Cupid's Contract

Gingham Giggles

Luke didn't text Veronica that day. At least, not that Eve was aware of.

They had made a silent retreat back to Harper's House, sat in their own respective offices, and Eve had not once worked up the courage to admit her actions.

And there had been opportunities. The conversation had been spotty at best, and more than once Eve could have mentioned what she had hastily scribbled on that scrap of paper.

'Veronica's single. You should call her.'

Followed by Veronica's number and a heart.

It wasn't exactly Shakespeare but Eve wasn't here to win cinematic sighs. She needed the job done and her pal satisfied. She had immediately regretted the heart, but there wasn't unlimited art supplies or time to alter the sketch. A smiley face felt more grown up, less childish somehow.

But realistically if a heart drawing was enough to put Luke off then the locket was broken and the pair wasn't compatible at all.

Part of Eve hoped she had the wrong locker, or that Luke was unable to read. It would save her a lot of trouble if Veronica never found out about this little stunt of hers. She wasn't overly excited the last time Eve had meddled in her personal affairs, and that had just involved commenting on her awkward relationship with her parents. There was no telling how she'd react to this less subtle interference.

As the hours dwindled and Eve half heartedly looked over the paperwork from the morning's surprise conference, she felt her anxiety over the matter grow. Each noise in the hallway was potentially an angry best friend, ready to battle over confidentiality issues. It was actually a relief to browse through the mountain of statistics that had been distributed.

The first few pages were the usual mind numbingly boring drivel. Whomever was in charge of the historical archives of Harper House was a little too proud of the background of this company, and a little too determined to lick the bums of the head honcho. Browsing through the usual rags to riches tale, she winced as she heard a noise outside her cubicle.

The clicking of heels down the hallway.

Had Ron been wearing heels earlier? She couldn't remember.

Before she could piece together her footwear nostalgia, in swept Polly.

This was the first time Eve had ever experienced relief at the sight of her colleague.

She was wearing an over-the-top gingham skirt suit and her hair was backcombed beyond the explanation of physics, and Eve actually smiled at her.

It startled Polly. "What?" She automatically smoothed at her hair, which flattened for a brief second and then bounced back up to its former glory, like a spring.

It was hard not to laugh, and the effort of containing her giggle made Eve's eyes water.

"You're being so weird right now. Ugh." Polly flicked her hair and plopped down in her desk chair, turning her back to Eve.

Unable to contain her giggles any longer, and feeling a snort coming on, Eve gathered up her papers and a pen, and dashed from the cubicle, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

Blinking erratically, she kept in her giggles before she made it to the canteen, where they erupted with a force that startled the only occupant, one Mr. Andrew Harper.

Eve didn't see him at first. She had been so focused on collapsing into the seat at the small table, she had only managed a cursory glance before her vision was overwhelmed. Dropping her belongings on the table, and covering her eyes, she let out a wail of mirth that caused her shoulders to shake and her stomach to clench. She didn't know why Polly's appearance was so funny to her. Maybe it was because she was already on edge, performing weird tasks in the name of Love, or because her life in general had become so bizarre lately. But seeing Polly, with her helmet-like hair, had pushed her over some precarious edge that Eve had been balancing on for days now.