Cupid’s Match

Five minutes later we’re back in Cal’s office. Neither of us has spoken. I sit in the red armchair, clasping my hands together so tightly that my fingers have started to turn white.

“You matched my parents,” I say after a while.

Cal nods, then looks at me curiously. “You’re upset.”

I shrug. I don’t really know how to feel.

“Tea?”

He abruptly stands and makes his way to the corner of the room, where he fiddles about with an old plastic kettle on top of the file cabinet. I watch as it clicks and he pours the steaming water into a chipped mug.

He carries it over. World’s Best Boyfriend is written across the front.

“Who gave you this?” I ask, distracted, as I take it from his hands. “I thought cupids didn’t fall in love. You didn’t buy it for yourself, did you?”

Cal looks bashful for a moment before shaking his head and taking a seat in his swivel chair. “Long story.”

I bring the mug to my lips; the warm liquid smells sweet, like my grandmother’s herb garden in the summer.

“Chamomile and lavender,” says Cal. “Soothes the nerves.”

I take a sip and it does actually make me feel a little better.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks.

I set the mug down on the desk beside the photograph of Cupid. “Say I do believe you. Say that I take the video you just showed me as the real thing. . . . What does that even mean?” I glance at the ruggedly handsome portrait. “Even if it is true that this superbad paranormal being is my match, I have no interest in being with him. I have a boyfriend. His name is James—we’ve been together for almost a year now. And—”

The office door opens to reveal a tall guy with curly black hair standing in the doorway.

“What is it, Curtis?” Cal asks pointedly. “We’re in the middle of something here.”

“You told me to report to you immediately with anything regarding the”—he darts a sideways look at me then lowers his voice—“assignment.”

Cal leans forward in his chair and clasps his slender hands together. “Well? Did you find it?”

“Not yet. But the archives are huge.” Curtis steps into the office and closes the door behind him. “If I could have more resources . . .”

“I’ve told you—I don’t want anyone else knowing I’m looking for it.”

Curtis places a palm flat on the desk, seriously invading my personal space, and leans closer to Cal. He glances at me again.

I roll my eyes as I grab the mug of tea and shift back in the armchair. Like I care what they’re being so sneaky about. They’ve already told me about Cupid. Maybe they’re looking for the Easter Bunny too.

“Right,” he says, voice low. “Because you think people might question your . . . loyalties.”

Cal’s expression hardens. “Need I remind you who you’re speaking to?”

Curtis stares at him a moment longer. Then he exhales and takes a step back in clear submission. “Sorry. Of course. I’ll let you know when we find its location.” His eyes slide over me one more time as he moves to the exit. “Is this the girl?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not what I expected.”

I glare at him as the door swings shut behind him, and accidentally slosh a bit of hot tea onto my jeans. I curse under my breath.

“Curtis is . . . he’s undertaking a . . . a task for me,” Cal says in rare ineloquence.

I put the chipped mug down on the desk, and Cal stiffens. His eyes flit to the glass wall of his office.

“Yeah, I don’t care.” I glance at the picture of “Cupid” on the desk between us. “I was telling you that this whole thing is ridiculous. Because I have no interest in this guy. I’m perfectly happy in my relationship, thank you very much. And even if I was interested, I’ve never met this guy before. He could be anywhere in the world. How likely is it that our paths would even cross?”

Cal rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yes,” he says, “that is where we have a problem, Miss Black. In usual circumstances, we would have deleted your records from our database to ensure he would never find out about this. And we did. But that was not before a slight, er, administrative error was made.”

I stare at him. “What administrative error?”

Cal fidgets in his swivel chair. “The path to the match was put into motion.” He clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “Your high school?”

“Forever Falls High.”

Cal nods and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yes, I thought so,” he says. “Cupid starts there . . . tomorrow.”