Soulmate AU (working title) Chapters 1-3

TRIGGER WARNING: this story deals with suicide and its affects on the loved ones left behind. If you are triggered by such things, do not read this.

FULL DISCLOSURE: this is not finished, sorry. I'm working on it, I promise!


Prologue

Everyone has a soulmate.

No, I don't mean someone who "really gets you" or the person you married. I mean your soulmate, the person who matches you exactly, the yin to your yang, the light to your dark, the day to your night, the star to your shine ... you get the point. Now, in a world of 7 billion people, the odds seem impossible, don't they? How could you possibly find The One amidst so much chatter?

Fortunately, you're not alone. Centuries ago, the human race was blessed by a visiting immortal in exchange for nursing her children, the cats, and caring for them. This celestial faery gave the gift of knowing to humankind: from the day they were born they would only see black and white, until the day they met their soulmate. When touching their soulmate, people would be able to see color and even when the soulmate was absent, their world would be tinged.

But there was a catch, as there always is. Soulmates don't always ... match. You could not be your soulmate's soulmate. When touching, you would see color, but they would not. These kind of mismatches are tragic, and often corrected by the government when possible, but it's not easy to heal a broken heart, especially when you know the person is your other half.

From the moment they are born, children are told about the Soulmate Enchantment, and trained to eagerly anticipate the moment color will come into their lives. Of course, you may think, if you've never seen color, how are you supposed to know when you do? Words like "green" and "red" would mean nothing to someone who's never experienced such a thing. That's why the WSAO (World Soulmate Achievement Organization) keeps an eye on things. If someone thinks they've seen color, they can submit a "soulmate alert" to the WSAO. The WSAO website will provide a color blindness test from the olden days, and if the person passes, they've done it! WSAO reports show that there are approximately 2.5 million false alarms every year in the eastern hemisphere alone, which is relatively low for the population size and density.

Not everyone can be graced, sadly. Many do not meet their soulmate, and end up marrying someone who is right for them, but not perfect. These sad individuals never see color, unless they opt for genetic tampering, which would allow them to artificially see color. Unfortunately, not many can afford this highly invasive surgery. Magical spells given by cosmic beings are not easily overridden.

Many organizations claim to help find your soulmate in a matter of hours, but the truth of the matter is that soulmates can only be discovered by making physical contact. Even a casual touch is enough. And once you've made that first contact, the romance can begin.

The WSAO cautions soulmates to not get too attached, because the world is a dangerous place, and soulmates can suffer a variety of accidents, such as accidental deaths, car crashes, and crime. Despite this, 9 out of 10 people profess that they could not live without their soulmate, and without such an essential part of themselves they would surely die.


CHAPTER ONE

I met my soulmate on my first night in Paris.

Coincidentally, that also happened to be the very first time I had ever been to a party. I hadn’t been a very social person in high school, and that hadn’t changed during the summer between my senior year and the day I started college.

I was an anomaly, my advisor back at Cal. Tech had said, a rarity. A freshman studying abroad? Unheard of. I hadn’t even set foot in my dorm. They tried to talk me out of it, but my mind was set. I loved Paris, and I was damned if I wasn’t going to study there. My parents were supportive, as they always were, and if my dad looked a little judgmen- tal as he handed over my allowance for the trip, well that was normal.

I hadn’t planned to go to a party. In fact I had planned to spend the night in by myself watching Netflix and eating caramel ice cream, but my new roommate Marie had dragged me out. She barely spoke a word of English, but eventually through pantomime and Google Translate I managed to decipher that she was inviting me to a party at a nearby sorority house. I refused graciously but firmly, over and over, with many words of thanks, but she grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the closet, saying in her thick accent, “You will go. Must have fun.”

After a half-hour struggle, I gave in and let her lace me into a far too revealing corset and leggings, both of which were black leather and not at all my style. These items looked so ridiculous on my slim and rather bosom-less form that Marie burst out laughing. Grumbling, I peeled them off and slipped into a cute, if rather thin, nightdress/slip. It was white and minimalist, but pretty: just my style. I did my makeup and emerged a new woman. Despite my professed doubts, I felt pretty confident and far more attractive than usual.

The party house was only a few blocks away, and we got there with no trouble. When I saw the crowd spilling out the door and heard the pumping music, I quailed, but Marie grabbed my arm and dragged me up to the door. I was inside and my exit was blocked before I knew what was happening. Sighing, I slumped against the wall and rubbed my temples, trying to soothe the pounding headache induced by the music that rattled in my ribcage and the stink of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume. Marie saw me languishing and pulled me upstairs into a gaggle of her friends.

“American girl,” she told them loudly, with a tinge of pride. “New roommate. Make her feel good.”

The friends, who were all very French and very attractive, immediately began to coo and comb my hair with their fingers. I squirmed away, but that only made them grasp me tighter. Finally they had had enough, and pulled back. They scattered, all except one. She was smiling at me with her head cocked to one side. I smiled back tentatively.

She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand with unusual black nails. “My name is Lilith,” she said in perfect English. My eyebrows shot up and I took the hand with no small amount of surprise.

“I’m Rey Macklemore.”

“Nice to meet you, Rey.” She bit one lip and squinted at me as if I was a difficult book she was trying to read. I squirmed, but took the opportunity to look her up and down.

Her feet were encased in combat boots, and she wore an outfit strikingly similar to the one I had rejected in Marie’s apartment. Her shirt was low-cut and laced up tight, and I had to clear my throat and look away before my pulse sped up too much and left me a stuttering mess. Her face was pretty and angled, and her dark eyes were highlighted by a dramatic sweep of glittery eyeliner. Her hair framed her face like a kinky halo. Currently she was analyzing me with a calculating look I both feared and wanted to see more of.

“Are you new here?” she asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Ah — yes, actually,” I stammered, fixing my eyes firmly on her face. “Just arrived today. I’m studying abroad. From California Tech.” I cleared my throat and looked down. Please don’t let me have embarrassed myself too bad, I prayed.

“First time in Paris?” was all she said.

“No, actually.” Dammit, I was saying ‘actually’ too much. “I’ve been coming here with my family my whole life.”

“Oh. You must know the city pretty well.”

“I suppose so.” I let a little nervous laugh escape me. “Why, do I look French?”

“No.” She shrugged and regarded me with a frank gaze. “Honestly, you just look nervous.”

I laughed way too hard at that, confirming her statement without meaning to. “I am, a little bit. I’ve never … well, don’t tell anyone this, but I’ve never been to an actual party.”

“What?”

“I know.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s crazy.”

“For real! What are you, a hermit?”

“I’m definitely not a social butterfly,” I murmured, a little hurt. She seemed to pick up on it.

“I’m sorry. That came out meaner than I meant it to. I just meant, how have you never been to a party before?”

I shrugged, relaxing a little bit. “I just wasn’t much of a party girl in high school. I was a drama girl, or tech actually, but I always wished I was onstage.”

“No shit! I was in tech in high school too.”

“Oh, for real? What did you do?”

“Lighting and sound.”

“No way! That’s what I did!”

“What! That’s so crazy!”

“I know, right?” We gazed at each other for a couple moments, and then she cleared her throat.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t really drink.”

“Are you sure?” The way she was looking at me made my heart beat way too fast. I reminded it to shut the hell up and do its job. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Well, I — I still don’t really know . . . I mean I don’t have a ride home . . .”

“Oh, I can take you. You live with Marie, right? That’s not too far.”

“Won’t you be drinking too?”

“Oh, I have a designated driver. She’d be happy to take you as well.”

“Really? Oh, that’s so kind!”

“’Spose so. Alright, so what do you want?”

“Um . . . whatever you think is best, I suppose.”

She gave me a wicked grin that made me regret what I had said — almost. “Oh, babygirl, you are gonna be sorry for that.”

Suddenly bold, I blurted out, “Make me.” I instantly wanted to clap my hands over my mouth, but her grin only grew wider.

“It would be my pleasure.” And with that she sauntered off, hips swinging, chin jutted high in the hair. I sighed and ran a very flustered hand through my hair.
* * *
Three hours and too many drinks to count later, we were lying on the roof looking up at the stars. “Aren’t they beautiful?” I asked dreamily. My mind had a hazy, trancelike feel to it, and I was having trouble thinking straight. Lilith wasn’t much better. She let out a little giggle and waved a lazy finger at the Big Dipper.

“Yeah. I used to want to be an astronomer, you know.”

“Really?” I shifted to face her. She was even more beautiful in the moonlight. I bit my lip. “Not an astronaut?”

“Nah, nah. I don’t wanna travel the stars. I just want to study ’em.”

“But aren’t astronomers those zodiac people?”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong! Those are astrologists.”

“Same difference.” I shrugged. She giggled and turned to face me. Her breath was hot on my face and beneath the smell of vodka I could detect a little bit of her jasmine perfume. Her hair was a mess.

“You are so cute, you know that?” she asked. “I just want to eat you up.”

“Um . . . thanks?” I laughed nervously, trying desperately to slow my racing heartbeat. I was sure she would be able to hear it thumping like a mad animal in its cage.

“That was a compliment. Sorry. Made it sound weird.” She laughed, a drunken hiccupy laugh that was cute nonetheless.

“No, it’s ok. I took it the right way.”

“Good.” We were quiet for a moment, and then she said, “Hey, we should meet up again sometime.”

“Yeah, totally! That would be so much fun.”

“Yeah.” She looked at the stars again. “You wanna ditch this place?”

“What?”

Just then I heard Marie hollering my name from the lawn before. “REY! Time for bed! Get home now!”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I slithered to the edge of the roof and paused to stabilize my spinning head. “Promise me we’ll meet up again, like you said.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. See you, California girl.”

“See ya.” I hopped off the edge and landed squarely on the lawn. Marie linked her arm through mine and led me away.

“You and Lilith dating now, yes?” she asked as we strolled back to our place.

“What? No, no, no,” I laughed nervously. “Nah, I don’t think she likes me that way.”

Marie regarded me with such a skeptical look that it made me recoil. “What? It’s the truth!”

“Sure, American.” She turned and started walking faster. “Time for bed. Hurry up.”

“O . . . kay . . . I still don’t understand though!”

She didn't answer. We went home and I immediately fell into bed, my eyes closing before my head hit the pillow. It had been a long, eventful evening.


CHAPTER TWO

It was another week before I saw Lilith again, and when I did, it was completely unexpected and even more life-changing.

I had been a week in Paris now, and I think I had things pretty much down. I’d FaceTimed my advisor to let her know I had arrived safely, I scoped out a good coffee shop to work in, and I turned in a ten-page essay. Overall I was feeling pretty productive and confident. In fact, I had basically forgotten about that wild first night in Paris. It was completely behind me . . . or so I thought.

My daily routine was simple. Wake up, dress, get a cup of coffee, and settle in for a hopefully productive morning. My chosen coffee shop/office was called Nevermore Cafe, and I had already developed a passionate devotion to it. To go without Nevermore, and my caramel latte, was unimaginable.

That was why, on that fateful morning, I didn't even think twice before throwing on a blouse and jeans and heading out. A big part of Nevermore Cafe’s appeal was its location only half a block down the street. I strolled in and ordered my usual, then sat down by the window and got right to work.

I was called out of my productive reverie by the call of “Caramel latte!” Nevermore didn't take the names of its customers; it simply called out the drink, and the person who had ordered it went and got it. This was to avoid misspellings and, for people with more exotic names, to spare the embarrassment of using an alias. I closed my laptop and walked over to get my drink. I was still half-absorbed in the story, which was why I didn't notice the other hand reaching for it.

The other hand collided with mine, and I gasped. My vision flashed and suddenly I was seeing something I’d never seen before. It was . . . it was . . . color?

Oh, it was beautiful. The rich brown of the counter, combined with the dazzling blue of the sky and the caramel color of my own hands. It was like I was born anew. I gazed around, trying desperately to soak it all up. People moved, dazzling and beautiful and so full of color. I couldn’t believe I’d lived my entire life without ever knowing this. This was heaven.

My soulmate pulled away, and the world flashed back to a dismal black-and-white. I stifled a moan of loss and turned to see who my soulmate was.

I blinked. I blinked again. No. It couldn’t be. At the same time, my mind reminded me that this made perfect sense, and after all hadn’t I sensed it, even before the touch? Hadn’t I known, somewhere deep inside?

It was Lilith.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing. Was it my imagination, or did she too look starstruck and a little dazed? There was only one way to find out.

But as I opened my mouth to ask her if she’d seen it, a terrible thought occurred to me. What if she hadn’t? What if I revealed myself, only for it to turn out to be a mismatch? How awfully, horribly embarrassing would that be?

So instead of asking her if she was my soulmate, I said to Lilith: “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Neither was I. Isn’t it so odd that we order the same drink? It’s almost like we’re . . . we’re . . .”

Say it, I begged internally. Say it, say it, please. Please.

Instead she just flushed. “Really similar,” she finished awkwardly. I nodded.

“I know. It’s so cool. Hey, would you like to come sit with me?”

Better get to know her if she’s my soulmate, I thought. Besides, I really wanna see color again. “Oh, sure! That’s terribly kind of you.”

“After you.” I gestured, and then put my hand on the small of her back to guide her to her seat. The touch only lasted a moment, but I relished every moment of it, storing the precious colors in my memory forever. She gave a little “oh!” of surprise, and I quickly let go, face flushing. Play it careful, I reminded myself. It could be a mismatch.

“So what are you into?” I asked. Oddly, we seemed to have switched roles. I was the flirtatious, dominant one, and she was the quiet, reclusive one. As we talked, she rapidly got bolder, and I retreated into my submissive role again.

“Oh, I don’t know. Music. Books. Coffee.”

“What kind?”

“Hm, let’s see. Coffee — well, you already know that. Caramel latte. Books — classics, actually. Hamlet. The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Odyssey. Macbeth. Music — rock, or alt punk. Artists? Hm, I don’t know. Mainly me, I suppose.” She blushed again. I wished I could see the red coloring her cheeks.

“You make music?” I exclaimed.

“Yep! I’m a singer-songwriter. Not published, though. Oh well.” She wrinkled her nose endearingly.

“Whyever not? I’m sure you’re talented enough.”

“Oh, thank you. I just haven’t been discovered yet, I suppose.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Doesn’t everyone want to be?”

“Touche.”

“Do you play?”

“Oh, no, no, no. I used to play piano when I was young, but not anymore.”

“You should do it again.”

“Maybe I will.” We gazed at each other affectionately for a few seconds, and then she cleared her throat.

“I should get going. Places to be, you know. Much as I hate it.” She grimaced. I nodded understandingly.

“Of course. I don’t mean to keep you from anything.”

“You’re not.” She hesitated a second, and then asked in a rush, “Hey, do you want to trade numbers? It’s just, I really want to keep in touch . . . you don’t mind, do you? I don’t mean to invade your privacy or seem like a creeper.”

“You’re not, I swear. Um, sure. Give me your phone, and I’ll call myself. Then I’ll have your number.”

“Sure.” She handed it over without a fuss, and with hands that shook a little more than normal I typed in my number and called it. My phone rang, and I pressed decline, then handed the phone back to her. “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I’ll call you.”

“Me too. Have a good day.”

“Same to you.” She smiled once more and then left, caramel latte in hand. I watched her go, then turned back to my writing with a sigh. I would never be the same.

“So.” My barista and best friend, Julian Thorne, slid into the seat beside me. His amber eyes sparkled as he said mischievously, “You like Lilith White.”

“I do not!” I looked down, blushing. Was I really that obvious?

“Oh, please. You look totally starstruck, and you managed to get her number.”

“Only so we could stay in touch! It’s not like that, really . . . she’s just nice, and smart, and okay maybe she’s a little bit cute . . .”

“I knew it!” Julian laughed. He ran his fingers through his auburn curls, a habit of his. “You like an artist.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Big deal. I’m an artist too.”

“You know what I mean. A moody artist. A mysterious artist. An artist with depths and a tragic backstory and hella issues who’s going to have a fling and then break your heart.”

“That’s not true! Lilith’s not like that. She’s different. She would never string me along and break my heart.”

“Are you sure about that?” He pointed across the street, and I saw with a sinking heart Lilith chatting up a flower salesman. I shook my head and looked away, trying to ignore the pang in my stomach.

“Whatever. I don’t like her.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But if she breaks your heart, I will personally track her down and spill her guts.”

“Okay, chill out,” I laughed. “I’m sure nothing like that is going to happen.”

But as I gazed across the street, I wasn’t so sure.
* * *
I WAITED FOUR days for her to text me, but she never did. I was too much of a coward to text first, and so I checked my phone obsessively and moped around the apartment for days. Finally Marie noticed something was up and sat me down to talk about it.

“Why you sad?” she asked point-blank, pinning me to my chair with a hawk’s fierce gaze.

“It’s nothing, I told you,” I muttered, taking a bite out of the ice cream carton I’d been eating from all day. This was my fifth in the past three days. I was starting to worry about my health.

Marie didn't say anything, but she gave me such a skeptical look that it made me recoil.

“What? It isn’t important, I swear!”

“You watch five hours of sad rom-coms today,” she said flatly.

“Seven, but fine,” I muttered.

“Who is she?”

“Okay, that is straight-up rude.” I pointed my spoon at her accusingly. “Who said I was moping over a girl? It could be a boy. Or someone nonbinary. Or no one. Why do you always have to assume?”

“It girl, correct?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“Lilith?”

“Wha—? How did you know?”

She smirked. “I see you eyeing her at the party. Big sparks between you two.”

“Big sparks? You mean chemistry? Ha, as if. She doesn’t like me anyway.” I took another morose bite of ice cream and frowned.

“She could.”

“Sure, and pigs could fly. Now will you let me get back to my angst, please?”

“I text her. You will see. She like you.” Marie nodded approvingly. I scoffed.

“No she won’t. I saw her chatting up some guy only a minute after she’d left. There’s no use.”

“I text her anyway.”

“No. No, actually, don’t do that. I swear to god, if you do that I will fucking kill you. I’m not even kidding. Try me.”

Now it was her turn to pout. “Why? You are sad, this could fix it.”

“Doubtful. I’d just be embarrassing myself. What about the next time we see each other? Do you have any idea how awkward it would be? Like ‘hi, I’m that girl who had a crush on you, remember me? Yeah, I was super desperate.’ I’m not going to expose myself to that. It’s suicide.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“That’s on me. Now can I please get back to my ice cream and sad movies?”

She sighed deeply and shook her head at me. “You are not very smart, American friend. But I will let you be.”

“Thank you.” I sighed too and took a big bite of ice cream. “Jesus christ, people in this country.”
* * *
IT ONLY TOOK TWO more days of pouting until I was ready to go back into the outside world. I had to: one of my favorite poets was doing a reading at a local bookshop, and I couldn’t miss it. So on Friday I reluctantly dressed up, put on my makeup, and headed out.

When I first saw how crowded the bookshop was, I was tempted to turn back. I could always see them read next year, after all, and after my weeklong disappearance, I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of having to interact with other people. I forced myself to go nonetheless, reasoning that it least it would get Marie off my back. I slipped inside the bookshop and took refuge in a corner where I could see the poet clearly.

There were a couple minutes before the reading started, and I took the opportunity to look around the bookshop. It was a cozy, modern place, all light and plants and gentle music. The books were arranged uniquely in a semicircle facing the doorway, and the poet sat in a chair in front of them. There were inspirational signs hung on all the walls, and people milled about aimlessly, making small talk. I scrutinized their faces, and let out a breath of relief when I didn't see anyone I knew.

The reading started just as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The poetry was wonderful, of course, and I listened with rapt attention until the very end. I closed my eyes as the poet’s voice faded out, trying desperately to hold on to the shimmering words,
just as one tries to get one last whiff of a lover’s perfume. I felt a hand come down on my shoulder, and opened my eyes to color, marvelous color.

I gasped and whirled around, accidentally dislodging the hand and draining my world of the beautiful color I had been so disconsolate over the loss of. Sure enough, there stood Lilith, smiling in a leather jacket and looking gorgeous as all-get-out. Her dark eyes analyzed me carefully, and then she smiled.

“Long time no see. Why didn't you call?”

“Why didn't I call? Why didn't I —” I sighed, speechless. “You were supposed to call me first!”

“I was?” She blinked in surprise. “But — I suggested we exchange numbers. You were supposed to make the next move.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” I cried desperately. “God! You mean all this time, you’ve just been sitting around waiting for me to call you?”

She shrugged, a hint of embarrassment on her face. “Yes?”

“Jesus christ.” I let out a deep sigh and clutched my head. “And all this time, I was sitting around moping and convincing myself you were laughing your ass off at me.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow in befuddlement. “Did you not get the whole exchanging-numbers thing? You really think I would just walk away after that?”

“Well, I saw you flirting with this guy right after you left, and I just … I don’t know, okay? It was a big misunderstanding.”

“Oh. Oops.” She gave me a shy, cute smile. “Well I’m terribly sorry I didn't call you.”

“I feel the same way, believe me,” I muttered, passing a hand over my face.

“Well.” She looked up and gave me a coquettish grin. “If that’s so, would you like to get coffee sometime? Talk about our shared interests and such?”

“Of--of course,” I stammered. “Yes. Sure. Definitely. Um, when?”

“Does tomorrow sound good to you?” Her eyes sparkled, and mine lit up in return. “Same time as we both usually go?”

“Sure thing! Yeah! Great. Great, um, great plan.” I grinned tentatively. She returned it. My smile brightened just a little bit.

“So you’re a fan of her?” She indicated the poet, who was now mingling with the crowd and signing books. I gasped.

“Yes, totally! Darn it, look at that line. I’ll never get an autograph now.”

“Here, take mine.” She held out a book of the reader’s book, autographed in fancy black Sharpie. I stared at it dumbly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am, for real. I got it signed before the show. Friend of a friend sort of a deal. I can get another, don’t worry.”

I looked at her like she was God, the universe, and the answer to all my prayers all in one. She blushed a little and shoved the book into my arms. “Don’t think anything of it. Really. It’s nothing.”

“No,” I said softly, finding my words at last. “It’s not nothing. It’s — it’s amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” We stared at each other dreamily for a couple seconds before she cleared her throat awkwardly, cheeks burning. “See you tomorrow, then? If that’s okay? Normal time?”

“Yeah.” I watched her make her excuses and leave, still unable to wipe the look of adoration from my face. A minute after she left, I finally snapped back into reality. Grinning hugely, I hugged the book to my chest and let out a muffled scream. At that moment, I was sure my heart would burst.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE early and spent way too long on my clothes and makeup. Marie was so weirded out by my paranoia that she asked me several times if I was high, and once if I had just had sex. I firmly reassured her that I was perfectly normal, thank you very much, and tried to smother my smile under a cover of composure.

When I got to Nevermore Cafe, Lilith was already there. I gave her a quick wave and then asked Julian for my usual. He smirked as he headed it across, already pre-made in anticipation of my arrival. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

I rolled my eyes and plopped down across from my soulmate. “Long time no see,” I quipped, taking a sip of my latte. She smiled radiantly.

“How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well, and you?”

“Terrible.” She laughed. “Too nervous, I suppose.”

“Oh, don’t be nervous!” I reached across earnestly to pat her hand in compassion. My world flashed color, and I had to force myself to draw my hand back. “You don’t seem awkward at all.”

“Well.” She flushed and looked down. “I’m not, usually. Normally I’m quite suave, actually. But I get completely tongue-tied around cute girls; it’s my one weakness.”

“Oh. Oh!” I lit up like a star. “Why thank you!”

“So.” She folded her arms and looked coquettishly at me, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re into poetry?”

“I am, actually. And fiction. And nonfiction. And dramatic poetry. And plays. And musicals.” I let a self-conscious laugh escape me involuntarily. “You could say I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“Lucky you. Nerds are just what I like best.” Her eyes flickered to my lips. I forgot how to breathe.

“What authors?” She leaned back and I was suddenly able to inhale again.

“Oh, um . . . the Bronte sisters, Neil Gaiman, Shakespeare, JK Rowling, Rick Riordan, Oscar Wilde, Tui T. Sutherland, Dickens, Christopher Paolini, Jane Austen” — I took a breath — “Marissa Meyer, Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, and quite a few anonymous fanfiction authors.” I blushed and looked across to see her reaction.

Lilith’s jaw was hanging open in shock. When I had finished, she closed it and shook her head with a disbelieving chuckle. “No shit. You really like reading.”

“Just a little.” I couldn’t help laughing at the irony.

“And what about musical artists? You got any of those?”

“Oh, do I ever.” I laughed. “Hamilton, Wicked, Paramore, Disney, Mozart, to name only a few.”

“Only naming a couple this time?” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Fine. You have very good taste.”

“Oh, thank you.” There was a sunburst in my chest, and it was rapidly expanding. Hope, that beautiful bird, fluttered its iridescent wings in my heart. I doubted this day could get any better.

“So.” Lilith stood and held out a hand. “The bookshop we were last night just opened. I was thinking we could walk over and get a couple books. That sound good to you?”

“Hells yeah.” I took her hand and let her hoist me to my feet, glorying in the rainbow burst that resulted from the physical contact. “Only problem is, I’m broke. College student, remember?”

“That’s okay. I’ll buy for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly let you do that. For one, it’s — well, it’s not fair, and I’d have to pay you back, and such an expensive gift —”

She held up a hand, forestalling the torrent of protestations. “It’s not a problem, I swear. Just let me.”

“But—I couldn’t possibly allow you to—”

“Please.” She gave me puppy eyes. “Let me do this one thing for you.”

I sighed and gave in, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Just this once.”

“Yes!” She laughed and grabbed my hand again, pulling me out the door. We practically ran down to the bookshop, laughing and teasing the whole way. People on the street gave us weird looks, and we tried to suppress our helpless laughter, but that just made it worse.

Once inside, I flitted from shelf to shelf, gasping and exclaiming over every book that caught my fancy. Lilith followed, laughing at my antics and fangirling over several books herself. I promptly picked out a big stack and parked myself in an obscure corner to read. Lilith found me there, legs crossed, poring over my third book so far, with a big stack sitting next to me. Upon seeing me so happy, she promptly laughed her heart out and then snapped a picture. I was embarrassed at being caught and demanded she delete the picture, but she just giggled and held up her phone: the pic was already set as her lock screen. I smiled, and she grabbed my hand. We danced round and round, laughing like maniacs, my world painted in brilliant jewel tones and my heart glowing with fervent happiness.

We quickly became a nuisance to the other store patrons, and paid for our books and left, still giggling and grinning uncontrollably. My heart had never felt so warm. I tottered down the street, balancing a stack of books while Lilith tried to keep a handle on her own, and I felt that this moment could never end.

It did end, but my happiness didn't decrease by any means. We made our awkward way back to Lilith’s apartment and she made tea while I ripped through my new books. That was the happiest afternoon I’ve ever spent, just sitting at her kitchen table reading and drinking tea. The best part came when she reached out and casually held my hand. After that, all my efforts to keep my smile concealed were useless. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Nothing could bring me down.

After we’d finished most of the books, Lilith said with a shy smile, “Would you like to do something . . . different?”

“Hm? Like what?” I looked up absently and sipped my tea.

“Well . . . I am a singer-songwriter, as you know,” she began.

“Ooh! Mm-hmm!” I set down my teacup, eyes shining, and clapped my hands in excitement. She blushed.

“I’m sure I’m not that good, but if you’d like, I can play you a piece or two.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, please do, that would be amazing!” I gushed. She lit up like a sun and we rushed into her bedroom, where she pulled out her guitar. I sat beside her, shoulders touching, while she played a couple songs, her beautiful honey-coated voice slipping all around us and knitting us even closer together, fingers weaving an elaborate net on the guitar’s humming strings.

After she had finished, she set the guitar down and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, flushing. “As I said, I’m not so good, but I hope you liked those. They’re my best yet.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said softly, leaning in. She caught her breath, and I closed my eyes, heart pounding out a frantic drumbeat in my chest.

“Is this just real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality . . .”

I grimaced and pulled back, yanking my phone out of my pocket. “Yes? Who is this?” I answered crossly, flaming with indignation.

“Where are you? I just got off my shift, I was thinking we could go grab a bite to eat,” Julian answered, chipper and completely unaware. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth to keep from screaming.

“I’m busy right now,” I answered shortly, and hung up. I turned back to Lilith, scarlet coloring my face. “I’m so sorry,” I began. “I really shouldn’t’ve — I mean that shouldn’t have interrupted —”

“It’s alright.” She smiled softly, and god, she was gorgeous. I couldn’t believe my luck in snagging someone of her looks. “What do you say we go finish the rest of those books and watch some TV?”

“That sounds great.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, heat suffusing my face. “I’m really sorry for what happened back there.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled, a little sadly, and pulled me back into the kitchenette. “Hey, while we’re on the topic of music, one of my friends is playing a concert next week, and I get free tickets. Would you like to go?”

“I’d love to.” I grinned, way too big. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “’S not a problem. It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Good.” I gestured to the table, still heaped with books. “Shall we resume?”

“Sure. I’ll put on another pot.” She bustled away, and I took a moment to revel in the noises of her knocking about in the kitchen, pretending we were living together and this was normal. I nearly swooned from excitement just thinking of it.

It was late when I finally left, with many apologies and promises to meet up again, as soon as possible. Once I was outside I let out a little squeal and jumped up and down, clapping my hands. I clapped them over my mouth, letting out quiet excited little screams, and then giggled helplessly.

I couldn’t believe how happy I was. I’d never felt this way before, like I was falling and rising at the same time. When I thought of Lilith, I felt both like sinking with a fond sigh and a smile and an adoring look, and like screaming and crying hysterically from
pure joy and excitement. It was breathtaking, and a little frightening, but exhilarating at the same time. I did the only thing I could think of, and skipped home belting out “Singin’ in the Rain” and grinning.
* * *
I FLUFFED MY HAIR in the mirror and grimaced. It had been a week since I’d seen Lilith, but our date was tonight. I was super nervous, and even though we had been texting back and forth for hours, I was still unsure. What if the moment we had shared didn't mean anything to her? What if she didn't like me? What if I wasn’t her soulmate after all?

“OK, calm down.” I jabbed a finger at my reflection. “Everything is going to be fine. She likes you. She invited you out, remember? Stop being so dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. In the bathroom mirror, my twin rolled her eyes right back at me. I sighed and leaned in again to inspect my mascara.

“Going somewhere?” I turned to see Marie leaning against the door jamb, dressed in a leather jacket and skintight jeans.

“Yes, actually.” I smoothed the front of my summer dress and eyed her with a smidge of cockiness. “I have a date.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” She snorted. “With who, the baker’s boy? Your cat?”

“I don’t have a cat. And if you must know, I’m going with Lilith.”

Marie nodded, her face expressionless. I threw my hands up in the air.

“Really? No reaction at all? It was only two weeks ago I was sobbing over her and eating all of your ice cream. You’re really not shaken by this?”

My roommate shrugged. “I’m not surprised. You two are meant for each other.”

“Hm.” I squinted at her. Something was off. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” She widened her eyes in a ridiculous show of innocence. “I’m innocent as a baby. Just going about my daily life, plodding through the same useless routine, dealing with the same obnoxious roommate . . .”

“That’s it!” I snapped my fingers. “Your English. It’s better. What gives? You been taking a class online?”

“My boyfriend is teaching me.” She crossed her arms and jutted her chin out.

“You have a boyfriend now?”

“I’ve always had a boyfriend.”

“Okay, what’s his name?”

“Duolingo.” She grinned and disappeared before I could scold her for tricking me. I just shook my head and sighed.

Ten minutes later, I opened the door on Lilith, holding a bouquet of beautiful carnations. I took the first opportunity to touch her hand casually and see my flowers flash scarlet. My favorite color.

“Are you ready?” she asked. I held up a finger.

“One second. I just need to get something.” I darted into my room and came out holding a picnic basket with a gingham cloth draped over it. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Madame?” Lilith offered her arm in pretend gallantry and with a giggle I took it. We proceeded in a similar manner out the door and down the street, waving goodbye to Marie. The butterflies in my stomach dissolved into a warm sense of belonging as we chatted gaily, entranced by each other’s company. Around Lilith, I felt the sun. Around Lilith, I was the sun.

The concert wasn’t far, and I was surprised when Lilith stopped us in a little grassy square and draped a blanket over the damp ground. The field was small, and near the far end a band was setting up, fidgeting with sound equipment and instruments. All over the field people were spread out on blankets chatting and setting up picnics or camping chairs. Lilith kicked off her boots and leaned back on her elbows as I laid out the picnic and made us both plates.

“This is delicious,” she said with her mouth full of spinach and sweet potato casserole. “Where did you get this from?”

I looked down and blushed. Her jaw dropped.

“Did you — did you make this?”

I nodded, ears singed bright red. “Is it very bad?”

“Is it very — sweet, are you insane? This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Why didn't you tell me you could cook? I would have proposed on the spot!”

My heart went absolutely berserk at this, and I put a hand to my chest in a fruitless attempt to calm it down. “Thank you, but it’s really not so amazing as you make it out to be. I can only cook a few things: casseroles, desserts, pasta . . . I’m terrible at seafood.”

“Good thing we aren’t eating seafood then.” She flashed a grin my way and then dug in enthusiastically. I put a hand up to cover my smile.

The concert started just as we began on the pastries, flaky raspberry things I had made this morning. My smile had become a full-on grin by now, watered and enhanced by Lilith’s near-constant flattery. Even as the music began and the singers took the stage, she leaned across and whispered in my ear, “That dress looks really good on you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I was light, light as a feather, bright as the sun, and despite my elation I genuinely feared I might short-circuit and float away into the sky, overwhelmed by the feelings of love and happiness swamping me.

Lilith continued to whisper into my ear as the show went on, distracting me, which was unfortunate because the band really was magnificent. The singer had a voice like an angel, and her two companions were brilliant on the guitar. Their music was a kind of soft rock, soothing yet rousing at the same time, perfectly suited for the mood. During one song there was a musical interlude, and when the singer came back in she sang so beautifully and long that without thinking I gasped and took Lilith’s arm, exclaiming, “Darling, would you listen to that!”

After a moment I realized what I had done and said and with a twinge of alarm and a blush dropped her arm. She reached out again and took my hand, and I tensed and felt like I would swoon. “Hey, what say after this we go back to my apartment and watch some TV? There’s a delightful rom-com I’ve been dying to show you,” she offered in a low voice. My overjoyed expression said all she needed to know.

We didn't go immediately back to her place after the concert ended, despite our plans, but instead went backstage and met the band. Lilith knew the drummer, and they chatted idly about mutual friends while I fangirled over the singer and completely made a mess of myself trying to communicate my adoration. It turned out she was also a big fan of this dystopian LGBTQ series I loved, and we hit it off marvelously. I took down her Instagram and promised to keep in contact, while Lilith tried in vain to drag me away.

Lilith’s apartment was exactly the same as when I was there before. I plopped down on the couch, exhausted, and Lilith made us ice cream with way too much whipped cream. Once we were all settled she cued up the romcom. It was just as marvelous as she had described, and I gasped and cringed at all the right moments. Halfway through the movie I found myself curled up against Lilith’s side, breathing in her scent and silently exulting in the beauty of the movie in color.

I got drowsier and drowsier until, without meaning to, I dropped off leaning against Lilith. It was the most peaceful sleep I’d ever had, and I awoke to find myself utterly wrapped up in Lilith, her arms wrapped around me, cradling me on her lap, and her chin resting on my head. I didn't dare to move, fearing to break the spell, but before I could make up my mind she stirred and cradled my head in her hand.
Without intending to I opened my mouth and said in a sleepy voice, “I think I love you.”

Her expression immediately softened and her eyes filled with adoration. “I think I love you, too.”

And then she leaned in and I leaned in too and without fully knowing what I was doing we kissed and oh, it was wonderful, I had never felt this way before and I knew I never would again. She truly was my soulmate, my home, the place where I truly belonged and felt safe, protected from all the cruelties of the world.

We kissed a little bit more and then fell asleep. I woke alone curled up on the sofa clutching a pillow. Just as I raised myself up and rubbed my eyes Lilith wandered in holding a steaming cup of fresh coffee. “Homemade caramel latte, your favorite,” she said with a smile softened by love. “Stay for a little while?”

“Can I stay forever?” I asked hopefully, and she laughed.

“Please.”