Page 75 of Okay, Cupid

“No!” I shoot up from Cal’s lap, my words coming out too quickly. “I mean, no … I don’t. I just wish that I could have what they have, even for a little bit.”

“Well … you have me, don’t you?” Cal looks at me, sadness in his eyes.

And I feel that sting of guilt in my heart.

“I do.” I feel like an asshole. All this time I’ve been worried about leaving behind these people who I just met, when my best friend has been sitting right next to me the entire time.

“I’m sorry, Cal.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But remember how complicated they are? How messy they get? I mean, if they need an entirely different set of people just to help them fall in love, imagine how much more help they need. I’m surprised there aren’t Cupids out there for their anxieties.”

“I think they call them therapists.”

Cal laughs, and I try to laugh along with him, but my chest is so heavy.

I wish this felt natural.

What if I don’t want to forget them? What if I don’t want to move on? Why is that the worst thing in the world?

“Thanks, Cal,” I say, because I think it’s what he wants to hear.

“You’re welcome.”

• • •

We continue the night with The Wedding Planner and order pizza from this Italian place in our neighborhood. Cal falls asleep during the last act, and I’m too lazy to turn on anything new, so I just let The Devil Wears Prada auto-play. Cal leaves his head in my lap, and I carefully let my hand trace the back of his neck, the skin behind his ears.

He looks so peaceful like this.

Just as Andy is undergoing her big transformation and figuring out how to be an assistant, my phone lights up. A photo from Huy comes in. He’s in a dark room, giving the camera a thumbs-up with his hand wrapped in a white bandage.

HUY: I livd.

ME: how badly does it hurt?

HUY: pleae, the doczs loaded me on pin kilrs

ME: that explains the typos then

ME: should you be texting?

HUY: nt the meds, hand makes txting hard

HUY: cn I cll???

I look at Cal in my lap, wondering if it’s the right move. But before I can even make a decision, my phone screen flashes with Huy’s name. I stare at it, wondering if this is the right thing to do.

It’s not.

But I accept anyway.

“Hey,” he says quickly. “Sorry, I cast dialed you, and I couldn’t end it in time.”

“It’s okay,” I promise him. “Cast dial?”

“It’s way harder to text than you think it’d be.”

“So it’s not the painkillers?”