Soul Mates

Chapter Twenty-Two

I stare out the window, depressed by the sun. Why can't it be cloudy, dark, and storming? It could match my mood. But Mother Nature seems to hate me today, as the bright sun, cyan sky, and warm temperatures indicate.

I wonder what she's doing right now. It's still only nine hundred there, as opposed to it being fourteen hundred here. Maybe she's still asleep? Or at her old job? Or possibly with a guy?

Just the thought of her with a guy angers me. It should be me she's with! It should be me she's holding close! It should be me who her stepdad yells at for getting her home late! No one else! She is mine!

But then I think about everything that had happened... How I ignored her, how I acted like it was alright, how I let her slip through my fingers like sand. She quit her dream job, just to get away from me. For me, it would take a hell of a lot of problems for someone to get me away from singing or football, and Reagan seems no different. Therefore, I've done some unbelievably horrible things to her.

I used to believe anything about soul mates was bull crap. I thought that you could get on just as well with someone who was not made specifically for you. I hated how you have a chance of never even finding them. For all you know, they could be dead! Take my mum for example, she had two husbands and five kids before she met hers. I just despised the entire thing, since I couldn't even choose!

But then Reagan came along, flipping everything upside-down. She made me see how beautiful the entire thing is. I saw the excitement in not knowing. I realized how much more I wanted, no, needed her than my previous girlfriends. Before I even really knew her, I fancied her ten times more than the height of any of my old relationships.

And I let it all go. I let her go. My one chance at true love, my true source of happiness, the very reason I exist, all gone in the blink of an eye. The worst part is that when she quit, it was a month after the true fallout. She had signed a two weeks notice, when she just as easily could have quit on the spot. Therefore she gave up on me after two weeks, but still had some hope. For repair. For us. For me. And I brushed it off.

"Louis!" A call breaks my thoughts. I just stare at the door from my perch on the window seat as footsteps become louder and closer. I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knees as the door opens. In the doorway stands a good friend of mine, Eleanor Calder. We had dated for a few months, until we mutually decided we are too much like siblings to look at each other any other way.

"Hey, Lou." she sits next to me.

"Hi, El."

"How are you?" I just send her a sad smile. "Sorry, love." She hugs me to her, and I lean my body against her thin frame. "Come on," she says, after a brief moment. I look at her confused as she stands. "We are going shopping. And you are buying me Starbucks." I chuckle soundlessly at her. "You need to change first." She throws me a white Rolling Stones tee and black shorts, before pushing me into the bathroom.

I do as she wants, and pull on some black Converse and my glasses. I follow the brunette to her black car, and chuckle as she tosses me the keys. She tells me where to go, and we drive in a comfortable silence, the radio quietly playing Ed Sheeran. We arrive at the outlet, and Eleanor makes a b-line for Starbucks. I pay, as usual, and we sit and drink, chatting and joking. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see people taking pictures of us, or at least, I think so. Not that it matters. Just a day out with my friend.

-:-

I wave to Eleanor as she pulls out of my driveway. Upon opening the door, I am greeted with utter silence; mum, Dan, the girls, and Ernest went to visit his parents. I sigh, but also smile inwardly.

I run up to my room, strip to my underwear, pull on athletic shorts, and flop onto my bed. I stare up at the ceiling, and then let my eyes fall onto my nightstand. On the top is my familiar black leather journal. Cautiously, I take it into my hands, then open and read the pages. As the writing begins to grow dark, I start to wince at the painful words. My eyes are wet by the time I reach the last entry.

What kind of soul mate am I?