"Someone didn't get enough sleep last night," Adam comments when he catches me mid-yawn. I aim a pen at him but instead of hitting him square on the chest like I always do, it falls flat on the floor next to him. Laughing, he goes to pick the pen up and hands it back to me. He also hands back a list of books that he was stock-checking earlier. On days like these, I'm glad that my parents decided to hire him -- he's more competent than I am. "Alright?"
"Yeah," I nod, though if I were to be honest, I don't feel too good. My mind feels fuzzy and my my nose feels stuffy, and I don't know if it's because I didn't get enough sleep last night or because I'm coming down with something -- I really hope it's the former. Falling sick is not on my list.
"So I saw your texts this morning," Adam mentions. I forgot that I texted him last night before I did the stupid thing that I refuse to think about. I've thought about it enough anyway so I ought to think about something else now. Like how the main characters in the book I'm currently reading need to get their shit together because there's only a few chapters left. "What were you gonna tell me last night?"
"It's... nothing important."
Adam narrows his eyes at me as though by doing so he can squeeze the truth out from me. "Must be important if you'd text me in the middle of the night."
"It's just a random thought that crossed my mind. You know how it is. Late nights, random thoughts. I can't even remember it now." I say as nonchalantly as possible as I redirect my gaze to the book that I almost finish reading. But judging by how slow my reading is this morning, I don't think I'd be able to finish it by today. And certainly not when Adam keeps boring holes at my head whilst he waits for me to say something to him.
Eventually, when he realises that he's not getting anything out of me by staring, he takes matters into his own hands. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
"Yeah?" I look up to kink an eyebrow at him. He nods. "So you're not gonna sell me out like you did yesterday?"
"Fair point. But I only did that cause I have your best interests at heart," he replies, to which I roll my eyes at him. Best interests, my arse. He only has Harry's best interests at his heart. "C'mon, let me in on the secret."
"S'not a secret," I mumble. At least I don't think it is because if it is, I wouldn't have told Harry, out of all people, about it. Which I still can't believe I did that. More than anything, I can't believe I implied that there's a possibility of us sharing the same fate as Aunt Nelly and her husband. That's just insane. Harry must be having the time of his life laughing at me last night.
"Or should I ask Harry about it?"
"Don't," I snap. A grin touches Adam's lips. He's set up a trap and I foolishly fall for it. Damn it.
"So you'd tell Harry, but not me? I'm hurt."
Without looking up, I say, "You're so annoying, do you know that?"
"Ah, I learned from the best." He chuckles and holds both his hands up (if he has a white flag with him I'm sure he'd be waving it right now) when I scowl at him. "I was referring to Harry, not you."
"Nice save," I snort. He sure knows how to get on my good side.
"So...?" Adam tries again with a hopeful look on his face and this time, I don't have it in me to brush him off. Besides, maybe talking to him would help me put things in perspectives and maybe Harry was right when he said that I read too much into things. That said, I refuse to take Harry's words for it. I need to hear it from Adam. I need him to reassure me and tell me that Harry and I aren't Nelly and Jesse. That we aren't soulmates.
So I close the book I'm reading, but not before I place a bookmark in between the pages because I'd hate myself if I lose the page, and tell Adam everything that my mum told me last night as well as everything I said to Harry. Being the good listener that he is, he listens intently and not once does he interrupt me mid-story. And whilst I do appreciate that, I can't help but to wonder what's going on in his mind.
"...I'm reading too much into things, aren't I?" I conclude, repeating Harry's words from last night. I wasn't happy when he said that to me but he had a point.
"Maybe," Adam replies as he scratches his jaw. Looking at him, I can tell he has something else to say. So I wait and as expected, he adds, "Or maybe you're finally realising it."
"Realising what?" I ask, to which he shoots me a knowing look like I'm supposed to figure it out on my own. Not in the mood for games, I ask again. "No, seriously. Realising what?"
"That you two are actually soulmates," Adam says matter-of-factly with a hint of a smug grin on his lips. I want to tell him that he isn't the first one to say or even think of that but I decide against it.
"That's ridiculous," I retort. I pick up my book and open it, averting my eyes to the page I last read to avoid Adam's eyes. "You need to get your head checked, Ad. But maybe do that after you've finished changing the books at the window displays."
"Look at you changing the subject," Adam calls me out on my bullshit and I can feel blood rushing to my ears, turning the tips of my ears from the colour of my skin to bright red. I've been called out numerous times by Adam before, but I can tell that this time he's not letting me off the hook that easily. I suspect that he's grown tired of having to hear both Harry and I whine about each other or about our current situation to him so now he wants to put a stop to it. "Don't act like that thought didn't cross your mind. I'm sure it has. At least once."
Adam is a fun person to hang with, he really is, and oftentimes I enjoy being around him. But right now I'd rather be left alone. Inquisitive Adam annoys me. Inquisitive plus mind-reader Adam? I want that Adam to disappear. Especially when he says,
"Is it such a bad thing if Harry is your soulmate and not your worst enemy?"
"Yes!" I snap, though I didn't mean to. And then without really thinking, I add, "Even if I do accept that he's not my enemy, it doesn't change the fact that he has two tattoos. There's a huge possibility that I'm not his soulmate. Sarah Turner is."
Whilst that idea has crossed my mind plenty of times (each time I would shove it into a box, lock it and push it to the back of my mind, and then remind myself that Harry and I are enemies), I've never admitted it out loud. Not to myself. Not to anyone. Now that it's out in the open, the words hanging in the air between Adam and I, I wish I could take it all back. But it's too late. And as much as I hate to admit it, it feels good to be able to talk about it.
But then Adam casts me a sympathetic look and I realise that talking to him about this is a bad idea. So before any words could leave his mouth, I point a finger at him and say, "And please don't tell anyone about this. You said I could talk to you and I did."
"Don't worry." He smiles. "Your secret's safe with me."
"Thank you."
Instead of leaving me alone like I thought he would since I've told him what's on my mind, he remains standing in front of me, studying me. I quirk an eyebrow at him. "What'd you say if I tell you that there's also a huge possibility that Sarah's not Harry's soulmate?"
My heart reminds me of its existence behind my ribcage. I hold my breath and hope that my heartbeat isn't as loud to Adam as it is to me. Despite what's going on in my chest, I put on my poker face and roll my eyes at him. "I'd say that you're mad and you need to get back to work."
Adam opens his mouth as though to say something else but closes it a second later, mind changed. On a different day, I'd push and push and push him until he tells me what he has on his mind. But not today.
This is probably the first time I'm glad that he decides not to say whatever it is that he wanted to say.
/////
My day doesn't get any better.
A little after 5, my mum texted me and told me that we're having dinner with Harry's family at their place, and I'm supposed to close the bookstore slightly earlier so I could be there on time. I asked her if I could skip it, gave her a few work-related excuses but she's not having it. Turns out, dinner with the Styles is much more important than the bookstore, the place I'd rather be at for the rest of the evening. But instead, I have to be at Vivian and Ralph's house, most likely being seated next to Harry later on when we're at the dining table.
Dropping my face into my hands, I let out a mix of defeated and annoyed groan.
How am I supposed to face Harry after the text I sent to him last night? It was a bold and risky and most importantly, stupid text. What I should've done last night was force myself to sleep. What I shouldn't have done was pick up the phone and text Harry when Adam didn't reply. In an alternate universe where I'm not an idiot, I would've done the right thing. But in this universe, I'm an idiot who doesn't think twice before clicking the send button.
And now, I have to face the consequences that I'm not at all ready to face. Which is why instead of ringing the front door bell as soon as I've arrived, I stay in my car, regretting every single decision I've ever made in my life. I'm spiralling, I'm aware of it, but there's no way of stopping it. It ought to happen sooner or later. Sooner is better.
Time pass by me quickly whilst I sit in my car, my head finding a home on the steering wheel even though it's really uncomfortable. Five minutes turn into ten which then turns into fifteen, and even then I'm still not ready to go inside, though I probably should because my mum has texted me twice and called me once, wanting to know my whereabout. I can hear her voice in my head: where on earth are you, Cleo? You should be here now. You know it's rude to be late.
Reluctantly, I climb out of my car and lock it. Before making my way to the door, I look at my reflection on the window of my car for the last time. I run my fingers through my hair and swipe my thumb across my lower lip to make sure that I've not messed up my lipstick. Once I'm happy with how I look (I look as presentable as one can look after spending the day at a bookstore, stressing over a list of things she has to do and over the book she's currently reading because the ending sucks), I begin my path to the front door.
Halfway to the door, I hear footsteps behind me and within seconds, the owner of the footsteps walks alongside me. I don't even have to look to my side to know who it is.
"Late too?"
The competitive side of me kicks in upon hearing his voice and I shake my head. "I got here early actually."
"But you stayed in the car 'cause you'd rather be in there--" he points at my car and then at his parents' house, "--than in there. Am I right?"
Sometimes it surprises me how well he knows me. I'm sure the fact that we grow up together pretty much contributes to him knowing a lot of things about me but he can just choose to ignore those things he noticed but he chooses not to. My heart does the same thing it did back in the bookstore when Adam told me that Sarah might not be Harry's soulmate and I ignore it, not really in the right state of mind to be analysing it.
"Lucky guess," I mutter under my breath. He chuckles. "And you're late because someone at work asked you to do something in the last minute and you couldn't say no so you're stuck doing it even though it's already time to leave."
And sometimes it surprises me how well I know him. I tell myself that I only know that because I've convinced myself that one day I'll be able to use those facts as leverages.
"Did you plant a spy in my office? A mole?" Harry asks, eyes narrowing slightly, as we stand in front of the front door. Neither of us makes a move to ring the doorbell because we both know our conversation isn't over. "If you do have a spy in my office you'd know that I spoke to Sarah today. Ready?"
I look at him, stunned. I seem to do that a lot lately. But then again, he's the one who keeps dropping truth bombs at me. "I'm-I'm not ready but what other choices do I have?" I say, to which he nods in agreement. "And what do you mean you spoke to Sarah?"
"You can pretend to be sick. I'll cover for you," Harry offers. Weird, he's never offered to cover for me. Especially for something that's beneficial for me. Unless it'll benefit him too. Not having me around means he doesn't have to pretend. Hmmm. "It means I spoke to her at work."
"My mum will never believe that," I tell him. Back then I tried several times to get out of going to school by pretending to be sick but my mum never believed me. A decade might have passed, but I doubt she'll believe me now. But that's not my concern right now. This is: "What did you say to her?"
He doesn't say anything else as he steps forward and twists the knob open to step inside. He holds the door open for me and when I don't move, he kinks an eyebrow at me.
"Coming?" He quizzes with a hint of a challenge in his voice. "The offer still stands if you want to bail."
I snap out of my reverie and make my way inside. Before we get to the living room where everyone was, judging by the sound of their conversation and laughter, I turn to Harry. He looks at me expectantly. He knows I have something to say and he knows what it is but he wants me to say it out loud. He doesn't play fair, this one. But neither do I.
"So," I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. I don't know how am I supposed to word my next question. I have a few string of words floating in my mind, but what comes out is, "You and Sarah... You're soulmates?" I sound like a little girl who has just learned to talk. But there's no room for embarrassment.
Harry opens his mouth but before he can answer my question, Vivian steps out from the living room and approaches us. I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling, cursing my sick, twisted fate. Universe is cruel. Very, very cruel to me.
"There you two are!" With a huge smile on her face, she pulls us both into a hug. It's more like a squeeze rather than a hug, but it feels strangely nice. Maybe I'm hungry for hugs -- ones that knock the breath out of my lungs. When she pulls away, she turns to me and asks, "How're you doing? You look lovely, by the way. Don't you think so, Harry?"
Baiting him to compliment me is the oldest trick in the book. My mum and Vivian have been doing this since we're able to speak, and they're in for a rude awakening if they think we're not aware of it. But it has become a routine whenever we're together, and I don't mind it. Free compliments from Harry Styles? I'll take three of them please.
"I don't look lovely," I counter with a polite smile.
Vivian rolls her eyes. "Nonsense."
Our eyes meet and Harry smiles. No hint of mocking whatsoever and I'm taken aback by its sincerity. "Yeah, of course. She always looks lovely."
He's gotten so much better at acting, I swear, that for a moment I thought his compliment is genuine. But then I remember that this, whatever this is, isn't normal for us. Normal consists of snarky comments, shooting daggers at each other and tuning the other out because you can't stand being around them, so much so that their voice alone is enough to irk you.
Vivian lets out a sound that sounds eerily similar to a squeal as she clasps her hands together, her smile nearly splitting her face into two.
"You need to stop doing that with your face, mum," Harry says and that earns him a swat on the chest. "No, you're scaring Cleo."
"Hey," I hit him as well. "Don't drag me into this."
"What, I'm just happy that my two favourite kids are together at last."
"It's like I don't even exist," Beau chimes in as he steps down from the last step of the stairs.
"You know I love you all equally," Vivian says to his younger son, ruffling his hair when he passes by her.
"Yeah, yeah." Beau replies in a bored tone. He runs his fingers through his hair, undoing what Vivian has done to his hair but it's to no avail. Not when Harry does the same. "I'll just wait in the dining room where no one can mess with my hair."
As soon as he's out of our sight, Vivian drops her voice a little. "He loves his hair more than anything these days. Harry went through that phase too."
"Is it when you had those perfect curls and refused to wash your hair 'cause you're afraid they wouldn't look the same afterwards?" I vividly remember that phase. Girls went crazy for his hair back then which in a way justifies why he refused to let water touch his hair.
"Perfect," Harry repeats under his breath. Wrong choice of adjective, Cleo. I shouldn't have called it perfect because now he has it in his mind that at some point in my life, I saw him as someone with perfect hair. He's going to hold this above my head for the rest of my life. "Well you had that cute fringe back in high school and it's always poking at your eyes but you'd never cut it shorter or grow it longer."
"If I cut it shorter, it would look weird and I grew it longer then it wouldn't be a fringe," I say in defense. That said, fringe was a bad idea but teenager me thought it was a brilliant idea. It was worth it, I guess, since Harry thought it was cute. Wait-- Why would I care what he thought of my fringe?
"You two are the cutest," Vivian comments. When there's a ding coming from the kitchen, she perks up. "But dinner's ready. We should go to the dining room now."
Vivian pops into the living room and announces the same thing to my parents and Ralph. Harry is about to follow all of them to the dining room when I grab him by his arm and pull him back to me. I'm surprised that he even budges.
"Yes?" Harry tilts his head at me.
"What was that?" I ask, brows pinched together into a frown.
"What was what?"
"You complimenting me."
Harry chuckles. "You did too. Perfect curls? Didn't know you thought they're perfect."
"That... That was unintentional," I argue. Harry simply smiles like he doesn't believe me. Whatever. "But yours? Yours... you complimented me on purpose, Harry."
"Just playing the role of a good soulmate," is all he says. He needs to stop giving me unsatisfactory and vague answers. I need more than that. So when he tries to walk away from me again, I grab him. This time, I grab his shirt. He lets out an annoyed groan. "What now?"
"You didn't answer my question earlier. About you and Sarah Turner."
Absentmindedly, his hand goes to his arm as though he's suddenly reminded of that name, of that tattoo inking his skin.
"What do you want to know?" He asks me.
He knows what I want to know but he's stalling. I'd like to think that I don't know Harry, but if today has taught me anything, it is that I do know him. Very well. And if Harry Styles is stalling, it means he's hiding something. I've never bothered to figure anything out from him so if he stalls, I usually let him stall; I don't bother trying to coax the information out of him. But this time, he's withholding something from me and that something is what I need to know.
I don't get why is he having such a hard time to talk to me about Sarah. It's not that hard to tell me that yes, Cleo, I spoke to Sarah and realise that she's my soulmate, after all. I'm sorry that you're soulmateless. Okay maybe he won't apologise for that but my point is, it shouldn't be hard for him to let me in on his current situation with Sarah. Unless...
I look at him at the same time he looks at me and that's when it hits me. No words needed, I just know.
Sarah Turner isn't his soulmate.