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Still focused on his notes, I replied in a forced casual tone, “Where did you go?”
“I took Charlie to Portland for the weekend. I haven’t had any one-on-one time with her since I got back. Plus, do you know how much money photos of Multnomah Falls sell for?” He chuckled. “Thought I might as well get some shots of it while I’m out here.”
“I haven’t been to Multnomah Falls in years,” I said, attempting to appear nonchalant. I held the book out to him. “Is this yours?”
His lips curled slightly. “Yeah. There might be some notes in there that’ll help you with your lesson.” He shrugged. “It’s my favorite book.”
I flipped through the pages again quickly. Almost all of them were filled with colored sentences and notes within the creases. Many of the pages were torn and the corners ripped. It looked like it had been read through a hundred times.
“Why?” I asked. I had started the book last week before the dance but had only gotten through a few pages before I became focused on other things. Even now, I’d only made it twenty-five pages in. But inside those twenty-five pages, I’m not sure I’ve found what would've made it Carter’s favorite book.
“I’ve learned more about life between the pages of that book than I’ve learned anywhere else,” he said casually. “I’ve read it every time I’ve felt lost, and every time I finish it, I feel like I’ve found myself again.” He rubbed his hands down his thighs, almost nervously.
“How many times have you read it?” I whispered.
“More than I care to count.” I looked at him, but he was staring out at the sky. His face was tense, serious. After a moment he met my eyes and softened. “What’s yours?”
“My what?” I asked, only half-paying attention, still flipping through the pages.
“Your favorite book?”
“Oh. I don’t really have one.”
He dead-panned, “Everyone has a favorite book, Pep.”
I shook my head. “I don’t really read.”
He craned his head to face me, a look of shock on his face. “Like, at all?”
“Not unless I have to for school.” I set his copy ofThe Alchemistat my feet.
He scoffed. “Wow. I’m really surprised by this information. I would have pegged you as a reader.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you like to read?”
I chewed on my lip for a moment unsure how to respond.
I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable explaining to him that I don’t read because it reminds me of my mother. She used to love reading. For a while, right before she died, we didn’t have a television. I think she might have pawned it. So, she read to me all the time. She didn’t read children’s books, though. She read her favorite books. She used to say that she wanted to read all the happy endings until she chose which one she wanted for herself, and once she decided, she’d go make it happen. She would tell me to do the same.
“I guess I’m just so busy with work, and before I worked, I was busy with school. I never made the time for it. It just wasn’t something I got into,” I lied. “Plus, I kind of hate the way books romanticize the world.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Not all books are romance novels, Pep.”
I slumped back. “I don’t mean that, necessarily. I mean the way books always have a happy ending, because that’s not real life. Some people—a lot of people—don’t get happy endings.” I paused. “But I do find the whole star-crossed lovers, forbidden love—soulmates—thing a little… repulsive.”
I noticed him attempting to hide a smile. His lips forming a thin line, clustering beneath his teeth. “So, you don’t believe in soulmates, then?” He let out a breathy laugh and added, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, actually. You know what they say about redheads and their souls.”
“Pretty sure that’s exclusive to gingers.” I shot him an overexaggerated eye roll. “I do believe in soulmates, but not in the way I see it represented in fiction. Or at least I think the kind of soulmates we read about are extremely rare, almost nonexistent.”
I heard his head swivel just before I felt his eyes begin to study me. I kept my gaze toward the sky, refusing to meet his. “Well now you have to tell me more.”
My stomach fluttered and my heartbeat as if it was outside my body. I begged it to calm down, afraid he’d hear the drum in my chest. I let a long moment pass before I spoke next. “A few months after I moved to England, I went out to a pub in London. There was all this writing on the bathroom door, and some of it caught my eye. In huge letters across the top the door was written:Atoms are an endless, infinite existence.” He nodded for me to continue. “Then, below it, someone had added in different handwriting:The atoms that make up who you are right now are the same atoms that existed before the Big Bang.” I chuckled. “And it was like people just kept adding onto this random train of thought that the first person had decided to write on a bathroom door. I mean these people could’ve lived all over the world, and they all collaborated to create this amazing theory on something unexplainable.”
Carter glanced at me.
I blushed. “Anyway, in a third set of handwriting, it was written:Someone told me once that all atoms lived in pairs. When the Big Bang happened, they were blasted across the universe and separated from each other. Ever since then, each pair of atoms has worked to find its way back to its other half…and lastly, in a fourth set of handwriting someone added:Sometimes those atoms find each other again in the form of human beings. We call them soulmates.”I looked at him then, and he was staring back at me, his eyes blazing with an unreadable expression. “I just never could get that theory out of my head again. I’ve always remembered it. I like to believe it’s true.”
He smiled softly. It wasn’t a smirk or a challenge, but a real smile. “I like it.”
“I don’t think these are always romantic connections, though,” I added. “I think that’s even more rare. I think if we are lucky enough to find our soulmate in this life, the chance of it being our best friend, or dog, or anyone else is just as high as it being someone we fall in love with. I think it’s just someone that we meet that we connect with on a level that is out of this world.
