Road trips are always fun. Until you wind up in a timeline where you don't exist.

You think I'm delulu, right? Nope. I've been stuck here for a little over a month and I've tried to find my car after the crash. Poof. Cell phone? Poof. Even my socials, roommates and friends didn't recognize. They looked right through me and threatened to call the cops.

I rattle all this off as I sniff over a free Spanish latte. The diner's waiter doesn't freak, nods in the right places as he snatches fries off the plate between us.

"You think I'm drunk, don't you?" I wipe at a tear and mess up the mascara and eyeliner even further. The universe decided the car and phone weren't needed but saved my crossbody bag and their contents. The twenty bucks I had on my lucked out a few hours ago after a failed attempt to bribe the guard on campus went south.

The waiter smiles, obsidian eyes sparkling. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Okay. Then I believe you."

Dabbing a few fries into the mixed mayo and ketchup the waiter insisted I try; I munch while wallowing in self-pity. The taste is creamer than expected.

He does the same and chews around a smile. "Good, huh? Knew you'd like it."

I sigh. "Think you can pacify me with burger and fries?"

"I take it its working?"

I bite into the juicy batty and have to fight the urge to admit the first meal in days couldn't have been better. I don't miss the fact that its past midnight and the only people in the diner are yours truly, the last waiter on shift. He alternates between sharing fries and pouring stale coffee to a slim guy with red-rimmed glasses. The rain continues to pour outside in the middle of June. In sunny California! Though a quiet respite from the bizarre, is welcomes.

A bemused look flashes across the waiter's face. To my horror I've been licking my fingers in front of this guy and feel a blush color my cheeks. The embarrassment came from the childish act not because the waiter had no business being this attractive. At almost twenty, dating cute guys isn't a shocker. Except when they turn out to be nice guys which this one might be.

Ugh. Focus, Mia!

"Dollar for your thoughts?"

I pretend to huff. "An entire dollar?"

He shrugs, the move effortless even if it tightens the sleeve of his black shirt against muscled biceps. "It's a bad economy and pennies rattle."

"Hmm," I mutter. "I was thinking what would happen if I don't get home."

He doesn't sense the lie. "I'll make sure you do."

"Why? You don't even know my name."

"Mia."

My heart skips a beat at the sound of my name on his lips but instead of trepidation an echo of longing rushes through me.

I stifle a gasp. "How..."

He taps the university ID and some of the tension eases. Aha! He means he'd call me an Uber not beam a person to an alternate reality.

"You...you don't have to I'll..." I tuck a strand of bleached blue hair behind an ear. "I'll figure something out."

He leans forward and the scent of lemongrass and mint mixed with something else makes me want to inhale deeper. "Let me help."

I chase the remnants of dinner with sips of iced latte. "You got a hero complex?"

You'd think I'd rejoice at the offer of help. But he's already bought me coffee, dragged my sobbing behind and ordered for me when I was too miserable to think. Already I owed him.

"I mean we're strangers." I say and he cocks his head to the side and kudos doesn't sneak a peek at my boobs. "I'll just get the bill."

"Hold on," he reaches for the lone bit of burger bun, shakes the saltshaker over it and pops it in his mouth. "Now we're friends."

I stare and he throws his back and laughs, a genuine sound warm, sweet.

"It's a thing we say in Egypt. If you break bread and salt with someone, you're no longer strangers. So...if I don't get you home..."

"An angry gran will come after you?"

He nods, grave and serious. "With a flipflop."

That gets a smile out of me. "Poor thing."

He offers a hand. "I, Harun, vow to get you safe and sound anywhere you want."

I slip my hands into his and this time, I can't breathe.

The diner blurs and before me Harun flops on a mattress in an empty apartment.

I blink and the images morph into another. Sand everywhere. Waves crashing. My fingers laced with Harun's under the beating sun.

"Mia?"

I'm thrown back to the reality of the diner. At some point the rain stopped. And the waiter, Harun, knelt at my feet.

"Um...I..." We're alone and he's frowning at me while messaging the soft skin on my wrist.

I'm turning psychic. I think but don't say.

"What happened?" Harun's voice is gentle as if calming a frightened animal.

If he thinks I'm drunk, he'd call me a wacko now but when in Rome...

"Do you have a scar on your left knee?"

He drops my wrist. "Yeah?"

"Got it from grazing a coral?"

Harun's eyes widen but he stands in one fluid movement. "Let me lock up."

Too hard. Too creepy. "Oh, uh. How much do I owe?"

Harun practically jogs. Keys jingle and lights dim here and there. When he comes back out his face turns serious, a helmet under one arm. "Let's go—"

"Where are we going?" I stride to keep up.

"You said you got lost on the way to the beach." We reach a Harley, and he hands me the helmet. "Can you let us know exactly where?"

I pull the helmet on and struggle with the clasp. Harun looms over, nimble fingers securing the straps as if he'd done a million times before. A pang of jealousy springs at the thought of him touching other girls. My stomach clenches.

"Hold on to me," Harun jumps on the motorcycles. "Or the handles."

I swing my legs over and wrap my arms around his waist. He stiffens as I press close enough to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Who are you?" I ask throwing caution to the wind. "You know what's happening, don't you?"

He doesn't answer and we shoot out of the diner's parking lot. The air is humid as we whizz by, and I do more than stay in place.

Emboldened when he doesn't comment or push away, my fingers trail the solid outline of his chest. They settle over the rhythmic beating of his heart. Boom, boom, boom. I have no idea who this flirtatious Mia is but can't seem to stop.

The Harley slows as reach the ticket booth to the beach. And though the remnants of rain lingers, it shouldn't be enough to dispel summer lovers from clamoring here. Yet, like the diner, we're alone.

Our sneakers crunch damp sand and I rub my face as soon as my helmet is off. Harun's waves stick out as if he'd rolled out of bed. It's in stark contrast to his intense gaze, roaming over every inch of me as if he's committing details to memory.

"Harun," I say, moving closer

His adam's apple bobs. "I messed up. I'm so sorry, Mia."

"For what?"

He drops his gaze to my lips. "Can I...hold you?"

I barely nod before our bodies lunge for each other. Strong arms circle my waist as I ball the fabric of his shirt, my head tucked under his chin. The sense of belonging wars with longing and it doesn't take blurring images this time. My skin knows his and my mind follows.

I don't need the streets to blur or images from another life to tell me I know this man. Because then I remember.

Harun grinning at me from across the room.

Harun spinning me around to Coldplay's Something Just like this while a kettle whistles in the kitchen.

Enti rohy. He says.

Harun screaming at me to run.

Harun taking a blow to the head. Another to the abdomen. Bones break as he sinks to his knees. No one helps. And I sprint to find anyone who would. No one does. They hear those awful slurs, avert their gaze and keep walking.

"Oh my god," I whisper. "How did I leave you there?"

Harun wipes at the tears streaming down my cheeks. "You survived."

I place my hand over his, marveling at the warmth. How could I have forgotten how cold they'd been the last I held them? How could I have forgotten him? Us?

"I—"

"There isn't much time," he grips my face in his hands. "When you go back, you thrive."

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

He leans his forehead against mine. "Enti Rohy."

You are my soul.

"And you're mine," I whisper as I angle my head, desperate for a kiss.

The kiss isn't gentle. It's urgent trying to make up for time robbed. We exchange air, longing and love. Too much of it. My nails graze his back, and his hands fist my hair. We're sixteen again, sharing our first kiss. Not our last.

He breaks contact and the ground rumbles. "It was my fault...I missed you. I need you to forget, okay? There is no place for me in your world."

I reach for him, and my hands pass through his arm. "No, please."

The next thing I know, the sun is out and I'm in my car, lips swollen. I find my phone in my bag and hit the record button. I pour in everything about Harun and I. Even the pain of watching him bleed on the sidewalk. The fury at the hearing when his murderers get away with community service. But I also bind myself to a promise; find him.

Rip the world to shreds until you find him.

Find your soul, Mia.