Regular Check-in

Morning light creeps into the room, piercing through the headache pounding in your skull. You groan, clutching your head as you blink around, feeling the gritty remnants of yesterday’s makeup around your eyes. Your mouth feels dry as sand, and your limbs ache. Across the room, you see Liam lying face-down in his bed, barely moving except for a sluggish attempt to shield his eyes from the sun.

It takes a few moments to realize what you’re wearing. You look down and see the wrinkled white top and the bra straps peeking out from underneath. The lace from your panties presses awkwardly into your skin, and you cringe, heat flooding your face as the fragmented memories of last night filter back. You hadn’t even wiped off your makeup.

Did… did you and Liam actually…?

“Ugh…” you mumble, trying to sort out flashes of the night. It’s all so hazy—a blur of sensations, laughter, and a lot of drunken slurring. There’s no way you imagined it, but you still don’t quite trust the patchy fragments floating in your mind.

Liam stirs, lifting his head just enough to squint at you. “You look… like crap,” he mutters, sounding just as wrecked as you feel.

“Thanks. So do you,” you mumble back, running a hand through your tangled hair. A moment of silence stretches out between you, and you glance over, meeting his half-asleep gaze. You’re both trying to piece together the unspoken memory, but neither of you is quite ready to say it out loud.

“So…” You clear your throat awkwardly. “Do you… remember… anything from last night?”

Liam looks away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Uh… kinda. You know how it is, everything’s just… fuzzy.”

“Yeah.” You shift uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up as you try to approach the subject without really diving in. “I mean… some things I… kinda remember. But, like… not really?”

“Same,” Liam mutters, and you can tell he’s squirming a little too, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s… all a blur.”

You both sit in silence, neither of you quite willing to say it directly. You can feel the weight of what happened between you both, but it’s almost like you’re walking around it, both too embarrassed to look it square in the face. But the truth is right there.

Liam clears his throat, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. “I mean… maybe we went a bit overboard last night. I guess it was… I don’t know, just the drinks?”

You nod, grateful for the noncommittal wording. “Yeah… just the drinks,” you echo, trying to play it cool even as your heart pounds. “Probably wasn’t… a big deal, right?”

“Right.” He pauses, exhaling slowly. Then, for once, his face softens, and he looks back at you, an almost surprisingly genuine expression there. “But hey… I guess… if that’s what you needed, then maybe it’s not the worst thing. Y’know… just helping each other out.”

You blink, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For once, he doesn’t have that teasing grin or smirk he usually wears. There’s something almost… mature about the way he says it, and you feel a strange pang at that. Almost like… you’re seeing him differently, just for a second.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling an odd warmth rise in your chest. It’s strange—unexpected, even—but somehow, it’s nice to see this side of him.

He nods, finally breaking eye contact and staring up at the ceiling again. “Guess we’ve just gotta figure all this out, huh?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. And for the first time, the whole situation doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming.

In a blink, the room shimmers, the stale morning air shifting into something perfumed, sweet, and intoxicating. You barely have time to react before you’re face-to-face with her: Aphrodite in all her radiant, impossible glory. She’s draped in a flowing, rose-colored dress that clings to her form, every curve accentuated by a shimmering layer of gold threaded through the fabric. Her hair cascades in thick, honeyed waves, almost alive with its own light, and her skin glows with that otherworldly luminescence that makes everything else in the room feel drab in comparison.

Both you and Liam scream in sheer, unfiltered shock, scrambling back on your beds.

Aphrodite’s laugh is a low, throaty sound that seems to vibrate through the room. She seats herself next to Liam, crossing her legs with effortless grace, and turns her gaze on Liam, her eyes softening as she appraises him.

“Liam,” she purrs, inching closer, her voice as smooth as honey. Her hand finds its way to his shoulder, resting there in a way that’s as possessive as it is affectionate. “I’ve missed you. You’re quite the sight first thing in the morning.”

Liam’s eyes widen, his usual smirk faltering under the weight of her gaze. It’s painfully clear he’s caught off guard, his breath hitching slightly, his eyes locked on her face as if hypnotized.

“Uh… thanks,” he mumbles, trying to muster some semblance of composure, though the pink in his cheeks betrays him.

She gives a slow, knowing smile, her hand trailing down his arm. “You’ve been very… helpful, haven’t you? Taking care of our dear friend here,” she says with a glance in your direction. “A good friend, as always.”

You feel a hot, twisting discomfort in your stomach as she brushes Liam’s shoulder again, her attention only half on you as if you’re an afterthought. Then, in an instant, her gaze sharpens, and she turns her full attention toward you, the warmth in her expression vanishing like a flipped switch.

Her gaze hardens, lips pursing in a way that makes your blood run cold. “Now… you,” she says, her tone taking on an edge that’s unmistakably menacing. “You’re supposed to be handling these trials with a certain… flair, aren’t you?”

Swallowing, you nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes. The first trial with Charlotte… it’s done. It went well,” you say, hoping to keep things as vague as possible.

Aphrodite’s eyes narrow, assessing you. “Well, well. It seems that’s one task you managed to complete without failing miserably.” She leans back, letting out a soft hum, clearly pleased but **** to show it too much. “And the second?” she asks, eyes flicking to you, then Liam, like she’s scanning for signs of anything out of place.

You nod again, fighting to keep a steady face under her scrutinizing gaze. “Progress is… happening. We’re on it.”

She raises a single, unimpressed eyebrow but then lets out a pleased sigh, her focus shifting back to Liam as though she’s lost interest in you already.

“Good, good.” Her hand slides back to Liam’s shoulder, and her thumb rubs a small, slow circle there. “And you, my dear? It must be exhausting, putting up with all of this… mortal messiness.” She gives him a playful pout, her gaze softened in a way that would make anyone’s heart race.

Liam clears his throat, looking like he’s trying to keep it together under her touch. “Uh… it’s… it’s not so bad,” he stammers, though he’s visibly struggling to keep his usual swagger. “Just, y’know… trying to keep Lucas from screwing things up.”

Aphrodite’s laugh is soft, and she tilts her head to meet his eyes. “Such a loyal friend,” she murmurs, tracing her finger down his arm, and you can see him visibly fighting to keep his composure. He shifts, glancing at you, clearly tempted by her attention, but there’s that glint of determination too—he knows better than to let her charm overpower his better judgment.

“Well,” she says, breaking the tension with a flick of her wrist, “it seems things are on track.” She glances back at you, her expression hardening just a little. “Don’t mess this up, Lucas. You’ve got a lot more to lose than you realize.”

She lingers, arms crossed and eyes alight with a mischievous glint as she looks at you with a knowing smirk. “So,” she begins, her tone dripping with mock sweetness, “how did it feel, Luna, kissing Marcus Chase like a lovesick little girl?”

Your jaw tightens, but you **** yourself to keep your expression neutral. Saying anything back could trigger more punishment, and you’re not about to give her that satisfaction. She tilts her head, watching you with exaggerated curiosity, clearly enjoying this power imbalance.

“Oh, don’t look so stiff. It was adorable,” she coos, “seeing you all dressed up, batting your lashes, leaning in to kiss him. The great, mighty Lucas… reduced to a sweet little coquette in a crowded bar.” She laughs, the sound like bells but edged with mockery.

Liam shifts, his face hardening. “Alright, Aphrodite, that’s enough. He’s doing what you asked. Lay off.”

Aphrodite’s eyes snap to him, her playful smile never faltering, but there’s a glint of something sharper in her gaze. “Oh, is that right?” She steps closer to him, her fingers tracing lightly along his shoulder. “Liam, darling, you don’t get to tell me when to stop.”

You watch as she lets her hand trail down his arm, her fingers grazing over his skin in a way that’s both gentle and possessive. Liam’s face flushes, caught off-guard as she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Shhh,” she murmurs, leaning close enough that he seems almost hypnotized. “You don’t want to interrupt me, do you?” Her fingers press gently against his lips, silencing whatever comeback he’d been forming. His eyes flicker to yours, a mix of defiance and embarrassment in his gaze, but he holds back, realizing it’s smarter not to push her further.

Then, with a playful tilt of her head, Aphrodite straightens, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Now,” she says, smirking, “about last night…”

A sudden, hot wave of embarrassment floods over you. “We… uh, we don’t need to go there.”

“Oh, but I insist,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with delight. “It was so… heartwarming to watch you two.” She looks between you and Liam, her smile widening. “Seeing you so… close. You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?”

Liam’s face turns a bright shade of red, and he looks away, muttering, “Just… don’t.”

Aphrodite laughs, delighted. “Oh, don’t be shy. I see everything, you know.” Her voice softens, almost conspiratorial. “You two looked so… comfortable together. It was like watching best friends… or maybe something more.” Her laugh is low and almost wicked, thoroughly enjoying your discomfort.

Then, with a sudden shift, she leans forward, placing a kiss on Liam’s cheek, her lips lingering a moment too long. His face is a mixture of stunned and flustered, frozen in place.

When she straightens, her gaze lands on you, all traces of laughter gone. “Remember this, Lucas,” she says, her voice cool and hard. “You don’t get to screw up these trials. Not once. Not even a little bit.”

And with that, she vanishes, leaving the room silent except for the faint lingering scent of her perfume.