Page 107 of Okay, Cupid

“It’s not right. To lie about that. I don’t want to.”

“Jude, he’s a human. He doesn’t have to matter to you anymore. He’s probably already forgotten all about you.”

I hesitate, unmoving.

“You did the spell, right? You erased his memories?”

“Not yet.” I can’t hide my shame any deeper. “I didn’t have enough time.”

“It only takes a few seconds, Jude.”

“I know, Cal!” I can’t sit here anymore. I stand up, unable to stop myself from pacing around Cal’s room carefully. It’s like my body has too much energy in it. “I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t thinking, and I just wanted to get out of there, and—”

Cal steps in front of me, stopping me by grabbing my hands. I know that he means all the best in the world in this attempt to calm me down, but I have to pull away. Stopping me isn’t doing anything except building up the fire in my stomach again. Growing, roaring to life until it all spills out of me.

“It’s okay, Jude.”

“No,” I tell him. “It’s not. Stop telling me that it’s okay.”

“It will be, though. When we tell Leah the truth, she’ll help you out.”

I adore Cal with every fiber of my being. I love my best friend. But there is no we here. At the end of the day, he’s not the one who fell in love with a human, he’s not the one who let their walls slip, who let another person in when that was the last thing they should’ve done. He didn’t let a boy ruin his life.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Cal. “I don’t know if I should’ve come here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I should’ve just figured things out on my own.”

“Jude, it’s okay. I’m your friend.” He closes what little gap there is between us. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Cal takes my hands. “I care a lot about you, Jude. And seeing you do this to yourself twice now, it’s hard to sit here and bite my tongue.”

“Cal, what are you doing?”

“I’m right here, Jude. I always have been.” He leans in a little closer. “And I’m tired of hiding my feelings for you.” His voice remains soft as the last words in the world that I want to hear right now reach my ears. “I’ve just been waiting for you to see it.”

“Please, Cal … I can’t do this right now.”

“Jude, I—”

That’s when he goes for broke, when he leans in and plants a kiss on my lips that I didn’t ask for, that I have no reaction to. It lasts barely two seconds. I count them down in my head, waiting for the moment that this will end. And thankfully, it does.

“Why would you do that to me?” I ask him, my breath shaky. “Why now?”

“I … I don’t know,” he says. “I’m just tired of pretending that I don’t have feelings for you.”

I take my hands back, stepping away. “I think I’m going to go home.”

“Jude, please.” He reaches for me, but I pull away.

“I just want to be left alone. Okay?”

He lets his arms fall to his sides, then slowly nods. I can notice the telltale signs of tears, the way his mouth twists and he closes his eyes, unable to look at me from his shame. It’s a stance that I know well, despite Cal never having been that much of a crier. I can still feel his lips on mine as I walk out of the house, down to the bus stop. I can feel his skin pressed against mine. Have I always been like this?

If being a Cupid has taught me anything, it’s that we’re incredibly lucky to get one person who wants to be with us, who wants to spend the rest of the night with us, let alone the rest of our lives. My future is right in front of me. Cal is a Cupid, so we could be together. It wouldn’t disrupt anything.

My Cupid future is within my grasp, and I still can’t hold on to it.

Because I love Cal; he’s my best friend, almost my brother. I cannot and do not want to imagine leading a life where he isn’t beside me, making me laugh, comforting me, helping to pull me back from the edge when I’m climbing atop it. But I don’t love him romantically. I can’t give him that, and I don’t want to pretend.