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He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not part 10

Joel Miller x F!Reader

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summary

After getting matching daisy tattoos for my cousin Jackie’s thirtieth birthday, she is convinced it’s finally time to find her soul mate. Me on the other hand? I don’t buy into fate, matching tattoos or destiny shit. Across town Joel Miller doesn’t believe in soul mates either, until he wakes up one morning with a daisy tattoo behind his ear. A disastrous first encounter leaves Joel and I firmly in enemy territory. And when Joel meets Jackie at a party and they discover their matching tattoos, it seems like destiny has brought them together. And me? I’m going to keep my own matching tattoo to myself. Why complicate things? Jackie is happy with Joel and I've started dating his charming and sexy brother, Tommy.Plus, there’s no way the annoying Joel Miller could be my soul mate…. Right?

tags: soulmate AU, enemies to lovers (because that's all I write apparently), smut, yearning, wrong person right time, right person wrong time, cute moments, jealous Joel, angst, sexual tension, banter, happy ever after.

rating: 18+

Words: 14.2k

notes: I swear the chapters just keep getting fucking longer. I might take a little break after this - my fingers are tired! But I'm glad we finally get to the big tattoo reveal I've been promising! As always I NEED your thoughts (I re-read them constantly!) and I hope you don't hate me after this.

part nine | daisies don't tell

"What're you doing?"

I glance up from where I sit cross-legged on front lawn of my home. The spring morning is mild and in one hand I hold a daisy I just plucked from the garden. The petals are long and snow-white, the yellow center fragrant. Many complain it's an offending odor, but I've always thought of it as a scent of summer, of warm days.

My six year old cousin Jackie has just wandered over from inside where our parents are playing cards and laughing. Despite being nine and far more mature than Jackie, I still like to hang out with her. Maybe because I'm an only child and I can pretend that she's my real sister.

"I'm playing the love me, love me not game."

"What's that?"

I sit my young cousin on my lap, holding the large daisy in front of us. "You do this. Each petal you pluck, you say he loves me-" i pluck one of the petals, letting it fall onto the verdant grass.

"And then he loves me not." The second petal falls onto the ground slowly.

Jackie is eager to try this for herself, her tiny fingers starting to pluck furiously. I hand her off the flower, holding us both in a seated position by planting my palms in the grass behind me. I close my eyes, enjoying the warming sun.

"He lovesth me, he lovesth me not," Jackie murmurs excitedly, a small lisp on the end of her loves. "He lovesth me, he lovesth me not."

When we finally make it to the final petal moments later Jackie's tiny body sinks with disappointment. She holds up the final petal, plucking it dejectedly.

"He lovesth me not," she says with a pout. I can see her eyes filling with tears and know I have to cut this off before she starts in on a tantrum. She tends to be like that.

"That's okay, Jack. Daisies don't tell."

She rubs at her nose. "Huh?"

I grin at her confused expression.

"It means the daisy keeps your secret because we take all its petals off."

Jackie's light eyes are large, moving to the empty stem in awe. "Really?"

"Yep. It takes the secret to its grave."

He's at Jackie's apartment within minutes, speeding the entire way. He practically leaps out of his truck, his long legs scissoring across the parking lot and up to the cousin's apartment.

He hesitates a moment there, looking at the shiny gold numbers of her apartment, looking for any signs of life before knocking firmly.

Maybe the cousin went to stay with a friend, he worries. Maybe she'll spot Joel through the peephole and not let him in.

But it's only seconds before the door swings open and she's there, eyes wide with shock as she drinks him in.

He doesn't even let her speak before his hands are on either side of the doorframe, his face dipping to meet her gaze.

"You ended things with Tommy."

She blinks, eyes wet. "I had to."

He doesn't need to ask her why, doesn't need to demand she give him an explanation when he knows exactly why she had to end things. She isn't the sort that can live with that kind of a lie.

"You told Tommy what happened with us was a mistake," he says, eyes traveling all over her face. "Did you mean that?"

A beat.

She shrinks back a bit, shoulder propped against the doorframe. She seems to be searching her mind for the right way to say things.

"It was a mistake because we're with other people," she finally decides.

"But if we weren't...?"

"But we were."

"But if we weren't, do you want this?"

"Joel," she breathes.

She looks so beautiful and sad that Joel wants to scoop her up in his arm. But he holds himself back, fists at his side, his chest swelling as he takes a deep breath.

"Do you want me?"

It's a silly question at a time like this especially when he notices that her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed. Joel realizes that she's been crying. Of course she has been. She must be devastated after ending things with Tommy.

Guilt gnaws at him that he could have come here at all. How inappropriate it was to come barging over here as if he had any right, insisting she tell him what he wants to hear. His face burns with humiliation at having forced himself upon her at this time.

He's still wrestling with himself about it when she steps forward, grabs the back of his neck and forces his face down to hers.

"Of course I want you," she whispers raggedly, beautiful lips trembling. "I want you more than anything."

I hold him there, mouth inches from my own, eyes burning into his. There's a moment of delay, perhaps disbelief and then it all happens so quickly.

Joel surges into the apartment, scooping me up and crushing me against his chest as he backs me against the nearest wall. My arms are already waiting, raised up to curl around his neck. Our mouths collide in feverish need, tongues licking into each other's mouths, teeth nipping at waiting lips.

It's a frenzy of lust and a need and perhaps escape. And we both need so much more. More skin, more moans, more spit and sweat. His wide hands go under my ass to raise me up into his hold and I gasp with arousal and surprise as he urges my legs around his waist.

"Bedroom?" he grunts, shifting me tighter in his arms. His eyes are black with desire, causing a thrill to go through my core.

"End of the hall."

He nods and my ankles lock at his lower back before he moves us through the apartment. I cling to him, kissing his jaw, whimpering softly as we make our way across the wood floors, his strong thighs never faltering.

He pushes my bedroom door open with his foot, his mouth connecting with mine again as he gently kicks it closed.

I stay like that in his arms, legs around his middle and we kiss urgently. I've never enjoyed kissing this much, never felt that deep flip of my core with every sweep of his tongue.

"I need you," he says hoarsely as we pull apart.

I nod in understanding, gaze soft. He gingerly lowers me to the mattress and I hit the soft plush of the bed, bouncing slightly as I shuck off my jeans and t-shirt. Joel follows suit, his jeans and boxers kicked off in his hurry. I watch his muscles contract as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, aroused beyond all measure at the motion.

He comes to lie next to me and in the gentle light of the morning I drink him in. The fine lines around his eyes, the plush pink of his lower lip. The gray threaded through his dark curls.

He grins down at me, his eyes roving my naked body as I do the same to him. My fingers reach out to gently trace the line of his stomach, watching it tense when it tickles him.

The back of his crooked index finger trails along my collar before scorching a languid path from my sternum down to my sex. I make a little noise in the back of my throat when he grazes my entrance, thighs parting.

He does it again, eyes burning into mine. I don't look away until he does, eyes moving to the glossy beacon between my legs.

"Damn, she's pretty," he murmurs before his eyes flick back up to my face. "Everything about you is so fucking pretty."

I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed by the praise, even though I love hearing it. Joel takes my wrist in his fingers, tugging them away until he can see my eyes.

"So fucking pretty," he repeats slowly.

I hold in a whimper when his left hand grips my other wrist, pinning them both above my head against the mattress. Then he just waits, body coiled.

I'm at his mercy.

I love it.

His free hand travels the length of my body, tracing and eager line from the hollow of my throat down to cup my sex in his palm.

My spine arches, wanting to press against his skin. I gasp when his fingers slide along the seam of my sex, head falling back as he begins to push two thick fingers inside, his thumb circling my clit.

I feel him watching my face as he does this, cataloging my reactions to his touches. Where I twitch, how I gasp. He drinks this in and then he plays my body like an instrument. A virtuoso of my flesh and nerves.

He makes me come like this, just pinning my wrists above my head, using his free hand to make me writhe and buck into his touch. And when I come down I boil inside, needing more, needing him.

"Please," I gasp, desperate to have him inside me, to feel him again. Last night I was scared of being caught, but here and now I can be loud. I can be wonton. I can let him know exactly how much I crave him.

He moves to kiss me again, as if he can't breathe without the taste of my lips. I feel the same, hands desperate to skim down his back, the sensation of his warm flesh against mine making me burn.

Eventually he positions himself between my spread thighs, his heavy body pressing me into the mattress. I take shallow breaths, dizzy with lust.

He takes his time grinding against me, kissing my neck, groaning how beautiful I am. I preen like a contented cat under his attention, gasping when he moves his mouth to my nipples, sucking them into his mouth with delicate reverence.

"I wanted this last night," he says to me between licks and nibbles. "Wanted to fuck you properly, to take my time and hear those pretty sounds I knew you'd make for me."

"I wanted that too," I admit shakily, my mouth dropping open.

I arch my hips, trying valiantly to urge him inside. He grins against my sternum, enjoying the drawn out teasing as I grow more and more frantic.

"Don't make me wait," I beg, to not caring that I sound desperate. "Please, Joel.”

At the sound of his name he raises his head, eyes finding mine. His pupils are blown out so widely his eyes are black, glittery and heavy-lidded. His hair is falling into his forehead, messy and tangled. He looks fucked out already and we've barely done anything

"Condom?"

"Side table."

He glances around the bed until he locates it across from us. He stretches one long arm over me and I hungrily stare at the coil of his bicep, the dark hair under his arms, the stretch of his body over mine. I take all of these mental snapshot as he grabs the foil in his hand and tears it with his teeth.

Seconds later I feel him grip his cock, notching it at my entrance. With a steadying breath he gives me a soft, lingering kiss and then sinks into me. The feeling cannot be explained by words alone. A feeling of completion, of something found as he moves within me.

“You feel so good.”

I move my thighs up, ankles crossing at the small of his back. A quiet urge for him to go deeper. He smiles at my silent need, a dimple poking out of one cheek, making me melt.

"Eager woman," he teases, bending forward and kissing me deeply. Our tongues graze, the movement slow and searching. But I want him deep, I want him hard. I want to feel that this is real, that he’s real.

And it’s like he hears me because he continues to kiss me as he sinks to the hilt, moaning raggedly against my lips. He pulls back, withdrawing and then slamming back. I give an enthusiastic whine of his name, delighted after he does it again and again. The hair at the base of him rasps against my clit, the width of him fills me so perfectly.

And now in the sanctuary of my bedroom we can be as loud as we want. I moan his name, body already starting to writhe under his ministrations.

“That’s right, baby," he says loudly as his hips snap, pounding into me as the bed frame taps against the wall. “Keep lettin’ me hear you.”

I feel my body match his rhythm, or is he matching mine? The loud sound of our bodies smacking together sends pleasure flooding through me. The spring of my mattress start to squeak as his thrusts grow harder, fucking me up the bed, body sliding over my fresh vanilla scented sheets.

"You're so deep," I cry out, exhilarated at being about to say it. "You’re so fucking deep, Joel!"

His brows saddle when I say his name, his breathing turning ragged. The tempo of the mattress squeaks increase.

My hands desperately want to feel him but he keeps my wrists pinned there above my head. He gives me a cocky grin, knowing that I want to touch him so badly. He watches my chest heave as he fucks deeper into me, his strong, golden body held above me. My breasts bouncing under every flex of his pelvis.

I watch where we connect, transfixed at how it looks to have him plunge into me over and over. I feel my eyes start to shutter, mouth going slack. He stutters to a stop, hips trying not to shallowly thrust. He's panting heavily, his chest pink.

"Can you turn over for me?" he begs raggedly. And I do, on all fours before he can even finish the question.

I feel his palm slide along my lower back, heavy and warm. I can feel him shifting on the mattress behind me.

I feel exposed like this, sunlight streaming in the windows, my naked body presented to him like an offering.

"Goddamn" he groans in what sounds like a pained voice. "I wish you could see how good you look right now."

My face burns, but I lean forward, showcasing more of myself to him. He makes a deep, rumbling noise deep in his chest before his big hands come to steady my hips, fingers dimpling the flesh there. There's a dip in the mattress as he goes to one knee.

When he slides back into me I start keening loudly, flesh rippling and my eyes roll back in my skull. He leans heavily over me, hands going to cover mine on the mattress.

"You're so fucking perfect," he says hotly against my ear.

I move back to meet his thrusts, my whines of his name growing in volume. I hear the ragged groans he gives out every time my ass hits his thighs, the way he grunts out my name when he picks up speed.

A building pressure suddenly snaps behind my navel, causing my eyelids to flutter as waves of pleasure ripple through me. I'm so close.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, teeth bared as he saws between my thighs. "Gonna give us what we both want?"

"Mhm," is all I can manage.

"That's my girl," he says, his hips surging forward, quickening his pace. "You're mine, aren't you?"

His husky voice forming that praise is making me feel heady. My girl. You’re mine, aren’t you? The possessiveness makes my insides quiver with delight. But I can’t reply to him, I’m so focused on my arms not giving out as he pounds into me.

"You feel too good," he growls, weight bearing down on me. "You gotta come for me, baby. Now."

"Joel mm... Joel I-"

I can hear the soft groan he makes as I do exactly as he's requested. I come for him with a cry, body releasing all the tension I've been holding.

"Just like that, uh huh, just like that, baby," he rasps, his hands still pinning mine, his hips rising over and over to fuck me through my orgasm.

My body twitches, hips rolling as I feel myself unwind around him. And when I shatter completely he follows seconds later, practically shouting my name over the creak of my mattress.

Joel and the cousin lay side by side in the bed, shoulders touching, their breathing shallow and quick.

What the fuck have we done?

It's no longer a one off. Something to fuck out of their systems. No more delusions that this is nothing. She left Tommy and he knows she did it because of him.

He sneaks a look at her from the corner of his eye. She has one hand flat at her side, the other gripping the blanket over her chest. He can see the blooming bruise on her chest where he sucked and laved, an insidious slither of delight at the marking of her. But this turns to concern when he finds himself observing the way she stares unblinkingly up at the ceiling

Does she regret everything?

All Joel can think about is the ways he fucked this up and yet he still reaches down to lay his hand over hers. When he does a warmth floods his whole body and he watches her head tilt on the pillow to face him.

They share a soft, secret smile with one another. A smile that communicates to Joel that what just happened was not out of pity or desperation or sadness. It was down out of want and desire.

"This ain't a mistake," he says in a rush, the words bursting from him without thought, pausing only when he sees her face crumple.

"Joel-"

"We ain't a mistake," he says firmly as he gazes over at her. "Mistakes don't feel this right."

No, they don't.

Her eyes soften the longer she looks at him, finally giving him a small nod. His heart throbs when she rolls over, coming to drape one leg over him and giving him a long and tender kiss. He kisses her back sweetly, one arm around her, the other holding her jaw with his fingertips.

There's so much more he wants to say to her, so much clarification he desires. But for right now this feels good, this feels right.

He holds her like this for a long while, breathing in the vanilla scent of her shampoo, feeling the soft texture of her skin under his wide palm. It's so comfortable, so serene to do this; something he's imagined for months.

"Do you want breakfast?"

She surprises him, her brows rising as she asks him. He stares at her, momentarily distracted by the way, her fingers traced tiny circles against his pectorals.

"Uh. Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

"I'll make it," she says rolling out of bed, tugging on her bathrobe. "You like waffles right?"

"Who doesn't?"

He goes to the bathroom to freshen up, changing back into his clothes before he joins her in the kitchen. She's wearing a robe, making waffles in a small contraption humming to herself. He hides a wide smile, not wanting to come off as a loser who just gazes at her all the time, smiling. But he can't really help it.

"You want a coffee?" She asks looking briefly over her shoulder when she hears him.

"Do you really need to ask?"

She gives a throaty laugh, flicking the brew button. While he waits for the coffee to percolate Joel's eyes dance around the apartment.

He's been here a few times, but usually so stressed about running into the cousin that he'd urged Jackie and her bedroom as soon as possible. Now he takes it in at his leisure, seeing the small bits of the cousin in the decor.

In his surveying his eyes land on a framed photo hung on the wall, a colorful wood frame holding a smiling Jackie and her cousin at the beach. They have their arms around each other flashing peace signs and grinning widely.

His stomach sinks; jaw tightening as he recalls what awaits him in a day.

But then the cousin starts to hum again as she grabs two mugs, not even aware she's doing it as far as he can tell. His feels his body flood with affection for her his blue mood forgotten because she's worth it. She's worth everything he has to go through. But only if she wants it too.

She pours them both a coffee, handing him his and ducking her head into her shoulder in a shy, teasing fashion.

"That's a thank you coffee."

"For what?"

"For making me come."

Surprised laughter escapes him in response, loud and booming. And when she joins in with her own tinkling laughter seconds later it's like they make music.

She serves them waffles with syrup and bananas, shrugging that Jackie ate the last of the whipped cream. At that she winces, like she's just mentioned a taboo subject she shouldn't bring up. But he doesn't falter at all, doesn't look at her with disappointment.

He just nods, bending forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"S'okay baby, syrup is just fine with me."

He watches the grin that crosses her face when he says that, observing that she likes the nickname. That's good, because it just rolls off his tongue when he's around her. It's a strange dichotomy where they haven't spent all that much time together, but he feels he's known her his entire life.

She puts on an old Miles Davis record before they eat, the jazzy bleat of his trumpet taking away any potential awkwardness.

When he takes her hand as they eat she doesn't say anything. She just gives one of her tiny, pleased smiles into her coffee. It's her shy smile, he's coming to realize.

"Will you stay?" She says quietly, eyes averted in case he says no. "Like, overnight?"

Joel tries not to grin too widely but fails. A whole day and night with her? The thought makes his stomach flutter pleasantly.

"I'd love to."

Joel insists on cleaning up after breakfast, informing me that since I cooked it's his job to clean.

I force myself not to make comparisons between him and his brother. I clear from my mind the fact that Tommy never saw fit to clear a table after I'd cooked. That he never showed the same enthusiasm for my job that Joel does.

It's not fair to hold that comparison. Tommy had many virtues, many good things about him and he treated me fantastically. I just didn't have that same feeling I have with Joel. That strong, intense pull that feels like fate. That makes me want to be in his arms and in his brain all at once.

Leaving the house is a bad idea for now. So a walk or a drink out are not an option. Instead we spread out on the couch, bellies full of waffles, the smell of coffee still in the air.

And then we talk.

We talk about how Joel's job is going and I can finally say the thoughts that I've held back for so long. That I'm so proud of him for chasing this, for not giving up even when things got tough. The tips of his ears go pink when I say that, a flush settling over his cheekbones that he tries to hide by looking at his hands. He's pleased.

And in turn he tells me how much he's loved my writing, how he's been able to see the progression of me finding my voice through every article. I have to blink back tears when I hear that. No one has ever spoken about my work that way.

But neither of us slows down as we talk because the topics keep springing up. As soon as one of us is finished the other is launching into another story, a childhood memory, a future desire. It's like we're old friends catching up after long absence, almost tripping over our words.

Excited to share with the one person who truly wants to listen.

Lunch is a combination of grapes, cheese and crackers that they eat on the balcony in cheap plastic chairs, soaking up the sunshine. Leftovers from the fridge since neither of them wants to leave the apartment. Joel doesn't say it, but he doesn't want to waste a moment of their time together.

They pass the grapes back and forth, trying to compete at how many they can toss in the air and catch in their mouths. They're both abysmal at it. But just as she was that night in the arcade, the cousin is relentless in her pursuit of winning.

"Just need practice," the cousin says with concentration. She tilts her head back, tossing it high and both of them laughing when it bounces off her chin.

"Fuck. There goes my dreams of an Olympic career in grape tossing."

The cousin closes her eyes and her serene face tilts up to the sun. Joel thinks he could stare at her for hours, totally enraptured.

"You never told me you liked Bradbury," she says out of nowhere.

"Ray Bradbury?"

"Yeah. I told you I liked him ages ago and you didn't say anything. But in your office you have pretty much every book he ever wrote."

Joel shields his eyes from the sun high in the sky, speaking without thinking.

"Ashley bought me those."

He freezes like an animal caught in a sniper's view when his ex wife’s name slips out. Shit why did he bring her up now of all times?

He waits for the anger or the irritation at his ex wife being brought up. Waits for the cousin to tell him to shut up about it. Waits for her to push back from her chair, step inside and tell him she'd prefer if he left.

When she grips the chair arms he thinks she's preparing to do just that, but instead she just leans back, shooting a smirk his way.

"So I guess I should call Ashley to talk about Dandelion Wine then? Since you’re a Bradbury poseur?"

A relieved laugh escapes him, panic subsiding.

"Naw. She knew I loved him but I'd never really bought fun books for myself. Just ones on home repair and stuff like that."

"I'm glad she did that," the cousin says. "I think a full bookshelf says a lot about a person."

"Oh yeah? Didn't see many books in your room. Should I be worried?"

"I keep them under my bed in totes," she tells him with a cheeky smile. "I wanted built-in shelves when we moved in but never got around to it."

"So instead you have them under your bed?"

"Yeah. It's a good system though."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

Joel glances into the sweet blue sky with a little smile on his face. He thinks of the books, of the record shop, of their coffee.

"Seems like we have a lot in common."

"Yeah, we do," she says airily, but there's something behind her voice, a tentativeness.

He holds her hand, fingers laced on top of the chair arm. He marvels at how perfectly their digits fit.

He doesn't mean to, but a far off thought intrudes on the calm because he wonders if her fingers fit this perfectly with Tommy's. If his brother once sat where he does in the same pose, with the same reverence for the woman next to him. It makes him think of his little brother at home, devastated.

"Tommy was-"

"Don't," the cousin interrupts, brow crinkling. "Not yet."

He knows what she means. That real life will intrude soon enough, they should just enjoy this. The sunshine their bodies close together.

He leans over in his chair, plastic creaking as his fingers come to graze her cheek. She meets his eyes, hers glassy and sad. He hates himself for doing that to her.

"Baby..."

He leans over further, one hand curving over the arm of his chair to get nearer to her, to press his mouth to hers, to chase away the anguish he caused in her eyes.

But the arm of the cheap plastic chair snaps under his weight and he goes lurching as it breaks off, crashing into her, sending them both flying to the ground, chairs clattering.

"Fuck!"

Panic suffuses him, concerned he's hurt her. But when he rights himself he looks over to see the cousin doubled over in laughter, her eyes squeezed shut, her laughter fairly booming as she kneels there on the balcony floor.

At the sight Joel laughs as well, both in embarrassment and relief to see her tears are forgotten.

Once inside again we decide that a game of cards would be fun. Crazy Eights of course. Like children we sit cross-legged across the coffee table, eyes bright cheeks warm from outside.

"Wait," I say noticing the small line of blood at his temple as he deals. "I think you cut yourself when you fell."

Joel raises his hand to his temple, flinching when he feels the sting. I rise quickly going to the bathroom and returning with antiseptic swabs.

I clean it delicately, surprised at how deep it is. Not enough that he'll need stitches, but enough that I put a band-aid over it.

"Care Bears?" He says when he watches me peel it from its backing.

"They were on sale."

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't stop me from plastering it over his cut. Without thought I lean forward and press my lips over the back of it, kissing it gently. I hear his soft, contented sigh.

"Thank you, baby."

We go back to the game and I can see the syrupy way Joel looks at me as he deals the cards.

I can't help but watch Joel's face go through every motion; the concentration, the soft chuckle he gives when I get frustrated at a losing hand, the long yearning looks he shoots when he thinks I'm not looking.

I wish I could take snapshots of every expression he makes, hide them in a box of memories to look at whenever I miss him

Because I will miss him.

I have to accept that this sweet perfection can only last so long. The hours are ticking by, a subtle reminder Jackie will be returning, and with her will bring an end to this utopia we've created within the walls of my apartment.

There's no way Joel and I could ever be together, not truly. Perhaps stolen hours, kisses behind closed doors, take out and TV watching if no one is around. But we'll never be able to exist outside those same doors. Never hold hands and go to the movies, never feed each other ice cream as we walk along the shoreline. Not when there's a chance we could be caught, not when there's a chance we could hurt two people we love so much.

We'll have to be satisfied with this, this perfect twenty four hours we've been given.

The sun moves shadows around the apartment as time goes on, the two of us eventually reclining on the couch. I put on another record, this one an old singer my grandmother used to love, one that I really enjoy on sunny days. Joel smiles the second the first string starts.

"I love this one. Haven't heard it in ages."

He leans his head back against the couch cushion, eyes falling shut as he listens to the sweet melody.

I watch him under tired lids, attention stuck on his mouth, his sharp nose, his trimmed beard. He's so handsome, his face so perfect to me now. There's not one hair, one wrinkle, one freckle I would change.

We relax there, listening to the violin when my phone buzzes. It's like I've forgotten the rest of the world exists.

It's a text from my mom asking if I'm coming for a visit soon. Will I be bringing Tommy?

I write back hurriedly, that I'll be by in a few weeks. I don't mention Tommy. He's only met them once on zoom and neither of my parents seemed that impressed. They didn't say it, but I could tell they weren't impressed at his lack of direction, at him still living in his brother's basement.

Despite it being unsaid, I was so furious with them I didn't talk to them for two months. They must have gotten the message because ever since then they've tried to get him to visit.

The problem is I didn't want him to. I couldn't explain it then, but I didn't want him in my childhood home, cataloging the child I once was. I didn't want him floundering on how to talk to my parents or forgetting that my dad gets uptight if people cuss.

A strange, unbidden thought floods into my brain. Of bringing Joel home with me instead.

I'd want Joel there in person to slide his arm around my waist and guide me to the front door of my childhood home. I know he'd bring flowers for my mom and shake my dad's hand with a clear, firm "Nice to meet you, sir."

I know dinner would be full of laughter and their approval at his focus and ambition, impressed that he's started his own company. That my mom would get starry eyed when I told them how Joel cut out all of my articles before we were even together.

But that can't happen, I remind myself. This is a fantasy. Because it would never be that easy. There would be questions. Judgement.

What happened with Tommy?

Isn't Joel Jackie's soul mate?

How could you do that to her?

I frown at my phone, distracted by that last thought in particular. Soul mates. Joel and Jackie being soul mates was never not up for consideration. They had the matching tattoos; they got along so well, they had chemistry.

Meanwhile Joel and I were fire meeting gasoline from the start. I still remember that fizz that started in my body. How I called him tool belt guy, how I couldn't stop fixating on him. How I couldn't stand him. It felt strong, a connection I couldn't explain...

I don't believe in soul mates, I remind myself. The idea is ridiculous.

I sneak a glance his way to see he's still tilted back on the couch, his eyes closed and his plump mouth whispering the song lyrics under his breath. I quickly pull up Google, typing hurriedly.

How do I know if I met my soul mate?

The results come in quickly, including the website that Jackie always used to reference in conversations about her and Joel. Soulmark. I click the link, my heart pounding in my ears. Why am I doing this? Why am I looking up something I don't even believe in?

Soulmark: because fate always leaves its mark.

I roll my eyes at this, but I still keep reading.

At SoulMark™ we specialize in uncovering the deeper meaning behind twin tattoos, those mirrored markings shared by two individuals destined to find one another.

The rest of the introduction is equally banal and I scroll through it quickly until I find a link I'm looking for.

How do I know if this is my soul mate?

My eyes dart to the still relaxing Joel and then back to my phone screen.

Below are the most common, signs that you’ve encountered your true soulmate: 1. The mark never lies You may have gotten a tattoo yourself or woken up with a mystery scar. Whatever the reason you have been marked! When compared with that of your soul mate, the design is identical down to the smallest detail. Soulmarks are never approximate, they are identical. 2. A shift in reality The moment you see them, something shifts, a sudden fire, a frission. Many report a sudden awareness, as if a missing piece has quietly clicked into place. 3. Emotional Confusion For some, the soulmate connection is an easy seamless thing. For others emotional confusion can come in if your connection to this person has been negative. Dislike, rivalry, or even hatred can mask a deeper bond struggling to emerge.

"What're you reading?"

I nearly drop the phone as I look up at Joel's arched brow. He's still sunk into the cushions, but he looks towards my phone in curiosity.

"Work," I lie through a croak. "New article they want me to write."

"Oh yeah?" He grins, looking at me with admiration. " Any hints?

"Not yet," I whisper, not able to keep his eyes as I say that. "Still trying to narrow it down."

He gives me a curious look, but he doesn't comment further. Instead he reaches into his own pocket to produce his phone.

"Reminds me, I should check my work email."

He pulls up his own phone, starting to scroll with a focused look on his face. The second I feel he's distracted, I dive back into my reading.

4. I burn for you Some report warmth, tingling, or a faint buzzing sensation when near their match. While not universal, this is considered one of the strongest physiological indicators. 5. Repeated Coincidences You keep crossing paths. Same places, same timing, again and again. These are not accidents. Soulmark connections naturally pull individuals together until recognition occurs.

I close the website, heartbeat hammering in my chest. No no no. This can't be right. If Joel was my soul mate I wouldn't be trying to hide it! Right? But my brain isn't letting go of this, like a dog with a bone. I open up to a fresh browser.

Why am I trying to hide my soul mark?

Google answers quickly.

One or both individuals may feel compelled to conceal their soul mark tattoo. This instinct often stems from fear of what it means, fear of the person it connects you to, or fear of being wrong.

Shit.

I glance at Joel, suddenly dying to know his version of things.

"Why did you hate me so much when we first met?" I ask. My socked feet are in his lap, having traveled there within the last few minutes.

He rests back easily in the cushions, one hand holding his phone, the other resting over my folded ankles.

"I told you, I've never hated you," Joel insists, rolling his eyes. "Just thought you were annoying sometimes."

I nudge his ribs with my toe and he gives an overdramatic grunt. He squeezes my foot and I giggle. He looks at me for a long time, heavy lids and twitching lips like he's trying not to smile back.

"You started it, you know."

"Huh?"

He shifts eyes distant like he's remembering it again. "You dropped your phone and you blamed me. I tried teasing you and you were so pissed."

"That's not how I remember it."

"M'sure it isn't."

I nudge him in the ribs again, trying to tamp down the smile that threatens to spread across my face . This topic which would have infuriated me only two days ago now makes me quietly amused.

I think that he's going to avoid the question and then he finally speaks again, teasing and soft.

"You know that moment I first saw you, really saw you, I felt like I was on fire."

My head snaps over to face him, eyes wide. He's serious now, mouth full and static. He's waiting, trying to see if he was alone in that instantaneous feeling. It's like he sees inside me. Like he knows all the secret places within me that I shelter.

"I felt like I was buzzing," I finally tell him with wide eyes. "Like there was lightning under my skin."

"Really?"

I nod.

The two of us lapse into a heavy silence. It seeps into the air around us, the apartment so thick with mutual understanding it feels we could choke on it.

"Do you still feel like that?"

"Every time I see you."

And I know right then, the thing that I've tried to push down over and over. The truth I've been terrified to admit.

Joel Miller is my soul mate.

"Hand me your clothes."

"Any special reason?"

"I'm putting them through the wash," she tells him plainly. "You're spending the night; you'll want fresh clothes for tomorrow."

"So I'm just supposed to sit around here naked?"

She gives him a cheeky grin, eyes traveling over his body. "Maybe... " she moves to the closet, tugging out a purple robe covered in sunflowers. "Or maybe I'll let you borrow my old robe."

"That?" With all those flowers?"

"You have a hatred of flowers I don't know about?"

He steps closer, eyes scanning the fuzzy fabric. "It'll never fit me."

She looks him over again, head tilted. "You're right. Should just stay naked."

"Only if you do too."

"I'm not the one afraid of flowers, Miller."

Joel undresses slowly, handing her his clothes. He's not immune to the way her eyes trail down his bare stomach and to his twitching member.

He watches her move to the machine from the couch with immense lust dripping through his veins. He sees her tossing in his clothes along with a load of hers and has a moment of true crisis.

I'm not the one afraid of flowers, Miller.

Why couldn't she just have a daisy tattoo that matched his? Why couldn't this all be simple? Why does Jackie match him but not fit?

He stares at the cousin feeling confused, watching as she pours detergent into the machine.

He's never believed in the success of soul mates. After his parents and Ashley and now Jackie, the very idea sits uneasily within him. There's a woman standing there with no bond to him, no matching mark, and yet he feels more at ease, more affected by her than anyone before.

But it's selfish isn't it? Because even if he doesn't believe it, the cousin does have a soul mate. Somewhere in this world is a man who could love her better than anyone, could understand her deeper than Joel could ever hope to.

And yet...

I felt like I was buzzing. Like there was lightning under my skin.

She feels something for Joel, just as he does for her. Stronger than Jackie or Ashley or any of the other women who left their own varying levels of impression.

He watches the cousin spin the dial on the wash and smiles when she skips over to him, bouncing on the couch before collapsing into him. He feels like he can breathe again with her body pressing against his, the scent of vanilla enveloping them. He strokes her face and buries his face in her neck.

He doesn't care if she doesn't have the same tattoo. Doesn't care if her soul mate is out in the world searching for her because she's here with him, in his arms and he's not giving her up. He knows he can give her everything.

Her arms crook around his neck, mouth on his.

"Let's have a shower while we wait."

We emerge from the bathroom when the shower water has finally gone cold and three orgasms have been wrung out of me by a very zealous Joel on his knees. I'm shaky, my thighs wobbly. Joel notices and scoops me up into his arms. He takes me back into bed where he coaxes one more from me, leaving me boneless.

We nap in the waning sunlight, waking when the sky is darkening, our mouths tacky with sleep. He kisses me when our bellies start to rumble, murmuring that he wants to take me for dinner.

"Joel, we can't. What if Tommy saw? Or a mutual friend and it got back to him?"

"Shit. Of course," he nods. "You're right."

The disappointment is palpable in the room then, the mood changing from cozy and laid back to thick with tension. It becomes very obvious that there's a topic we have avoided which now needs to be addressed.

But I'm a coward.

"Let's order in."

We order Chinese and as we wait for the food he shifts the laundry from the washer to the dryer, mocking me for the ragged panties with the blueberry print I've had for years.

"Blueberries? Honestly?"

"Says the man wearing a Care Bears band-aid."

"Which I'm taking off by the way," he tells me, crumpling the care bear bandaid and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

He's still totally bare, his firm ass facing me as he teases and it's only the knock from the delivery man at the door that stops me from tackling Joel to the floor.

We eat in front of the television under a blanket together, starting up watch a documentary on ghost elephants, but neither of us is thinking about it. We're a million thoughts away on the same topic.

Time is running out.

My head is against his shoulder, his fingers in my hair as they were that night at the movies. They stroke gently, unconsciously. When he gets too close to my ear I flinch, going to grab our leftovers and mumbling that I'm going to pop them into the fridge.

I think about the tattoo behind my ear as I scrape noodles into the Tupperware. I didn't have time to cover the tattoo up post shower and I'm paranoid he'll see it.

How I can explain that I hid my tattoo for so long? Even as he struggled understanding our pull to one another. That he blamed himself for not being able to control himself.

But I did it for Jackie and her future. I did it for Tommy and ours.

Joel won't understand, he'll think that I did it for self-preservation or he'll think it was a deliberate dishonesty. A mind game, a way to fuck with him. After what happened with Ashley he’s gun-shy, the first sign of falsehood would send him packing.

I glance over to see him watching me from the couch, a gooey look in his eyes. A look of trust. He trusts me.

I should tell him right now, I know I should. Even though he'll be upset, even though we'll likely fight.

But this moment is so perfect and I just want to exist in this happiness for a little while longer.

Especially if it's only for tonight.

"I want to take you to bed," Joel whispers against her earlobe, soft and slow when the night draws midnight. "And I wanna take my time."

She's got her eyes closed, lips parted when he pulls back. Like she's frozen in arousal. He gives a crooked smile at that, kissing her slack mouth until she comes back to herself, arms going around his shoulders.

"Yes," she says as they move to the bedroom, her sliding off her robe and Joel so thankful he's already naked.

He moves slowly over her, taking his time teasing and caressing, making her arch and breathlessly moan his name. He keeps going with excruciating deliberateness, mouth languidly buried between her legs, open mouthed kisses and body heavy on her as they grind together.

His fingers circling her clit, her thighs dropping open as she guides his fingers deeper, teaching him exactly how she needs it while her hips roll. Joel can only groan her name as he watches this, as she takes her pleasure and calls his name when she reaches that blinding apex.

"Inside me," she whimpers after she's come down, tugging at his arm. "Please."

He kisses her before he goes to reach for a condom. She shakes her head, catching and then holding his wrist mid-air.

"Bare," she tells him, voice full of conviction.

For a moment Joel is worried he's going to erupt right there. "You sure?"

She nods, urging him to her core with shaking fingers. It's still so new to them both, so exhilarating and terrifying to touch and explore. She's so focused on this task of lining him up, eyes downcast as she watches him begin to enter her free of a condom.

"Eyes baby," he says hoarsely.

She feels that exquisite stretch begin as her eyes go to meet his. He's not going to rush this, not going to waste the time they have by just fucking her.

He sees her mouth drop open, a silent scream as he fills her. His own jaw drops at the ecstasy it brings, of not just feeling the velvet clench of her around him, but knowing that same pleasure exists in her. That they give it to one another as easily as breathing.

His hands are planted on either side of her on the mattress as his hips begin to slowly undulate. She holds him tightly by the waist, watching as he moves above her.

He growls her name as he sinks further, mouth finding hers. She whines, urging his tongue into her mouth. They kiss deeply as he gives one slow, deep thrust to the hilt. Buried within her so deeply she gasps.

"Joel ..I just..." Her eyes are focused on his but barely.

"I've wanted you for so long," he says as he gazes down at her, shoulders caging her as the mattress groans under them. "So goddamn long."

Her body opens up to him as he withdraws and slowly pushes back, even deeper than before.

"Joel, you feel so good," she tells him, voice slurred. "It's b-etter than anything."

"I know, baby," Joel grunts. "S'like you were made for me."

"No," she argues, a crease between her brows as he begins to thrust harder. "You were made for me."

He grins down at her, watching her brows saddle, body starting to jolt under his thrusts. She whines his name, causing Joel's flesh to prickle with heat. He can't stop watching how she moves for him, how right she feels.

"I thought about this for months," he pants, unable to stop babbling when he's inside her. "About having you in bed, of makin' love to you."

He sees the moment she hears it, eyes limpid and it's like he can feel a surge from her body into his.

Making love.

That's what this is, isn’t it? It's not that desperate fumbling from this morning. That steamy need from the shower and couch. This is slow and sweet and when they rock together it feels different.

"We're making love," she says tentatively, part question, part acknowledgement.

"Yeah," he says throatily, eyes connected with hers. "We are."

They rise and fall like the deepest parts of the ocean. A rhythm of carnal longing and desire. A dance of sighs and moans. And when they finish, bodies slick with sweat and lips swollen from kissing, they smile breathlessly at one another, tears in their eyes.

Afterwards Joel holds me, kissing my forehead and murmuring that he can't believe how good it was. That it's never felt like that for him.

"Me neither," I whisper to him.

The lamp beside the bed illuminates his handsome face, the sex-mussed hair and swollen lips.

I stifle a yawn, my eyes starting to shutter. I want to fall asleep like this, face in his neck, our bodies entwined. But something remains in the back of my mind. An ugly fact that we can't overlook anymore.

I pull away gently extricating myself before rolling onto my back. I can't touch him, can't look at him when I speak.

"You okay?" He asks warily.

"Jackie's home tomorrow night," I say, flinching when I mention my cousin's name. It feels like I've committed a sin by bringing the name into our time together.

"Yeah." Joel's mouth thins. "I'm picking her up at the airport."

"Oh. Right."

We lapse into silence, eyes on the ceiling. I'm so confused at my own minds cognitive dissonance. How I can lay here with Joel and feel like everything is so perfect and so right while another part of me knows how brutal this will be when my cousin finds out. Because there's no way she won't.

But I don't want this feeling to go away; I don't want Joel to go away. I can admit it to myself, that I desire him not just in my bed but in my life. A man who instinctively knows what I need, a man whose mind I can read just as easily. A man whose body fits with mine and who's very presence calls my name.

"What's going to happen next?" I ask, eyes on his. "With us?"

"What do you want to happen with us?"

His voice is light when he asks it, but I know he waits for my answer, his own unspoken but shown in every action.

I think about the inevitable falling out between Jackie and Tommy when they find out. The bits of hurt and pain that won't really go away. But could we work past it?

It's not guaranteed, our feelings could wither like fruit on the vine, we could become incompatible, learn to hate each other. We would be sacrificing so much.

"Do you think Tommy would ever forgive us for this?"

"My brother has a temper," Joel says hesitantly. "And, this hurt him. We hurt him. I don't know how he's going to take it. I think it would take a long time for him to move past it."

I was hoping for a different answer. One that could explain away my fears. I stare at Joel across the pillow, heart swelling the longer he matches my gaze. Trying would be worth it, wouldn't it? To have days like this. To come home to a partner who understands me like nothing else.

A man who I find endlessly fascinating, who I can imagine talking with when he gets stuck on things for his job. A man to have passionate conversations with me long into the night over things I've written.

But I don't vocalize this, something in me is too afraid to. His eyes are shiny and he touches my cheek with his fingertips, his touch is gentle as his voice

"You need to know something," Joel whispers. "And I'm sorry if it's too soon or unfair to say, but I can't keep it in. Baby, I don't know how things are going to turn out, and I can't promise people aren't going to get hurt. All I do know is that I love you and want to keep on loving you for as long as I can."

The words seem to echo in the room, everything suddenly stilling like time itself has stopped.

All of a sudden everything we've been worried about fades away. All that's left is this man in my bed, holding me tightly and professing his love from me. My face splits with a smile that comes from my very soul. A beam that I shoot his way, rivaling the sun.

"I love you too," I whisper back.

And it doesn't scare me to say it. It doesn't make me tense up to hear it. It flows freely, the words natural. It feels like I can breathe deeper, easier. Like those words had been lodged in my throat, partially cutting off my oxygen for months.

Joel looks at me in quiet awe, eyes scanning my face like he's waiting for me to tell him I'm kidding. When I just stare back at him, still grinning, he returns the expression.

"You love me?"

"Yes." I don't look away when I repeat it. "I love you. I love you so, so much, Joel. I love you, I love you."

I'm giddy as I say it, my heart thudding with each word. I love you. Thump, thump thump.

When a tear slips out of one corner of his left eye, drifting towards the pillow he brushes it away brusquely, clearing his throat.

"Allergies?" I tease.

"Totally. When's the last time you dusted in here?"

I giggle as he brings me into his arms and presses me up against his warm chest. I inhale the vanilla soap from my shower mixing with the natural heady musk of his body.

The question of what comes next still lingers in the air. But I don't want to think about it right now, I don't want it to ruin this moment.

"Tomorrow," I say, snuggling up closer to him. "Let's make a plan tomorrow."

"Yeah," Joel agrees.

We fall asleep tangled in each other's arms, his breathing steady against my bare shoulder

My smile doesn't fade until I do.

Joel wakes early the next morning, eyes bleary. He feels the warmth of the cousin in his arms, peering down to see her pretty face slack with sleep. His heart beats a steady drumline the longer he looks at her. She loves him. She told him so. It's out there in the open, the two of them.

In every relationship before this has terrified him; the first step towards commitment, towards forever. Ashley had been the first to say it in their relationship, and Joel's initial reaction had been cold terror.

When he offered it to Jackie it had been under the pressure of her hints. The comment that soul mates and love went hand in hand and what was taking him so long to say it?

But saying it to the woman in his arms? It settles over him now like a warm blanket, comforting, right. Like she was the one he was meant to say it to all along.

He muses that he doesn't even have her phone number. He has to grab a post-it note from beside her laptop to leave her a note on her pillow before he slipped out the door.

Gone to get us breakfast xx

The cafe around the corner boasts amazing breakfast items. Cheesy potatoes on an egg filled homemade jalapeno bagel. Thick loaves for French toast dripping with cream and strawberries.

Now he's walking back from the cafe with a pastry bag in one hand and a bag of coffee beans in the other. A small nod to their love of caffeine, an innocuous memento for her to keep in the house when Jackie returns.

They'll eat in bed together, he decides as he crosses the street, a lazy smile spreading across his face. They'll share a coffee and the croissant in the pastry bag and then he's going to make love to her again.

He wants to see her in the morning light spread under him. Tired eyes, hair pooled on the pillow, fingers gripping him as she moans his name. Joel wants to see her in every light imaginable. Every position. Every room in the house. His house. The thought of having her in his bed makes his entire body thrum.

He wants it knowing that it isn't possible at all. Knowing that this giddy exhilaration will soon be tempered the second he sees Jackie.

"Joel?"

Jesus Christ.

It's Jackie tugging along her suitcase waving at him from the sidewalk in front of the building. His mouth runs dry.

"H-hey honey," he says with a wobble in his step as he approaches her. "I thought I was picking you up from the airport tonight."

"Managed to get the early flight, and I didn't want to wake you" she chirps, arm slipping around his waist. "I didn't know you'd be up so early on a Sunday. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?"

"Just checking out a work site," Joel says, surprised at how easy it is to lie. "Not sure if we want to take the contract on or not."

"Lucky me," she grins before looking over at the bag in his hand. "Why don't you come up to mine and I'll make you a real breakfast?"

Panic sets in. Big red lights that spell danger.

He can't text his girl to let her know what's going on. Can't warn her to hide his note and bury the take out boxes at the bottom of the trash. And he also can't just stand here with Jackie forever.

"Yeah," he finally says tightly. "Yeah, sure."

I exit the shower with a spring in my step, the note from Joel folded into my desk drawer. A memento. I catch my reflection in the mirror, not surprised to see the beam there. I don't think I've ever looked so happy.

I turn to the side, the tattoo peeking out from behind my ear. That little mark that has made everything so complicated. I know that I have to be honest with everyone now. Not just Jackie and Tommy, but with Joel as well.

"I'm telling him," I inform my reflection in the fogged up mirror. "The second he gets back."

I want this to be a fresh start, a real relationship. We'll take it slow, I think. No rushing into announcements. We've spent twenty four hours together. We don't know if this relationship can truly stand the test of time.

Except I know it will.

Because I feel it in my stomach, in my heart, in my head. The kind of certainty I've never had with another man before. I will tell him the truth; I’ll explain why I held back for so long. He’ll understand my point of view, I’m sure of it.

But when it’s not Joel who enters into the apartment moments later I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Jackie," I breathe.

I hold in a gasp eyes sailing around the room for any sign I've had a guest. The dishes have been cleaned; Joel is wearing his clothes from the wash. Nothing is out of place.

"Hey!" She says with a massive grin. "Miss me?"

She pushes the door further open and I see Joel's tall frame hunched behind her, carrying her suitcase in for her and looking as anxious as I feel. When his eyes connect with mine over her head I can see the panic there. The message he can't say out loud.

I didn't know she was coming back this soon.

"You're home early," I manage with a weak smile thrown her way. “How was the conference?”

If she notices that I'm acting odd she doesn't say anything. She just beams over at me, motioning to her suitcase.

"The conference was so boring, but I brought presents! And Joel, but I guess that's more a gift for me," she says casting a wink his way.

Sluggish possessiveness drips in my veins when I see how close she is to him.

He's mine.

"Why are you standing back there?" Jackie teases rolling her eyes at him. "My cousin doesn't bite."

I can't help it; I let out a strangled laugh. Both of them dart their eyes to me at the sound; Jackie in confusion and Joel in terror.

"Sorry, just thought of something funny."

Jackie gives me a weird look, shaking her head and telling me I'm a weirdo.

When I watch her hand go to grab his and pull Joel further into the apartment I feel like I'm seeing red. My fury ebbs only when I see how uncomfortable Joel looks.

I don't dare look at Joel too long because I'm already feeling the magnetic pull that exists when he's around, scared that Jackie will notice it. But she's immune to my internal crisis. She's cozying up to her boyfriend, lashes blinking up at him.

"Mmm, you smell good," she coos as she nuzzles into his neck.

My teeth clamp together as jealousy skitters across my skin. I feel like it's leaking out my pores at this point. Joel's face tilts, eyes searching mine. He must see something in them because he gently steps back from her, patting her back companionably.

"Thanks honey," Joel says with fake enthusiasm, cringing at the term of endearment. "What do you think of going out for breakfast?"

"I was gonna make you some here."

"Yeah, but, I feel like some fresh air."

"Okay. Just gimme a second to unpack," she says, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and smiling my way. "I want to give you your present first."

She moves to her bedroom, but not before giving me a squeeze as she passes. I smile, feeling miserable, knowing what awaits her during her breakfast with Joel.

Joel follows behind her, doing his best to avoid me. Shrinking from me to keep from touching me.

But it's like he can't help it, his body brushing mine as he goes to pass me. I keep my eyes averted, body trembling. I want to touch him. To have him wrap his arms around me and tell me everything is handled, everything will be okay.

He darts his eyes to the back of Jackie's head, then in a quick motion squeezes my hand as he passes. Sudden and brief, he barely breaks his stride. But it's enough to make me feel better. Enough that I feel like we can handle this.

Joel will talk to her about ending things; I'll talk about the tattoo. We’ll take some time before we let Tommy and Jackie know. If they are aware that we’re soul mates they may understand then - we're soul mates. Surely they can't hate us for something out of our control.

And just as I'm relaxing, just as I'm imagining a possibility of a future where Joel and I can be together without losing Jackie and Tommy, my cousin suddenly stops mid-step.

I sense it from across the room- something is wrong. Something that makes her spine straighten. Her fingers leave the handle of the suitcase and her slender neck shifts, looking over her shoulder to face an approaching Joel.

"Vanilla."

"Huh?"

Joel leans down, ear tilted her way as he nears her. He hasn't heard what she's said, but I have and it chills me.

She turns around slowly, one heel propped. The look on her face gives me a hollowed out feeling in my gut. She looks like she's seen a ghost.

"That's what you smell like," Jackie says looking his way. "You smell like vanilla."

Joel's eyes flick to me and then back to her. And if he hadn't made that quick, impulsive move things may have turned out differently. But as it was Jackie catches the flicker of uncertainty, the fear. The frantic way he looks my way. Like he’s silently begging for me to help. I watch her lips thin.

"You smell like vanilla," she repeats, voice rising.

Joel goes rigid, and I know it's taking everything in him not to look my way again.A sheen of sweat has gathered along his hairline, catching the light.

I take a shaky step forward, feigning amusement.

"You're just smelling my perfume," I tell her. "You know I spray that shit everywhere."

I force a laugh but no one else is smiling. Joel's face has gone ashen and Jackie looks like she's going to be sick.

"You said you have presents," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I hope it's a mouse pad with a palm tree on it."

She’s ignoring me though, not going for the bait.

"It's not just in the air," she says, raising her chin at Joel. "I smelled it on you. On your clothes, your skin."

The detergent I use. My soap in our bathroom. My perfume. My fucking deodorant. Everything is vanilla tinged, my scent of choice. I don't even notice it anymore, but of course Jackie would. She's used to his musky, woodsy scent and now Joel smells like me.

"Probably from that cafe," Joel says with a forced laugh. "Pretty sure they had vanilla scones."

"No, Joel. That's not it."

His jaw clenches, and then loosens, betraying a flicker of shame. This drags his gaze briefly to the floor.

"Jackie you're imagining things," I say, trying to be helpful. But my voice is shaky and Jackie's face has gone bloodless.

She cranes her head, looking at me as if I'm a stranger.

"Am I?"

I can feel my posture tightening, shoulders lifted. I draw my arms close to my body, holding myself. A tremor runs through my hands, fingers pressing into the sleeves of my shirt.

Calm down. Calm down. She doesn't know anything. You can salvage this. Just think of an excuse. Any excuse.

"No. You're not."

Both of us snap our attention to Joel whose shoulders cave inward as if bracing for impact, collar of his flannel pulling tight around his neck. I see the determination in his eyes and I'm going to be sick. I'm sure of it.

"You're not imagining anything," Joel murmurs, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "I don't wanna lie, you don't deserve it."

His fingers twitch at his sides before curling into loose fists. The shallow rise and fall of his chest quickens each breath uneven.

No, I want to shout. Not like this. She can't find out like this!

"I was here last night."

Jackie swallows thickly. "To sleep?"

Joel's body bows forward, his head hung in shame. The answer is unspoken but sounds like a gunshot in the quiet apartment.

"No," Jackie whispers, looking at me with big wet eyes and shaking her head. "No, you wouldn't do that to me."

I want nothing more than to sweep her into my arms and apologize. To kiss her face and beg her forgiveness. My sweet cousin, my pseudo sister. The girl who has had everyone she loves taken from her.

"Jackie I'm so sorry," I say through a wobble in my voice. "We didn't mean for it to happen. We tried to stay away from each other-."

She's standing there like a toy robot that's run out of batteries. But when I say that her head lifts.

"How long has this been going on?"

Since the moment we met and the world shifted. Since before we were born but destined to find one another.

"The cabin," I whisper, eyes averted.

"The cabin," she echoes softly. Her eyes move between Joel and I. "You've both been lying to my face for months?"

Yes.

"We tried so hard to deny the attraction because we care so much for you and Tommy. We really tried to stay away from each other," Joel is insisting. "Everything we did was so we didn't hurt you and Tommy.”

Jackie makes a strangled noise that I think is a laugh.

"And how is that working out for you?"

"We fucked up," I tell her hoarsely. "I know you must feel betrayed. And this is not how we wanted things to go. I just hope in time you can forgive us. And that we can regain your trust." My voice is cracking. “I’m so so sorry, Jackie.”

There are more tears gathering in Jackie's eyes, and the sight makes my stomach bottom out.

"You hated him," Jackie says, voice thick from her swallowed cry. "From day one you hated him."

I hear Joel hold his breath when I look at Jackie with an infinitely sorrowful expression.

"I don't hate him. I never really did."

Gone is the warmth normally found in her honeyed gaze. Now all that remains is a cold, flinty stare.

"How could you do this to me?"

"I don't know," I say and now a sob breaks through my words. "Fuck, Jackie, I don't know."

Joel moves his attention my way, his chest tight. His hand rises instinctively towards me, wanting to comfort me. When Jackie sees it she literally cringes, shaking her head.

"I can't believe this."

"You need to understand how hard we fought this," he says, his eyes wet. "The guilt we've felt. The way we stayed away from each other even though it hurt."

"So what changed then?" She asks. Her hands are folded in front of her. "What made it suddenly okay to blow up both your relationships?"

Joel's eyes slowly drag up to meet mine and despite everything, my heart softens just looking at him, serenity found in his gaze.

"Because the feeling never went away. It was something that I've never felt before, I can't explain it. Something I couldn't let go. And I was tired of fighting it."

I swallow hard, throat constricting. The words are so beautiful and so wrong at this moment. I shouldn't feel like crying out of love.

"I know you and I are soul mates, Jackie," Joel says, swinging back to face her. "And I swear, I loved you. That was never a lie. A part of me will always love you. But not in the way you need."

I feel before I notice Jackie's focus has shifted over to me, a sharpness to the edges that makes my skin prickle. This is a sickening quiet, the kind that sucks out the air from the room.

"He doesn't know."

I feel that same sensation one gets one going down a roller coaster. The flipping of my stomach, the breathless fear of it all when she looks back at Joel, eyes narrowed.

"We aren't soul mates, Joel," Jackie tells him with a sardonic laugh. "We never were. I was just too fucking deluded to admit it."

Bile is rising in my throat as I look between them.

No, not yet. Not before I've had a chance to tell him. Please no.

His posture loosens, shoulders slightly hunched. He's confused and I want to run over to him, to clap my palms over his ears.

"What do you mean we're not soul mates?"

"What I mean is that we're not destined to be together, not meant to ride off into the sunset. We never were," Jackie says. "We were just two lonely people who fooled ourselves into thinking we were something more."

His brow knits unevenly, one side lifting higher than the other, creating a puzzled expression before he squints at her, clearly thrown.

"We have our tattoos."

I watch as Jackie raises a trembling finger my way, her lips thin and twitching. She can barely keep her voice even.

"She and I got matching ones for my birthday. Same spot, same design, same night."

For a minute the world slows down, every second an eternity. I feel like I'm seeing everything in dragging hours instead of seconds. I see when Joel follows where she points, how his body shifts my way, how his large brown eyes widen when he understands what she's said.

"Wait, what? What is she talking about?"

His mouth opens a fraction, lips pressing together again in hesitation, like he’s about to respond but can’t find the correct way to hold his mouth. He’s staring at me like I've grown a second head but I can't speak. I've gone mute, struck dumb by my own terror.

"You don't have a tattoo," Joel says, a statement not a question, still staring at me. "You don't."

I know that the longer I remain silent the worse this moment feels, but I can't think of what to say.

"You don't have a tattoo," Joel repeats, only now he's come a step closer to me.

Instinctively I back up. I feel so nauseated, sure that my legs are going to collapse. One hand lifts toward my chest, fingers curling faintly by the notch in my neck before lowering again. I’m going to be sick.

"Show him," Jackie orders in a harsh voice.

I look over to Joel, hoping that he'll stop her. But he's just staring at me with a furrowed brow. I can see his chest is expanding and constricting rapidly as his breathing continues to elevate. A terrified part of me wants to start running out the door, but what would that solve? I'm just delaying the inevitable.

"Show him," she repeats and her voice is colder now. A tone I've not heard from my cousin.

I swallow my anxious whimper when Joel comes to stand opposite me, waiting patiently for me to do as she asked. He's so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin and I in that moment I know, I just know that I'm headed for a terrible fall.

Joel can't look away from her cousin. Can't stop this terrifying panic that is flooding his body.

Her lips part then press together again, a small, nervous motion that solidifies his anxiety.

Jackie is telling the truth.

With tender slowness Joel raises a hand, watching it as if disembodied when it slowly moves to gather her hair into a loose ponytail.

"Joel, wait," she starts, eyes limpid.

"Just let me see," he whispers.

She breathes in sharply. Her eyes glisten up at him wide and unsteady but she finally acquiesces. Joel can see the tic of her pulse in her neck when she turns her head to the side.

It's revealed to him pieces at a time, through the strands of her hair. But it comes into view, the small delicate etching behind her ear. The one that matches his exactly.

His fingers graze it, still not believing that it's real. As it connects with his skin that same crackling electricity he felt that first time he met her shoots through his body. The blood roars in Joel's ears as he stares at the matching tattoo. That small inked daisy, so innocent and so devastating.

The cousin tugs away from him, hair slipping through his fingers to cover it once more but the damage has already been done

"Do you understand now?"

As if they've just remembered that Jackie is still in the room their attention snaps her way.

She steps towards them, brows furrowed as her eyes scan between the two of them.

"She's been your soul mate this entire time."

Joel moves his eyes to the cousin's, their gaze connecting. And the second it does, that familiar tugging in his ribs starts up. She looks terrified.

"Joel let me explain."

Joel feels like his world is physically tilting, as he stares at her. Things are sliding into place now, things he never understood before are now gaining clarity.

"Joel, just - I was going to tell you," the cousin is insisting, her eyes filling up with fresh tears. "The second you got back I was going to tell you."

He takes a slow step backwards.

"You lied to me."

Her lips move soundlessly, like she's trying to find the words. But Joel has heard and seen enough.

Joel moves silently, not making eye contact with either of the women before he's pushing open the front door out of the apartment and away from them.

I hear the shuffle of boots and I feel as he moves past me. I can he see the tears in his eyes now and it makes my heart ache.

I give out a soft yelp when the door slams behind him. Jackie and I are left in silence, the world falling, my heart breaking.

"I really thought you hated each other," Jackie murmurs, blinking rapidly from across the room.

"No, I don't hate him," I tell her while feeling a new sob building in my chest, "I love him."

The hurt expression that flashes across her face makes me feel like the most evil villain imaginable.

"I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Jack."

And even though I should stay and talk to my cousin, should beg for her forgiveness, all I can think about is the man walking away from me.

After a brief faltering pause my body moves after his, pivoting towards the door and away from Jackie's piercing glare.

I don't think of her standing motionless in the apartment, or the tears she's likely shedding. My steps are quick and turn urgent when I see his long legs carrying him down the steps.

He's halfway to his truck when I catch up with him, calling his name, trying to see through my tears.

"Joel please, let me explain!"

He rounds on me and the black pitch of his eyes and the teeth bared in anger frighten me into getting into a stop a few feet from him.

"I was in agony for months, going through hell thinking something was wrong with me because I didn't want my soul mate! And it was you. This entire time it was you and you just let me go through that alone."

"I didn't do it to hurt you! I wasn't sure!" I hiccup a sob. "Joel, I really thought you and Jackie were soul mates. I didn't want to fuck that up for you."

"You lied to me," he says with a steely voice. "From the very start."

"No," I defend, frustrated to feel my chin wobbling and my voice going shaky. "When I first met you, we couldn't stand each other. Everything we did was an argument. You and Jackie got along so well right away, I thought it was natural."

"Even if you weren't sure, you never mentioned that tattoo. You deliberately kept it from me."

My head hangs in shame at his words. Yes, I did do that. And now on the other side of everything I can't understand why I let it go on so long. Why I didn't just admit to him that it was a possibility months ago when he first came to me?

“First Ashley, now you,” he practically snarls. “What is it with me?”

“Nothing, Joel! You’re wonderful,” I say, chin trembling. “I was just scared about what it meant.”

He shakes his head, lip curling in disgust.

"You laid in that bed last night and told me that you loved me," Joel says. I see his neck bob as he forces down a swallow. "You said it to my face, knowing you were keeping this from me."

"I meant it," I say with an imploring gaze. "I do love you."

“How can I believe anything you say?” He paces a step, shaking his head over and over and even though he towers over me he seems so vulnerable. "Why didn't Tommy ever say anything?"

"He never saw it. I covered it up."

Joel gazes at me, like the limits of my deception go deeper than they actually do.

"You must have known, Joel says quietly, he's dark eyes scanning mine."Eventually after all those months you must have known."

The environment around me seems strange; the sidewalk I've traversed a hundred times seems like a new world. I feel dizzy. The world feels like its tilting, sending my head swimming.

"I think I did.”

“Then why lie to me?”

“I didn't want to hurt Tommy and Jackie.”

That was the wrong thing to say because Joel makes a scoffing noise in his throat, almost a choke. I glance up to see his eyes narrowed, and a tear escaping one corner.

"But it was okay to hurt me?"

I reel back like I've been slapped, floundering to find words but Joel has already turned his back on me and is marching down the street in the opposite direction.

"Joel! Please don't go!"

He makes no motion to indicate he's heard me even though I know he has. His shoulders are hunched, his footsteps rapid.

No. Don't leave me. Not when we finally found each other.

I step forward, hand raised uselessly after him.

“What happened to loving me for as long as you can?"

He pauses for half a second, back straightening. As if he's going to turn around, as if he's going to remember what he promised, what we said.

And then I watch as he refocuses, his retreating figure make its way to his truck, tugging open the door, revving the engine and driving away from me without looking back once.

I stand there on the sidewalk watching him leave, and when he's completely disappeared into vapor, it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and sob.

Joel doesn't remember driving home. Doesn't remember if he ran red lights or obeyed traffic laws. Doesn't remember if he put on his seat belt. He just knows the pit in his stomach feels endless, like a black hole sucking in everything good and joyful.

And when he walks into his house he wants nothing more than to go to bed. To shut the drapes and shut out the world. But Tommy is sitting there on the carpeted stairs and his eyes are redder than they were before. They burn with intensity as he sees his brother, standing to cross the distance between them.

Joel doesn't catch the arm pulled back, but he feels the crack against his jaw. The one that causes him to go stumbling back into the wall. He stands in a daze looking at his little brother, eyes wide. He can feel the warm trickle of blood leaking out of his left nostril.

"Jackie texted me," Tommy spits, his face twisted with fury. "You fucking bastard."

Joel holds his throbbing face, unable to say anything but a raspy: “I'm so fucking sorry."

But Tommy isn't listening. He shoulders past Joel with tears scrubbed from his face, his mouth set in a thin line. Joel finches when the door slams behind him before leaning against the wall, sliding down it into a crouch.

Blood tics onto the floor like a gruesome Jackson Pollock painting. He stares at it, feeling detached, feeling heartbroken, feeling betrayed.

Everything is ruined.

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