Soulmated

by Shaila Patel

  “Well, I’d have gone in there myself if I didn’t think the entire school would label me ‘that feckin’ Irish boy.’”

  That made her laugh, and damn if I didn’t feel like I’d won a gold ring. Then her face fell, and guilt overwhelmed her.

  “Lucks,” I whispered, tugging her closer. The crowd had thickened around us, and I didn’t want to lose the moment. “I didn’t know your da, but I doubt he’d be wanting you miserable and not laughing or smiling, even on a day like today. I’m sure he knows you love him, all year round, yeah?”

  Her watery eyes held mine, and waves of more emotions than I could keep track of washed over me. Her breathing picked up. Damn my big mouth.

  I grabbed her hand and dragged her to the windows. With no lockers there, it’d give us a bit more privacy. Her attempts to push away her emotions were weakening, and she was clenching her jaw and blinking back tears.

  “Lucky, close your eyes.”

  She did, wringing out a teardrop in the process. The urge to brush her lashes hit me like before, but I kept my hands around hers. The tingling spread through my fingers and up my arms. It wasn’t the greatest place to teach her some empath control, but it wasn’t like I could stand by and do nothing.

  “Listen to my voice and tune everything else out, yeah?” I said. “Take a few deep breaths. Go on. Good girl. Now imagine your mind being like a rubber sheet. Stretch it out and use your hearing to pinpoint each sound around us. Do you feel them?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Feel?”

  “Sorry, I, uh, meant hear. Do you hear them, sense where they are on the sheet, how they’re moving?” Hopefully using her hearing instead of her underdeveloped empath senses would work for her.

  She nodded.

  “Good. Bring the edges of the sheet back, tune out the noise, and focus on me.”

  Her brow relaxed. “Okay.”

  “Now turn the sheet inward. Pinpoint the emotions you’re trying to block, just like you did with the sounds, and cover them all up.”

  She nodded.

  I lowered my voice, hoping to force her to focus on the soft sound. “Now push the sheet to the far reaches of your mind. Take a few deep breaths. You’re doing fine.”

  I hadn’t realized, but I’d been holding her hands against my chest. It’d not take any effort to lean over and rest my forehead against hers. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of her soft hands in mine.

  Lucky’s mind became a blank slate, and my eyes flew open. She was studying my face, her gorgeous brown eyes wide and curious. “Where did you learn that?” she whispered.

  “It worked then?”

  She smiled and looked down at our joined hands. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.” She yanked her hands away and stepped back. Her cheeks turned red, and she brushed her hair behind her ears. “Um, thanks … for that.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a burn at the center of my chest at having let her hands go.

  She twisted her fingers together, fighting her nerves, and brought up other meditation techniques she’d heard about. Despite pushing away some heavy emotions, her nerves were a mess.

  A strange prickling crept up my spine. My muscles tensed, and I scanned the hallway looking for … what?

  “Liam?” Lucky must have seen or sensed my reaction. She stepped closer, following my actions.

  My gaze turned to the window and the car park below. A good hundred feet away, a suited man leaned against the driver’s door of a dark sedan. He was staring up at us. I focused on him with my heightened vision and opened up my mind, stretching it as far as it would go, but with no luck. Damn. A large, jagged scar marred his cheek and tanned complexion. He was a thick fellow in a tight suit. Bushy, black eyebrows shielded haunting, gray eyes, which stared right at me. A small smile curved his lips. His eyes moved a fraction of an inch over in Lucky’s direction, and I shoved her behind me and glared at him. A smile revealed a gap between his two front teeth.

  “Liam! Wha—?”

  “Sorry, Lucks.” I moved her away from the window. “Forgot the time. You’ve already missed Spanish, and I’ll not have you miss another class on my account.” I forced a smile, but she only narrowed her eyes.

  The one-minute warning bell rang. “Go on ahead. I left my calc book in my locker.”

  She glanced around us and back at me. “Okay.” She turned slowly and walked away, her confusion slowly edging out her unease.

  I rushed back to the window, but the fellow was gone. Shite. Who’d be having me watched? The Elders? Gagliardi?

  I pulled out my mobile and dialed Mum.

  She picked up after one ring. “Liam, darling. Is everything all right?”

  “Can’t be knowing for sure.” I described the spy, his car, and what had happened.

  She muttered several Oh dears and became silent.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes, darling, I’m here. This might be related to the visit this coming weekend, but I’m not convinced it is.”

  Neither was I. “Will you ring Uncle Nigel and see what he can find out?” I scanned the car park below for anything unusual, but not a thing seemed out of place. The class bell had rung. I’d be late, but if I confused Mrs. Lenko by projecting a quick emotion or two, manipulating her own, she’d likely excuse me without question.

  “Of course, straightaway. You needn’t ask,” Mum said. “Your father and I will drive around the neighborhood and the school to see if I’m able to spot anyone. You believe he was a far-reader?”

  “I do. I sensed him trying to read me from a second-floor window.”

  When the spy’s empath energy had mingled with mine, the contact was enough to be setting off warning bells. Having not been around other empaths for a time meant a new exposure would feel like smelling again after suffering a head cold. The first scent was bound to be intense.

  After reminding Mum not to be telling Dad about Lucky, I made another visual pass of the car park. The memory of his smirk inflamed my need to be at Lucky’s side.

  I clenched and unclenched my free hand around my bag’s strap. Scarface had better be smart enough to stay away.

  I’d been waiting for Lucky at the lockers for almost ten minutes. We’d not made plans to meet for lunch, but surely she’d need to change out her books. I’d only been a few minutes late from gym class. Had I missed her? The crowd in the main artery thinned around me. If she’d been talking to someone, I’d have seen her by now. I left for the science hallway and peeked into the biology lab. Empty. Why wouldn’t she have waited for me? She hadn’t been upset after calculus—she’d even said she’d meet me by the lockers. Had Jack said something about me? I ran my hand through my hair and tugged. He bloody well better keep to himself.

  Think, Liam. Think. Jack had mentioned a meeting with his science fair advisor. He’d not be joining us for lunch, so Lucky couldn’t be with him. Scarface wouldn’t be trying to get to Lucky, would he?

  A growing panic replaced any common sense I had. I began jogging toward the main stairs. Maybe Lucky was in the lunchroom with Shiney. A teacher yelled for me to slow down, but I burst through the stairwell doors before I heard anything more from him. The metal door slamming into the wall echoed, sounding like an explosion. I skimmed over the steps as I flew down, matching the rhythm of my heart. Any faster and I’d have surely tripped.

  Students blocked my way, forcing me to weave between their grumbling selves.

  Stay easy, Liam.

  At the edge of the lunchroom, I stopped, my shoulders heaving, and scanned the tables for Lucky and Shiney. I opened up my mind and stretched it as far as it could go.

  No Lucky.

  Bloody hell.

  CHAPTER 16

  Lucky

  After telling Shiney I needed some time alone to recharge, I took my lunch to the benches at the edge of the school’s parking lot. I told her to tell Liam I’d see him later—if he seemed to be looking for me, that is. He’d been late
from gym again, so I couldn’t tell him myself.

  Some quiet time would help me refocus my thoughts after such an intense morning. I didn’t remember a time when it had been this hard to deal with the ruckus in my head. Maybe it was because it took me by surprise.

  I sat back and dug my spine into the worn, wooden slats of the bench, hoping for the pressure to distract me. Initials were carved all over the seat, and I traced the ones closest to my thigh. Like painting the spirit rock out front, carving the benches was a school tradition.

  I tilted my head back to stare at the oak branches above me. The sun that filtered through the leaves warmed my face. I smiled and took a deep breath.

  With my eyes drooping closed, I let my mind relax, and the first image to take over was Liam’s smiling face. Confusion weighed down my head and heart. I didn’t want to be a reminder of someone he’d left behind, but I felt drawn to him—physically and emotionally. When he’d held me today, it had felt so natural, so right, like finding shoes that fit without pinching or poking. Snug.

  Like in snuggle. I giggled.

  “What has you laughing?”

  I let out an unladylike squeak and bolted upright. Liam. “You scared me.”

  Liam sat beside me with a recyclable to-go container like mine. His cheeks were red, as if he’d been scrubbing his face, and his hair was sticking every which way. He was running his hand through it now, but he still looked like he could teach a class on modeling for magazine covers.

  “You scared me,” he said.

  “What? How?”

  He shook his head as if to say never mind and opened his messenger bag to take out a water bottle. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the parking lot.

  “Are you okay, Liam?”

  “I should be asking that of you.” He flipped open the container to reveal two slices of pizza. “I’d been worried, not knowing where you were.”

  There was that directness. I smiled. “Did you think I locked myself in the girls’ bathroom again?”

  He returned the smile and bit off a huge chunk of pizza—like half of it. Boys. Some of the tension lining his face disappeared. “Something like that.” He swallowed. “You never know, someone could’ve kidnapped you.” A slight wrinkle appeared on his forehead as if the threat were real, then he smoothed his expression. He pointed to my uneaten pizza. “Eat.” Another chunk of his slice disappeared.

  I snorted. “Who’d kidnap me? The lunch police?”

  He covered his full mouth with his fist and chuckled. I wasn’t hungry, but I did what he asked. His first slice was gone in two more bites. “C’mon now. Nibbling won’t do.”

  Liam’s cell phone rang. He set aside his pizza and dug the phone out of his pocket. He greeted his little cousin, Patty, and judging by the smile on Liam’s face, he must have missed him. He looked over and mouthed out, Sorry. I waved off his concern.

  Apparently, Patty wanted Liam to call his other cousin, Ian, and read him the riot act.

  “No, he’ll be getting ready for bed, like you should be,” Liam said. “I’ll ring him tomorrow, yeah?”

  I entertained myself while he was on the phone by checking out his black B.B. King’s Blues Club T-shirt, tan cargo shorts, and muscular calves. I took a sip from my water bottle. The heat was getting more intense because the cloud cover was moving off. The tree provided only so much shade.

  Liam rolled his eyes at something Patty had said and fixed his gaze on me. If it were possible for cells to squirm, then mine were—all over the place.

  I was in serious trouble.

  “Yeah, she’s a girl … I see … You want to talk to her?” He raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled, wiggling my fingers to take the phone. “Right enough, here she is.”

  He held the phone to his chest. “Call him Patrick, yeah?”

  Knowing how personal a nickname could be, I nodded. He gave me the phone, moved his bag down to his feet, and scooted closer to me.

  “Hi, Patrick.” My heart raced when I heard his brogue in his sweet five-year-old voice. He filled me in on his crisis with Ian, and how Sarah at school had told him he didn’t know how to talk to girls, hence the practice with me. Liam heard most of it and groaned.

  “So, what’s your name then?” Patrick asked.

  “Lucky—I mean, Laxshmi.”

  “Can I not call you Lucky? That’d be easier.” His question sounded like a pout.

  “Well, that’s Liam’s nickname for me. I suppose you’d have to ask him.”

  Liam smiled.

  “I have a nickname too,” Patrick said, and a yawn came over the phone line.

  “I heard. A nickname makes you feel special, doesn’t it?” My cheeks warmed, realizing what I’d implied. Liam’s body was shaking as he tried to laugh quietly. I backhanded his thigh.

  Patrick reasoned that since I was now his friend, he should be able to call me Lucky. I told him we could skip asking Liam, but it would have to involve a fair trade, like drawing me a picture, or calling me on my birthday. His happened to be this Saturday.

  “Call me Patty then,” he said.

  “That sounds fair.”

  Liam’s face grew serious. Oh crap. Maybe the nickname was only supposed to be a family thing. He read my expression and shook his head, motioning for me to continue. He laid his arm out behind me, his hand lightly resting against my other shoulder. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

  “You know,” I said. “You’re only one of two people in the whole world who can call me Lucky. That means you’re special.”

  “Is Liam?”

  Oh boy, is he ever.

  We eventually said our good-byes, and I gave Liam his phone back.

  His eyes widened. “Wow. He let you call him Patty.”

  “I’m sorry. I won’t use it—”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Liam explained how Patty’s mom had died a year ago—she was the one who’d given him the nickname. He tucked my hair behind my ear and frowned. “After she died, Patty, uh … closed off from everyone. Sort of hid his emotions, you could say. Now he only lets a few of us call him Patty.”

  Now I understood why my nickname story had bothered Liam so much yesterday.

  “Oh,” I whispered. Tears filled my eyes as I grasped what sharing his name really meant, and what it had meant for me. We were moving on.

  He gently cupped my cheeks and swiped his thumbs over my tears. “Don’t cry. It’s a good thing.”

  My lower lip trembled. I fought the overwhelming grief of missing Daddy and the irrational need to touch Liam. I curled my fingers into my palms and left them in my lap. Liam reached into his bag and surprised me with a red lollipop.

  I laughed, tears still streaming down my face. “Do you always carry around lollipops?”

  “I will if they make you smile like that.” He told me his physics teacher had a basket of them on his desk. The red one made him think of me.

  Is it a sign?

  Daddy had always given me red lollipops so he could hear me say “led lollies” like I had as a toddler. I whispered “led lollies” to myself for old time’s sake, slapping my tears away.

  “I promise,” I said. “I’m not always such a crybaby.”

  “Lucks, this is good news for Patty, yeah? What you did was amazing.”

  I looked down. On what little space was between our legs, I traced the initials AB+PS carved into the bench. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it is, Liam. Sometimes it’s easier to open up to a stranger.”

  “You hardly feel like a stranger,” Liam said. He cleared his throat. “I can’t be thanking you enough. From my heart. Patty’s more like a little brother to me. You don’t know what this’ll mean to all of us.” He leaned in, kissed me on the cheek, and lingered. “And thank you for letting me call you Lucky. It’s not as if I don’t know how special it is to you.”

  I clutched his arm to steady myself. His cheek was so warm against mine, and his st
ubble woke every nerve ending in my face. I couldn’t help but nudge my cheek closer. He moved his hand to my neck, his fingers brushing against my pulse. It took everything I had to control my breathing. He kissed me again, closer to my mouth. His lips were soft against my skin, and his scent shot through my lungs like it owned the space.

  His lips to mine. Could this really be?

  But how do I know he’s thinking of me?

  I tore my face away. I won’t be someone else’s shadow. Liam pulled back, breathing heavily, like me. He looked confused and hurt, and my chest ached.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Why are you pulling away?”

  What was I supposed to say? I like you, but I know I’ll never be more than a replacement for your ex? I’m too afraid to find out I’m right? I’ll always doubt your protests?

  I slid my palms up and down my lap, avoiding eye contact with him. My gaze fell to his open bag. “I see you’re reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream in class.”

  “I am.” He studied my face for a moment. “‘My heart is true as steel,’ Lucky,” he quoted.

  Was he telling me he liked me? I swallowed and quoted a line I hoped wouldn’t apply to us, but knew it probably would. “And ‘the best in this kind are but shadows.’”

  I had to keep my distance if I didn’t want to get hurt. I moved to stand, but he held my hand and stopped me, tracing each knuckle with his thumb. “It’s no illusion, Lucks. Why do you doubt me?”

  “Why do you care?” Crap. I couldn’t bear to listen to him lie to himself. “No, no, no. Forget I asked. This is too heavy.” I bolted up and grabbed my bag, missing the tingling just as quickly.

  “Luck—”

  “Hey, Liam!” Chloe bounced toward us from the back entrance with Jack behind her. “Ready for study hall?”

  Jack stopped on the sidewalk halfway between us, his arms crossed. Liam cursed under his breath. Students were heading back inside all around us. I hadn’t even noticed lunch ended.

  “I’ve got to go. Bye.” I barreled past Chloe, who didn’t spare me a look. She focused her sparkling eyes on Liam. Let her be his rebound. The thought threatened to bring up the few bites of pizza I’d eaten, reminding me I’d left my trash for Liam to take care of. Oops. I’d have to apologize later.