Page 6 of One Pucking Destiny

The music is on point. The drinks are flowing, and I’m with my favorite person. Hattie and I have laughed so much tonight my ab muscles feel like they’ve been through a workout.

“Twin! We have a triplet,” Hattie yells over the music.

One hand up, the other holding a drink at my side, I sway in what I’m sure is a very sexy dance move. Before I can answer my sister, I’m jolted forward when someone knocks into me from behind. I fall into Hattie, thankfully spilling my drink onto the dance floor and not her. She pushes me back as I regain my balance. College towns, there’s nothing like ’em.

“What did you say?”

She holds up her hand. The underside of her wrist, where the butterfly tattoo resides, is toward my face. I have the same tattoo on the underside of my bicep.Our matching twin tattoos were our eighteenth birthday presents to ourselves. Hattie has always been obsessed with butterflies. My sister, the forever free spirit, looked up the meaning of butterflies when we were young and read somewhere that they represent freedom and are a reminder to release all burdens that come along. In addition, they supposedly represent fleeting moments and remind us to live in the present each day and embrace joy. I never questioned her take on their symbolism. I’m sure they represent all those things and more to different people. All that mattered to me was the fact that she loves them and getting our matching tattoo made her happy.

“I said we have a triplet!” She grins. It takes me a second to register what she’s saying. She points toward the bar behind us. “Look at her side.”

My gaze moves to a girl leaning against the bar top, talking to the bartender. She’s wearing a black mini tank top and short jean shorts. Long brunette hair falls to the middle of her back, and on the side of her midsection just below her ribs is a butterfly. And not just any butterfly tattoo, but the exact one that Hattie and I share. Its wings are made with multicolored smoke wisps in bright pinks, purples, and blues. It’s a unique butterfly, one I’ve only seen on my sister and me.

Ah, triplet.

Finally, my hazy brain catches up. I give my sister a thumbs-up.

“You should invite her to hang with us! She could be your destiny!” Hattie all but shrieks. The volume of her voice has kicked up another notch, fueled by an abundance of tequila.

My sister is the biggest romantic I’ve ever met. She’s certain that every person has a soulmate, and that signs pointing us toward the people we’re meant to be with are everywhere.

Which is all very ironic, seeing as she still fools around with Anthony, who is not her soulmate. I throw a glare behind me to the booth across the room where Anthony, who made his appearance about thirty minutes ago, and his friends are hanging out. Thankfully, he’s kept his distance.

I wave my hand through the space in front of me. “No, I’m hanging with you.”

A classic Eminem song comes on, one of my all-time favorites, and the crowd on the dance floor loses its shit. Hattie forgets about my maybe-soulmate as we start jumping up and down to the beat, singing along in perfect unison with my guy.

We’re dancing, singing, and laughing, and just as it always is with my sister—it’s pure joy. A feeling comes over me, and I have the urge to look toward the bar.When I do, I’m met with the doe-eyed gaze of the butterfly tattoo girl. Only she already has a name.

It’s Book Girl.

She’s at the club on her birthday and staring right at me.

CHAPTER

THREE

ARIANA

He's gorgeous, I’ll give him that. This view—the way he’s smiling and dancing with abandon—is a turn-on, and I can’t deny that.

It’s the wannabe Book Thief on the dance floor with some blonde—his sister, maybe—and now, he’s gawking at me like he’s seen a ghost. I can leave quite an impression, I suppose.

He says something to the girl he’s with, and before I can come up with an exit strategy in this jam-packed place, the pair have made their way over to me.

“Hey there, stranger,” he greets me before extending a hand toward the blonde. “This is my sister, Hattie.”

“Hi.” I wave.

Hattie’s lips roll together, and she offers a genuine smile. “Have you started the book yet?”

I shake my head. “No. Some of my friends convinced me to come out instead.”

“For your birthday.” Hattie nods.

“Yeah.”

“How old are you?” Hattie asks.

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