Page 10 of Okay, Cupid

“Yeah,” she starts to say. “We’re okay.”

Cal and I steal another glance at each other and nod, knowing that we’ve done our job.

Well, Cal did his job. I just helped.

My eyes go back to the lingering stare that the boy and the girl have for each other, the way their cheeks are flushing. They don’t even notice that their hands are less than an inch away from each other, but it’s like their bodies do, almost as if their fingers are reaching for each other by themselves.

I feel so much worse so suddenly that it hurts.

Because I had that.

I need to stop these thoughts in their tracks. It’s no use dwelling on them. Because it’s a dangerous path, and if it happens again, there’s a worse fate than just probation waiting for me.

I feel a warm hand, fingers intertwining into mine. I finally look away from the couple and their renewed love to see Cal looking at me. He must’ve snuck around the other side of the aisle.

“Come on,” he tells me. “They’ve already forgotten all about us.”

I don’t say a word as he leads me away. I think he can tell that something’s off again. He’s always been too good at reading me. I appreciate the feeling of him against my palm, the knowledge that he’s there, that I’m grounded in something other than my own mind.

“You did great,” he tells me.

I pause, swallowing hard. “Should we head back?”

“We could …” Cal half sings. “Or …” He looks past me, and I follow his stare toward the large H&M that takes up a whole corner of this mall. “Maybe a little retail therapy?”

I look back at him, smiling. “You read my mind.”

• • •

There’s an odd sense of guilt that washes over me as I enter the apartment later that day, coming up the stairs with Cal right behind me, each of us with a bag in hand. I was proud to find a new skirt, and a cute T-shirt with a weird advertisement for an apple orchard that was obviously meant to look like it was some stolen prize out of a thrift store but instead sat on a row with twenty other identical shirts.

“Ah, and our two students return!” Richard turns to face us as we walk through the doorway. He’s a tall Black man with a short goatee. You’d think he’s a good three decades older than any of us with the way he dresses, but he’s only a few years Leah’s senior. He has the look of a professor, with wire-rimmed glasses, and he’s almost always in a tweed jacket, complete with those little elbow patches. And his favorite dress shoes, of course. Cal and I have teased him endlessly about finding him a better fashion sense. “Get some shopping done?” He steals a glance at the bags, and suddenly I feel my face getting warmer.

“We were celebrating.” Cal steps in. “On a job well done!”

“Really?” Leah leans in.

“Yep, I asked Jude for their help on a job. They were all too happy to give me a hand!”

Richard smiles. “That’s commendable, Jude! Well done.”

“Yes, well done.” Leah’s voice is quieter, more mellow. It usually is, but right now, more than anything, it tells me that she knows what I wish she didn’t. But maybe it’s better that I didn’t have to tell her that I botched my entire morning. She’s always felt like an older sister to me; it’s believable enough when we needed to use the disguise for our job. We both have the same curly brunette hair, the same pale skin, same green eyes even.

I’ll never forget that look on her face as she realized what happened last summer, that dawning, that understanding. She seemed to grow so angry, only to quell it in an instant.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home now, Jude.” Richard motions to the chair next to him, and I take it, Cal doing the same with the seat next to me.

“Richard?” Leah looks at him expectantly. “Are we going to discuss what happened?”

“Yes, Leah. I was just about to bring it up. Thank you.”

“I don’t see the point in beating around the bush,” she tells him.

“I was giving Jude a chance to tell me themself. We would’ve gotten there.”

Leah ignores this and asks me, point blank, “Is there something you need to tell us, Jude?”

“Right … yeah. About that, I—”