Soulmates, sunflowers, hot air balloons, ballet, wildfire and music.
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EXCERPT:
"Why do you always call me sunflower?" She looks as though she's desperate for the answer, staring into my soul with so much sincerity in her words.
I smile to mysel...
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"This shit is so fucking itchy." Mitch's voice echoes through the small room, bringing me out of my thoughts.
She was singing again earlier.
This time a song by The Lumineers.
It's like her voice instantly puts me in a trance. It's so captivating, singing her favorite songs as she lives her life so far from my own.
Every time I hear her I can't help but get lost in my own thoughts, so many questions.
Who she is, where in the world she is, what she looks like, her job, her favorite food.
Curiosity floods through me and I feel like a little boy again.
Reminds me of the first time I found out about soulmates, like it plays on a loop in my head.
All the questions I kept asking mum. It must've been a month straight that I asked her routinely every night about the lie Gemma thought it'd be funny to tell me.
I haven't spoken to mum of Gem about this soulmate of mine yet, it's still so surreal that I have a soulmate.
Stupid to think, considering everyone does. But so many girls have tried to be with me for fame and money and I already know, whoever this girl is will see me for more than that.
She'll see me for me.
The me that is more hidden from the world. The me that the media and even my fans don't really see much of.
And I know mum and Gemma especially will both hound me with a bunch of ways to find this girl.
But I don't want to do it like that, I don't want to put an advert on the front of Vogue magazine.
I want it to happen the way it's supposed to.
The way it's written in the stars.
I look back over to Mitch who's tugging at the white collar of his shirt.
"Bitch boy Mitch." I say with a fake cough under my breath, looking to the ground and placing my hands into the pockets of my trousers.
"What was that Haz?" Mitch asks, accusation clear in his tone, knowing full well I just said some sort of insult to him.
"Mitch, stop being such a baby and leave it be." I speak more directly to him this time, resulting in an eye roll from him.
"I don't even understand why I have to even wear a suit to begin with. They're so formal, I hate it." He says, scratching his neck and acting as though he's being suffocated. So over-dramatic.
He really has no reason to complain. These are good quality suits, he's just being a child about it.
Note to self to not have Mitch as my best man at my wedding because he'll complain about being in a suit the whole time.
