“Well, you’re going to have to. The timing is—”
“Nope.”
“You don’t even know what I’m about to say!” she protests.
“Doesn’t matter. You already agreed, and that agreement was binding.”
Felicity crosses her arms and harrumphs. “Idon’t remember reading that in the terms and conditions,” she mutters.
I hold out my fist, arrow materializing in the flat of my palm.
“Wait!” she says, breathlessly. “Can you—can you talk me through what comes next?”
“It’s simple, really. I’ll pierce you with my arrow, right here,” I point to my chest, the spot right over my heart. “Then you’ll be ready to fall in love. And that’s it.”
A long pause.
“Will it hurt?”
At this, I take a beat, considering what to say next.
“The arrow? Not at all. What comes next?” I fidget with the arrow. “Yes…and no.”
She nods. Closes her eyes again, and says, “Okay, Cupid. Hitme with it.”
Um. Now what?
I make the arrow disappear and pull out my bow. I guess I’ll…pretend so she doesn’t catch on. So I hold the instrument up, pull the taut string back, and let go with a softtwang. Then I cough once.
Well, there’s no turning back now—I’m going through with this lie. I need to make Felicity fall madly in love with me, and I have seventy-two hours to do it. Otherwise, humanity is screwed.
At least Felicity already thinks she’s been hit by the arrow, so I have that going for me. Right?
7
Felicity
“Did you…did you shoot me yet?”
My hand reaches up to rub my chest at the area Cupid indicated just a few minutes before. I don’tfeelany different. But I’ve also never been shot by a magic arrow before, so I don’t have any reliable reference point.
“Um,” he says, blinking down at me. “Yeah?”
Cupid’s reply sounds more like a question than a declarative statement. Alarm bells go off in my head. Before I can probe him on it, though, he seems to snap out of a trance.
“Yeah,” he says again, more assured this time. “It can sometimes…take a while.” Cupid is fiddling with the candy cigarette behind his ear. “The effects are, uh, unique to the person.” He nods, almost as if reassuring himself. “Like with—,” his eyes shift back and forth for a second. “Like with medication,” he says, looking relieved. “Different side effects. Sometimes it can take a while.”
I watch him as he rambles. Does he seem nervous? Or is that me reading into things? Or is it one of theside effectsof the arrow that I’m questioning this interaction right now?
“It’s funny,” I say, deadpan. “I don’t feel hopelessly devoted to you all of a sudden.”
“Believe me,” Cupid says, “it works.”
I wonder, idly, how I will know when the real effects of his arrow have kicked in. Will it be obvious, or subtle? Will it turn me into a love-sick fool, or will I remain largely the same?
Too many questions run through my head, my brain fully occupied with the mysterious effects of a magical, mythical arrow. For his part, Cupid seems perfectly fine to let me think in silence. I catch a glimpse of him, now pacing at the far side of the room, muttering to himself. Why is he acting all…shifty?
I’m surprised to find I feel more at ease with Cupid and this entire situation now that our cards are all out on the table. Besides, I have an ace up my sleeve that will make this whole ordeal a breeze. I almost can’t believe my luck.
