Page 59 of Okay, Cupid

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “I don’t think that anyone noticed.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah.” He takes another bite of the cake, leaving a trail of frosting on the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I didn’t realize until you said something. So, I think you’re safe.”

“You’ve got a—” I rub at the corner of my own mouth. “Frosting.”

“Oh!” And instead of using the napkin in his hand, he just licks, and on the wrong side of his mouth too.

“No, here.” I take my napkin, dabbing it softly with my tongue and hoping that he doesn’t think it’s gross before I wipe the stain away.

He leans down to be more level with me, and I realize that we’re inches away. I’ve seen his face before, I’ve seen it nearly every day for two whole weeks now, and it still feels like I notice something new every time I look at him. Like now: there’s a tiny scar, right below his eye. It points like an arrow to the dark brown of his iris, which pops with these hints of something light, something softer.

I hate how things have already changed, how a crush makes you look at someone in a way that you’ve never seen them before. He looks so different. Except it’s not him who’s changed. It’s me.

“Thanks.” He stares at me, and only me.

“Yeah, no problem.” I have to stop my heart from exploding out of my chest. “Where’d that scar come from?”

The question slips out so naturally I’m not sure I’m even the one who asked it. But it floats there, in the ether, my words spoken.

“Oh, this one?” He points, pulling his skin a bit. “Soccer game. My teammate wasn’t paying attention, shot the ball too hard. It whipped me really good.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you know what they say about men with scars—they’re super sexy,” he says with a purr that makes me cringe.

“God, please never talk like that ever again.”

“What? You don’t like my sexy voice?” He then shifts to something deeper, leaning in even closer. “This doesn’t do anything for you, Jude?”

“Please!” I push him away. “Ugh, you’re violating my ears.”

“Oh, I can violate more than that!” he says. “Wow, that sounded so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever will you do to make it up to me?” I ask him.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “I can think of a few things.”

“You just keep digging that hole deeper,” I tell him.

“Oh, speaking of holes—” He stops himself, unable to even think about finishing that sentence. “I’m sorry, I’m done, I’m done.”

“Promise me?” I’m sure my cheeks are a shining red. I’m grateful that I’m already wearing blush to help hide it.

“I do, Scout’s honor.”

My phone dings! again.

CAL: still doing this, right???

ME: yes

CAL: okay, I’m going for it.

ME:

“Pressing matters?” Huy asks, pretending to sneak a peek at my screen.