Love in Color: Mythical Tales from Around the World, Retold(13)

‘You would be, but we only ever end up hanging out when you’re not too hungover from the night before, schmoozing and hosting at some new boujie bar that’s opened. Which, by the way, you never invite me to—’

‘You hate those places! And so do I! I only go for work! It’s part of my job. I’m the PR Director, remember? It’s about building relationships—’

‘Ironically,’ Psy muttered, with a sardonic snort.

Eros stilled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

A shadow flitted across Psy’s face before she laughed and shook her head, defusing the tension. ‘Nothing, you’re just clearly not a relationship person. I would hate to tie you down as my work husband. I have a constipated Pomeranian as my work husband, but you can be my side-piece, if you want.’

‘What an honour. I’d really like that.’ Eros smiled, but he knew it came across as strained. ‘And don’t worry about this job thing, Psy. It’ll be calm, I promise. Just shoot your shot.’

Eros quickly saw that relaying his mantra to ‘shoot your shot’ had potentially been the wrong thing to say on this occasion, because Psy was looking at him like he’d just said she had three-and-a-half braincells. ‘You think shooting my shot is all I need to do? Eros, I’m not you. You don’t get it. Nothing is ever at stake for you. Whatever you want, you get. Jobs, girls; it doesn’t matter—’

Eros knew from experience that it was best to let Psy continue speaking, to let her words run out till the edge flattened.

The elevator doors pinged open.

‘—meanwhile, I don’t even have time to date, even if I wanted to. I’ve been grinding my butt here for two years, and nobody’s actually grinded my butt for almost as long—’

Despite the gravity of the conversation, Eros couldn’t help but interject with: ‘That was good.’

Psy released a sigh as they made their slow way down the corridor to the junction of the office where they would be forced to part ways. ‘I know.’

‘I also don’t believe that you haven’t hooked up with someone in two years,’ Eros challenged.

Psy shrugged. ‘I don’t want to just hook up, though. If I’m gonna expend energy on a guy, it has to be worth my time. Because, at the end of the day, when their tongue isn’t in my mouth, I’m gonna have to hear them speak at some point, and I’d quite like to actually enjoy a conversation with them, you know? Because I have a lot to give and I want someone who is able to match that.’

Eros nodded. ‘You’re right. But I find it hard to believe that nobody’s risen to the occasion. You’re worth it.’

Psy knew she should swallow the words that were clawing up her throat, but she couldn’t. It was early, she hadn’t had any sleep the night before, and now Eros was being a patronising prick about the Greek tragedy that was her romantic life.

She froze, blinked up at Eros and released another humourless laugh. ‘You think I’m an occasion to be risen to, like falling in love with me is a massive feat? I don’t know why I’m still single, Eros. Maybe you can help me out? One time I did think about dating a guy at work, because I thought we got along. I thought he was cute, and he made me laugh. I thought that maybe he felt the same way, but he ghosts me for a month . . .’ Eros felt a little queasy. ‘And when he came back, we just went back to being friends and he acted like nothing happened. Do you have any theories about that?’

Psy’s stomach dropped with regret, just as the doors to the elevator behind them pinged open again and their colleagues started streaming out. Psy’s mouth parted slightly. Hades. She hadn’t meant to say all of that and now she had accidentally let the thing that they never spoke about slip.



It had happened about six months ago, after they had both been working late. Eros had knocked on the door to the office she shared with Venus with a pizza and a bottle of wine; the good stuff, stolen from a hamper gifted to Venus. He’d asked her up to the roof. They’d talked, they’d laughed, they’d listened to music, and then they’d kissed and kissed and kissed, and it felt so right it almost felt obscene not to consider doing it again.

Until, the day after, when Eros disappeared. Apparently, he had to go on a last-minute month-long secondment. Psy would have been fine with this if Eros had actually bothered to talk to her while he was away, but the few times he had replied to texts, the replies had been monosyllabic, casual, veering on cold. Eventually she had just stopped trying. She respected and loved herself far more than she loved Eros. It was fine. They were fine. She was more than fine. She was grateful she wasn’t on the receiving end of his rejection-by-rote monologue that he sent to his casual hook-ups. When Eros got back from his time away, he had stopped by her desk and looped her into an easy hug, and told her that he’d missed her, that he was sorry he was so errant, but his schedule had been hectic. He had said it breezily, in a way so devoid of awkwardness and tension that she knew he’d meant it as a friend. She’d rolled up her feelings and then rolled her eyes and said, well, she hadn’t missed him at all, arrogant prick. He’d smiled and called her a liar. Which she was. She was a liar. She had missed him as much as she loved him. Which was a lot.

Eventually they had just slipped back into their usual banter. They both operated within the tacit agreement that the friendship they had was too valuable to lose. At some point it got easier for Psy to be around him, to breathe around him, for her heart not to sting around him.