Cupid’s Match

The sky is burnt orange when I get off the bus at the Forever Falls town square.

This place couldn’t be more different than downtown L.A. There’s hardly anything here other than a small convenience store, a florist, a thrift shop, and the town’s only two hangout spots. My eyes drift over the dark alley that leads to the Love Shack—the “cooler” of the two—and focus instead on the run-down diner, Romeo’s.

James will still be working.

Turning off the travel podcast that kept me company on the hour-and-a-half ride, I pull out my earphones and start to walk toward the restaurant.

I hadn’t planned on seeing James today, but all the talk of cupids, banished love gods, and my boyfriend being matched with someone else has rattled me. Even if it is all ridiculous.

As I enter Romeo’s I wave at Martha, one of the older waitresses, before slipping into my usual booth by the window, where a half-drunk chocolate and peanut butter milk shake is still waiting to be bussed. It’s Charlie’s favorite.

“Not seen you in a while, honey,” Martha says.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah . . .”

She leans over to clear the table and I’m hit by the abrasive scent of floral perfume and disinfectant. “Usual?”

I smile. “Please. Is James—”

“I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Her heels click against the chipped black and white floor tiles as she heads past the booths to the kitchen. I glance at the security camera in the corner as she disappears from view.

After Cal told me about the “administrative error,” he walked me back to reception and told me he would be “monitoring the situation.” I think back to the room full of screens at the Matchmaking Service.

“If you’re watching me, Cal, cut it out,” I whisper. Then I sigh and lean back against the tattered red leather seat. “And now I’m talking to myself. I’m clearly going mad.”

“Lila!” James’s voice makes me jump as he slides into the other side of the booth. “Hey!”

I smile. James might not be model good looking like Cupid, but he’s definitely attractive—slightly taller than me, he’s athletic and lightly tanned, not to mention confident enough to pull off wearing his pink and black Forever Falls soccer jersey beneath his apron. He pushes a strawberry milk shake across the table.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “You just missed Charlie.”

I frown. “Charlie was here?”

“Yeah. She just got back from her journalist camp thing. Marcus dropped her off while he went to the store. Her family’s having a welcome back meal, apparently.” He runs a hand through his light-brown hair and his forehead crumples at my expression. “She probably messaged you. The signal sucks in here, and the Wi-Fi’s down again. You’ll probably get it later.”

“Yeah . . . probably.”

I’m not quite sure why it bothers me to have not heard from her yet. The three of us have been friends since kindergarten—it’s not weird she would stop by the diner without me.

I force a smile and James leans across the table and brushes his lips against mine. Something tenses in my stomach.

Your boyfriend is not your match.

He is matched with . . . someone else.

I pull away, shaking Cal’s stupid words out of my head.

Maybe there was no big firework display when James and I got together, but he was there for me when I lost Mom, and we built something based on friendship and trust. That’s realistic. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

The idea of matching is ridiculous. There’s more to relationships than compatibility statistics—or whatever Cal was talking about. And I certainly don’t believe in soul mates.

“So—what you doing here? Missing me?” asks James. He grins. “Or you just here for the free drinks?”

I take a slurp of my milk shake. “Can’t a girl can’t come and visit her boyfriend at work without arousing suspicion?!”

“Of course! Just surprised. You haven’t stopped by in a while. Your dad doing okay?”

I shrug. “Oh, you know. Ups and downs.”

He gives me a sympathetic smile but doesn’t push. Dad was let go from his accounting job a few months ago. He wasn’t doing well after what happened to Mom. He hated that job, but being stuck at home hasn’t been good for him.

“He said he’d make us pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, though,” I say, brightening.

“That was you and your mom’s thing, right? Pancakes on the first day of school?”

“Yeah. He forgot last year, but I think him bringing it up again means he’s trying.”

“Remember fifth grade, when Charlie and I stayed over the night before? We were almost late to school but your mom insisted we get our fill before dropping us off.”

“You ate so many you had a stomachache all day.”

“Yeah! And Charlie spilled syrup all down her new top.”

I laugh even though it hurts a little to remember. “Yeah. Charlie was not pleased about that.”

“So, what you been up to?” asks James.

Oh, you know—visited a supernatural dating agency, met the guy who matched my parents, and learned that Cupid is looking for me. My day has been way too weird to talk about so I shrug. “Nothing much.”

The door to the diner opens and a noisy group of sophomores from the debate team come in.

“Jack’s in luurrrrve!” one of them yells, slapping a short guy with black hair on the back as the five of them pile into a booth.

“James?” Martha calls from across the room as she precariously balances a pot of coffee and a pile of plates on her arms.

“On it!” He gets up and gives me an apologetic grin. “Duty calls. Stick around for a while?”

I glance at the security camera again and imagine Cal watching me. “I think I’ll head back,” I say, getting up.

James kisses me again before I go. This time I sink into his body as he wraps his arms around my waist. For a moment I allow myself to bask in his warmth and familiar light cologne, which is somehow only made more comforting by the notes of burger grease and peanut butter.

James is my boyfriend. I’m happy. And I don’t need some weird dating agency to tell me otherwise.

I smile at him when I pull away, and this time it doesn’t feel forced.

“See you at school tomorrow,” I say.

On my way out I glare at the security camera in the corner of the room, imagining Cal watching me on the other side. I don’t care if this mysterious Cupid guy is starting at school tomorrow.

I am not interested.