She glanced up at him, fingers hovering over a page she was about to turn. He pulled out a chair, sitting opposite her tiny table in the café. She watched as he placed his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hands. No words. Only action.
She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “Ah, Can I… help… you?” She asked slowly, shaking her head so bits of her book plot tumbled from her mind.
He only smiled softly, staring into her eyes with a shy intensity. As though he was sketching her within his mind. He had brown hair that curled slightly at the edges, his jumper’s sleeves shoved up to his elbows. It was those eyes that caught her. Blue with a gentle ring of gold. This close she could see flecks of green as well. Anime protagonist eyes if she ever saw them.
He blinked, releasing her. “Sorry, yeah. I’ve got weird eyes.” He shrugged, “Genetics and stuff.”
“Can I help you?” she repeated, noting the slight curling music of his voice. As though he had climbed out of a medieval French novel and learnt to assimilate.
“Oh, ah. Yes.” He cupped the back of his neck with a hand, smiling, “but I’m not sure how to ask.”
She shut her book, giving him her full attention. He reached across the table towards her hand holding the book, waiting for her permission. She frowned, but nodded, letting him turn her hand to show the mole on her wrist. He breathed through his nose slowly, as though the air was suddenly sweeter. He then moved to splay his other hand between them on the little table. She was already moving to give him her other hand. She watched the traitorous hand with shock. He gently slid her jumper sleeve up her arm, something inside her tightening at the odd intimacy his actions held. A sure gentleness that left her wanting him to lift the entire jumper off her body. Normally she would swat away hands, but these hands caressed her skin with knowledge deeper than a casual thought. His fingers found the oddly spaced moles on her forearm.
He looked up from her arm, meeting her eyes with a definite shine swirling inside his own. Then he placed his fingers on her arm, one on each mole until his hand gripped her forearm, perfectly spaced for his hand.
“Did you know,” he whispered softly, “when soulmates meet their bodies know each other. No one can remain unscathed from meeting their soul twin. Every mole is a moment of condensed love. All people are drawn to love. These,” he gently pressed his fingers against her skin, “are not random spacing, rather a phantom touch from long ago. Not puzzle pieces, rather constellations of a future long written in the stars.”
She stared at his hand, at the electric current humming under his touch. “How did you know they were there?” she asked him, “how did you know…”
“About you?” he asked, releasing her. But as he let her go his hand travelled down her arm, as though he wanted the touch to never end. The moment his fingers left her body she felt a coldness. The electric current cut off.
Blindly she stood and reached out for him, gripping his shirt across the table. Her knuckles brushed the skin underneath and the mole stationed there. She breathed deeply in his smell. Suddenly aware of her actions she looked up, watching him watch her with a raised eyebrow.
She let go with an audible sigh, sinking back into her seat. He smiled, reaching out his hand for her to grasp. She did so greedily, feeling the warmth sink back into her body and soul.
“That is how.” He murmured almost prayerfully, running a finger over her knuckles. He seemed more aware of how strange this was. “We are soul bound. Once you know it and can sense it… there is no hole on earth I could not find you in. You are my magnetic half and equal.”
She offered him her other hand, and he brought it up to his lips to kiss. The connection sent lightning down into her feet. He too looked shocked, but pleased, smiling into her face with a barely hidden hunger.
This boy would eat her alive. And she would let him.
“Why?”
He shrugged, reaching over to press his hand onto her cheek. “Some say we are the chosen future of those our ancestors could never really have. They leave moles like calling cards for their legacy to find. Other’s say we are reincarnations of the same endless love. Other’s still,” he moved his hand to run a finger over her lips, eyes hooded, “say any children of the Fated will be heroes, our DNA forging children of legend.”
Her logic brain wanted to scoff and roll her eyes, tell him to kindly remove his fingers. But every other part of her was screaming to get closer, sink into him like a river and be caught in a current stronger than rapids. If she didn’t detach and head for shore, she would drown.
“It’s probably just hormones and our ape brain knowing we are incredibly compatible.”
“Probably,” he smiled, watching as she turned so her lips brushed his palm, “do you believe that?”
She locked eyes with him, tracing his face with her eyes as he had done. One coin, two faces. The way she looked at him sent a flush of heat across his cheekbones as she murmured. “No.”
He breathed heavily, turning away from her gaze as his chest heaved, “me neither.”
He stood and offered her his hand again and she took it, letting him lead her out of the café. He already had her satchel, slipping her book into it as he brought her around the back of the building.
Then he gently pressed her against the concrete wall, placing a hand by her head as he studied her. For the first time she wanted someone to see her, to boldly show herself off because she knew he would not only accept her but worship it.
“No boyfriends?” he asked her seriously, “I’m not that guy.”
She shook her head, watching him visibly brighten. “You?”
He slipped a piece of her hair behind an ear, “No.”
The cool press of the concrete did not snap her out of it. It barely stung her skin as he leaned in to kiss her. She reached up for him, pulling him closer to her and deepening the kiss.
This was no stranger. Not anymore.
As he kissed her, he gently slipped his hand up the back of her shirt, touching the three moles in precise movements. As though he was saying, I know you.
She ran her fingers through his hair, instinct guiding her to the mole behind his ear. They were stars against his skin, mapping him out to her.
They pulled back, both gasping for air. Complete strangers shattered to show the pure humming electrical current whirring between them.
“Hi,” she said, hand on his chest, “I’m Iris.”
He laughed, throwing back his head while a hand skimmed down her shoulders, “I’m Benjamin – most people call me Benji. And I think… I need multiple cold showers.”
She smiled wickedly at him, reaching up with her spare hand to pull down his chin, “can I join you?”
He chuckled, laying a shadow light kiss against her lips, “tell me, Iris, did you have a preference on where you’d like your marks, or dealers’ choice?”
She watched a dark grin curl his lips as she purred, “do your worst Benjamin.”
ns216.73.216.121da2
and then Add to home screen.