Page 1 of Okay, Cupid

I’ve never understood why humans have to make it so difficult to fall in love.

A meet-cute, a little flirting, some hand-holding and dates, maybe a scary movie that causes some “accidental” physical contact. Then a walk home that ends with kisses stolen on the front steps as they say good night.

Or rivals in college, vying for that coveted position as … well, I haven’t been to college, or really even high school, so I don’t know what smart college students fight over, but maybe they want to be the professor’s assistant or something? Maybe a couple broke up, one of them getting cold feet before they realize they do love the other person, and they were just afraid to give love a shot.

My favorites are childhood best friends—extra points if they grew up next to each other—whose stolen looks and unrealized feelings build to this crescendo of big emotions boiling over, realizing that the person that they wanted was right there beside them all along, and they just never saw it. But luckily, it wasn’t too late.

Love is so magical.

Except humans are … well, complicated, to say the least. Always getting in their own way, letting their anxieties and fears distract them, never being bold enough to make that move.

Then again, I guess if humans knew everything about falling in love, I wouldn’t have a job.

In my experience, few people actually want to run halfway across a city during rush hour or buy a ticket for a flight they’ll never make just to catch the person they love moments before they board a plane to the other side of the country.

That’s our responsibility, though. To push the humans toward something more, to urge them forward and break down the boundaries, to fight for their own love.

That’s what we’re here for.

That’s what I’m here for.

Because I’m a Cupid. And a perfectly fine one too.

Today, being a perfectly fine Cupid means sneaking into the back of a local café. I grab a blue apron from the alcove near the exit and wipe the name Gary off its name tag, writing my own in its place in big white letters.

A quick little wave of my hand, and suddenly everyone who is either in this café or walks in will think I belong here, that I’ve worked here for months. And that way, no one will think I’m just some random kid who stumbled into the back of the café without permission. I can’t afford to miss the couple that I’m here to help.

Richard’s voice echoes in my ears. I can imagine the expression on his face once I’ve done my job, that look of pride that’s mostly hidden by the beard, but I can still tell when he’s making it. It’s the look that tells me he doesn’t believe he wasted sixteen years of his and Leah’s lives training me to be a Cupid, that I am actually worth his time and energy, and that he hasn’t screwed up by giving me a second chance. I have to ignore the voice in the back of my head that’s telling me I’m the one who’s going to screw up. Again. Even though I’ve done this dozens of times before, and I’ve only ever fucked up once. And okay, maybe it was a huge fuckup, the worst fuckup I ever could’ve made. But if the nerves get to me now, I can kiss this all goodbye.

Ugh, kiss.

I nod to one of the guys washing the dishes, doing my best to make it seem like I belong here. Because my magic is only half the performance.

The rest is all me.

Fixing the cap to my head, squashing down my hair so it’ll fit, I walk through the door to the front of the shop, which is right where I need to be.

I’m the background character, the cardboard cutout tree, unnoticed. Invisible.

“Hey, Jude!” Another coworker steals a sip of water from a transparent plastic cup hidden under the counter. “Hope you’re ready for the rush.”

“Right, yeah,” I tell her, because my mouth is about a mile behind my brain in terms of functioning right now. There’s a lot to take in, from all the coffee dispensers and flavor options to the menu to the line that’s stretching toward the door.

At least I know the disguise is working.

“Okay, Jude, we’re busy today, no messing around!” My brand-new manager, Ray, stomps right up to me without giving me a second to breathe. He looks like the kind of guy who might keel over at any moment, his poor heart giving out. I step in behind him, double-checking the crowd so I know for a fact I haven’t missed who I’m here for. “I need you on register. Now.”

Register, directly in front of all the customers.

There’s no chance I’ll miss Claire and Henry as they come through the front doors for their morning orders.

There was a time I loved being in the middle of the action, getting to be the center of attention. I’d go up to adults when I was younger and use my cuteness to my advantage. Richard and Leah always told me I was meant to be a Cupid, that it was evident from a young age. Leah loves telling the story of the time I pretended I was lost in a park and got these two best friends stuck in a perpetual will-they-won’t-they situation to finally admit their feelings for each other while they helped me find her.

I’m still pretty proud of that one.

That was a long time ago, though, and this is my first time out in the field in months. I’m wondering if Leah was right when she said it’s too soon after … everything that happened.

It’s not like you can lose your touch, I remind myself. This is what you were born to do. You’re good at being a Cupid.