CUPID'S UNDOING: A Not-So-Cupid Story

♥ISABEL'S POV

I had spent the last twenty minutes explaining to a woman that a man who had not answered all her 11 messages and 20 missed calls was not suffering from a phone malfunction.

“But he might've just been probably so busy to take calls,” she said, making excuses.

“You don't say. And he's been busy since Tuesday? Huh.”

“May..maybe.”

“You realize it's Thursday today, right?”

She glanced at her phone and sighed.

“You have to accept the fact that he ghosted you. Because he's an asshole. Who's probably also cheating on you,” I said to her and fake pouted.

She gave me a stink eye.

We were standing between the crime-fiction shelves and the little reading table near the back of the bookstore. Rain tapped against the front windows, soft enough to make the place feel quieter than it actually was. Somewhere behind us, the coffee machine hissed at nobody in particular.

The girl looked miserable.

I decided to soften my voice.

“Listen. If a man wants to talk to you, he will find a way to talk to you. If he's busy, he'll be a man and tell you he's busy. And If he's interested, you won't need a detective, a private investigator, and fifteen messages to establish it.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

I scoffed. “It is simple.” Then shrugged my shoulders.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked me.

I almost laughed out but quickly controlled myself. “No.” I muffled out.

She stared at me. “Then how do you know all about relationships?”

“Because I have watched other people make terrible decisions for years all in the name of a 'relationship'.” I air quoted the last word.

“But that isn't the same thing.”

“No of course it isn't. It's actually better from my stand. I get to observe all the drama without suffering the consequences.”

My friend Kara, who had been pretending to organize a shelf nearby, snorted.

The woman turned to look at her. “Hey, she's your friend right? Is she always like this?”

“Way worse, trust me,” Kara said.

I gave Kara a look.

She smiled innocently at me.

I turned back to the customer. “Here's what you're going to do. Go home. Eat something nice and warm. Take a hot shower. Put your phone somewhere you can't reach it. Get coffee and then read something to spice up your night.”

“Hmm. That does sound nice to do at this point. So what do you suggest i read?”

I pointed toward the shelf beside her. “Easy. Murder mystery.”

She looked at the titles. “You're serious?”

“Very.”

“Why murder though? Wouldn't that just depress me some more?”

“Oh no it won't. Murder mystery is good for the soul. Atleast it's more fun to find out why murderers...you know... murder. Than finding out why your jackass boyfriend haven't returned any of your calls or messages.”

Kara laughed so loudly that the girl laughed too.

There it was.

A smile.

Problem solved.

Not the relationship, obviously. That was beyond my professional jurisdiction.

But the girl was smiling now and it meant something.

She thanked me, bought the murder mystery I'd recommended, and left with considerably more dignity than she'd walked in with.

The moment the door closed behind her, Kara came over.

“You frightened the poor girl.”

“Hey! That's not true. I helped her.”

“You recommended homicide fiction to a girl experiencing a romantic distress.”

“I recommended fiction in which a murderer gets caught. Justice served.”

“Still.”

I returned to the stack of invoices on the counter.

“This is why I don't understand why people keep asking me for dating advice.”

“Because you're so good at it.”

“I'm good at telling people what not to do.”

“Yeah. You're terrible and good at it at the same time.”

“Oh you're right.” I rolled my eyes. “I really am an expert in love. I could tell you a thousand reasons not to go that terrible direction. Trust me.” I look at her and blinked. “Eh. Who am I kidding? I could never get through to you no matter how often I try to show you the light.”

Kara leaned against the counter. “You're thirty seconds away from turning this conversation into another lecture about why love is a terrible investment.”

“I wasn't..”

“Yeah you were.”

“You're right. I was. I mean what do you even see in that silly boyfriend of yours huh?” I ask her, shaking my head slightly.

“Don't. Even start.”

“Right,” I muttered.

Kara shook her head. “You're hopeless.”

“Nope. I'm a realist.”

“You're a pessimist and you're going to die single if you keep this up you know.”

“That. Is the goal.” I cheered myself with fisted hands.

She opened her mouth to speak.

I raised one finger. “Don't ruin my moment.”

She closed it back.

“Thank you.” I say to her.

The bell above the front door rang.

Neither of us looked up immediately.

Then Kara glanced toward the entrance.

“Oh wow,” her voice gasping.

I continued writing on my register. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Kara.” I say sternly.

“A man just walked in here.”

I looked up.

There was, indeed, a man.

And unfortunately, he was the sort of man that made people stop pretending not to stare.

He was tall, dark-haired, broad through the shoulders, and dressed strangely enough that I wondered whether he had come straight from a costume party. His cream-colored shirt was loose around the collar, his dark trousers were tailored, and a long coat hung from his shoulders.

No tie.

No watch that I could see.

No phone in his hand.

And worse, he looked completely comfortable about it.

His eyes moved around the bookstore.

Then they landed on Kara, then on me.

I immediately went back to my paperwork.

“Nope,” I said.

Kara laughed. “I didn't even say anything.”

“Oh I know you were about to say something. So don't.”

“I was only going to say that he is really hot. Like really really hot.”

“That is exactly why I said, No!”

“He hasn't even done anything yet.”

“Yeah? Well he walked in.” I say, my voice whiny.

“People usually do that in bookstores. And in many other... stores.”

“Not while wearing curtains as clothes, and walking in like they own the place. Which I'm the owner by the way.”

Kara looked at him again.

“They're not curtains.” she chuckled. “Its just a different weird looking kinda clothes.”

“Those are very long curtains straight out of a Halloween costume party.”

The man approached the counter and we stopped talking immediately.

I kept my attention on the invoice I was scribbling at.

“Good afternoon.”

His voice seemed pleasant.

I looked up at him. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” he said.

“What are you looking for?” I asked him.

He glanced around. His eyes landed on Kara, then on me again. “A woman.” he said.

I looked at Kara.

Kara looked right back at me.

I pursed my lips and looked back at him.

“We don't sell those here.”

His mouth twitched. “I wasn't asking to buy one.”

“Oh? Could've had me fooled,” I muttered.

“I was told she would be here.” he continued without commenting on what I said.

“Who?” Kara finally asked him.

“Isabel Penelope Miller.”

I stopped on my tracks.

Kara's eyebrows shot up to me.

Then the man followed her gaze to look directly at me.

I breathed out lightly. “That would be me.”

“Oh I know.”

Something about the certainty in his answer bothered me.

“What? Have we met before or something?”

“Not quite. No.”

“Then how do you know who I am?”

“I was given a ... good description.”

I was taken aback by what he'd said. “By whom?”

He hesitated.

It was brief, but I noticed it.

“Someone who knows someone who knows you.”

“Yeah, now that doesn't exactly narrow it down enough for me. Does it?”

“I suppose it doesn't.”

Kara looked between us. “I'll go... check the stockroom.”

I gave her a warning look.

She ignored me and disappeared through the doorway.

Traitor.

I looked at the stranger again.

“What do you want again?”

“My name is Edward.”

“That's not what I asked and I don't care what your name is.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“Then answer the question. Jester.”

“I've been looking for you for quite some time now.”

“Yeah...No. I don't like the sound of that.”

“I didn't mean it in a sinister way.”

“Doesn't matter how you meant it.”

He laughed. Not nervously like most guys would have.

He actually found the exchange amusing.

I didn't.

He glanced at the shelves.

“Do you have a romance section around here?”

“Yes I do.”

“Where?”

“Why? I thought you weren't here for books?”

“I actually do need a book.”

“Ok. Then tell me what kind you need.”

“Something about love. Which is why I asked about the romance section.”

I stared at him a moment. “You're joking.”

“I don't believe I am,” he said looking serious.

“Ok. I've had enough of this. Who are you? And what the hell do you want in my bookstore?”

“I'm Edward.”

“You've established that point already.”

“Edward J.Eros.”

He said as if the surname was supposed to mean something to me.

Perhaps he was famous somewhere.

Perhaps he wasn't.

“Fine. Edward J.Eros. What particular book are you looking for in the romance section?”

“Anything about true love.”

I stared at him blankly.

He seemed to be waiting for me to smile or something.

“Try the fiction section.”

“I was hoping for something more practical.”

“Then try the self-help section.”

“Do you have anything on falling in love?”

I sighed. “Yes I do.”

“Where?”

“Between bad decisions and financial ruin and get a life.”

His smile widened. “You are quite a funny one. Aren't you?”

“Look, Mr, I've pointed out the section you wanted. Now go over there, pick out your damn book, come back here, pay up and get out of my store!”

He looked genuinely shocked and speechless.

Perhaps he didn't expect me to be so hostile towards him.

I bet every girl he met usually swooned at his feet.

Well, too bad. Cause he just met his undoing.

♥