Pep Talk

The door to your dorm clicked shut behind you, the muffled echoes of the wedding reception still ringing in your ears. Your heels wobbled slightly on the floor as you stumbled forward, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. Liam was right behind you, silent, steady, the very presence that had pulled you out of the intoxicating whirlwind of men, champagne, and heat.

You should have been furious at him. You wanted to be furious.

Your body still buzzed with the lingering energy of the reception, the phantom touches of Tyler and Adrian seared into your skin, the unspoken promises of what could have been hanging in the air. You had been so close—so close to crossing that invisible line, to completing the third step of Aphrodite’s twisted game. The **** in your veins made it hard to focus, hard to think past the disappointment tightening in your chest.

But instead of anger, something else churned inside you—something heavier.

Liam had been the one to pull you away. To take your wrist, guide you out of the reception, away from the heat, away from the temptation. And now, as you dropped onto the couch, your peach gown pooling around you in soft waves, you weren’t sure if you wanted to fight him or thank him.

He sat down beside you, his tux slightly rumpled from the night’s events, his tie loosened. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, just sat there, running a hand through his messy blond hair, staring ahead like he was gathering his thoughts.

You swallowed, shifting slightly, the room tilting as the **** continued to blur the edges of your mind. "I was having fun, you know," you muttered, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Liam sighed, finally turning to look at you. "I know."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "Then why?"

"Because you would’ve gone through with it." His voice was steady, but there was something deep beneath it—something raw. "And I don’t think you would have really wanted to. Not the real you."

You blinked, the words cutting through your haze.

"You’re having fun, yeah. You’re playing the part, flirting, giving in to the attraction, because that’s what this curse has done to you." His blue eyes searched yours, like he was looking for something—something that he was afraid of losing. "But this isn’t you. Not the real you."

Your stomach twisted. "Liam—"

"I know you can’t help it," he continued, his voice softer now, careful. "And I get it. I really do. You’ve been dealing with all these changes—your body, your thoughts, your… desires." His jaw clenched slightly. "And now, on top of that, you have this ridiculous trial pushing you to do things you never would’ve even considered before."

You bit your lip, looking down at your lap.

"You’ve already lost so much to this curse," he said. "Your voice. Your body. The way you think. Your...sexuality." He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "And now it’s trying to take your identity."

You swallowed hard, throat thick.

"I just…" He hesitated, his fingers flexing against his knee. "I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret."

The words settled between you like a weight.

Your hands curled into the fabric of your gown, and when you spoke, your voice was small. "And what if I don’t regret it?"

Liam’s gaze darkened, but not with judgment—with pain.

"Not now," he said quietly. "Not while you’re like this. But when this is over? When you’re you again?" He shook his head. "I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you went too far. That you let this curse push you into something you never would have wanted before."

A lump formed in your throat.

Because underneath all the haze, the champagne, the heat of the reception, you knew he was right.

You weren’t the same person you had been before the curse. The thought of flirting with men, of wanting them, of letting them touch you—it had once been unthinkable. Impossible.

But now? It had felt so natural. So easy. And that was the most terrifying part of all.

Your vision blurred slightly, emotions rising in your chest like a tide you couldn’t hold back. "Liam…"

He reached out, hesitant, before resting a hand over yours. Warm. Solid. Familiar.

"You’re still you," he said softly. "I just don’t want you to forget that."

And that was when the tears started to fall. Because you had forgotten.

And you didn’t know if you’d ever get that part of yourself back.

The sobs came hard and fast, wracking your body as you crumpled into yourself, your hands gripping the fabric of your gown like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, smudging the carefully applied makeup they had spent so much time perfecting, streaking down in dark, mascara-stained rivers.

Liam was saying something—soft words, soothing words—but you barely heard him over the sound of your own uneven breathing. It felt like everything was collapsing in on you, like the weight of the past months, of the transformation, of everything had finally caught up to you all at once.

You were a girl. Completely. Utterly. A girl in body, in mind, in thought.

And the worst part? It felt right.

You lifted your tear-streaked face, voice trembling as you choked out, "You’re right."

Liam stilled, watching you, letting you speak.

"I—" You hiccupped, shaking your head. "I’ve just been doing what feels right. What feels natural." Your hands trembled as you gestured vaguely to yourself, to the gown, to the curled hair, the smudged makeup. "This feels natural now. Wearing makeup. Dressing up. Feeling pretty. Wanting to flirt, to kiss, to… fuck." Your voice cracked on the last word, your throat tightening.

Liam’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing. He let you spill everything out.

"I know I wasn’t like this before," you continued, voice shaking. "But it’s so hard to think otherwise now. It’s like the person I was is just… fading. Like the longer this curse goes on, the more it wins."

Liam exhaled through his nose, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable.

"I’m already practically a girl," you whispered, clutching your hands together. "But it’s worse than that. It’s worse because of all the extras Aphrodite has heaped onto me. It’s not just the body, it’s the instincts, the desires—" You squeezed your eyes shut. "And you stopped me tonight. You saved me from doing something I might have regretted. But what happens when the curse is even closer to the end? What happens when I—when I can’t stop myself?"

Your breathing hitched, panic flaring in your chest, but Liam reached out, his hand warm as it covered yours.

"Then I’ll be there," he said, steady and certain. "Just like I was tonight."

Something in you broke at his words, at the unwavering conviction in his voice. The sobs came back, raw and unfiltered, and you buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking.

Liam moved without hesitation, shifting closer, wrapping an arm around you. His touch was firm, grounding. He let you cry, let you feel everything, without rushing you or telling you to stop.

After a while, your voice came out, small and shattered. "I just… I don’t know what to do."

Liam sighed, rubbing slow circles into your back. "Listen," he murmured. "I don’t blame you for doing what makes you happy right now."

You sniffled, lifting your head to look at him, confused.

"The only thing worse than being cursed like this," he continued, "is being miserable and cursed. So if dressing up, if doing your makeup, if _enjoying yourself _makes this easier? Then you should do it. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that."

A fresh wave of tears stung your eyes, but his words soothed something deep inside you.

"But those guys tonight?" His jaw tensed slightly. "They weren’t just flirting. They weren’t just hoping for a kiss or a number." His fingers tightened slightly on your arm. "They were lining up to take you. And that? That could have been something that lingers on your conscience forever. With or without the curse."

A shudder ran through you. You had been tipsy, lost in the rush, in the heat of the moment—but looking back now, with Liam’s words piercing through the haze, you could see it. The way they had circled you, the way they had eyed you, like they knew you were already halfway to saying yes.

A deep ache settled in your chest, guilt twisting inside you. "Thank you," you whispered.

Liam gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime."

A weak, watery laugh bubbled up in your throat as you wiped at your face, pulling your hands away to reveal the hint of stains you had left behind on his tux. "Shit," you muttered. "I just sobbed all over your blazer."

Liam glanced down at himself, then back up at you, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. "Eh. I needed an upgrade anyway. Think I can pull off the ‘drowned raccoon’ look?"

You let out a choked laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly.

The air between you settled into something quieter, softer.

You hesitated, looking down, then admitted, "Right now… all I want to do is sit in your lap and cuddle." Your voice was small, like you were confessing something secret. "Because I feel emotional and **** and like absolute shit."

Liam arched a brow. "And?"

"And," you muttered, "that’s not what I would have wanted if I were still a guy."

Liam exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. "Didn’t we just talk about this?" He nudged you playfully. "It’s not about what you would have done. It’s about what makes you happy right now." He spread his arms. "And if sitting in my lap is gonna make you feel better, then—" He shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

Your heart clenched.

You hesitated for only a second before shifting, maneuvering yourself onto his lap, tucking your legs slightly sideways so you could press your cheek against his shoulder.

Liam didn’t hesitate either. His arms came around you naturally, pulling you in, holding you close. His warmth, his scent—clean, familiar, steady—wrapped around you, grounding you.

And for the first time in months, you felt safe.

Liam’s arms were warm around you, his steady breathing a quiet comfort against the top of your head. His tux smelled faintly of cologne, now mixed with the remnants of your makeup—something you were sure he’d tease you about later.

You sighed, shifting slightly in his lap, nestling closer as your head rested against his shoulder. “This is nice,” you murmured, your voice still a little raw from crying. “You’re comfy.”

Liam let out a huff of laughter. “Well, yeah. Premium lap real estate, only the finest cushioning.” He patted his thigh. “Only the best for my emotional support damsel.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Damsel? I’ll have you know I’m—” You paused, realizing you didn’t actually have an argument. You were literally in his lap, being comforted.

Liam smirked. “Go on. You were saying?”

You groaned, smacking his chest lightly. “Ugh, shut up.”

He chuckled, the vibration of it rumbling under your cheek. “You should be grateful,” he said dramatically. “Not just anyone gets to sob all over my designer tux. You’re ruining my ruggedly handsome image.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You’ve been a mess since the day I met you.”

“Wow. And here I was, consoling you. Holding you in my very expensive arms.” He tsked, shaking his head. “The disrespect.”

You grinned. “Oh, yeah, so expensive. Bet I could buy you off with a cheeseburger and a milkshake.”

“…I mean, yeah, but that’s not the point.”

You laughed, and for the first time all night, it felt real. The ache in your chest was still there, but Liam had this way of making things feel lighter, like he could hold up the weight of the world with nothing but sheer stubbornness and a well-timed joke.

There was a moment of comfortable silence before Liam hummed, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You know,” he mused, “if someone had told me a year ago that this would be our life, I’d have assumed they were high off their ass.”

You snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” You lifted your hand, gesturing vaguely to yourself. “The me from a year ago would probably pass out if he saw me like this.”

Liam smirked. “Oh, definitely. He’d take one look at the heels, the makeup, the dress, and just cum on the spot.”

You groaned, covering your face. “God, don’t remind me. I’m living in some messed-up romcom where the lead got bullied into being the love interest.”

Liam barked out a laugh. “Yeah, except in this romcom, the lead also has to seduce seven dudes as part of some divine reality show.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s like The Bachelorette, but cursed.”

Liam smirked, leaning back slightly. “Speaking of, how’s it feel? Y’know… taking cock instead of giving it? You never told me.”

You sputtered, smacking his shoulder. “Liam!”

“What?” He grinned. “Legitimate question.”

You groaned, but the amusement in his eyes was contagious. “I dunno, why don’t you try it? Don’t knock it till you’ve been on the other end.”

Liam waggled his brows. “Next time Aphrodite tries to seduce me, I’ll let her know I have new requirements.”

That did it. You burst out laughing, shaking in his lap as you leaned against him for support. Liam grinned, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Oh my god,” you wheezed. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me,” he corrected. “I’m the only thing keeping you sane.”

You hummed, wiping at the last remnants of tears on your cheeks. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “You kinda are.”

Liam’s smirk softened, just a little. He didn’t say anything, but his arm around you tightened slightly, pulling you in just a bit closer.

For all the chaos, for all the insanity of your life now, this moment? It felt like home.

And right now, that was enough.