Stupid Cupid

vii

People think that being on social media, travelling the world and being 'influential' is easy, like a walk in the park. It isn't. I don't want anyone's pity when I say that because it's a great life and I'm very fortunate to be able to have that lifestyle but when you have to wake up at five thirty am to set up for the perfect sunrise photo that you're just going to filter and photoshop to within an inch of its life, it's not as glamorous as you think it is.

My alarm sounded at just shy of five thirty am, as always. I needed a few minutes to adjust to the fact that I'm awake so I just stay in bed, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, watching the fan go around and around and around. It was making me feel drowsy and when I feel sleep is about to take over, I force myself out of bed and put on the bikini I had specially chosen for the photo. Grabbing the kaftan I was going to put on later, I walk out of the bedroom barefooted and make my way out of the main house, down towards the pier, where I could see Stefan and Casper setting up. Even from this distance, I could hear them nattering on in that weird mix of German and Danish.

"Du hättest nicht so früh aufstehen müssen," Stefan said the familiar remark. Even though I don't understand German, I knew what this meant. Loosely translated, this was Stefan's way of telling me that I wasn't really needed until the photo was ready to be taken. Rolling my eyes, I watch as Casper gets his equipment in place and asks Stefan and me to start making our way down to the end of the pier, where we'd pose for the final picture. While we walked, Stefan wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. "How did you sleep?"

I shrug. "It was ok, I guess. The bed is too big for one person and the mattress didn't feel like mine but other than that, it was nice."

"My bed feels too small for two," Stefan grumbled. When he caught me staring at him, he looks away and says, "Larissa practically sleeps on top of me. I'm like a tree and she's a tree hugger. I never thought I'd say this but you're the best person to share a bed with, Lena."

I laugh nervously. It's true that we've shared a bed on many occasions. There was that one time that I (stupidly) left Stefan in charge of booking a room for us in Bangkok and he forgot until the last minute and we ended up with what can only be described as a four-foot bed in a six-foot room. We've also ended up crashing on the same sofa, wrapped around each other because Stefan's brother, Till, thought it was 'cool' to host a rave in his flat in Berlin and let twenty-nine people stay over. Finally, there was that time when we came in after a party, back when we shared a flat, and I couldn't make it to my room so Stefan pushed me into his- it was closer to the door- and I refused to let him sleep in my room. I didn't want my bed to smell of him the next day. Apparently, him reassuring me that he'd wash the bedsheets didn't fly with me.

I wouldn't say that I'm the best person to share a bed with, anyhow. I mean, I'm one of those horribly restless sleepers who go to sleep lying on their back but will wake up, having turned a hundred and forty-five degrees in the middle of the night, with my feet hanging off the edge of the bed. I don't snore, though, so I gain bonus points on that. I don't sleepwalk or sleep talk, either. I thrash out sometimes, as well, to the extent that my bed buddies have woken up with black eyes. The only one who's made it out in one piece is Stefan.

"You just let me spoon you for the entire night," Stefan says just as we come to a stop at the edge of the pier. He helps me to sit first before taking his place at my side and watching as I pull on the kaftan. "I heard that Romy and Francis are finally official."

Thrown by his comment, I burst out laughing and turn to look at him, my eyes crinkled and definite laughter lines around the side of my mouth. "Where did that come from?"

"What? I just wanted to know if it's true or not," he defensively says. When I sober up and nod, Stefan given a very thoughtful sigh. "I think they look good together. I like the fact that they're giving it a go. Ich wünschte, ich wäre so mutig."

"Oh, I know that word!" I exclaimed, excited that I finally understood some of the German he keeps muttering. "It means 'brave.' Right? I'm right, aren't I?"

Stefan rolls his eyes at me. "Auf einmal kann sie deutsch," he grumbles almost inaudibly. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles at Casper and raises his thumb up in a gesture of 'good.' "He's ready."

It always amazed me how Casper could take amazing photographs from that far away but since he's the pro in this, I don't complain and I certainly don't ask questions. As the sun rose in the sky, painting the sky in fiery reds, burnt orange and golden yellow, I couldn't help but smile. To me, a sunrise was far more spectacular than a sunset and was always worth waking up super early for. To be here, watching it, sitting next to my friend, it felt like I was at peace.

"Hey, can I have a photo with my boyfriend or what?" Larissa's obnoxious voice shouted from behind, Stefan and I both turned only to find that she was making her way towards us, a less-than-genuine grin on her face. Finally, when she was next to us, she looked down at me. "Lena, you don't mind if we do a selfie as a couple, do you? It is our first holiday away together."

I grin back at her. "Of course not. He's all yours."

As I began walking away, I heard footsteps chasing after me before feeling a warm hand encircle my wrist. "Du bist mein, ich bin dein: dessen sollst du gewiss sein. Du bist verschlossen in meinem Herzen. Verloren ist das Schlüsselein: du musst immer darin sein."