Page 39 of Something Like Fate

I wince and shield my face in my hands. “Am I that obvious?”

“When you like something, you really like it. You get all giddy and talk super fast. I could tell pretty much right away after the whole trolley thing. And when you were talking to him today, you were nervous ... and you’re never nervous.”

I go on a long ramble about my chat with him today and how straight-up awesome he is. “And did you know he doesn’t even have a cell phone?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Teller teases. “Seems like a really cool guy, though.”

I wince. “Is it okay? Me potentially being with someone on this trip?”

“It’s not like you need my permission.”

“I know that logically, but I still feel like I’m breaking some sort of cardinal best-friend rule.”

He smirks. “Ah, that’s why you’re pushing Riley, so I’m not a sad-sack third wheel?”

“You’re so dramatic. But no. I actually just want you to have a rebound. That’s all. Nothing to do with me.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me. And as long as you’re not hooking up in the bed next to me, I have no issue with you doing your thang,” he says.

I let out a cackle. “Please never saydoing your thangever again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and face-palms. “I know, I know. It sounded wrong the moment I said it.”

We quietly snicker so as not to ruin the ambience.

He goes still as Alfie turns down a narrow waterway and under a smaller bridge. “But I have to ask, why Caleb? He doesn’t seem like your type.”

I’m not sure whether to be offended or not. “What do you mean?”

He smirks. “I didn’t want to say it, but, you know, Cindy-ish. Upper-middle-class dude taking a gap year funded by his parents toexperience the world beyond the gates in all its raw, poor glory.”

I snort, feigning offense. “What? Caleb is not like Cindy. I mean, sure, he lives the backpacker life, but he’s not having photo shoots with Ugandan orphans so everyone knows what a virtuous person he is.”

“You already creeped his social media, didn’t you?”

“He doesn’t have socials. Well, I mean, he technically does. But he doesn’t use them because he doesn’t have a phone.”

“Proves my point even more. Not your type.”

I raise my brow. “Okay, then what’s my type?”

“Back in high school you went for these caveman football-captain dudes with no brains—”

I give him a swift kick in the shin. “Hey, Tim Yates has brains. So does Mark B. There are different ways you can be smart. Like Caleb, he knows all these historic facts—” I pause when Teller starts chuckling.

“Jeez, he must have made an impression on you.”

“You could say that. I mean, it’s kind of a long story,” I say carefully, trying to figure out the most natural way to ease into the whole soulmate conversation.

Teller sits back. “We have time.”

I suck in a long breath and finally come out with it. “Remember that time I told you the women in my family can foresee their soulmates?”

I can’t help but feel a twinge of surprise when he casually nods, as though I’ve merely reminded him diabetes runs in the family—not some wild psychic power.

“Well, I had a vision.”

He sits forward, eyes wide. “Wait. You had an actual vision? When?”

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