips quirked.
“You’re staring,” Lucien said finally.
He was teasing her, wasn’t he?
A blush worked its way onto Elain’s cheeks. She could feel it—the warmth that licked its way up her skin like unruly flames. Lucien must have noticed because his gaze swept over her features, right over where she was undoubtedly turning red.
She could feel his focus on her, even as she took in the amusement in his amber eyes. He reached out a single finger, tapping it against the tabletop between them and keeping a steady pace. If not for the way he looked at her, if not for the way that grin of his widened, she would have thought he was being impatient.
“Honey, the clock is ticking.”
The clock?
Oh. The clock. Elain’s gaze fell to her timer, to the numbers that seemed to be counting down far too fast.
They had less that a minute left.
“I—” She cleared her throat so her words didn’t sound as rough. When she spoke again, however, they came out high-pitched. “I’m Elain.”
“The infamous Lainy,” he mused.
A soft laugh escaped Elain’s lips. Lucien’s russet eyes seemed to light up at the sound, as if he was completely entranced. She felt the same way about him, too, she couldn’t help but think—this man, with his red hair that shone like lively flames under the soft white light, with his brown skin that glowed a near bronze.
“Cassian is the only one who calls me that,” she told him. “Elain is fine.”
“I’m more curious about the ‘infamous’ part.”
Of course he was.
Setting her elbows on the table, she rested her face in her hands. The warmth of her skin pressed against her palms. “I don’t know what Cassian has been saying, but I’m an angel.”
“You mean your cute dress isn’t covering up the fact that you’re an absolute menace?”
“I deny any such accusations,” she said, and since the sentence seemed incomplete, she added his name. “Lucien.”
“See that—” He used a large hand to gesture in her direction. “That should be illegal.”
“Lucien.”
He pressed his hand against the centre of his chest, shoulders slumping forward as if he were struggling to breathe. “Babe, you’re killing me.”
“I don’t—”
Her words were cut short as the shrill sound of her timer went off.
This was the wanting more that Elain knew came with speed-dating, especially punctuated by the fact that they had only had one minute. She liked talking to Lucien—that much was an understatement—but the rules of the event were simple and she had somewhere else to be.
With one last look at Lucien, she pushed against the flat surface of the table and stood. She was reaching for her clipboard when his fingers circled her wrist, burning like kerosene poured atop her skin.
“I didn’t get my three minutes.” His voice was gravelly—rough. And when Elain tilted her head down and met his eyes, she could have sworn they’d gotten darker.
“You were late,” she breathed. She wasn’t entirely sure where she found the words, how she said them.
Lucien kept his eyes on hers, using his free hand to wave whoever was behind her towards the next table. Then, he reached over and clicked start on her timer. Elain could almost hear it—the beat of her heart that must have mimicked the ticking of a clock.
“Parking was a nightmare,” he told her. His hand shifted over her, infusing her with warmth yet leaving goosebumps pebbling across her skin. Another movement, and he was interlacing their fingers as Elain slid back into her seat.
“I’m pretty sure the lot outside is mostly empty.”
“Let’s not talk about parking.” He shuffled forward in his seat, elbows falling onto the table and showing off his prominent muscles as he leaned towards her. “You’re cutting into my time.”
“Your time?”
“Yes, Elain. My time, ” Lucien said, as if it was obvious. “If I only get three minutes with you, I want to make them count.”
“Some men can only last three minutes,” she teased.
“Not me.” He kept his words light even as his gaze narrowed and, just for a moment, dipped down to her lips.
“You sound awfully confident for a man who can barely hold it together when I say his name.”
“Elain.” And something about how he said her name—like he was both exasperated and couldn’t get enough—left her barely holding it together, too.
She nodded in response—a simple dip of her chin as her grin widened. “Lucien.”
He groaned.
She squeezed his hand.
“We only just met, but I hate you.” Even as he played at being annoyed, she could see the amusement in his expression—in the shining russet of his eyes and the quirk of his lips.
“Really?”
She moved closer to him. He moved closer to her.
“You’re so pretty,” he said, close enough that she could feel each word blown across the space between their lips, “and I can’t help but think the frilly dress and all the pink is meant to torture me.”
Elain’s heartbeat faltered.
Lucien reached out his free hand, spreading his palm atop her skin and tracing the slope of her cheek. Elain leaned into the touch just as he guided his hand into the golden-brown locks of her hair.
“This—” He tugged on the ribbon she’d fashioned into a bow. It was meant to tie back her hair, but now, it unravelled, leaving loose curls cascading over her shoulders. “A pink bow, Elain, really?”
She inhaled slowly before speaking. “You don’t like pink?”
He was so close, with his hand interlaced with hers and his fingers toying with the strands of her hair.
“I love it,” he told her. Lucien’s voice was already low, but it dropped an octave as he swallowed. “That’s the problem.”
Elain felt her nose scrunch.
“God, I didn’t think you could get any hotter, but I’m glad you’re proving me wrong.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, although it came out as more of a giggle. “Most people call me cute or pretty, not hot.”
“You’re everything—cute, hot, pretty, beautiful, absolutely fucking gorgeous.”
Her breath hitched, and she just stared at him.
“You look exactly like the type of woman who could ruin my life.”
She—
“In a good way,” he added quickly. His fingers tightened in her hair, and he used his grasp to guide Elain closer to him. “Feel free to ruin my life, Elain. I wouldn’t mind.”
She could… do that.
Barely able to move with his hold on her, Elain lifted her chin. The movement brought her lips closer to his—so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, could almost imagine the press of his mouth against hers.
One of her hands tightened its grip on his. Her other moved to fist the fabric of his shirt, right above his chest.
His hold on her loosened, sliding to cup the nape of her neck.
There were mere millimetres between them.
Then the buzzer went off.
Elain shot back.
It was like cold water being thrown onto her features, causing her to fall back in her chair and unravel herself from Lucien. As she tried to catch her breath, he only watched her, eyes dark as he took note of each rise and fall of her chest.
This time, it was her who reached out and reset the timer. She didn’t make to stand. She only sat there, noticing how, once again, a smile spread across Lucien’s lips.
“Couldn’t get enough, huh?” he asked, nodding his head towards where her phone rested atop the table.
Elain shook her head, unsure of how that conveyed her response to his question. Rubbing her palms over her eyes, she tried to think straight.
“Ask me a question,” she told him. Maybe if they did this speed-dating thing, if they actually focussed on the task at hand, she could forget all about her body’s reaction.
“What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”
She groaned, leaning down further in her chair. Her eyes were still screwed shut, but she felt Lucien’s leg hook around hers, felt the material of his jeans pressing against the bare skin of her ankle.
She opened her eyes and looked—glared at him, really—across the table.
“See,” he hummed. “I knew you were a menace.”
“Stop talking.”
“I don’t think that I will, Elain.” There was a beat of silence, then: “Answer the question.”
“You couldn’t start easy?” she huffed. Although, Elain had to admit that she hadn’t expected better from him—maybe that’s what drew her to him in the first place. “Like how many siblings I have? Or what’s my favourite season?”
“Two,” Lucien said simply. “You have two sisters, or at least that’s what Cassian told me. And I’m guessing your favourite season is spring.”
That was true, and she wasn’t entirely sure how he guessed that.
Still, she continued. “You could have asked me my favourite time of day, or—”
“Sunrise.”
“Or my favourite flower.”
“I’d say that’s a trick question because you have a lot of favourites, but I bet you're impartial to peonies.”
Again, those two answers were correct.
“Fine.”
She sat up in her seat—more like an adult and less like a child throwing a tantrum. Even as she moved, Lucien’s leg pressed against her. He used the positioning to pull her just a bit closer.
“I used to think being a princess was an actual career path,” she told him, “like being the president. I hosted tea parties with my sisters when we were kids, and I never told them, but I was practicing.”
Lucien looked like he was trying not to laugh. “To become a princess?”
“I was trying to perfect my diplomacy skills.”
“Of course.”
She shifted her leg so it slid against his, the rough material of his pants scratching her skin.
“What’s you secret?” she asked softly.
He seemed to think, eyebrows drawing together for a moment before his features softened. He bit down on his lip, as if trying to stop himself. But, in the end, he said, “I’ve never told anyone how big my dick is.”
Elain nearly choked.
“I mean, people have seen it, for sure, but have I told anyone? No.”
Elain coughed, trying to regain her breath as tears sprung to her eyes.
“It’s—”
“Don’t tell me,” she nearly wheezed.
“Smart.” Lucien was nodding, and then he winked—winked—and that did nothing to help Elain breathe normally. If anything, she was back to square one, breathless and coughing as she stared at Lucien. “You’ll just have to find out.”
“And you—” She could barely get the words out. “And you say you hate me.”
“I do.” Even as he smiled, a muscle in his cheek twitched. “You’re my very own personal hell.”
“How flattering.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you, Elain. It's the truth.” He worked a hand through his hair, almost frustrated as his grin strained his features, as his eyes grew unfocussed. “What I am trying to do is sit here and be good. Your cheeks have been flushed the entire time I’ve been here, and the tiny hearts on your dress are so fucking cute. You’re far too tempting, and what I’m trying—really trying—to do is keep my mouth off you.”
She blinked at him. There was no use levelling out her breaths, because they were entirely gone. With the one puff of air in her lungs, she let out a simple word: “Don’t”
His eyes found hers. They did not shine; they did not glimmer or glow. No, the brown of his eyes simply took in ever sliver of light around them as they darkened.
“Don’t what?”
Maybe her hands were shaking. Maybe her body trembled every place besides where Lucien’s leg rested against hers.
“Don’t,” she began, her words sounding far steadier than she felt. “Don’t try.”
It felt like the breaking of a dam—her permission.
In a swift movement, Lucien reached across the table, moving to cup her face in the palm of his hands. Lips found hers without hesitation, and when the timer went off, they simply ignored it.
He tasted like candy hearts, Elain couldn’t help but think—like sugar and sweetness on her tongue. Lucien moved his lips slowly against hers. Even if his movements had initially been frantic, now he seemed to want to take things slow, savour her taste just as she savoured his.
When he hummed, Elain felt it everywhere.
He guided her lips apart, angling her head to deepen their kiss as his tongue swept over hers. His fingers worked through the strands of her hair, tugging on them gently.
Someone clicked the timer off. Elain could no longer hear ringing.
“Lainy.”
“Not now,” Lucien nearly growled, each word pressed against Elain’s lips as he continued to kiss her.
“You know, Luce,” Cassian continued, not that Lucien—not that either of them—was paying attention, “she didn’t even want you here.”
That was then.
Now, Elain couldn’t get enough of him.
She let out a soft sound against his lips, fingers pulling on the front of his shirt, nearly yanking Lucien over the table as she tried to move him closer. The movement left Lucien half on the table with his face above hers. He tilted her head back with the press of his mouth.
Almost absently, Elain heard Cassian’s retreating steps.
“Elain,” Lucien said softly, just as he shifted back. His gaze flickered over her features, and Elain’s must have done the same to him. She took in the flush of his skin, the fullness of his lips marked with her lipstick, the look of adoration and desire in his eyes as he swept his thumbs over her cheeks.
“Lucien.”
His lips twitched at the sound of his name.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” Her fingers were still bunched up in his shirt, his were still in her hair. They were so close, and even though Elain’s words were barely a whisper, she knew he heard them.
She watched Lucien’s throat bob as he swallowed. “Let me take you on a date first.”
“Isn’t th—”
“A real one, Elain.” Each word of his was spoken with sincerity. “I want to take my time with you, so just— just agree to go on a real date with me.”
And how could she say no to that?
Elain nodded as a grin stretched her lips. Then, she pulled Lucien back down towards her and kissed him again.