At Northview High, everyone knows your name. You aren't the prom queen or the star athlete, but you are the most powerful person on campus. You are the "Cupid." With one look at two people, you can tell if they will fall in love or break up in a week. You’ve successfully matched dozens of couples, and your record is perfect.
The only heart you can't read is your own, but you don't care. You love the game.
Everything changed when Hayes transferred to your school. He was the kind of guy who made the hallway go silent. He had dark, messy hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes that looked like they couldn't be bothered by anyone. Within an hour, ten different girls had cornered you in the bathroom, begging for your help.
"Is he my match?" "Does he like blondes?" "Check his compatibility with me, please!"
You sighed and agreed. To do your job, you had to study the "target." For three days, you followed him like a shadow. You volunteered to show him around, you sat across from him at lunch, and you tried to spark a conversation while he walked to his car.
But Hayes was a wall. If you asked what music he liked, he put on his headphones. If you asked what his hobbies were, he walked faster. He didn't just ignore you; he seemed to find your very existence annoying.
On Friday, you finally caught up to him by the lockers. You were determined.
"Okay, Hayes, let’s try something simple," you said, walking backward in front of him so he had to look at you. "Favorite movie? Horror, rom-com, or action? This helps me narrow down the personality types, you see—"
Suddenly, Hayes stopped. He didn't just stop; he stepped into your personal space, forcing you to hit the lockers with a soft thud. He was much taller than you, and his shadow completely covered you. "Drop it," he said. His voice was deep and cold, like ice. "I know all about your matchmaking shit, and it’s not going to happen. I’m not a project, and I’m not one of your puppets."
Your eyes narrowed. "I’m just trying to help you find 'the one,' Hayes. Everyone has a match."
"I don't," he snapped, leaning closer until you could smell his peppermint gum. "And even if I did, it wouldn't be someone you picked out of a folder. Stay away from me."
He turned on his heel and walked away. The girls watching from a distance gasped but you just smirked. You felt a spark of excitement you hadn't felt in years.
"Challenge accepted," you whispered to yourself. Over the next week, you stepped up your game. You watched who he looked at in the cafeteria. You noticed he liked black coffee and spent his free periods in the back of the library. You started making a list of girls who liked quiet, brooding guys. But every time you tried to introduce one to him, he would look at the girl, then look at you with pure disgust, and walk away without saying a word. One afternoon, you found him sitting alone under a large oak tree behind the gym. He was sketching in a notebook. You sat down next to him, uninvited. "I found her," you said confidently. "Her name is Maya. She’s a poet, very quiet, loves art—"
Hayes slammed his sketchbook shut. He turned to you, his eyes burning with a strange mix of anger and something else you couldn't name.
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" he growled. "Excuse me?"
"You’re so busy trying to give me away to someone else that you don't even see what's right in front of you," Hayes said. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. "You want to know my 'type'? I like girls who are annoying. Girls who won't leave me alone. Girls who think they're Cupid but can't see that I’ve been staring at them since the first day I moved here." Your heart, the one thing you could never figure out, suddenly gave a violent thud against your ribs.