Cupid’s Match
: Part 1 – Chapter 8

Charlie doesn’t seem too bothered about her new job as mentor; as soon as the bell rings, she skips over to Cal, who, incidentally, spent the rest of the lesson firing dirty looks my way. He now looks bored as my friend tries to engage him in conversation about the Welcome Back dance she’s helping plan for next Friday.

I hurriedly pack up my things, hoping to sneak off without having to deal with Cupid. “I’ll see you at lunch,” I whisper to James.

“Not wanting to escort the ‘love god’ around school?”

“You know me too well.”

I dodge swiftly around my classmates, trying not to catch

Ms. Green’s attention as she concentrates on lesson planning. Finally, I reach the exit and look back. Cupid is still watching me with that same amused smile, which turns into a wicked grin when I give him my best innocent eyes. He coughs loudly.

Ms. Green looks up from her desk.

“Lila,” she says sharply, “make sure you take Cupid to his next lesson. English, I believe.”

“I’m sure we can both replace our own way around,” Cal protests.

“Speak for yourself,” Cupid says. “I think I’d prefer Lila to take me.”

His accent is different—American with a slight British edge that makes me think he’s spent some time in England. He says my name as though he likes the feel of it on his tongue, and it makes me uncomfortable. It feels too familiar, too personal. His blue-green eyes are twinkling violently.

“Come on, then,” I say, making my way out of the door. I don’t look back to see if he’s following, but I know that he is.

“So, Lila,” he says as we step outside.

He pauses and I stop to look up at him. There’s something almost angelic about his features. The artificial light in the corridor—harsh and unflattering on everyone else—gives his fair skin a faint glow. He smells like summer—like grass stains and honey and a light floral fabric softener. I can feel the heat radiating from his body as he stands closer to me than appropriate.

But, weirdly, I don’t step away. It is intoxicating. I want to be closer to him, to drink him in, to reach out and touch him despite myself. He makes me feel tiny—the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder—and I remember what Cal said back in the Cupids Matchmaking Service. He dabbled with human affairs, human hearts. Obsessed over women and made them obsess over him. I shiver involuntarily.

He grins. “Your teacher seems to think you should give me everything I need.”

For a second I feel the way a fly must feel when it’s caught in a spider’s web. What the hell is wrong with me? Then I blink and pull myself together and set off down the corridor.

“Sure. As long as what you want is to get to English class without severely annoying me.”

Cupid shrugs, falling into step beside me. “I suppose I could do that,” he says. “You have English too?”

I shake my head, not really wanting to continue the conversation. He takes long strides and I have to pick up my pace as we walk outside to cut through the small square courtyard at the heart of the school. The fall sun coats the picnic benches with warm light.

“You were talking all the way through history,” he goes on. “Legends not your thing, huh?”

“No,” I say, looking him in the face. “Not really. I’m not one for fairy tales. I prefer the present, not relics from the past.”

He grins again. “I think you should give myths a chance. There may be more to them than you think.”

“I highly doubt that.”

As we approach the doorway on the other side of the courtyard, Cupid stops. “That other new guy didn’t seem to want me to have a mentor. I wonder why that is.”

He shoots me a sly look, and I wonder if Cal has unintentionally given away that I’m Cupid’s Match. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the thing that alerted Cupid he was on the right path to the Match was Cal being here in the first place? I knew from the start it was a dumb plan.

“Didn’t notice. Do you know the other new guy?” I ask, deciding to play his game. “It seemed like you did.”

Cupid smirks but doesn’t say anything as we reenter the school. As we walk through into another locker-lined corridor, a couple of the females shoot not-so-subtle admiring looks at him, which Cupid not-so-subtly notices.

“The girl he was talking to,” he says, ignoring my question. “What’s her name?”

“Chloe.”

His eyes darken as we stop outside his classroom. “Chloe. I should probably get to know her a bit better.” He looks at me, eyes slightly narrowed, as though trying to gauge a reaction. He’s not going to get one.

I smile. “Sounds like you’ve been getting to know quite a few girls from here already.”

He laughs a low, musical laugh that attracts a few more admiring glances. “What can I say? I’m a friendly guy.” He opens his leather jacket and pulls a scrap of paper from an inside pocket. “Got a pen?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You came to school without a pen?”

His eyes glint. “I’m not on a quest for knowledge. I’m here for something much more interesting.”

The way he says it makes my heart thud hard against my chest; for a moment I am sure he can hear it.

He’s here for me.

Then I roll my eyes and swing my backpack in front of me so I can pull out a blue pen from the side pocket. “Here.”

His fingers brush mine as he takes it, and I feel my stomach clench. Seriously, what is wrong with me? To my surprise, he seems caught off guard too. He’s staring at his hand.

“Do you believe in soul mates, Lila?” he asks suddenly, and I can see the storm behind his eyes. He’s trying to figure me out; trying to work out if I’m the girl he came here to replace.

I hold his gaze. “No. Love comes from friendship, and trust, and work. It’s not some magical force.” I think of my parents: my dad, lost in his memories, and my mom, gone from this world. “And it doesn’t always have a happy ending.”

An emotion I can’t interpret flits across his face. His expression is serious, watchful. Then the grin is back.

“Bad breakup?” he says.

“I’m in a perfectly happy relationship, thanks very much.”

“Sure you are.” Cupid holds my gaze a moment longer then scribbles something down and passes it to me.

“What’s this?”

“My address. My mother is . . . out of town and I’m having a party this Friday. You should come. Your friend too.”

I don’t miss the emphasis on his mother being out of town. Do cupids even have mothers? I make a mental note to ask Cal later.

Cupid turns and walks into the classroom, but before he disappears he looks over his shoulder. “By the way, I’m no longer so interested in getting to know Chloe,” he says. “It’s you I want to get to know better, Lila Black.”