Page 23 of The Soulmate Theory

It is with great regret that I write to inform you that we are unable to offer you admission to Stanford Uni–

I crumbled the letter into a ball. Standing up from the table, I threw it in the kitchen trash before turning out the lights and walking upstairs. My phone buzzed in my hand. I had a text message from an unknown number:If you need someone to share the news with, good or bad, I’m at your beck and call.

I didn’t respond.

? ? ?

When I woke up Sunday morning, the kitchen trash had been taken out, with the letter inside of it. My parents didn’t ask me about it, and I didn’t tell them. I assumed they found the crumpled letter and read it themselves. On Monday morning, Carter beat me to school. An iced coffee sat on our desk, written on the lid was:I’m not sure if this is a congratulations coffee or a condolences coffee, but you deserve it either way.I laughed and tried not to cry.

He must’ve inferred my rejection because Tuesday morning there was another coffee on our desk. That time it read:definitely a condolence coffee.I thanked him, and again, said nothing. My rejection letter from Berkeley came on Wednesday morning, Macie bought my breakfast then. I imagine, if my life continues to unravel around me, I’ll never have to buy my own coffee again. There were only two schools I had yet to hear from: Pepperdine, and UCLA. If I received rejections from both schools, I’d likely end up spending another year in our dreary, tiny town of Brighton Bay. I’d have to apply to another round of programs next fall. I’d spend another year at Seaside Middle, that is, if I was able to keep my job. Tom had promised me nothing beyond this school year. I thought I wouldn’t need anything more after that. I thought I’d be gone.

By Thursday morning, I felt like I was crawling out of my skin. My parents had been acting oddly formal around me. My sister, Macie, and even Carter treated me as if I was a wounded bird. My life had been consumed by thoughts of my future for the entirety of the last year since the moment I boarded that plane in Heathrow. Before that, actually. The moment I sat down with the Dean of Admissions and the Disciplinary Committee at Oxford and was informed that my acceptance into the School of Archaeology Graduate Programme had been withdrawn. That I was being rejected, effective immediately, and that my Student Visa would be revoked. That was the moment I began to worry about my future. I’ve thought of little else since.

I sometimes allowed myself to fall into distractions. Thursday nights with Macie, or after-work binge watches with my sister. Carter had certainly been serving as a distraction, too. But it all still swirled in the back of my mind. Would I still be here in a year from now? What if my parents kicked me out? What if I never get to continue my education? I’d given up so much in pursuit of the career I always dreamed of. To think that I’d never get to see it through because of one mistake, that was the thought that haunted me most.

I moved through Thursday stuck in the haze I’d been in for most of the week. There, but not really there. I’d forgotten that Thursdays meant trivia. I’d forgotten to brush up on the tv shows that the bar would be covering. I’d forgotten entirely about the bet I made with Marshall until he started teasing me about it at lunch. I just shrugged. I agreed to drive with Macie, Jeremy, and Marshall to trivia, and Carter met us there. I watched Carter all week. More than anyone else. The way he breezed through a room, breezed through life. He was never worried about what would come next. Never scared for the future. He never failed because he never had to try for anything. He was effortless in everything he did. I watched him talk with students after class, the way they seemed to hang onto all his words. They were excited about his class, and not in the way anyone was excited about mine. In his classes, they were learning. In mine, they were blowing off steam. I couldn’t understand how he did it. How he could be carefree, fearless, and breezy. I was none of those things.

I was still watching him when we made it to the bar Thursday evening. Watching the way he watched me. I felt completely out of the moment as Marshall asked me question after question and I never knew the answer. I didn’t care to even listen to them. I didn’t hear him when he told me to take a sip, but I still managed to finish my drinks. I could tell Carter was only half-listening to Jeremy as they sat at the bar and talked, because Carter was more focused on my movements. I’d been in a haze all week, and that haze only started to clear when I started on my second drink. The tightness I felt gripping my entire body only started to loosen with the alcohol. It made me feel free. I started to feel breezy. I didn’t normally drink. I didn’t like losing control. But watching Carter, knowing he was there, made it easier to let go. Halfway through that second drink, I wasn’t thinking about the two college rejections I received that week, or the fact that I was a terrible teacher. I was no longer comparing myself to others, or worried about my parents hating me. I didn’t care anymore. I felt free.

And Carter was there. Macie too.

They wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. So, it was okay if I let go.

I downed the last drop of my second Cosmo.

Marshall had a third one already in my hand.

Chapter Eight

Carter

“I’MSORRY.I’MSO,SO SORRY,” Penelope slurred, slouching between Macie and I as we half-carried her to the parking lot. As expected, she had gotten completely plastered. “I didn’t think the questions would be so hard. I never would’ve made that stupid bet.”

We arrived an hour before trivia began, and The Worm (The nickname for I made for Marshall that had now struck inside my head) immediately got her a mixed drink before the game even started. By the end of the first round, she was three drinks in. I’d been watching her. I’d seen her teetering on the edge of going too far. But I thought she was still in control. I thought maybe she did this often, that she knew what she was doing. I didn’t want to overstep the boundaries I felt she and I had established. I should’ve realized that part of her hadn’t changed. She wasn’t a big drinker.

“I just wanted to say, ‘fuck it.’ I wanted to have some fun. I fucked it too hard you guys, too hard. I’m the worst at everything. I can’t even fuck it good.” I looked at Macie questioningly, she looked back with the same expression. She shook her head as if to say she had no idea what Penelope was talking about.

The first time I threw a party while my parents were out of town, Penelope tried a sip of beer and complained, a sip of wine and complained, and took one shot of tequila, where she then retched. I never saw her drink again, except for an occasional glass of champagne at a party or on New Year’s Eve (her least favorite of holidays, although champagne seemed to be her most favorite of drinks). That is, apparently, until she discovered Cosmos, which now appears to be her drink of choice. Even so, she was stumbling after her second drink, and laughing at everything after her third. By her fifth, she hardly had coherent speech, and on her sixth and final Cosmo, she began standing on the table after every question was asked, accusing all the other bar patrons of having poor taste in entertainment.

We were winning, initially, but we only reached the halfway point in the game before we were asked to leave. Macie was clearly upset at losing her chance at winning a trivia night, which was how we reached the point of Penelope’s hysterical apologies. We were headed in the direction of The Worm’s car, since he had driven the four of them tonight, and I followed in my truck. I already didn’t particularly like The Worm, but there was something about the glimmer in his eye every time Penelope took a sip of her drink that told me there was more upon his mind than the thought of winning a bet. Something that told me he had planned this out. I didn’t trust him.

“Why don’t I take her home? I’m staying with my parents right now, and they’re across the street from her. It’ll be easier than you guys going out of your way,” I whispered to Macie. I tried to make my reasoning sound as innocent as possible, but I already knew there was no way I’d allow her to get into a car with The Worm. Though, I couldn’t be sure if Macie could see what I was seeing, and it appeared she had had some sort of friendship with the guy. Macie glanced behind herself, as Marshall and Jeremy were a few paces behind us. Her eyes met mine quickly and she nodded.

I was parked next to The Worm, and once we reached his car, I unlocked my Bronco. Macie and I began moving Penelope around the passenger side as nonchalantly as possible, so as not to catch his attention. I was beginning to believe Macie and I were on the same page because she seemed to match my movements, as if she knew there was a protest coming. We stepped away from his car and around the front of my truck when he finally noticed us.

“Hey! What are you guys doing?” he asked, jogging up to close the gap between us.

“I’m going to be taking Penelope home.” I said it with a conclusive tone, making it clear I would accept no other suggestions on the matter.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, man. I got her,” he said as he weaseled his way between myself and Penelope, grabbing her arm. She was hardly conscious at that point, a fact he seemed all too aware of. I couldn’t ignore the ill feeling that brewed in my gut. I’d always known to trust my instincts, and from the moment I met this guy, I knew he was bad news. He looked at Penelope with a hunger in his eye, and the slightest of a smirk on his face.

I decided I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I wasn’t going to use reasoning around our locations or the convenience of her catching a ride with me. I realized that unless I spelled it out very clearly for him, he wasn’t going to let it go. “No,” I said plainly. “It’s best if I take her home.”

His face flashed with all the looks of shock and confusion before settling on annoyance. “No, dude, really. I drove her here, so I can take her home too. She’ll be fine.” He rolled his eyes at me as he yanked Penelope’s arm. She let out a small yelp and Macie gasped.

I shoved him away, removing the grip he had on Penelope without offering a response.

“What the fuck?” he asked as he stumbled back a few paces. I took his place, and Macie let go of Penelope to hold Marshall back. As Macie stepped away, Penelope fell sideways and right into my chest. She landed against me with a thud, and instinctively I wrapped one arm around her hips and the other around her back, holding her up. Her head landed against my shoulder, her hair a mess across my face. I could smell her shampoo– coconut. Her nose nuzzled lightly against the skin of my neck, and I attempted to ignore the chills that radiated throughout my body. She let out a sigh that sounded almost like a moan.

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