I inhaled in the fresh smell of the new pages that filled the room and sighed. Too many books, too little time. My fingertips ran along the smooth spines of the books sitting on the shelves slowly.I was drawn to the astrological/spiritual section and found myself eyeing up a box of oracle cards nestled between a bunch of soul exploration books.

The ever-irritating lost boy himself – Lachlan - followed me around aimlessly, his hands crammed into the pockets of his leather jacket as he whistled a tune through his lips.

His grandmother had apparently been trying to ship him off to another etiquette lesson, so he had managed to narrowly avoid her dialect torture by tagging along with me to visit Oscar on his shift, convincing her he had a new-found love for literature.

   “Lockie, we’ve been in here twenty minutes. If you wanted to buy something, you would have found it by now.” He droned - the annoying nickname he had decided to pull out of my surname grated on me like nails down a blackboard. I remembered his ridiculously proud expression after summarizing ‘Whitlock’ to ‘Lockie.’ I tried to get him to drop it, but the more I expressed my hate for it, the more he used it. It was a seriously painful cycle.

I shot him a glare and scooped up the box of Doreen Virtue: Healing with the Angels cards. He scoffed, and I could almost feel him rolling his eyes as I strode to the counter and slammed them down in front of my friend.

Oscar let out a breathy laugh as he registered my purchase. “He has a unique way of getting under your skin, doesn’t he?”

“Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” Lachlan joked, but his eyes seemed to hold traces of concern as he fixed his gaze on me.

“That’s £10.49 please.” Oscar issued the price and Lachlan rested his hands on the counter impatiently.

“£10.49? For fucking healing cards?” he blustered disapprovingly. “Are you nuts? What exactly are you healing? Can those pieces of reconstituted paper heal a broken leg? I’m betting not.”

“Will you keep it down?” I scolded as other customers began to stare in our direction. Lachlan raked his fingers through his black curls in defiance before stuffing his hands back in his jacket.

“We’re in Waterstones, Lockie, not a library.” He pointed out.

“It’s called manners.” I hissed. He raised a brow and looked to Oscar for support.

“I’m giving you a 50% discount.” Oscar stated, tapping it out on the touch screen till. “For once, I actually agree with that over groomed baboon, those cards are a load of crap. The only other people I’ve seen buy them are women hitting a middle-aged crisis, or girls that want to know if they’re going to find their ‘one true love.’ It’s sad, really. I can’t watch you pay that much for a box of crushed dreams.”

“Well I’m quite happy paying for that box of crushed dreams, thank you very much. How much?” I pulled out my purse from my bag, and raked my fingers around through the change.

“A fiver will be fine.” He shrugged. I pulled out the note and placed it in his palm before shoving the cards in my bag.

I knew the boys were more than likely correct about the ‘mystical’ cards being rubbish, but I couldn’t help but hold a little hope that they would give me the answers I needed to move on with my life. At this point – after four years of pining after someone who I was clearly never going to see again – I was desperate. Imogen’s mother was a well known tarot reader in the area and her readings had provided comfort and quality advice to many people and naturally, Imogen herself. Despite the highly likely possibility that it was all coincidence, it had seemed to help people deal with a lot of their problems anyway, even if it was just a simple case of the placebo effect.

Lachlan turned to me, his sea green eyes twinkling with rebellion as he rubbed his hands together excitedly.

    “So anyway, lovely lady, what’s the plan for your party tomorrow? Balloons, music, alcohol and presents galore? I hear Phil’s organised the whole shebang!” He sounded like a kid in a sweet shop.

“I didn’t even want a party.” I muttered.

Phil was the kind of man that, if it was someone’s birthday, it had to be shouted from the rooftops so the entire population of Stamford knew. In this case, he would be shouting it from the rooftop of The Pegasus.

“You’re going to be twenty one tomorrow! How can you not celebrate it? It’s a milestone birthday, you know? Like another sweet sixteenth.” Oscar exclaimed.

“More like sour sixteenth. I ended up puking my guts up all over the boy I liked after Aunt Pat gave me some Absinthe on the sly since I wasn’t allowed to drink. It was a nightmare.” I confessed, reliving the horrifically embarrassing memory in my mind.

“You can throw up on me anytime.” Lachlan winked, and then cringed. “Wait, what did I just say?”

“SO what time is it starting?” Oscar asked, rapidly changing the subject from the rock and roll reject as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter.

“God knows. If it were up to Phil we’d be partying from the moment the pub opens.” I  chuckled. “Maybe seven?”

“Nice.” Oscar grinned. “Gives me plenty of time to make myself look good after my shift.”

“And who exactly are you trying to seduce, Miss Piggy?” Lachlan snorted.

“You know, mock me all you want. It’s a stone cold fact that none of us have ever seen you with an actual girlfriend, and, before you say anything, kissing random girls doesn’t count since the majority of the girls on campus are so desperate they would sleep with anything that has a penis.” Oscar mentioned.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat and gave him a look.

“You and Gen are the minority.” He assured.

“So I have to tie myself down to prove I can get girls? Afraid I can’t do that Os, there’s too much of me for one girl to handle.” Lachlan boasted, smoothing down his leather jacket and cracking a grin.

“Whatever.” Oscar flipped him off. “I’ll meet you at the Pegasus for eight o’clock, Louise. I have a thing for being fashionably late.”

“You mean you just like to be late? Because there’s nothing fashionable about that get up.” Lachlan laughed before narrowing his eyes. “But please tell me you’re not wearing those shitty shorts you had on before, are you? Seriously, don’t. The only lass you’ll be pulling with those bad boys is Mad Margaret.”

“You’re a horrible person, did anyone tell you that? Mrs Jones isn’t even that mad!” I insisted.

“Louise, I caught her trying to snog Mr Partridge’s guide dog last week. She’s not even blind. It was practically animal cruelty.” Lachlan curled his nose up, shuddering in repulsion.

“Just meet us at the Pegasus at seven. I’m going to get ready at Imogen’s now, so I’ll see you both later.” I told them, turning round to leave the shop.

“You do realise it’s only five o’clock right?” Oscar said with amusement.

“You do realise how long it takes for Imogen to get ready, right?” I copied his tone with a smirk.

“Point taken.” He laughed.

* * *

A whole hour and a half was how long it took me to frustratingly curl Imogen’s thick, naturally poker straight hair - I would be seeing black curls in my nightmares. That gave me half an hour to get ready and get to The Pegasus on time, which clearly, would not be happening; look who is going to be fashionably late now. I tried to get ready against the time anyway, quickly applying my make up and brushing through any tangles in my wavy hair.

I had tried to pull off a sort of rock look, with black eyeliner and my eyelashes coated with so much mascara they were just about touching my brow bone in a buoyant curve. Imogen assured me that her red lipstain wouldn’t come off like normal lipstick so I allowed her to colour my lips with the felt tip pen-like tool.

Surprisingly, we managed to be ready by ten past seven which was a new record for Imogen’s usual lateness. She had slipped on a pair of washed out jeans with a white tank top tucked in, and a red blazer with black heels. I refused to wear heels – my ordeal with my blistered feet at Ebony Records was enough to put me off for at least another decade.

A painful tug dragged my heart out of its crevice and I swallowed hard. Don’t think about that.

I stuffed my feet into my Dr Martens after pulling on my black corset and highwaisted denim shorts before grabbing my leather jacket. After Imogen’s advice, I was wearing a black tank top underneath the corset so it wasn’t too revealing. She was always right about those kinds of things, despite her area of speciality being games.

       “This may sound insane, but don’t you think you and Lachlan would make a cute couple?” Imogen suggested as she sprayed Britney Spear’s Fantasy on to her neck and wrists before rubbing them together. “I was thinking about it earlier today.”

I nearly choked. “What?”

“I mean, you two always hang out together and you like the same music, interests. You even wear a leather jacket like him. It’s clear the reason he hasn’t been out with anyone is because he wants to go out with you. I’m just saying, if you like him, give him a chance. He’s nice, deep down, under the arrogance.” She explained, placing the perfume bottle in her bag alongside her Samsung Galaxy S3 phone.

If she only knew what happened the last time I loved someone despite their arrogance.

Before I could respond, Imogen’s mother, Marie, burst into the room.

       “I hear you got a pack of oracle cards!” she beamed elatedly. “You won’t have had a chance to properly project your energy on to them yet, but I have a pack with me. Just pick one card for tonight, it’ll be fun!”

She thrust a pack of beautiful cards into my lap before I could protest, and gestured for me to shuffle them. I was never a good shuffler, since I had never really played many card games, so I was a bit slow.

“When you feel like you want to stop, that’s your sign that you should pick out your card.” She advised me.

It took me another couple of minutes to really get in the zone and shuffle them properly, before I finally got the feeling I should stop. Marie smiled. “Now, pick any one you want. It doesn’t have to be from the top.”

I stared at the glossy backs of the cards, before plucking one from the middle of the pack and turning it over.

‘Soulmate.’

Handing Marie the cards, she gave me a wistful look. “It’s been awhile since anyone picked that one.”

“What one?” Imogen pouted, since I had not shown her the card. I was still sceptical about the truth in the card, if there was any. I decided to let it go over my head, and put it out of my mind. I had a party to get to.

“It doesn’t matter, let’s go, we’re already late.” I told her.

* * *

The Pegasus was not that far away from Imogen’s house, however there were a lot of cobblestone roads from her house to the pub and she didn’t want to risk losing one of heels to the uneven ground so we ended up getting a lift from her mother.

My phone rang as I sat in the back of the car, and I awkwardly answered it.

“Happy twenty first birthday Louise!” my mother cheered happily.

“Thanks, mum.” I laughed.

“Don’t get too drunk. You know what happened on your sixteenth.” She warned.

“I know. Please don’t bring that up again.” I groaned.

“I’ll come around tomorrow to bring your presents. Mike said he’s got you something really nice!” she giggled like a teenager – Mike was my mother’s boyfriend whom she had acquired a year after we had moved down here.  He was a nice enough man, but he tried too hard to be a father figure to me, even though I was an adult. It was extremely awkward.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” I smiled down the phone.

“Have a good night, I love you.” She told me lovingly.

“I will. I love you too.” I told her, just before she hung up.

It took no time at all to reach The Pegasus. Marie parked up against the curb outside and I helped Imogen avoid any cracks in the path outside. She never wore heels much, so I wondered who she was trying to impress.

Before we had even entered, I could hear Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer’ booming from the open windows. Evidently, Phil had hired Dennis, the local DJ to do the music for the party - he always played Madonna at least ten times in one night. Imogen nervously ran a hand through her hair and gave me a small smile.

        “Do I look okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, you look lovely.” I reassured her. “Is there something I should know about?”

Her cheeks instantly flushed red and she shook her head. “N-No. Why would there be?”

“You tell me.” I chuckled and she kept silent. I rolled my eyes and lead the way to the entrance of the pub.

Thankfully, Phil had remembered to keep a doorstopper under the heavy swing doors. It was always a struggle to open up if he wasn’t there to do so. The other bar staff, Niall and Malcolm were only just strong enough to open them if they teamed up, since they were only skinny guys. It was a nightmare, especially when we were opening up for the early rising locals and everyone was half asleep.

The drums of the song beat through the soles of my feet and vibrated right up my legs to my chest. I always loved really loud music. It was exhilarating. ‘Happy 21st’ balloons were tied to every surface as they bobbed up and down in the air. The entire pub was packed with people I hardly knew from university, but there were a couple from my Classics class I vaguely knew, like Naomi, who had automatically strode over with a huge smile on her face.

She was the kind of fiery ginger with really pale skin dotted with pale freckles and pale blue eyes. Her hair burst out in every direction with tiny curls, so everyone took to calling her Brave, like the Disney/Pixar film. It was unoriginal, but it caught on.

        “Happy birthday! I’m not really a birthday card kind of person, but here’s a Jack and coke, let me know and I’ll buy your next round.” She grinned, handing me the glass.

“Thanks.” I told her, having to talk a little bit louder, thanks to Dennis deafening everyone in the room. I took a sip and sighed when the Jack Daniels warmed my throat.

Someone suddenly touched my shoulders softly, and my heart jumped with shock. I could smell a nice aftershave floating across my senses and I turned around immediately. Lachlan stood in front of me, a big grin on his goofy face. I glared at him.

        “You nearly gave me a heart attack you creep!” I huffed and he rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“I prefer the term lovingly attentive, but that’s just me.” He chuckled, his green eyes almost lighting up in the darkness of the room.

Soulmate. The tarot card was burned into my superstitious mind, and I stared at the Scot for a moment too long, since he was beginning to look at me strangely, but then I saw it – right there, in his dilated pupils. Imogen was correct, he did like me. He was dressed in his leather jacket, a white t-shirt and some black jeans with some black boots. I laughed to myself, and he cocked his head to the side. It was hilarious how similar we were!

       “What are you laughing at Lockie?” he smirked, a grin stretching across his lips has he became increasingly amused. His smile was contagious, and I found myself beaming at him.

Did I like Lachlan? I’d never really given anyone a chance after...him.

I needed to move on. He would be twenty eight by now, and probably married, if his mother had anything to do with it. I couldn’t wait forever. Maybe Lachlan was my soulmate, maybe that’s what the card meant, assuming it wasn’t rubbish, of course.

We were so similar. If opposites attract, then what to people who are really similar do? Repel?

A finger prodded my cheek and I blinked to see Lachlan only centimetres away from my face. “What’re you thinking about?”

I felt my cheeks burn as his cool breath fanned over my face and I instantly leaned back quickly. “Nothing.”

“By the way, I’m guessing you weren’t aware of Gen and Oscar fancying each other?” he laughed, grabbing my shoulders and facing me in the direction of the bar, where Imogen and Oscar were sat on stools beside each other, their eyes connected and their smiles intimate. I widened my eyes.

“Really?” I gasped. “When did this happen?”

“It hasn’t happened, until now. It’s about time those two lovebirds hooked up.” He laughed.

“So what now?” I chuckled. “I don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Well, we should drink our way through the oncoming depression. Since they’re dating, they’ll probably stop hanging out with us single souls.” He feigned sadness.

“You know they’re not like that.” I scoffed.

“True.” He smirked, rolling back on forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets before looking at me seriously. “So I was thinking, we should go out. Then everybody wins.”

I was in the middle of drinking some of my Jack and coke just as he finished, making me almost spit it back into the glass.

“What did you just say?” I asked, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Lachlan had always been pretty bold, but never that bold. He opened his mouth to repeat it, when a dark shadow cloaked over us. My skin tingled as I could feel the strong presence seeping into my aura.

          “The answer to your proposal is no, kid. She’s my woman.”

The profound tenor reverberated through my body to the bone and I found myself swivelling around to see the face of a ghost. The face I had wanted to see for four whole years. The face I loved. The face that told me to wait.

The face I had never wanted to punch so much in my fucking life.

_________________________________

Hello!
I know you’re all going to hate me for this ending, but to make you forgive me, I’m going to update early on Monday instead of next Wednesday like I was planning to!

What do you think of Lachlan? Is he her soulmate? Can Zach expect a bit of competition?

I hope you enjoyed this update, I tried to make it a little bit longer than usual, but no doubt it will look shorter on Wattpad than it does in Microsoft word, sigh.

It's unedited, so please point out any errors!

Thanks for reading as always!

- R x