Tea Break

Mark of Love

Love. An emotion completely foreign to our stomach and brain. Something intangible that comes and easily as it goes. In my world, that emotion was embedded. We grew up watching lines appear on our skin when we reach the age of 16, when we were old enough to know what love is. Our parents tell us stories about how we'll find our soul mates, how they'll have a matching tattoo just like our. It would be the exact same. A carbon copy of lines etched onto mocha colored skin. When the person with the matching mark was near, yours would burn. A dull throbbing if they were far, but an intense heat would fly across your skin if they were close.

I remember the first time my mark appeared. I stayed, wrapped in awe as thick black lines made a circle on the inside of my wrist. The swirling mark moved like ink across the page. It was a circle with several curved lines around the outside, a sun like mark. I loathed it. Hated the concept of meeting someone "meant for me". It felt wrong. Some many questions ran rapid through my mind. What if they had someone. We were still allowed to date. These marks merely helped with population control in our society. Meeting your mate might prevent a copious amount of children born into our world.

I went to school the next day, my mark hidden by a wrap of bandages under my sweater. Staying low, I walked through the halls to my first class of the day. Then I felt it. A dull, itching throb. I scratched at my wrist, hoping it would go away.

"Bridgette?" a voice called my from my thoughts. I looked up into a pair of blue eyes covered by shaggy blonde hair. Emerson, my best friend. He was a year older than me, at 17, he was still waiting for his match to appear.

"Oh. Hey, Em," I greeted and pulled my arms behind me. Emerson shot me a inquisitive look before leaning against the wall next to me, arms folded across his chest.

"What'cha got there?" he asked. I shook my head in response. The throb was beginning to burn and I hissed at the feeling. Emerson's face turned into a grimace when he looked at my face.

"Nothing to worry about." I assured him. He gave me another look before rubbing at his side. I knew his mark was placed at his side.

"Give me your arm, Bridge." he commanded and I shook my head again. "Please."

I sighed and held out my arm to him. He pushed up my sleeve and unwrapped the gauze from my wrist. When he saw my mark, I watched his face turn from pain to something greated.

"What?" I asked as he stared at my mark. I pulled my hand away from his grip and began wrapping the bandage around it.

He looked at me and slowly lifted up his shirt, revealing the same mark etched onto his skin. I gasped and looked at my best friend. He smirked.

"I guess I should tell you that I've been in love with you. For a while now." he said casually. I covered my mouth.

"Em." was all I could muster.

His smirk changed into a huge grin and he took my hand. "C'mon, let's get to class. Lover." he laughed and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

I guess you can fall in love with your best friend.