by Hilary Duff
“Maybe that’s his game, though,” I said. “The hunt for one soul, again and again.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“The other women lived with him for a long time too. Maybe he wants to wait until my defenses are down, and then—”
“Wow, Clea, you are so jaded. You found your soulmate. People wait their whole lives for this. It’s the most amazing thing in the world, and it’s happened to you. Can’t you just accept it and be happy?”
What she said made sense, but …
I flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Without looking at Rayna, I said, “He doesn’t act like he’s my soulmate. Sometimes I think maybe he liked the other women more. I think maybe he wishes I was one of them.”
Rayna was silent. This was something I’d never heard. “This is seriously deep,” she finally said. “You’re feeling insecure because you’re jealous …of yourself.”
“I didn’t say I was jealous …”
“You’d rather think he’s a serial killer than risk being with him and finding out he doesn’t like you as much as he liked … you!” She scrunched her brow and thought, then tried again. “Yous? Anyway, you know what I mean—the other yous.”
“Forget the jealousy thing, okay? There are other reasons to doubt him too. Ben doesn’t trust him at all. He thinks Sage is some kind of demon. He said there’s a spirit called an incubus that comes to women in their sleep, and—”
“Of course Ben said that.” Rayna shrugged. “He’s jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Ben’s crazy in love with you, Clea. I’ve been saying that forever!”
“And I’ve been ignoring you forever, because it’s not true. You just want it to be true because it’s romantic.”
“Did you not see the pictures of you from Rio?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Rayna pulled out her phone. “Honestly, I don’t know how you survive without Google Alerts on yourself. The paparazzi were out in full force for Carnival.”
She played with the phone for a minute, then handed it to me. It showed a close-up of Ben and me at the Sambadrome that could only have been taken with a serious zoom. I felt violated.
“I hate this,” I muttered.
“Why? You look cute!”
“I hate that people are sneaking around taking pictures of me!”
“I know you do. Ignore that for the moment. Just scroll through.”
There were five pictures of Ben and me. Four of them were moments I vividly remembered, pictures of the two of us facing each other, laughing as we did our best to imitate the dancers shimmying and strutting down the parade route.
The fifth one I didn’t remember. I wouldn’t have; in it I had my camera up to my face and was concentrating on lining up the perfect shot. Ben stood behind me, but he wasn’t wearing the goofy smile he’d had in the other pictures. He was staring right at me with those big puppy-dog eyes, and his smile wasn’t goofy at all, but …
“Uh-huh,” Rayna said triumphantly. She had climbed onto my bed and was looking at the picture over my shoulder. “Knew that one would stop you. There is only one word for the look on that boy’s face, Clea: love-struck. Which is probably why a bunch of websites are reporting he’s about to propose.”
“What?”
“Messenger. Don’t kill the messenger.”
I looked back at the picture. Ben did look love-struck. Very love-struck.
“It could just be the picture,” I said. “They caught him at a weird moment.”
“Yeah, a weird moment when he thought no one was looking so he showed how he really felt.”
I gave Rayna back the phone and shook my head. “Ben and I are like brother and sister. That’s gross.”
“Hey, I read Flowers in the Attic. It was kind of hot.”
“Shut up!” I laughed.
“I’m just saying, think about it. Really think about it. Is it that hard to believe that Ben’s in love with you?”
I reflexively scrunched my face at her words—it just seemed so weird to me. Ben and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. He teased me about everything, and I gave it right back to him. That’s what we were about. The picture was one thing, but Ben never looked at me like that in real life.
Or did he?
I remembered the Copacabana beach, after the Sambadrome. The way he’d held his arms around me. The way he’d looked at me after he pushed back my hair. He’d said he wanted to tell me something … was that it? Was he going to tell me that he was in love with me?
And if I was being honest … hadn’t I kind of felt the same way? Maybe not in love, but I remembered being in his arms and liking the way it felt … and even wanting more …
“Oh my God, Rayna … I think something almost happened with Ben and me in Rio.”
“What? Wait, back up. When? You mean, ‘almost happened’ like … what? What exactly almost happened?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It all went really fast. I was feeling all these things, and he was looking at me like … like he was in that picture, and then …”
“Yeah??”
“I saw Sage.”
“Ooooh.” Rayna winced. “What did Ben do?”
“Nothing. I mean, I ran after Sage and … you know everything that happened then. We haven’t even talked about it.” I looked at her plaintively. “What do I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know.”
“Well … how do you feel?” she asked.
“I don’t know that either. I never even thought about Ben that way except for that split second in Rio, and even then I wasn’t thinking of it seriously. And Sage … with Sage it’s all I think about, but it’s all jumbled up with the most insane things: dreams, and other lives, and other people’s memories, and … I don’t even know what’s real.”
Rayna took it all in.
“I love Ben,” she said. “You know that. I think you guys could be great together. I also believe in soulmates. Not just as romantic flings, like the guys in Europe, but true soulmates, destined to be together forever because they’re perfect for each other. Are you and Sage true soulmates? I don’t know, but I do know you’re cheating yourself if you don’t at least try to find out.”
“How do I find that out, Rayna?”
“I want you to do me a favor. Promise on our friendship.”
“Promise what?”
“Asking first is cheating. Promise on our friendship.”
It was an evil ploy. Rayna knew I wouldn’t say no, and she knew I wouldn’t go back on something if I promised on our friendship. Neither of us ever would—that was a rule we’d established when we were five.
“Okay … I promise on our friendship,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “What did I just promise to do?”
“For the rest of the evening, don’t think. Just listen to how you feel and go with it, wherever it leads. And whether or not it makes any sense.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Not good enough. You promised on our friendship.”
I smiled. “I’ll do it.”
“Perfect.” She picked up the house phone and dialed. “Hey! Our room in an hour for dinner. Ask Sage what kind of pizza he likes. … Okay, thanks.” She hung up and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re picking up dinner. It’s a crime to eat chain-restaurant pizza when we’re this close to Manhattan. Come on.”
I followed her, but we ended up not driving all the way into the city. The girl behind the front desk happened to be a pizza aficionado, and she knew a great little place nearby where she said we’d find pizza as good as anywhere in Manhattan. We got back to the room forty-five minutes later with three large pizzas, sodas, paper plates, cups, napkins, and an aroma that was so good it was driving me insane. I changed into comfy sweats and a T-shirt, threw my hair in a ponytail …
then slipped into the bathroom and brushed on a quick layer of mascara.
“YES!” I cried, when the guys knocked on the door. “Finally—I’m starving!”
Rayna stopped me before I let them in.
“Remember,” she whispered, “you swore on our friendship.”
I nodded. Honestly, at that moment I would have sworn on our friendship to anything if it got me to the pizza sooner.
I flung open the door. “Come in and sit and tell me what kind of pizza you want before I eat it all.”
The room was kind of tiny, so we sprawled out on the beds: Rayna and me on one, Sage and Ben on the other.
“Wow, this pizza is so good,” I said, swallowing a gooey bite.
“It is,” Ben agreed. “But I think Sage needs a little more garlic on his. Piri says he loves the stuff.”
“Nice,” I said, nodding.
“So what have you guys been doing since we got to the hotel?” Rayna asked.
“Playing cribbage,” Ben said. “Ask Sage who won.”
“You say that like you never lost a game,” Sage countered.
“Not at all. I’m just asking you to inform the ladies who won the most games.”
“That would be you,” Sage admitted.
“Four out of seven,” Ben crowed, “which is like winning the Stanley Cup of cribbage.”
I had no idea what that meant. Ben had to explain that the Stanley Cup is a best-of-seven match.
“I prefer soccer,” Sage said. “In the World Cup the preliminary games are just lead-ups to the final. And if Ben would be so kind as to let you know who won our final game …”
“Misnomer,” Ben said. “You won the last game we played before dinner, yes, but the final game won’t come until right before we go our separate ways. You let me know when you’re about to head back to South America for good, and I’ll bring out the cards for that match. I’m ready whenever you are.”
He said it lightly, but his eyes were steely, and we all picked up on his real message.
Never one to let a tense moment sit, Rayna jumped in to take the reins of the conversation. She was a maestro. She knew exactly how to conduct each of us—myself included—to bring out the best: the most charming stories that showcased our most winning qualities, and got us all laughing and having fun. If a topic threatened to turn serious, Rayna breezily steered the conversation someplace lighter without it ever feeling anything but perfectly natural. I had sworn on our friendship to spend the evening feeling, not thinking, and if I was really focusing on my feelings, Rayna was winning my heart more than anyone.
Oops, I was already messing up. I was supposed to not focus. It wasn’t how I normally functioned. I’d have to think like Rayna. I’d have to think logically.
Ben started to tell a story. I specifically made an effort not to focus on it. Not that I ignored him—I watched him as he spoke, I smiled and laughed at all the right points. But I let the actual words wash over me without getting too caught up in the meaning, while I munched on my pizza and experienced him.
Ben had the most expressive face I’d ever seen. When he told a story, he dove into it, re-enacting each character with a new set of his jaw and cast of his brow. His eyes shone vibrantly, and every time he laughed, it showed in his whole body. Just watching him made me smile. I felt warm around him, and happy, and comfortable. I felt like flannel pajamas, hot cocoa, a teddy bear, and my favorite comedy on DVD. I felt like home.
I loved Ben, that’s what I felt. It popped into my head, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. I loved Ben.
Well that was settled then, wasn’t it?
Then my eyes darted to Sage, and I noticed he wasn’t focused on Ben’s story either. He was watching me. He was watching me watch Ben, to be precise, leaning back on his elbows and staring so fixedly that I could practically hear him scratching his way into my brain to listen to what I was thinking.
And the minute I felt that, I was desperate to take back what I’d thought, and make sure he hadn’t understood. Especially since I had the strong feeling that if he believed I loved Ben, he’d disappear. Maybe not right away, but as soon as he could. And that would be the end of the world.
“Okay, Sage, your turn,” Rayna said. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the middle of a social function?”
Instantly Sage’s intense stare was gone, replaced by a relaxed pose and a charming smile. “Um, I would say doing a spit take in front of Clea’s mom, several senators, and the Israeli foreign minister would probably cover it.”
“You did that?” I asked.
“Oh yes, he did.” Rayna nodded.
“And the minister still offered you his house in Tel Aviv for the honeymoon? That’s shocking.”
“Rayna is particularly charming,” Sage noted.
“Thank you, darling.” She batted her eyes at him like a Disney princess.
“What happened?” Ben asked. “Piri spiked your drink with garlic?”
“You say that like it’s a joke,” Sage said. “I’m pretty sure she did.”
“She must really have it out for you,” Ben said. “Pálinka’s Hungarian holy water. You don’t mess with that.”
“Speaking of holy water, I so did not get that on our trip,” Rayna put in. “Clea and I were touring one of the cathedrals in Italy, and in front of the whole tour I go, ‘That’s so cute! Look, they have birdbaths in the church!’”
And just like that she whisked the conversation away from Ben and Sage and made everything light and frothy again. She was amazing. I grabbed another slice of pizza and sat back to enjoy the evening and see what else I’d feel.
“Movie time!” Rayna cried when we’d eaten our fill. “I checked out the pay-per-view, and we have some excellent selections. All we need are snacks.” She dug into her purse and tossed me her keys. “You and Sage go. You know what Ben and I like.”
“I’ll go too,” Ben offered.
“Are you sure?” Rayna asked. “’Cause I was really, really hoping you could help me with my AP History homework. It’s a nightmare.”
Oh, she was good. She looked pleadingly at Ben. He had been played by a master. If he didn’t want to look like a total jerk, he had to agree.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” he said.
“Thank you!” she gushed. She winked at me as Sage and I headed out the door. We didn’t say anything until we were in Rayna’s car and driving, enveloped in the darkness of the night.
“Think Ben has any idea?” Sage asked.
I had been carrying on an intense internal monologue, trying to imagine the best way to start the right conversation, and his voice took me by surprise. “What?”
Sage smiled. “You don’t think Rayna was giving us a chance to be alone?”
I turned to look at him. The light from the dashboard glowed on his face, and the knowing look in his eyes made my heart skip.
Rayna had told me to go with how I felt.
I felt like grabbing his face and kissing him.
But I couldn’t. Not yet. I needed to know what he was thinking, what he felt, who he was. With a silent apology to Rayna, I pulled the car onto the shoulder and put it into park. The road was fairly desolate, lit only by sparse streetlamps, and the even sparser flow of other cars’ headlights.
Sage looked at me, waiting.
I looked at the steering wheel.
“How does it work?” I asked, turning to face him. “How do you know where to find me … us?”
Sage’s eyes registered shock, but only for a moment.
“You know,” he said.
I nodded.
“How?”
Everything would change once I said it out loud. Should I even do it?
“I have dreams,” I admitted. “I’ve had them since I first saw you in the pictures. Dreams of us together … only it’s not really us.”
“No?” he asked. His voice was calm, but his hand gripped the armrest.
My heart thudded against what I wante
d to say. “In the dreams I’m them. All of them: Olivia, Catherine, Anneline, Delia …”
I spoke gently, but it was as if I struck him with each name. His eyes shadowed. I wondered if I was making a mistake. Should I stop? I couldn’t.
“I thought they were fantasies at first, but they’re not. I’m dreaming in memories. Their memories. My memories.”
Sage clenched his jaw. He closed his eyes and pressed his fist to his temple.
“I have these dreams,” I continued, “and I feel what they felt … the way they felt about you. And then I look at you, right here in front of me, and it’s all there, and I want to trust it, but … I don’t know what’s real.” I took a deep breath and stared at the emblem in the center of the steering wheel, so I wouldn’t have to look at his reaction. “How do you feel about me?”
It sounded so stupid, but it felt monumental. I felt totally exposed.
“Clea … look at me,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Look at me.”
I turned to face him.
“Why are you looking at my nose?” he asked. “My eyes, Clea.”
I met his eyes. They were rich and deep, unguarded for the first time outside my dreams.
“Do you really need to ask how I feel about you?”
I didn’t. I saw now that all the things I felt, he did too … but I was still insecure. I didn’t want to push him away with all my questions, but I had to ask one more.
“Is it me, or is it them? Who do you see when you look at me?”
“I see you,” he answered as if it were obvious. “It’s not like I see a place, or a time, or a name: just you. Your essence. Your soul. That’s how I find you every time you come back. I know it’s hard to understand, but your soul calls me … and I’m drawn to it. I couldn’t keep away if I tried.”
Sage raised his hand to my cheek, cupping it gently. I closed my eyes, resting against the warmth of his palm. When I opened them he had moved closer.
I closed the distance between us and kissed him.
I felt dizzy and hot and floaty, like every cliché … but it was true. I couldn’t feel my feet. I finally felt like I was where my soul belonged.
There was only one problem. The gearshift was digging into my side.
“Ow!” I winced.
