Page 8 of Incurably Cupid (Moonhaven Cove #5)

Chapter 8

Mesmer

“Love lifts.”

Cupid Inc. New Recruit Training Manual

I t had been a week in the ether with Indie, and only today had I finally mustered enough energy to accompany her to Cupid U, to the class she melodramatically referred to as the Fires of Mordor.

I understood the reference, but I failed to see the connection. It was merely a class of cupids attending one of their first core courses at Cupid University. It was worth mentioning that this class was exclusively for freshmen—another fact Indie frequently grumbled about.

We rode the elevator together. Mordecai slouched against the back wall while Lance maneuvered me inside. Indie patted Mordecai’s shoulder but refrained from commenting.

I had no idea what had happened to the Mordecai I met last week, but this version of him looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a month. His dress pants and shirt were crumpled, his tie hung loosely, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

The elevator filled quickly. “You okay, Mordecai?” I attempted to whisper, but my deep growl carried effortlessly, slicing through the chatter and silencing the entire car.

All eyes turned to us.

“I’m fine,” Mordecai grumbled, his voice strained.

“He’s reevaluating his life choices,” Indie announced. “He would like a wife.” She casually scanned the elevator. “Anyone interested? He’s had all his shots.”

“Indie, so help me,” Mordecai muttered, his hands trembling as if he longed to throttle her but was valiantly restraining himself.

A striking woman with fair skin and cascading blonde hair cleared her throat and tentatively raised her hand. “I... might be interested. What can you recommend about him?”

Indie pursed her lips, contemplating. “Well, he’s been a teacher for a long time, he’s a solid cupid in the field, he owns a house, and, well, look at him—he’s ridiculously handsome.”

The woman shuffled slightly to better take in Mordecai’s appearance. He instantly straightened, attempting to look both hopeful and effortlessly cool.

Apparently, he nailed it because she nodded. “Yeah, okay,” she said, tearing a scrap of paper from her bag, scribbling her number, and handing it to him shyly before stepping off at her floor. As the doors closed, only one other male cupid remained in the elevator, carefully avoiding eye contact with us.

“Indie?”

“Yes?” she responded, grinning.

“You’re officially hired as my shadchanit.”

Indie laughed. “You’re not Jewish, but I’ll take it. Expect my salary contract on your desk by the end of the day.”

Indie perched on the large professor’s desk at the front of the class while Mordecai sat behind her, methodically grading papers that students had submitted at the start of class.

I was trying not to laugh. They had just engaged in a brief but intense debate over which color Sharpie to use for grading. Mordecai wanted black like his soul (his words, not mine) or an extravagant purple. Indie had promptly snatched the marker pack from him, handed him blue, and gave the remaining markers to someone named Horror for safekeeping.

As Indie taught, Mordecai kept sighing heavily behind her at regular intervals, disrupting her lesson. The students seemed both bewildered and entertained. Another exaggerated sigh, and Indie halted mid-sentence, closing her eyes. Her lips moved silently—probably counting to ten under her breath, I guessed.

“Mordecai?”

“Yes?” he replied, his voice steeped in misery. Perhaps she had crushed his spirit by denying him his black-as-soul marker or his flamboyant purple one?

I could hear her teeth grinding from my seat in the front row. She had shifted a desk to make room for Lance to park me close to her in the front. She was taking her Florence Nightingale duties seriously. I respected her for it, though I still felt unsettled by my current inability to perform basic tasks by myself. Maybe it was pride, or maybe just my ingrained need for self-sufficiency, but I hated feeling so helpless. At the same time, I admired Indie for stepping up—it wasn’t easy tending to a grumpy gargoyle.

Finally, she sighed, stomped over to Horror’s desk a few seats away, seized the black and purple Sharpies, and stomped back to Mordecai.

“Choose one.”

“I want both.”

“Mordecai, so help me, this is not color time! Pick one!”

Mordecai pouted but begrudgingly selected the purple. The class snickered. From what I gathered, part of their amusement stemmed from never having seen their professors behave this way before. If their goal was to humanize themselves in front of their students, they were nailing it. Unfortunately, I doubted that was their intention.

With the sighing now reduced to a minimum, Indie continued. “What are the key aspects of demonstrating love to a partner? Just call them out—Leo will take notes.”

The smart whiteboard behind her displayed the title: Key Aspects of Demonstrating Love to a Partner.

Horror called out, “Words of affirmation.”

Indie nodded. “Keep going. Don’t be shy.”

“Quality time!”

“Physical touch.”

“Acts of service!”

“Thoughtful gifts,” a girl in the back called while holding up a sparkling ring. The class, especially the girls and some of the guys, oohed appreciatively.

“Make sure they feel valued,” a towering guy built like an NFL linebacker added quietly.

Indie grinned and put a hand over her heart dramatically. “You guys have been paying attention.”

The students chuckled.

She scanned the list on the board. “We’re missing a few things. Anyone have any ideas?”

I shifted slightly in my seat. Indie, somehow attuned to me, noticed immediately. “Yes, the gargoyle in the front,” she said cheekily.

I hesitated, then shrugged. “Active listening—actually hearing what they’re saying and striving to understand their perspective. Also, being present for them in both good times and bad.”

We all watched as Leo added those to the list.

“Excellent. We’re still missing two key aspects. Any takers?”

Silence. No one seemed to know what was missing.

“Let’s see if my co-teacher knows,” Indie said, shifting to face Mordecai. “What do you think, teach?”

She wore a sly expression that made me wary, and I think Mordecai felt the same as he studied the list before narrowing his eyes at her.

“Respecting their boundaries and maintaining consistency.”

“Huh,” she murmured so softly that I suspected only Mordecai and I heard her. “Something to think about.”

Mordecai’s grip on his marker tightened as though he were seriously considering hurling it at her.

Indie turned back to the class. “Let’s break down each point in greater detail...”

As class let out, students bolted for the doors, eager to escape. Lance rolled me closer to Indie and Mordecai, and I waited for Horror to return the markers before speaking.

"That was a great class," I said, genuinely impressed. "It's amazing that you guys learn this kind of thing from such a young age. You must have the best relationship success rate of any paranormal group—maybe even better than shifters."

Mordecai gathered the stack of papers, tapping them into alignment before slipping them into a small briefcase. "We do," he admitted. "But it’s important to remember that just because we know the keys to a healthy relationship, that doesn't make us perfect. Understanding something intellectually doesn’t mean we grasp it emotionally—or that we’re always willing to put in the effort." His voice was even, but his eyes held something raw and wounded.

I hesitated, realizing too late that I’d unintentionally hit a nerve. “I?—”

He shook his head before I could apologize. "It’s okay, Mesmer."

Indie got her things together as well and cleared her throat dramatically to cut through the sudden awkwardness. "I’m dying for a sub, some potato salad, and chips. You guys in?"

Mordecai scoffed, rolling his eyes as if the answer was obvious. "I’m always up for food, and Mesmer is roughly the size of Texas, so I’m going to assume that’s a yes from him too."

I smirked. "Now, Mordecai, speaking for someone else isn’t exactly an act of love. Are you really trying to understand me?"

Mordecai groaned, turning for the exit. "There cannot be two of you giving me grief. I refuse. I’m going to find us a table. Meet you there."

Indie snorted with laughter. "I mean, it was pretty rude! What if he’s sensitive about his weight?"

Mordecai spun back around, shaking a finger at both of us, his scowl deepening. "No! Nope. You two do not get to gang up on me."

Indie skipped along beside Lance and me, grinning as she called after Mordecai’s quickly retreating form. "You still want to be my friend, right, Mordecai?"

A strangled noise of frustration echoed from ahead. "Argh!"