Page 12 of Something Like Fate

I give him a light smack on the bicep. “There won’t be bedbugs. They’re extremely rare, but it makes the majority of hostels look bad.”

“Google reviews don’t lie. And it’s not necessarily the hostel’s fault. The bugs come in off the hundreds of people traveling through who don’t even know they’re infested.”

I smirk. There’s no arguing with him. “Well, I’ll let you go. I feel like I’m delaying your sacred nighttime ritual.”

“I don’t have a nighttime ritual.”

“I doubt you, Teller Owens, just plop into bed without a bubble bath, brushing your teeth, flossing, sipping some detox tea, meditating—”

“First, I would take a shower. Baths are just soaking in your own filth. Two, everyone brushes and flosses, or at least they should,” he informs me. “And don’t knock my mindfulness podcasts. I need them to fall asleep. You’d listen to them, too, if you lived in my house. It’s chaos.”

He’s the middle of three boys. And while Teller is impressive on his own, he’s convinced he’s the invisible middle child next to Kurt, a newly minted foot doctor, and Nick, who’s competed on every reality TV game show known to man (Big Brother,Survivor,The Challenge) and won zero. He’s got this “villain” persona that’s made him popular, allowing him to make a whole career of it (and peddling random products on social media).

Teller once told me in jest that he thought he was adopted, or switched at birth, because he was so different from the rest of them. He even looks different. His brothers are fair, with blondish hair and light eyes. Teller inherited his darker features from his grandmother.

The first time I went to his house, his theory of invisibility was confirmed. In all the chaos zigzagging around in the family room, neither brother bothered to acknowledge him, except for Nick, who took the time to ask why “someone like me” would hang out with “someone like him.”

I spot Dad peering through a crack in the curtains. Even though I’m nineteen, he still can’t sleep until I’m safe at home. As a recovering military child, Dad grew up with strict curfews—not that he went out anyways.

“I better go in. Let’s hang out tomorrow? You need to get out of the house before you spiral into a depression.” Teller’s always curled into his shell when he’s sad.

“Who says I’m gonna spiral?”

I dart a knowing look. “If you could, you’d spend days in your room with your galaxy light, sulking and listening to Coldplay or something equally depressing.”

“Don’t knock Coldplay. They have emotional depth, okay? And I’ll have you know I’m keeping busy. I begged my mom to give me some shifts at Roasters. I’m working tomorrow, six to three.” His mom’s coffee shop is just a couple blocks from my house.

“Perfect, I’ll meet you at the end of your shift. Thanks for the ride, Tel,” I say, exiting before he can come up with an excuse.

Gooseflesh erupts along my bare arms and stomach from the chilly spring air. Before going inside, I fire off a text to my aunts in the group chat.

Lo: so ... something interesting happened tonight.

Mei: Define interesting. Do you need me to pick you up somewhere?

Ellen: Hello?

Ellen: Hurry up. Tell us! I can’t handle the suspense.

Mei: If you don’t respond in 5 min, we’ll assume you’ve been arrested or are in the hospital.

Lo: sryy for the delay, just got home. dad wanted a play-by-play of the night.

Lo: PS. i like how you assume something tragic happened to me.

Ellen: You don’t have the best luck or track record, sweetie.

Mei: Yes, your life is kind of a series of unfortunate events.

Lo: true.ButI think I might have ... maybe had a vision??

Lo: IThink

Lo: maybe not. IDK.

Ellen: !!!!!!!!!!!!!! FaceTime me in!! Hank is gone this weekend so I’m here with Maisey.

Mei: I’ll be over first thing in the morning.

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