Page 41 of Something Like Fate

“Really? You’re not just trying to make me feel better?”

He levels me with a knowing look. “No. And even if I didn’t believe it, it wouldn’t matter.”

“That’s true.”

“So, Canadian Boy is your soulmate. You’re sure on that?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right.” He gazes up at an old cathedral. “Then I’ll do whatever I can to help your vision come to fruition, Lo, even if it has to be a Leafs fan.”

I’m grateful for his support, if only for a flash before giving him a quick kick in the shin. “Way to ruin the moment, Owens.”

He smirks and tosses an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Seriously, though. I can picture it. You guys getting married, moving to an off-grid hut somewhere tropical and remote with no cell service, living off the land with your little barefoot kids.”

Honestly, that sounds pretty perfect.Alfie steers us around the corner and back into the main canal. My breath hitches as I take it all in. The illumination of the buildings, the burnt oranges and yellows playing off the glassy surface of the water like fire. The melodic serenade of other gondoliers singing in the distance.

Regardless of all the headache we went through to get here, even Teller can’t deny that this is pure magic.

“Hey, Tel?”

“Yeah?”

“Now we can say wedidVenice.”

A bubble of laughter escapes his throat—mixing with mine.

12

Rome

No one can say we didn’tdoRome.” Teller waits for me as we take our final steps up the rocky incline atop Palatine Hill.

“We did the shit out of Rome,” I manage through a thick wheeze, drawing a smile from him as he passes me his ginormous water bottle. It’s unfair how out of shape I am compared to him.

“I’ve been to Rome three times and it still takes my breath away,” Caleb says, admiring the scattered remnants of what were once towering columns of the Roman Forum, one of the many ancient ruins sprinkled throughout the city.

I can see why. Venice was enchanting and serene, but Rome is alive. Regardless of whether it’s seven in the morning or three in the morning when we stumble back to the hostel, its narrow streets are always bustling with people. Everything is grand and ornate, even run-of-the-mill apartment buildings with their rustic terra-cotta planters weaving greenery around wrought iron railings.

We’ve covered a lot of ground in just three days, touring all the attractions on Mom and Mei’s original itinerary, like the Vatican, the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and the Galleria Borghese.

It would have been fun with just Teller and me, chuckling like fifth graders over marble statues with huge packages. But it’s all the more enjoyable with our group. We travel together like a well-oiled machine.Teller and Jenny are the planners, Caleb balances their type A–ness with his laid-back we’ll-get-there-when-we-get-there attitude, often convincing us to avoid a typical tour in favor of a more authentic experience. Lionel provides comic relief, while Riley and I are the social butterflies who make sure everyone is having fun. And to be straight up, Teller and I are way too naive to do this whole backpacking thing alone. We’re lucky to have experts like Jenny and Caleb to guide us.

“Who would have thought us little nerds would both have dates in Rome?” I say to Teller, belly-flopping on the bed, shoes on, buzzing with nervous energy at the prospect of being alone with Caleb for the first time. While we’ve gotten to know each other over shared cups of gelato, exploring shops, and wandering random little alleyways, it’s always been in a group context—until tonight.

“Mine isn’t a date,” Teller says, ironing his T-shirt and a pair of jeans to perfection.

When we found out our hostel had a private room with two double beds and our very own bathroom, Teller did a celebratory dance. It’s certainly no Ritz, or even Best Western, but it’s clean—at least, his side of the room is. Mine looks like a cyclone tore through, then doubled back for more carnage. Clothes, sandals, souvenirs, and makeup are strewn everywhere.

“She asked you for dinner and a romantic walk along the Tiber. That’s a date,” I point out, rolling out of bed to pick out my outfit. I decide on a blue gingham mini dress with a square neckline.

“It’s a casual walk that just so happens to be in a stereotypically romantic setting,” he argues. Despite his denial, I can tell by his vigorous ironing that he’s excited.

“Are you going to finally tell her you don’t share food?” I tease, dipping into the bathroom to put my dress on. Every time we stop to eat, Riley asks Teller for a bite of his food. He’s too polite to admit he doesnot, under any circumstances, share food.

“That was one thing about Sophie. She never asked to share food.” This is the first time in a while he’s brought her up.

“Speaking of Sophie, I got a quick shot of you walking with Riley at the Colosseum in my Stories. Sophie ‘liked’ it.” Sophie’s been viewing all my Italy Stories and liking all my posts. No comments, though.

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