Cupid Falling

Chapter 5: How?

How?

How did this fail? I don't understand how I keep failing to match these two humans. Did I piss Fate off? She doesn't even really have to do anything these days. It's all on autopilot. Only special cases require her actual attention. It shouldn't be this hard.

Several years ago, I appealed to Fate after a particularly terrible misfire in trying to match these two dumdums. I was convinced something was wrong. But she assured me everything looked fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Honestly, I still think something is wrong. These two humans are an eighty-two percent match. It might not sound like a lot to a layperson, but it's actually rather uncommon.

Humans like to believe they've met their soul mate. That they're a hundred percent perfect match. Truth is, most couples are in the sixties and seventies at best, and even those are usually fairly easy to match up. If you're assigned a match in the eighties and up, you're golden. One-hundred percent is basically unheard of. It's only happened a handful of times since the dawn of time.

At eighty-two percent, these two should basically have fallen madly in love as soon as they laid eyes on each other. I guess someone forgot to give them the memo. Or maybe Steve the cat ate it. Wouldn't surprise me in the least. That cat is nothing but trouble.

I catch a quick glance of him languishing on top of Penelope's couch as I drop her off at her apartment after our "date". My mood definitely took a turn for the worse after watching her and Trevor fail to make a proper connection yet again. But I think I've hidden it from her. She's continued chatting as if nothing happened, which isn't great either. Did nothing happen when they bumped into each other? I had expected her to—at the very least—want to hang out with Trevor and the dark-haired moppet, but she came right back to me within moments.

She's lingering in the doorway, smiling up at me, her green eyes sparkling and her cheeks still pink from the bite of the cold. I hope she's not expecting a kiss. Maybe I really should have made it clear this wasn't a date.

"Thank you for today," she says as she pulls her crocheted hat off, leaving her hair a static mess. "I had fun, despite my little incident on the ice."

"Hopefully it hasn't put you off skating forever. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?" I nod in her general direction, not wanting to point to her ass, which was the actual part she bumped.

She laughs. I like her laugh, it's warm and full with no affectation. "Not my worst by far! I think my pride took the biggest hit."

"It looked like you knew the man you bumped into?" Perfect segue. I'm quite pleased with myself.

"Oh yeah, that's Trevor. We went to high school together and share friends." She sounds dismissive. That's not ideal.

"Good friend?" I try prodding further. "Ex-boyfriend perhaps?"

She's still smiling, but gives me a look that says maybe I took it a little too far. "Neither. We run into each other from time to time. Barely acquaintances." Eyeing me, she adds with a teasing grin, "You're not jealous, are you?"

"No, not at all," I admit honestly, before realizing maybe I should have pretended to be. Would a regular human man have been? I don't know.

If she's disappointed by my lack of jealousy, it doesn't show. "Good, cause honestly, that'd be weird!"

I guess I answered the right thing after all! I'd pat myself on the back if it wasn't a stupid thing to do.

"Are you seeing him again?" Definitely went too far this time, judging by the way she's staring at me. Shit. I should have left it well enough alone.

"You're being kinda weird."

"You're surprisingly honest." I can see why she's not having much luck dating. Human men aren't particularly fond of honesty.

She flashes me a grin. "I kind of like that you're weird. As long as you're not actually a serial killer."

"Only on Tuesdays," I remind her, and she lets out that warm laugh again.

"Remind me never to meet up with you on a Tuesday."

"Will do."

"Any other day is fine." She's watching me expectantly, and I realize she might be waiting for me to offer another date. Or am I meant to wait three days to call? Do people even make calls these days? I'm rusty on human dating patterns since I've been stuck with these two morons for nearly a decade.

"I had fun today." It's not even a lie. Other than the latest failure to match her with Trevor, I had a good time with her. Through the years, I've enjoyed watching her from time to time—for research, that is—but actually spending time with her has been great. For a human, she's not half bad.

"Me too." She's already said that, but I don't point it out. The way she's watching me makes me worry I've seriously miscalculated this new plan of mine. How will I shove her at Trevor if she's too busy ogling me?

"We'll do it again sometime," I say, not wanting to commit to anything specific. I will have to do some reassessing of my strategy.

"Sure!" She smiles and turns to head into her apartment.

I catch another glimpse of Steve before she shuts the door. He's sitting in the middle of the floor now, staring at me with those amber eyes of his. Well, fuck you too, Steve.

Returning to my apartment, all of three steps across the hallway, I unlock the door and enter. I groan as I see the state of it. How can one tiny bunny cause so much devastation? I may have to revise my opinion of cats as the ultimate minions of chaos and give the position to bunnies. There are pieces of hay from Leonard's cage strewn across the living room and bits of some paper that she apparently demolished while I was away. She's sat in the middle of the room, looking quite content, surveying her domain of destruction.

Kicking the door closed behind me, I walk over and pick her up. At least she's kind of cute. Even if she's turned my temporary home into a dump. I rub my nose against her fluffy face.

"Look at this." I nod towards the surrounding mess. "Look at what you've done. You weren't even supposed to be here, but you'll be happy to know I'm picking you up a little friend to keep you company while I'm away."

I nearly drop the bunny when a baritone voice replies. "Well, about fucking time."