My face flames with humiliation and something deeper, more reckless. A flicker of anger burns at the edge of my consciousness—mad at this interloper for disrupting my plans. For calling me out.He has no right.
Quiet stretches between us as Cupid continues to study me.
“How about this,” he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, clasped hands tucked under his chin. “I can change your mind.”
“About what?”
“About love,” Cupid replies. “About dating. About your app. I can show you what it’s like to feel—toreally feel—those things you see in the movies and read about in romance novels.”He studies his nail beds. “Love. True love. Not whatever—” he waves his hand limply, “you’ve been dealing with all these years.”
I squint. “Oh yeah? How?”
“One of these.” Cupid holds a fist out, then turns it over, fingers unfurling. A single arrow materializes in the flat of his palm.
“My arrows can make you feel passion,” he says, lifting the arrow with delicate fingers, twisting it slowly in the space between us. “Desire. Attraction. Show you what it means to want someone, without your usual inhibitions—for seventy-two hours.”
I side-eye him. “Seventy-two hours? That’s all you think it’ll take to change my entire philosophy on love?”
Please, like that could work.
Cupid lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Not a guarantee. I’m a god, not a wizard.” He raises the arrow parallel to his face, examining the golden tip. “And this isn’t a love potion. But itwillgive you seventy-two hours to see what love could be when it checks all the boxes…not just the ones you look for in your little—” he gestures toward me, “thing.”
“It’s an app,” I clarify. But my mind is reeling; this is an interesting proposition.
Something in my gut tells me that would be a terrible idea, but it doesn’t stop me from asking the question anyway.
“So you shoot me with an arrow, it makes me feel—all those things for three days. But who would I feel those things for?” I laugh uncomfortably as the next words leave my mouth. “Surely not you?”
“In this case, yes. Me.”
My eyebrows shoot to the middle of my forehead.
“Unless you have someone in particular you’d like meto—”
“No,” I cut in. “No.” My bangs flutter as I exhale, considering. “I just don’t understand how something could suddenly make meloveyou when I kind of hate you right now.”
Cupid chuckles warmly. “Hate works well, actually,” he says. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. If you can hate me, you can love me. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Would you bet the future of humanity on it?” I ask, jokingly.
“Absolutely,” he says, not missing a beat. “What do you say, Love—you in?”
I have to admit I’m intrigued. Not because I believe it will actually change my mind. I mean, come on—Cupid’s just being cocky and self-absorbed. He thinks my world should revolve around love becausehisworld revolves around love.
But…he is offering me a fresh perspective. New data points. Another way to understand what I’m up against and get ideas to improve my app.
All that stuff about a dating app ushering in the fall of civilization? He could be lying about that, and I’ll never know because I’ll surely be dead. Not my problem! But if he’s right that there’s something I’ve been missing aboutloveall these years…yeah, I think I’d like to know so I can avoid it.
Let’s call it an experiment. With a caveat.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “But on one condition.”
He motions for me to continue.
“If I do this…wager, I guess…for the seventy-two hours, and I don’t change my mind about love, you’ll leave me alone. Let me do my work in peace.”
“But—”
“No buts. That’s my offer.”
