The Wrong Cupid Arrow

Gabriella Morris had a long journey ahead of her. Her slim fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she drove. On the other side of the phone, her grandmother’s voice filled the car.

“You were supposed to be arriving at the dorm by now. What happened?” her grandmother asked in a nonchalant tone.

From that casual voice, Gabriella knew her grandmother was probably busy working on one of her paintings.

She smiled nervously. “Nothing, just some simple delays. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious, you say?” her grandmother repeated. There was a brief silence, as if she was thinking before speaking again. “Gabriella, I allowed you to leave and start your life afresh in a new area like you insisted. But I don’t want you going wild.”

“Of course, Granny,” Gabriella replied cheerfully, rolling her eyes.

“I honestly don’t want you to turn out the way your mother did,” her grandmother said bluntly.

Gabriella’s expression changed instantly. Her mind swirled back to the day she decided to leave her mother and stay with her grandmother.

Surely, Gabriella didn’t want to be like her mother.

“Granny, I promise nothing like that will happen,” she assured her.

To Gabriella, her grandmother was the only person she was close to — the one person she never wanted to disappoint.

Soon after ending the call, she arrived at the building that would soon become her new home — her open space to start a new life.

Although she wouldn’t have a place entirely to herself, it was better than staying on campus.

Honestly, Gabriella wanted to feel free from everything that had surrounded her before. Leaving the city for a new place, surrounded by new people instead of familiar faces — that was the reason she decided to rent a shared apartment outside campus.

After all, she was twenty-one years old. She could take care of herself.

She took out her last luggage from the car parked in the underground parking lot and pushed it toward the elevator. Dragging her two heavy suitcases, she pressed the button and waited patiently.

Her new apartment was on the fifteenth floor of the thirty-floor building.

As she waited, a man came and stopped beside her.

Gabriella glanced at him. He was handsome and exuded a charming presence. Even his cologne smelled pleasant.

When the man looked at her, she quickly turned away, pretending to be oblivious to his presence.

The elevator doors opened. She dragged her luggage inside, but one suitcase got stuck and refused to move. She struggled for a moment.

The man stepped in and helped her without a word.

“Thank you,” Gabriella said, watching as he entered the elevator.

She felt embarrassed, especially because the man’s charming face made her suddenly unsure of herself.

“Which floor are you heading to?” he asked.

Gabriella paused. Her eyes shifted to the buttons and she noticed the fourteenth floor had already been pressed.

“Fifteen,” she muttered.

He nodded and pressed the button for her.

Silence fell between them.

“Are you new here?” the man asked gently.

“Yes,” Gabriella replied, wondering how he could tell.

He turned to her and smiled. “Welcome.”

He stepped out when the doors opened, not turning back or saying anything else. Gabriella stood there watching his back disappear down the hallway.

She found herself wondering who that man was

Gabriella dragged her heavy luggage down the empty hallway of the fifteenth floor until she reached her apartment door. She reached into her smaller bag and wrapped her fingers around the key.

The cold metal bit into her skin as she hesitated.

This was wrong.

She was doing the exact opposite of what her grandmother expected. Her grandmother had wanted her to stay on campus, but she chose differently — even worse, she chose to share an apartment with a stranger.

Her grandmother would be angry if she knew.

Still, Gabriella pushed the key into the lock. The door made a faint cracking sound as it opened. She stepped inside, pulling her luggage behind her.

“Hello!” she called out. “Anyone here? I’m your new housemate — not a stranger or a thief who came to steal,” she added nervously.

Silence answered her.

She paused and took in the living space. A large couch sat neatly arranged beside a glass table, facing a wide flat-screen television. To her right was a small, clean kitchen — close enough to feel slightly cramped.

Suddenly, a door behind her swung open.

A man stepped out.

Tall. Masculine. Shirtless.

“Hey, housemate.”

Gabriella turned and screamed, instantly covering her mouth. Her heart slammed against her ribs as shock rushed through her. It took a few seconds for her breathing to slow.

The man frowned slightly as he stared at her. Then something shifted in his eyes — recognition slowly forming.

He stepped closer and, without thinking, lifted her chin with his hand.

Gabriella froze.

Her eyes locked with his dark brown gaze — painfully familiar.

“Gabi?” His voice carried disbelief, as if questioning whether she was real.

Hearing that name shattered the walls she had built around her memories. One face rose above all others.

Norman Hale.

Those same dark brown eyes were the ones that had looked at her five years ago — just before he stole her first kiss. Sweet. Fast. Forbidden. A kiss she had shared with her stepbrother.

Gabriella stumbled backward as if she had seen something dangerous. Her foot caught, and she nearly fell — but his hand caught her waist, pulling her back against him.

This time, his expression had changed. The frown was gone. A slow, smug smile curved across his lips.

“Is it really you, Gabi? Gabriella Morris?” he asked, mischief dancing in his voice.

Gabriella held her breath, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke the name of her first love, first kiss… and ex-stepbrother.

“Norman Hale.”