For D-Savano's "Too Much Temptation To Handle?" contest. Topic 1.

I've never considered myself the type of guy to fall in love. I never thought I'd even date a girl. But when I met Sophie, things seemed to change. For a little while, anyway.

She's kind, she's smart, she's incredibly funny. She helps me prank my family, and she shares my sense of humour and love for video games. What more could I want?

But now that I think about it, I remember the times when the idea of having a girlfriend made me puke, and I wonder why I ever started something with Sophie in the first place.

Sure, she's great - she's like my gender-bent twin. But… I don't know. It's just not the same anymore.

There was one point in our relationship that I really liked her. I even considered the idea that I loved her. But not anymore. I don't love her anymore. And I didn't know why, at first. I didn't know why I felt a spur of disgust whenever she kissed me, or wanted to recoil when she held my hand. I didn't know why I had to force myself to meet her for our dates, or why, whenever she came around, I would count down the minutes until she left. I just didn't know.

But now, sitting beside a girl who's not Sophie, I realise that, all along, I've been in love with someone else. I was just in denial. I wouldn't believe my feelings, or the rational part of my mind – as small as it is – that I'm in love with her, of all people.

But I'm still with Sophie. I can't do anything or say anything until I've broken up with her. And I don't want to ditch her for someone else. It feels wrong.

"Daniel?" The voice is soft, like a light summer's breeze, and I can't help smiling when I hear it.

I glance up. "Yeah?"

"You look as though you've been slapped in the face," she says with a laugh. "And I promise it wasn't me."

I grin down at her. She's a full head shorter than me, even with her crazy-high pumps, and I feel a strange sense of satisfaction when I notice this.

"You wouldn't slap me," I told her. "You'd shoot me with a tranquilizer dart."

She smirks in a way that only a Kabra can. "Indeed I would."

She turns back to the television screen and is instantly engrossed in the sappy romance movie she's forcing me to watch. But I continue to stare at her, and I feel as though I've been punched in the gut. She's always been pretty – her whole family could be models. But I've never really noticed how beautiful she is until now. It's in the lines of her features, the slant of her nose, the flutter of her long, thick eyelashes. Her soft, caramel skin, the light flush of her cheeks, her lush raven hair gently framing her face. The delicate curve of her plush lips, a pearly tint of pink. Her deep, amber eyes, shining with curiosity as she watches the film, like glimmering pools of warm, thick honey. She slowly blinks, and for a moment, she sees the world with renewed innocence, as though opening her eyes for the first time. I don't know why I never noticed how perfect she is, how completely and utterly wondrous. And as I watch her mouth twitch up in a soft smile, I feel my stomach clench with desire, and I feel the ache of longing in my chest. It's like she's drawing me in with her tinkling laughter, the trills of a Siren calling out to a sailor lost at sea, ensnaring my heart with her entrancing song, pulling me towards her until I'm trapped in her clutches. It's a hunger I've never felt before, a yearning for something only she can give me.

"Daniel?" she whispers, her eyes on the screen.

"Yes, Natalie?"

She lifts an eyebrow. "You're staring at me."

I nod. "Yes."

She finally turns her head to face me, her eyes swimming with mirth. "Is there any particular reason for that?"

I watch her mouth form the words, her lips curling and stretching with each sound that escapes her mouth, and a spark of lust ignites in my chest. Before I know what I'm doing, I lean forwards and press a lingering kiss to her lips, overcome by the sudden temptation. She freezes, shocked, for just a brief moment – she's a Lucian, after all. Her hand flutters to her mouth and her forehead crinkles with confusion.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, shifting away from her. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Then why did you?" Natalie asks carefully, as though she's holding something back.

"A Kabra and a Cahill," I say, avoiding her question. "Like that's possible."

She laughs nervously. "Completely ridiculous."

I feel my face heat up and I quickly look away from her, ignoring the tang of disappointment on my tongue. There's a terse silence, tense, and heavy with embarrassment, before she speaks.

"Let's not mention this to anyone," she murmurs, her voice small.

I nod, and there's another pause, as though neither of us know quite what to do. Then her eyes meet mine and I draw in a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge.

"Why don't we make the most of it, then?" I ask.

Before I know what's happening, her lips are back on mine, and she's kissing me as though it's the last thing she'll ever do. My already-tense stomach tightens, and I feel my insides melt into a puddle of nothing, burning crisp to a crumble of ashes as though her touch, her kiss, is poisonous, a flare of heavenly fire, undying, destroying everything in its path. Everything around me sharpens, and I recall every memory – every sight, every smell, every touch – anew, as though I'm experiencing them all over again. I'm acutely aware of my surroundings, the chirp of the birds outside, the hustle of leaves against the window, the flittering voices from the television. My whole life is in the kiss, every single sensation, the good and the bad, all brought to the surface by her touch. I remember Sophie, the chaste kisses we'd shared, and know that none of them ever made me feel like this. None of them made me feel whole.

When I pull back, I'm gasping for air, stroking Natalie's cheeks with my thumb. We stay quite for a moment, catching our breath, and I take the time to memorise the feel of her face under my hands, every crevice of her forehead, the curve of her eyebrows, the heat beneath her cheeks.

"That was…" she trailed off, unable to find the right words. She watches me for a moment, searching my eyes for something, before she hastily pulls back, rising to her feet. There's a sudden flash of rage in her eyes, and I feel the breath leave my body, my lungs dissipating, shriveling into something unrecognisable. "What about Sophie?" she snaps. "Your girlfriend."

Aw, hell, I think, running my fingers through my hair. "I don't know," I mutter. "I should've… I wasn't thinking about her."

She gives me a withering glare. "Well, you should be."

I stand and reach out, trying to grab her hand, but she pulls back. "Natalie," I say. "Hear me out."

But she hurriedly shakes her head. "You're with someone else, Daniel."

"I'm going to break up with her."

She scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Going to? Maybe you should've done that before you cheated on her!"

Before I can protest, before I can make everything okay, she storms away. I feel my heart shudder beneath my chest, and there's a prick behind my eyes, but I blink away the threatening tears – Cahills don't cry, I tell myself. But I don't go after her. I know she doesn't want me to. She would only yell at me again.

I'll have to end things with Sophie, I decide. It's the only way to fix things.

And I turn back to the couch and fall dejectedly into the heap of cushions, heaving a heavy sigh, wondering how it all turned around so quickly.

I'm so screwed.