Page 32 of Something Like Fate

“I’m Caleb,” he informs me as he pulls me to my own two feet.

Caleb.

“Pleasure to meet you, Caleb,” I say in a strange movie accent.

“Do you have a name?” he asks, the corner of his lips teasing a smile.

There’s something about his face that strikes a familiar chord, deep down in my gut. It’s just like the feeling I had when we landed in Venice, like I’ve seen him before. But I haven’t. The sensation is sooverpowering, I barely register his question. “Uh, I think so,” I answer, still with the weird accent.

“Are you staying here? At the Royal?” he asks when I fail to tell him my name.

I squeeze my eyes into a squint, making a concerted effort to force away the accent.Be normal, Lo.“Oh god no. I’m not fancy enough for that. I’m next door. At Doge’s Delight. For the next two days.”

“Me too!” he says with a charming wink. “Anyway, I gotta go check in. But looks like I’ll be seeing you around,girl with no name.”

He flashes one last smile over his shoulder and my body is no longer my own. I want to bottle his image so I can remember it for all of eternity.

Before I can muster a response, Teller comes rushing out of the hostel. “Lo! Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” I say with full confidence. I just met The One.

10

Not to sound cocky, but I don’t get nervous around guys.

I’m comfortable making the first move, striking up conversation, or smiling at a cute stranger. But there’s something about Caleb that makes me blush like a schoolgirl. He isn’t just a random person. He’s my soulmate, a guy who came out of nowhere and literally saved my life, which is why walking up to him and making small talk is frankly terrifying. It feels bigger. High stakes. Like my entire future rests on it. The Soulmate Effect.

When he smiles at me in the hostel courtyard, my first instinct is to hide my face in Teller’s hoodie. And when I spot him alone at breakfast the next morning, I’m rendered mute. My heart patters when he spots me with my Greek yogurt. I’m also alone. Teller likes to sleep in. Unlike me, Caleb is wholly at ease, munching on a decadent chocolate croissant, long legs outstretched under the table, one ropey arm slung over the back of the chair beside him. He’s a Disney prince in the flesh, even gently dropping crumbs for a tiny bird hopping around his table. When he flashes me a megawatt smile, I nearly topple out of my chair.

Maybe it’s the sun, but my entire body spikes with heat. I force myself to maintain eye contact like a functioning human, finally mumbling something along the lines of “Hihowareyou?” at 2x speed. The moment the words come out of my mouth, two tiny birds start squawking, fighting over a crumb between our tables.

Caleb’s lips curve up as he snickers, theatrically placing a hand around the shell of his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

“I said—” Before I can complete the sentence, the birds go at it again. “Sorry, the birds are—”

Squawk, squawk.

It’s as though nature is trying to spare me the embarrassment. I can’t help but laugh at myself, but mostly because Caleb is laughing, too, beautiful smile flashing.

He starts to pull his chair closer, and then abruptly stops. I wonder what I’ve done wrong until the overwhelming scent of coconut sunscreen floods my nostrils. Teller’s arm reaches over my shoulder and swipes my yogurt. “Lo, you’re lactose intolerant. You don’t want to be sick or gassy on our first day of the tour,” Teller warns, plunking down into the open seat across from me.

RIP me.

Of course, the pesky little birds choose now to be silent.

“Tel,” I say through a wince, flashing him a silentplease stop talkinglook.

My warning tone doesn’t register. He continues on, oblivious, “I know you hate when I bring it up, but remember when you threw up in my car—” And this is yet another reason we arejust friends. Only platonic friends talk about each other’s bodily functions so freely.

“I have Lactaid,” I say through clenched teeth, nearly crushing a full water bottle with my fist. I fix my stare at the water dripping on the table, unable to muster the strength to look at Caleb. Teller busts out his map of Venice and highlights our route for today’s walking tour. I nod along, pretending to listen. Inside, I’m praying for another runaway trolley to finish me off once and for all.

“I found him,” I croak, hiding under the blankets on the bunk bed. We’re heading out for our walking tour soon, but I needed a quickpep talk from my aunts. It’s only four in the morning back home, so naturally, Mei didn’t pick up. Thankfully, Ellen did. Maisey has been waking up at “cruel hours” the past few days.

“Already? You’ve only been there for—” Ellen shouts over a high-pitched shriek in the background. “Maisey! What did I tell you about eating the remote? You’re gonna break your teeth,” she screeches.

I hold in a laugh when Maisey lets out a howl, presumably devastated that Ellen has taken the remote away.

“Sorry! That child needs an exorcism. She doesn’t get it from me,” Ellen whispers. “Anyway, tell me about him!”

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