Cupid is so Dumb

TW: Bad Self Talk and Overthinking

He’s back again. Maybe this time it will be different. A gaze that lingers, a touch that doesn’t falter. Every summer it’s a cycle. I catch feelings just from hanging out. Whether it’s counting stars in the dark sky or karaoke when he belts out to Adele.

Everything with him feels platonic. He flirts and I crave more. All of his flirty comments should never be taken seriously. Yet it always affects me. I am the one who has been shot by Cupid’s arrow. I still wonder if he has been.

Now, here we are, in an embrace under this dim crooked streetlight. Our shadows dance on the asphalt. My arms rest on his shoulders; his circle my waist. No music. But I am at peace in his arms. He spins me outwards and then moves down into a dip. His eyes look into mine and I see a small glimmer of something.

Does he feel the same? I doubt it.

He swings me back up and my hands find comfort on his chest. Small droplets of rain sprinkle down coating our hair and shoulders. We sway together from side to side enjoying each other’s presence.

“Remember when we danced at our eighth-grade formal, and everyone thought we should be Dancing with the Stars?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know who they were trying to fool. We’re terrible!” I find myself laughing with him.

“Although, I think you’re a great dancer,” He looks down at me.

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“It’s the truth. You’re better than me,”

“That’s not saying much.” He looks at me with a playful glare making my face flush.

Rowan.

A name that translates to “redhead”. His hair and its deep orange hue, one could say it resembles fire. His personality is fiery, with his quick wit and flirtatious behavior. All qualities I have found myself falling for.

The rain picks up and begins to downpour. I put my hand on my forehead to shield my eyes. He grabs my free hand and runs inside the house. Chills run over my skin once the warmth of the house envelops us both. He lets go. He never holds my hand; I would’ve remembered if he had. I stare down at my hand already feeling its emptiness. I stand still for a moment and watch him move around the kitchen. My hair is damp, and the droplets of rain are beginning to escape into my clothes.

I pull out two blue towels from the nearby closet and hand one to him. I place the towel gently into my hair letting the rain collect on its softness. My curls start to become drier than before. I nestle the towel onto my back. The cold rain nests into my skin. Rowan ruffles his hair with the towel, making it frizz out and stand in places. I resist the urge to fix it for him.

“Want some tea? I have peppermint, chamomile, and lavender.” I look through the drawer beside the dishwasher. The drawer is filled with an assortment of tea packets in a range of blues, yellows, and purples.

“I’ll take a chamomile.”

Part of me knew I shouldn’t even have to ask; his favorite is always chamomile with a little extra honey drizzled in. Sweet like him but also bitter. I prep the tea kettle on the surface of the stove and lean onto the kitchen island. Rowan is staring down at his hands which are covered in freckles. I’m embarrassed to admit I tried to count them all once.

I open up a nearby cabinet, pulling out two mugs. Rowan always uses the Scooby Doo mug; I always like to joke that he’s Scooby in human form. My mug is Velma, an orange mug with a red bottom to match her skirt. He says that I’m as smart as her but just as clumsy.

“I broke up with Meg.”

Those words come from his mouth but feel so foreign to my ears.

What? When did this happen and why he is just now telling me this? Did she do something wrong? Oh my god did she cheat on him? Whatever it is I knew she didn’t deserve him, he was too good for her.

“Esme? Esme!” His yelling knocks me from my thoughts, “The kettle!”

HISS

The sound of the kettle fills my ears. I turn around and notice the water is spewing from the spout.

“Ah, crap!” I turn the nozzles down on the front of the oven and the bubbles stop spewing everywhere.

“Wha-what happened?” I do my best to calm my heartbeat, “I mean with you and Meg?”

“A lot. I don’t want to get too much into it. I just thought you should know.”

I decide not to press him any further, but my mind runs wild with all the possibilities.

Literally, why even bring it up in the first place? God, why is he so frustrating? Telling me he broke up with his girlfriend, it’s kind of like he wants to get a reaction out of me. Maybe they broke up for other reasons. Did she fall in love with someone else? Is it possible he fell out of love with her? Does he love someone else? Me? No way. He couldn’t like me. I am not good enough for him.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

I’m instantly kicked out of my mind. I hate when he does this. He’s able to get inside my head with the simplest of actions or words. Then he turns around and gives me compliments but doesn’t act on them. Nonetheless, my stupid face flushes from the abrupt comment.

“Nothing. I was just curious is all.” I grab the kettle from the stove and pour it into our cups. Both of our tea bags float to the top from the entrance of the hot water. I pass him his mug and the bear bottle of honey. He never lets me put the honey in for him, apparently, I always put too much or too little. Never enough.

Why do I feel like this? I constantly feel my emotions and feelings for him bubble up again at any convenience. Is that all I am? Some love-sick puppy who falls in love with any type of flirting? Certainly, feels that way. But why is it my childhood friend of all people? Cupid is doing a number on me.

“Earth to Esme.”

I’m always inside my head and not expressing how I truly feel. It’s a deadly cycle.

“Why do you do that?” I find myself asking, I look up at him, his green eyes staring back.

“Do what?”

“Why do you flirt? You’re confusing the hell out of me,” My voice cracks giving away my true emotions. “My feelings for you become all jumbled up, making it hard to think sometimes.”

“Esme...”

“Please just let me say what I need to say.” The tears are prickling in my eyes. “I understand you’re a very flirtatious person, but I feel like I’m in hell. My heart aches when you say those things but at the end of the day, they’re just empty words.” I look away from him not wanting to see the look on his face.

Now that I think about it, Rowan has never seen me cry before. The number of memories I had in school with him were happy. If I was ever sad or upset, I would never want to show it to him. Showing people how I feel is hard for me, it feels like it permits them to feel bad for me. I try to put up a happy front as much as I can but at this moment, it’s all coming crashing down.

I feel the tears slowly leaving my eyes and coming down onto my cheeks. “The last thing I want is pity from you. My emotions are too involved, and I don’t know what I was even expecting. To think someone like you would even like someone like me. It’s honestly laughable. To be frank, I don’t think I’m deserving of love. It betrays me too much.”

We are surrounded in silence until my head is lifted from a warm presence on my chin. Tears are all over my face and I am sniffling like crazy. Rowan’s eyes stare into mine, they are clouded with something I have never seen before.

“Esme, please listen to me when I say this.” I nod in response to him, feeling my heart pound against my ribcage.

“I am very happy that you told me how you feel. I think it takes a lot of courage to confess your feelings to someone.” Rowan grabs my hand into his. He rubs his thumb over the back of my palm.

“I am sorry I have been such a coward. I never realized your feelings towards me. I’m sorry that I did not realize them until now. The last thing I want is to tell you I don’t have feelings for you. But, at this very moment, I am still getting over Meg.” He reveals.

I let go of his hand to wipe all the free-fallen tears on my cheeks. The wetness collecting onto my fingertips.

“I know. I wasn’t expecting a relationship straight away after confessing. I just wanted to let my emotions go. You know what happened the last time I kept my feelings for someone.” I reply to him, and he nods shyly.

About a year or two ago, I had a crush on this guy named, Jay. He was perfect to me. The perfect guy in my eyes but I was just young, dumb, and stupid. Hell, I still am. It ended with me overthinking every possible interaction with him. It soon led to an inner explosion of emotions. Rowan was there for what was left behind. Despair and sorrow. But I am beginning to learn that keeping feelings from people does not help anything.

“I didn’t want to lose our friendship over me confessing my attraction to you.” I feel a sob begin to settle in my throat.

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. Esme, you know I love you. I love you so much. We’ve known each other for years. We’re still young and I think once I can sort out my own feelings then something will come out of this.” Rowan smiles, my heart begins to fill with hope.

“I just need to know if you’re still willing to wait for me.” His eyes stare into mine.

“Of course, I will.”

Maybe Cupid isn’t so stupid after all.