A/N: Not all views expressed in this story are that of the author

There are three other people in the small room. Two boys sitting in large arm chairs talking softly and a girl who keeps running her forefinger across her eyebrow like she’s worried it’s going to fly off her face. Through the windows on either side of the large oak door I see a short, wispy, blonde striding towards us. I’m blasted with frigid air and she bursts through, it’s colder in here than outside.

“My name is Casey,” I marvel at how such a loud voice can come from someone so petite, “Welcome to . . . The Love Connection!” I cringe as the two boys stand and grin sheepishly.

“Why don’t you all introduce yourselves?” Her voice is so sweet I can taste it and I surmise that she’s faking it.

“You start.” She points at the other girl.

“My n-name is J-Jess, and I-I’m a f-freshman.” The boys next.

“I’m Brett.”

“And I’m Ryan.”

“We’re Juniors,” they say together and laugh.

“Now you,” she points to me with a sugar-coated smile.

“Kelly, Sophomore, I have a question.” I say quickly.

“Well Kelly, usually we hold all question until the end of the training session.”

“Isn’t this just like a match-making business?” I interrupt.

“No, It’s very different, now,” She opens a three-ring binder and passes out packets of paper, pink paper.

“This job is very simple, I’m Casey, the over-seer, all you will need to know is in these packets. Basically all you need to do is follow the script printed in the back . . .” She waits impatiently as we flip to the back page.

“Type in the information the caller gives you and the computer does the rest, it’s a very complex process.”

“It sounds like match-making to me.” I mutter. Casey clears her throat and I can see her thinking about what a wise-ass I am.

“Ahem, now we have some rules and regulations here.” The boys look bored and the other girl, Jill or Jule or something looks possibly more scared then she did before. Casey talks through the two pages of rules like being confidential and not harassing the callers. Like anyone would want to date the homely freaks who use this thing. I zone out and think about my plans for this weekend with Britt. She was taking me to some party, that she promised was “different” than the last alcohol drenched one. Lord only knows how I would up with a friend like Britt. She has short straight hair the exact color of an old penny which she swishes back and forth constantly. My hair, on the other hand, is black-brown, curly, and quite frankly a pain in the ass. Britt’s over-confident, over-flirty and over-bearing. She had more boyfriends since our freshman year than I can count on my hands and feet. I am plain, cynical, sarcastic, solitary and single. Britt has been begging me for days to go with her to this “different” party and so although I don’t like big groups of people I said I’d go so she’d shut up. I’m sure she only wants me so she can leave with someone if she doesn’t hook up.

“Hey girl.” Something jabbed me between my shoulder blades, “We’re going in.” One of the boys, I don’t remember which, prodded me after Casey. I was assigned a computer between a large, masculine-looking upperclass(wo)man and a jock who smelled like a football helmet and said “man” every other word. I began to wonder why on earth I let Britt talk me into getting this job. Reminding myself that it paid well, I flipped through my handbook and got started. After answering the first three or four calls I was already bored and coming up with a physical description of the dumb fuck who thought asking people “comprehensive” question about they’re hobbies, childhood, and “lifestyle”, and matching them with someone who is “compatible” could really create love. I decided he must have been overweight, short of hair on the head, abundant with hair on the face, and of course single.

“These questions will get you shit about a person.” I say to no one in particular. Someone yanks, painfully, upward on the lobe of my ear, Casey.

“Stick to the script and watch your language.”

“DAMN, SHIT, HELL, FUCK!” I yell after her. The boy, who I figured out is called Ryan, laughs. I can see red steaming up the back of Casey’s neck but she keeps pacing the rows, ignoring the kids who are trying to hide their smirks.

S S S S S S

The job ends at six and I can’t wait to get out.

“Hey?” I follow Ryan and Brett, “you guys wanna get some food?” I glance at the other girl knowing I should include her even I don’t want to.

“Uh?” Brett and Ryan exchange nervous looks. Ryan straightens his shoulders and looks me dead in the eye.

“We’re gay . . . me and him are . . .” His frankness surprises me. His report doesn’t bother me half as much as I thought it would but Jess looks like she’s seen a man with two heads.

“So what?” I shrug with what I hope is indifference. Ryan smiles, Brett looks at the ceiling briefly and then he smiles weakly.

“Jess?” We turn to look at her, six eyes daring her to refuse.

“ I, uh, I have to s-study.” I know, and by glancing at Brett, I know he knows, she’s lying.

“Goddammit” Brett stalks out and Ryan chases after him. I glare at Jess.

“It’s just dinner.” I turn and follow Brett and Ryan knowing she’ll be following me.

S S S S S S

We find four stools at the campus café.

“So what’d ya guys think?” Brett asks.

“Dude, that girl’s a bitch. Ryan mumbles, his mouth full of hamburger.

“She wasn’t that bad.” Jess whispers, her voice softening even more as we stare at her.

“Whatever, this whole job is stupid.” I take a long drink of coke, “I mean these people act as if falling in love is the only thing worth living for. Besides matching-making is crap.”

“It’s not match-making.” Says Jess, sounding like Casey’s clone.

“Don’t tell me you believe that bullshit!” My voice is as sharp as a nail, Jess’s face collapses. Ryan attempts to comfort her from my scorn but as his arm moves to circle her shoulders she shoots backward.

“Homosexuality isn’t contagious, idiot.” I spit when I see Ryan's hurt face.

“I, h-have to go.” Jess grabs her knock-off Louis Vuitton purse and flounces out.

“So you don’t believe in love?” Ryan asks as if that didn’t just happen.

“I didn’t say that, if it happens, it happens, but I refuse to spend my whole waiting for a true love that I’ll probably never find." Brett has his eyebrows raised, I decide to change the subject, kind of . . .

“What exactly do the two of you find so entertaining in this job?”

“I need the money.”

“So I can find out other people’s business!” Ryan gleefully tosses a napkin in the air. When Brett punches him in the arm Ryan kisses Brett on the cheek. My first reaction is to flinch and I am instantly disgusted with myself.

I hate it when you do that, especially in public.”

“Sorry.” It’s amazing how fast Ryan backs down when it comes to Brett.

“But wait,” Ryan flattens his hands on the counter, a look of confusion and curiosity plastered on his pale face, “What exactly is so wrong with love?”

“For God’s sake, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH LOVE!” Everyone in the café turns and looks at us. Brett stares at his sandals, I laugh, Ryan climbs on his stool,

“Don’t worry, it’s just Killer Kelly.” I laugh even harder and coke fizzles up my nose, even Brett smiles a little under the cover of long hair. I walk with Ryan and Brett back to their dorm.

“Kelly,” Brett pulls me aside, “Thanks for, uh, before . . .”

“Hey, no problem.”

“Brett!” Ryan’s practically jumping up and down in the doorway, “We have business to take care of, later Kill.” He disappears. Brett smiles his not often seen, but strangle catchy, smile, and disappears as well.

S S S S S S

“Welcome gullible, loser, to the campus matching making business.”

“Kelly stick to the script!” By now Casey’s refrain is almost so robotic it’s lost its menace. Still this is the only way to compensate for the job: Bug the crap out of Casey and jeer at the callers.

“Kill!” Ryan hisses.

“What?”

“You wanna hang out on Saturday?”

“Sorry, I’m going to . . .”

Ahem.” Casey’s shadow falls on my computer, “this is work, not social hour.” My fists clench at her words, I’ve had enough of Casey’s bitching about what a bad worker I am.

“Asshole.”

“What was that?” Case’s hair whips at her face as she spins around.

“You. Are. An. Ass. Hole.” If we were in a cartoon, at this moment, steam would be pouring from her ears.

“And your fired.” She finally comes up with a retort.

“You can’t fire me, you’re only the supervisor, it’s in the manuel.” I am only guessing the last part but by the way Casey’s mouth opens and closes again, I’ve guessed right. Shoulders stiff she bumbles, flustered, into her office. I look around; Ryan’s laughing so hard he’s falling off his chair, Brett’s still working intently, Jess looks appalled, the other kids, a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“I’m quitting.” I sedately turn off my computer and gather my stuff.

“What! Come on, Kill, don’t quit.” Ryan begs.

“You sure gave her the right name.” Brett mutters.

“You’ll live,” is my callous answer before I step out of the cold.