Daughter of Aphrodite

Chapter Two: Playing Cupid

"You're staring again," I muttered, shoving my arm into Paris's leather-clad side.

"Shit!" He complained, but he quickly turned red when he saw my scowl and dropped his bad-boy facade. "Sorry, Char, but I can't help but stare every time I see her," he apologized, turning back to faun over Helen Smith, cheer captain of Olympica Bay High School. Her silky straight blonde hair sashayed around her shoulders when she strutted down the hallway day by day, and Paris often sighed over the few stray locks that would fall into her eyes when she laughed; his words, not mine. Paris Trent may have made his mark as the athletic bad boy of Olympica Bay, but something about Helen would always turn him into the goofball he tried so hard to lock away after seventh grade.

Personally, I wasn't keen on Helen, sure she was perfectly nice and sweet, everything a guy could want in a girl. She reminded me of someone I knew: every time I brought that up to Paris he would laugh at me, but never told me what was so funny. My only problem with Helen was that she was so daft. I mean, I get the idea of dating in high school, that it's not supposed to last, just to get to know your type, but she couldn't decide on a guy for the life of her.

I understood couple types better than I understood my calculus class, which I was acing. You had your simple infatuation, like I had with Paris for a few weeks when my hormones started revving at 11. There was the one night stand, the goo-goo gaga when little elementary kids tried out the ways of the Cupid. Paris and I were guilty of that in kindergarten, but by first grade we realized that it was simply the tug of a best friendship. But then there was my favorite category of high school sweethearts, my absolute weakness in romance. And something in my soul tugged at me when I saw Paris.... staring at Helen. Something that wanted me to push him over to her so they could live happily ever after.

I was infamous for getting people together, and when I suggested that people go out with one another, they did so successfully. The longest record I had since I started was a couple that stayed together for 3 years. I always hoped that my matchmaking skills would last much longer, even long enough to be a soul match. Soul mates were difficult for people to find without a little help. I usually considered myself that help they needed.

"Paris, you have to talk to her eventually," I told him, letting my eyes drag away from Paris to study Helen as she skipped up to Malik Sparks, the most emo-looking quarterback that I'd ever seen. The dark hair that fell into even darker brooding eyes won me over for three whole months before Paris and I came to the conclusion that he was no good for someone like me.

Paris made a disgusted face when Helen pecked his cheek. "Ew, are you kidding? She could do so much better than that jerk."

I nodded in agreement. "Actually, I was thinking of this one guy for her in particular."

Paris laughed. "Enlighten me, O wise Oracle of Romance. Who could ever be worthy of the beautiful Helen Smith's attention and affection?"

"He's fast," I started, "And he's had this huge crush on her for forever, but he won't tell anyone, not even his amazing best friend. He's even changed his image for her, and she noticed, but she doesn't want to say anything to him because she liked the goofball he used to be."

I could feel Paris staring at me, I just knew that he was studying me the way he always did when I speculated. "Are you talking about Brian Tyler? I swear, Charlie, are you losing your touch? They'd be so bad together." I stared at him incredulously as he continued to rant. "I mean, he stole all of my jokes in middle school, for the love of God! And didn't he date Helen in middle school anyway? Eighth grade? No way they could work anything out again, you've said so your-" he finally noticed me staring at him and popped his jacket collar. "What?" he asked in his attempt of a deep voice.

I burst into laughter, ignoring the looks we were getting from other people who were quietly enjoying their lunch. "You should talk to her," I told him after he passed me a water bottle to soothe my incessant chuckles.

He looked at me like I belonged in an insane asylum. "Malik would beat the shit out of me if I even tried. And what would I say to her?"

"Will you go to the Valentine's dance with me?" I quipped, imitating his voice dip when he was trying to be intimidating. There was silence on his end while I sipped at my water, and I let my eyes flick over to see him gaping like a fish out of water. I put the cap on the water bottle and set it on the table, turning my full attention to him. "What's the worst that could happen, Pear? You've been in love with Helen Smith since the sixth grade, and you haven't done anything about it. This nice guy act isn't working with the bad boy image, you need to let the full personality shift happen. Or, crazy thought, you could drop the bad boy look all together and go back to being the Paris that she'd be more likely to fall in love with."

Paris was angry, he nearly radiated with rage. "You know I can't drop this image, Charlie. I am the man of my house, who needs to take care of his mother and his sister. I also have the standard of being nice to people, the image is just to get people like Malik to leave me alone. And how would you know what Helen thinks of me? What anyone thinks of anyone? How are you so good at this whole... Cupid shit?"

"Are you good?" I asked, watching his fists relax as he breathed out a long sigh. "We both know that even I don't know why I am so good at setting people up. I'm a hopeless romantic, Paris, I watch people around me be happy together, and I just mix and match people. Who knew that a jock and a nerd could go out for three years because they were both Dungeon and Dragons crazy? I'm just saying I've kept an eye on you and Helen for four years, and I think you two could make something work. No factual evidence, just a gut instinct. I'm not asking you to marry the girl, I just want to see you guys on one date, to see if I'm right." He still didn't look convinced. "How about this? I'll... talk to Malik and s-see if he'll go to the dance...." I took a deep breath, trying not to cringe. "With me," I whispered.

Paris shot to attention immediately. "Charlie, are you sure? Malik's a jerk, and not to be rude, but I doubt he would take you to a dance. I mean, after the way you broke up with him?"

"Hey guys," a voice chirped behind us as a perky blonde took a seat next to Paris. Percy Trent peeked over at me with her curious earthy brown eyes. "What's going on? You both looked tense for a sec there."

Paris pinched my wrist, reminding me of a silent promise we made to never mention Paris's crushes to his family; they'd never let him live it down, while I helped him ask the girls out. "Nothing, Perc," he answered for me, "just a little disagreement on who I should ask to that Valentine's dance."

"You could take Percy," I muttered to myself.

Percy scowled at me while Paris choked on his chocolate milk. "Char, are you crazy? Talking my fresh-meat sister to a dance is not how I imagined my senior year going."

"And besides," Percy scoffed, turning away from us, "there's someone else that I was hoping would ask me to the dance."

"Who?" Paris demanded while I shook my head at her. She'd told me about all her crushes since I'd known her, and even when I knew that Paris wouldn't approve, and even when I didn't approve, I promised to keep it secret from Paris and encourage her in any way I could. After all, she was like a little sister to me.

But the angry, hellfire eye that Paris gave me when she swooned "Malik Sparks," made me regret that decision very much.