Cupid’s Match

Did Cupid just use the Ardor arrow on Jack?

Cal’s words from earlier creep back into my mind. The Ardor is much more severe than the Capax. It consumes a person—some will stalk people they believe to be their match, others will die of longing.

I think of Jack’s friends teasing him at Romeo’s last night about his crush. I think of Laura’s statement that he’d been leaving her gifts. And I think of Charlie’s surprise at this development, considering Jack didn’t used to like Laura at all.

Had Cupid been shooting Jack with Ardor arrows during the summer?

Across the crowded dance floor, Cupid dusts his hands together as though brushing ash from his fingers. He doesn’t take his eyes off me; they glitter pink under the Love Shack’s neon lights.

For a moment, I feel like we’re the only two people in the room. His expression taunts me, draws me in. There is a dangerous

curl in his lip, and as he arches one of his thick, fair eyebrows, I know he’s daring me to confront him, to tell him that I saw what he just did. No one else seems to have noticed the arrow or its disappearing act.

I tear my gaze away, spinning back around on my stool to talk to Cal. He is no longer beside me. He’s powering through our classmates toward the exit.

“Oh. My. God,” says Charlie, her eyes bright with excitement. “Can you believe it? Jason and Jack? I’m definitely writing about this in the school blog. And did you see Cupid?”

“What about him?” For a moment, I’m hoping that she saw the arrow too.

Charlie’s eyes widen. “What about him?! He’s been here for one day and he just squared off with the quarterback of the football team . . . and Jason backed down! That was so hot!”

I roll my eyes as an odd expression flashes across James’s face—his jaw clenching—before the smile is back. He has no way of knowing what’s really going on with Cal and Cupid, but maybe he feels subconsciously threatened.

“What’s up with Cal?” asks Charlie. “Where did he go? And where’s Cupid gone?”

I do a quick sweep of the room. Neither of them are here. And Jack has disappeared too. I wonder if I should catch up with Cal—if Jack has been hit by another arrow, we should be keeping an eye on him.

Anger spreads through my body as I think of Cupid. I’m angry at Cal, too, for leaving me here.

“Listen,” I say, rising from the tall stool, “I think I’m going to head out. I’ll think about the party. Okay?”

James begins to stand. “Want me to walk you out?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. You stay, keep Charlie company.” I force a smile then make my way across the sticky floor and out of the club.

I step into the alley, the cobbled stones tainted pink by the buzzing Love Shack sign behind me. Ahead, the late-afternoon sunlight shines over the square. I head toward it, keen to get out of the shadows after what I’ve just seen. Suddenly, my phone buzzes.

It’s a text from an unknown number.

Meet me in the square. I’ll drive you home. It’s not safe. Cal.

The town square is deserted when I reach it. I head to the middle and perch on the edge of the tired-looking fountain, listening to the water dribbling into the basin. A few minutes later, Cal pulls up in his red Lamborghini and opens the passenger door.

“Where did you go?!” I ask as I fasten my seat belt.

Cal smoothly turns the car around and drives out of the small square. “I had to check something out.”

“Because Jack was hit by the Ardor?”

Cal looks uncharacteristically surprised. “Humans don’t usually notice,” he says, his eyes focused on the road.

“So what do we do? The Ardor is serious, right? Jack could be in danger.”

“There’s no we,” he says, “this is Matchmaking Service business. But yes, Jack is in danger. At least he was hit in the leg, which is not as severe as being hit in the heart. Getting hit in the heart can be deadly, but this will wear off within a couple of days.” He pauses. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t cause any trouble, especially for that girl they were fighting over. I’ll get someone from the Matchmaking Service to make sure she’s safe.”

“I’ve been hearing things all day about Jack and Laura. People are saying Jack’s been practically stalking her,” I say as we pull up outside my house. I don’t even bother asking how Cal knows where I live—or how he got my phone number.

“That is to be expected with the Ardor,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand. They said that before what happened at the Love Shack. Apparently, he’s been leaving gifts for her for a week at least.”

Cal’s fair eyebrows dip as he turns his head to look at me. “Oh,” he responds darkly. “In that case, we could be in more trouble than I thought.”

He ushers me out of the car—barking that he has work to do—and I walk up the driveway to my house. As I’m fumbling for my keys, I turn to wave good-bye to Cal. He has already driven off.

That guy has the social skills of a potato.

I open the door and go inside. It’s quiet in the hallway; I hear only the ticking of the antique wall clock and gentle snores coming from the living room. Gently, I close the door behind me and head toward the flickering light.

In the living room, the curtains are drawn and a muted home video of our last trip to the beach plays on the screen. Dad is asleep on the battered leather sofa. I look down at him. Graying stubble on his jaw, black hair unkempt, drawn face—he’s a different person than the bright-eyed figure on the screen lifting my mom in his arms.

I sniff. There’s no glass, but the scent of bourbon hangs heavy in the air, weighing down the memories. What is the point in love when all it does is break you?

I switch off the TV.

I cover him up with the patchwork quilt hung over mom’s old armchair, head into the kitchen, and stick a ready meal into the microwave. I take it up to my room to eat, and push my clothes off the white wooden chair so I can sit at my dresser.

I glance at the large map tacked to the wall as I fork spaghetti into my mouth. It’s covered in black and pink pins marking the places I’ve been and the places I told Mom I wanted to visit someday.

Mom always wanted to travel but she married my dad straight after high school. She never got around to doing it. Now she never will.

I wonder if love is to blame for that as well.

I spend the rest of the evening trying to distract myself from strange thoughts about cupids by texting Charlie, who keeps me updated on the goings on at the Love Shack, and watching travel vlogs on YouTube.

Later, though, as I slip between the sheets and turn off the lamp, the darkness provokes unbidden thoughts of Cupid, the supposed god of love, with his broad shoulders and wicked grin. I feel a surge of rage mixed with something else as I recall his wild, challenging eyes.

I clench my sheets and force him away. I shouldn’t be thinking of him. Especially after what he did. And then my thoughts are brought to Jack. What will happen to him? Why would Cupid have used the arrow on him? It doesn’t make any sense.

My phone buzzes on the bedside table. It’s Cal.

I’ve been thinking. If Cupid has been dosing your classmate with the Ardor, then he’s got something planned. Something bad. You should NOT attend the party on Friday.

I sigh and put the phone back on my bedside table. Two days of knowing him, and I’m already fed up with Cal telling me what to do. He’s right, though. I know that I shouldn’t go to the party.

But I think of the way Cupid’s lip curled when he saw me watching him in the Love Shack. I think of the thick arch of his eyebrow as the arrow’s ash fell from his fingers.

He knows I saw him hit Jack with the Ardor. I think he wanted me to see.

And I want to know why.