Page 4 of Incurably Cupid

Yes, but even I had to admit Mesmer was fairly perfect, aside from his tendency to speak in grunts, growls, and monosyllables—well, to everyone but those he was closest to. Was it possible he was just shy? I grimaced. Shyness didn’t have a typical appearance. Anyone could be shy. Hmm, I’d have to think about that some more. Whenever I’d seen him interact the most with people over the last year, it was always with his friends. He was vocal with them. But to his subordinates and others he didn’t know very well, he was usually more reserved.

We crossed a greenspace, my shoes getting drenched in dew, crossed the main courtyard, and entered the University. “Which classroom is Adriana’s again?”

“301 B.”

I nodded and headed for the elevators. My stomach growled. “I need to eat; I didn’t have time for breakfast.”

“You put a bag of carrots in your teaching bag for emergencies.”

I sighed.Yay, carrots.“Thanks, Leo.” I pulled out the carrots and munched on them as I joined an elevator crowded with students and faculty. The sound of my crunching was extra loud in the quiet elevator, and Leo had to mute himself to laugh without blasting everyone’s eardrums. The elevator dinged and opened on level three, and I got off, still happily crunching as I escaped the crowded space into the also-crowded halls.

Leo turned his volume back up and laughed. His laughter was a pleasant combination of a deep male voice mixed with the slightly tinny, crackly sound of tech speakers. “That was hilarious. Did you see that male professor in the back give you the evil eye?”

“Nope. I missed that. Though, if he can’t handle a bit of loud crunching in his space, his class is sure to be a barrel of laughs.”

“It was Professor Mordecai. His class is definitely not a barrel of laughs. He’s the Statistics of Love teacher.”

I winced as I remembered the Statistics of Love class from my student days. I never realized I was actually cheerful and optimistic until I took that class. It covered, as the name implied, the statistics of both good and bad relationships in every conceivable variation. By the end of the semester, I had become so depressed from that class alone that I seriously considered paying some mage an exorbitant fee to make me forget everything I learned in there.

I found my temporary classroom for the next several months and entered the room on the ground floor. The space was enormous, with stadium seating that extended back so far that I doubted the students in the back row would be able to see any of my projections. There must have been five hundred seats in the room, and every single one was full. I dumped my bag on the professor’s desk and turned around, leaning against it as I stared out at my new students for the next several months.

“Can anyone tell me what class this is?” I asked.

A cupid with long red hair in the front row raised her hand. “Love 101, Professor.”

I crunched another carrot and nodded at her. “You pass the class. You can ditch the rest of the semester if you want. Just write your name down for me and leave it on the desk before you go.”

She held her tablet to her chest and stared at me in open-mouthed horror.

“No?” I sighed. “Well, don’t say I didn’t try. Leo, notes.”

My notes for the first few classes flickered to life beside me, displayed on a black surface visible only to me. It wasn't my department, but a fae specialist once explained that it had something to do with our brainwaves syncing with and responding to the corresponding waves in personal tech. Everything was attuned to our individual brainwaves and couldn’t be seen or hacked by anyone else. I personally didn’t care how it worked; I was just glad that it did.

I nodded at what I’d written, opened my teaching bag to grab a thick stack of papers, and handed them to the girl I was now mentally calling Horror. “Please pass these out. If you reach the last one, use the adjoining office to make more copies for everyone else. I think I have around five hundred there, but I’m not sure.”

She leaned slightly away from me but took the papers and did as I asked.

I leaned against my desk, facing my students. “Horror is passing out a get-to-know-you quiz.” Horror gasped at her new name and paused to gape at me. I kept my smirk to myself and continued to explain the papers she was distributing. “The quiz has over a hundred questions, and it will not be graded.” I leaned back on my hands. “But,” I shot them all a look,“youwill be graded. I want you to answer each question with complete honesty, no matter how embarrassing. And I will know if you don’t. If you don’t answer honestly, you’ll be asked to leave my class.” Most of them were gaping at me now, but I continued. “From this quiz, I’ll know where you stand, and by the end of this class, you will know where I stand.”

I glanced around and saw that everyone had received a quiz packet. “It should take you the rest of the class period to finish. And before some of you complain, I prefer paper over tablets. It’s easier to grade. Begin!”

“Horror, please come here.” She shuffled up to my desk, clutching her own packet tightly to her body. “You don’t like your name?”

She shook her head, her glossy red hair falling perfectly into place to frame her heart-shaped face. I leaned back in my chair. “You have five seconds for a rebuttal.”

She blinked for a moment or two and then squeaked, “I’m a really nice person. All of my friends have told me so.”

“So you don’t think Horror is an apt descriptor?”

She shook her head again, frowning. I smiled at her. “All of my students earn nicknames in my class. I try not to make them too psychologically damaging. Work hard, do your best in my class, and you might earn a new one.”

She shuffled her feet slightly, glancing down at the packet, then peeked at me from beneath her lashes. “I heard you were atough teacher,” she whispered. “But I’ve been looking forward to having you as our substitute for the semester.”

“I’m tough, but I’m also fair. I prove myself, you prove yourself, and by the end, we should find common ground. You’ll learn a lot from me, Horror. Don’t give up on me yet.”

“Yes, Professor Valentine.”

“You’d better hurry. You have a lot of questions to complete.”

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