28
Ten Days. Zero Sparks. One Huge Problem.
Cohen
The Heart Room at Cupid’s Agency was designed to make people fall in love.
Or, in my case, to make me regret being born.
Comfy chairs, warm lighting, vanilla-rose scent in the air, bright fuchsia walls, trailing plants.
Everything soft. Everything welcoming.
Everythingnot me.
I’m sitting here chewing the inside of my cheek, praying a meteor might crash directly into this building—gently, without hurting anyone… except maybe me, just enough to get me out of the rest of this week.
Across from me sits Candidate Number One.
Dark hair. Brilliant smile. Probably a great person.
And behind the mirrored glass—that isnotactually a mirror—is her.
Sloane.
I can’t see her, but I feel her.
Every second.
And I feel completely out of my mind and trapped in something I don’t know how to escape.
“What’s your favorite season?” the first girl asks, all enthusiasm.
I think:
Late summer.
Because that’s when I met her, the season I both hate and crave at the same time.
And that thought terrifies me.
Why can’t I think about anything else?
What the hell has Sloane Heart done to me?
I either shrug or stay silent too long, because Lucy moves on.
“Okay,” she says, crossing her legs with confidence, “what do you look for in a relationship?”
A blonde woman, sure of herself, with eyes that completely destroy my heartbeat and a voice that scrambles my brain.
An Angel.
Then my brain realizes what I’ve just thought and slams on the brakes.
Revised internal answer: I don’t want a relationship. I’m only here because otherwise I lose my spot on the team.
Permitted answer:
