DPSM: Marks of Destiny, Matches of Fate

THREE

Dara stalked inside the coffee shop and filed on the queue. It was a jam-packed day, and with the rush hour traffic starting soon, he understood the crowd. With the holidays looming closer, he'd expect heavier congestion, both in vehicle and foot traffic. It was a relief to live walking distance from his place of work. He didn't have to drive for hours or endure mind-numbing highways and dreadful traffic jams.

Still, the cold morning induced in him an undeniable craving for something warm, so he shut the door on Marley and strode into the street on a weekday. It was his rare day-off, and he already planned on spending it curled on the couch, catching up on the shows he hasn't touched since the start of the year. Maybe play with Marley too, if he was up for it.

But, hot cocoa first. Nothing beat a cup of steaming chocolate in the nearing advent of winter.

The cafe's frigid air conditioning blasted across his face. For once, he was grateful to have thought to wrap himself in a thick, cashmere coat despite the semi-agreeable weather outside. Establishments like this never learned to tone their settings to match the temperature beyond their glass doors.

When it was his turn, he rattled his order quickly and paid with cash. He gave way to the next customer and loitered on the side. He considered taking a seat but decided against it. Others might need one, and he wouldn't be here for long. He took his phone and scrolled through social media. Most of his friends his age flashed their families, summarized by bright-eyed pictures all smiley and happy as if there wasn't anything wrong with them. He came across another engagement announcement from one of his classmates in high school, and it was a close-up shot of the marks on their collarbone. They matched.

Dara rolled his eyes, scrolling up faster than a marathon runner. A call of "Order of hot cocoa!" flitted into his ears. His gaze snapped from his blue-lit screen towards the counter where the promised cup slid invitingly into his view. He stalked towards it, fingers stretching in preparation to hold it. A different hand closed around it, taking it away from him.

Before he could protest, his eyes landed on a woman with wavy blond hair, large eyes, and bright smile. She was oddly familiar. Then, his attention caught on a terrier scratching its ears with its hind legs at her feet.

"Chewie?" he blurted.

A soft laugh. "I can't believe you remember my dog's name better than mine," she said. Her eyes sparkled with amusement though. Dara checked. "How can you be more of a red flag?"

"Maybe because I'm not trying. At all," Dara replied. "I'm an amazing boyfriend if the situation called for it."

Page—her name was Page, if memory served—jerked her chin at him playfully. "I'd like to see that in action," she teased. "Anyone over?"

"As if," Dara said with a roll of his eyes. It was true. After their meeting two years ago, he hasn't found anyone interesting. Most of them talked about marks and how their friends found happiness in their partners because of it. Dara tuned those sentiments out immediately, and in the rare times they didn't go off about their skin tags, they were outright boring, scared of commitment, or just plain toxic or unhinged. The dating scene was a huge disappointment for Dara, so he just stopped.

"So, how has it been for you?" Dara continued after Page took a sip of the drink that might have been his. When was his order going to be processed? His backlog wouldn't do itself, and his bosses and clients were already looking for the output. "I suppose you've snagged yourself a non-believing partner?"

She snorted her drink back into her cup. "Oh, man," she whined, wiping the spills dribbling down her mouth with the back of her hand. "If you're going to throw a joke, at least warn me beforehand. Or do it when I'm not drinking."

"Noted on that," Dara said, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I must warn you, though. I'm a terrible friend."

Page hummed. "You don't need to tell me. I kinda got that," she said. "But no, I don't have anyone. Work was pretty hectic with me being promoted and all. It's fun, but also time-consuming. Another company has scouted me and is in the process of offering me a more competitive pay, so I'm considering. Gotta take that opportunity while it's there."

"Hmm, same for me," Dara said. "Not that there were other companies clamoring for me and my skills. I just am stuck at the office so much that I've got no time to fool around."

"And you're not really looking, right?" Page said. " 'Cause same. Love is hard when you've got no liveable wage."

"Still believe we shouldn't be with someone just because of a mark?"

She sipped from her cup again. "Always," she replied, not sparing him a glance. Was the cocoa that delicious? "We're a rare breed, after all."

He winced. "That's weird terminology, but okay."

"Order of hot cocoa!" the barista called again from behind the counter.

Dara ducked his head at Page. "That's me," he said, leaning forward to preempt his eventual exit from the conversation. "See you around, I guess?"

Page raised her hand, tugging at Chewie's leash in the process. "Yeah," she said. "See ya around. Let's keep in touch?"

The balmy liquid carrying the bittersweet taste of cocoa washed all over his tongue when he sipped from his cup. Ah, that hit the spot. "Let's," he agreed.

They exchanged contact details with Dara saving her name with the name Chewie. She needed not know. She might have saved his name as Marley too. It was a small inside joke, one only them would understand. With a few more uttered farewells, they strode out of the cafe before going on opposite ways. Again.