Chapter 11 Niyi
Niyi
VEE IS SPRAWLED OUT ON MY COUCH, WATCHING TV WHEN I walk in. With a weighted huff, I drop my bag, let out a tortured groan, and land in the only Vee-less spot.
That went even worse than our first meeting.
“Hey, keep it down. I’m watching here,” she says, shoving me without a glance, eyes glued to a Supernatural rerun.
I flash back to Moyo’s shocked face when I talked about her vague questionnaire responses.
Did I speak too bluntly? I worked on tone with Vee during the coaching crash course. I thought we were getting somewhere at the beginning. It was wonderful hearing more about her work and being a soundboard. Different from anything I’ve done, but comfortable. Practically natural.
But how am I supposed to keep faking that I’m a good Saturn if my major chance to fix my algorithm hates me?
In every one-on-one encounter with Moyo, our personalities clash, leaving my heart racing like an Olympic show horse.
Between arguing loud enough for her neighbors to hear, feeling genuinely happy afterward, pulling that little stunt with the French at the mixer—a language I haven’t spoken in years but somehow managed to roll off my tongue because it was addressed to her—feeling so natural listening to her, and then freezing up when her fingers touched my palm, I am very confused. What a shit show.
I’ve been attracted to people before but nothing like this.
Over the past couple of days, I’ve struggled to forget the way her eyes twinkled when we spoke at the mixer.
All her attempts to challenge me, plus her expectant look as she waited for me to return the challenge, lit a spark I don’t know how to put out.
This rapport makes me happy in a way I’ve never experienced in previous relationships.
And honestly, in ways I didn’t think I could feel as a Saturnian.
I inhale a deep breath. And then another.
“Either you share and I help, or you go freak out in your room and let me get back to my show,” Vee says, muting the TV.
Her searching eyes wear me down. May as well tell her the truth. “I have a question. Hypothetical, of course.”
Vee sits up. “Hit me.”
I take another deep breath. How do I phrase this without sounding ridiculous or revealing that I think there’s something else wrong with my powers, aside from not having The Sight?
“Let’s say someone like us meets someone…normal. Is it common, as common as it can be, to develop attraction faster than we did before becoming pseudo-celestials?”
My cousin cocks her head, and her eyes squint as she assesses me.
After a beat, her eyes widen before returning to normal.
I know that reaction—Vee is a bloodhound for love.
Not that what I’m feeling is love. But she can sense any strong emotional connections.
I brace myself for her typical prying, but she subverts expectations.
“A lot is haywire at first,” Vee says, and relief washes over me. “But after about a week or so, the emotions settle and it’s business as usual.”
Great.
“Another question. When you say a week, do you mean a week after meeting the person or a week after the transfer ceremony?”
“After the transfer ceremony,” she answers, and my relief dries up.
I’m fucked then. Aside from not having The Sight, what little power I do have has gone haywire.
Which explains a lot. At the mixer, I interrupted that guy trying to chat Moyo up, not only because I felt he was unsuitable for her but because I thought I’d do a better job.
I, a Saturn, a sign notorious for weak relationships, thought I’d do better than a nice, probably decent guy actively searching for a partner. The jokes write themselves.
Vee continues. “Also, hypothetically, if you—” I cough and shake my head. She corrects herself. “If someone has such strong feelings that could be described as a crush, I’d tell them it’s only a crush and not to worry. It doesn’t have anything to do with The Sight or our godhood.”
That’s probably true for Vee, Merc, and anyone else who gained The Sight not long after the transfer ceremony.
But I’m a late bloomer—coincidentally, another Saturn thing—so my path is different.
It has to be. No regular crush is this consuming.
I’ve only met Moyo a couple of times, and I already understand her in ways that both trouble and fascinate me.
I pick up on her barely noticeable discomfort and make her laugh, and we share moments that stop all space and time.
Every time I get caught in her eyes it feels like I’m in a cyclone, and I’m not sure I want to be rescued.
“I can feel you thinking,” Vee says. “I don’t want to pry but…”
I sigh. Better to get this over with. “Promise not to scream. Or to tell Merc. Or scream.”
“You said scream twice.”
“Exactly.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “I think I might have a crush on her. My coaching client. It’s not love,” I add quickly, “but being around her does something I can’t explain.” Heightened emotions or not, the words are out in the world.
“You’re just realizing this?” she deadpans and then bursts out laughing. “You’ve already gushed to me about her. And I haven’t heard you gush about anyone since”—she pauses for dramatic effect—“ever.”
I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out.
I do not gush, and in the rare moments I did gush, it was long before I met Moyo.
Before Mom died and when Dad was still present.
When I thought love was a possibility because of their relationship.
Before I realized how much time Saturn stole from its vessels.
But that illusion faded with time as Mom’s health slowly declined, and Dad’s devotion to Saturn over his family meant he wasn’t present enough to intervene.
After Mom, all hope for true love died a slow death.
Or so I thought. Maybe it didn’t completely die off.
If this isn’t some wayward godly power thing, I suppose my heart could be stoking the embers.
Regardless, I doubt what I’m feeling for Moyo is love.
Having the powers I have and knowing what I know about the analytical way we assign matches, can I even say love exists?
“You can, and should, open your heart. If you were thinking about it,” Vee says.
“But what good will that do? I’m Saturn. You know love isn’t our thing.”
Vee rolls her eyes. “There have been Saturns who’ve fallen in love.”
“Name one besides my dad, who tried but ultimately failed.” Aside from my dad, other Saturns never try to do the true love thing, clearly for a reason.
Love requires dedication but so does Saturn, and it’s impossible to marry the two.
However, Dad thought he could do it. His hubris had to attempt the impossible and look where that brought us.
Other Saturns accepted their fate, choosing their partnership to the planet above everything else.
It’s the entire reason the Saturn line jumps between multiple bloodlines. No love and fewer babies.
“First, your dad didn’t fail. You know that,” Vee says, and even though she’s wrong, I don’t correct her.
“That doesn’t matter. Behind the god stuff, you’re a person.
And she’s a person. If you’re really interested in her, I can take over her case, and you can work something out. Get to know her even.”
I groan. Getting to know Moyo is the whole reason for my dilemma. Every moment spent in her presence makes me wish I was a regular Cupid’s Bow user and not an employee on the backend.
“Niyi.” Vee grabs my hand. “Most of the job is following our hearts. That’s how we tap into our power and unlock The Sight. Follow yours and you’ll make the right decisions. Whether that’s pursuing this crush or not. Follow your heart. Trust me.”
I hear the hidden message behind her spoken words: Follow your heart, listen to your crush. Typical Venus.
I wish I could, but with my Saturnian limitations, the biggest one in being my father’s son, I’m not a regular guy who can follow through with a crush. It would ultimately lead to more pain for everyone involved.
My one wish of being completely Niyi fades. This, being Saturn, is my reality, and I need to start pulling my weight.
“Are you listening to me?” Vee says.
I nod.
“What did I just say?”
“‘Are you listening to me?’ Keep up, Vee,” I joke, and she laughs.
“I said, if you need me to take over as her coach while you figure out what you want to do, that’s fine with me.”
“No. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.” I shrug. “Nothing will ever come of it. I’m sure things will subside. I can do my job.”
Vee gives me a doe-eyed look and guilt eats at me.
Here’s my sweet cousin, trying to fix another one of my problems the same way she and Merc have done since I became Saturn.
The least I can do for the both of them is figure out my algorithm.
I can’t quit being Saturn, so I might as well get decent at being a Cupid’s Bow matchmaker, even without The Sight.
Vee narrows her eyes.
“Vee, I’m serious. I appreciate you, but I can do this. You taught me all your coaching tips, remember?” There had been three eight-hour long seminars, she’d better remember. “Like you said, it’s a crush. Crushes are called crushes because they can be stamped out in a flash.”
“I don’t think that’s correct.”
“Trust me, it is.” I make a dramatic show of stomping on the ground. “All done.”
Vee laughs. “Listen to me, feelings don’t work like that.”
I know that deep down, and Moyo’s pristine smile is still in my head, but Vee doesn’t need to know that.
I’ve never fallen in love, and I’ll never act on these feelings.
She’s the key to figuring out my algorithm, so I have to see her.
Becoming a better Saturn is a more important endeavor than a pointless crush.
“They do now. You forget that Saturn is also strong-willed and hardheaded. I’m fine to work with her. No need to interfere and definitely no need to tell Merc. The two of you do too much for me anyways.”
“No need to thank us, we’re family,” she says. “Are you sure you’re good? I can set her up with a match or help you come up with meeting points. Or I can take over the whole thing and you can get to know her like a normal person,” she offers again.
Part of me wants to take that offer, but I know better.
No point wishing on a dead star. Why waste both my time and Moyo’s?
I’m not selfish. This is my chance to figure things out and pull my weight at Cupid’s Bow.
I won’t let Vee and Merc’s hard work be for nothing because their Saturn was too busy trying—and most likely failing—to fall in love.
There’s too much at stake. The company. My family.
“If only we were normal people,” I say. What might it have been like if I’d met Moyo before all this?
But I never would’ve met Moyo if Dad hadn’t retired and I wasn’t forced to move to Boston.
The futile dream fades to the background, letting me channel my energy into something productive.
“Actually, Vee, tell me about those meeting points.”
Her jaw drops, but she turns the TV off and pulls open her phone to show me some documents.
This is good. Having a set plan for the next time I see Moyo will be good.
This way I’ll lead with logic and not ephemeral emotions.