"Ethan? Julia? It's time for the party."

My dad's soft, careful voice, coupled with gentle knocking at the door, wakes me from a light sleep. My body is fatigued, my eyelids still heavy, but one glance at my alarm clock cures me of that. It is nine o'clock.

Sixty-six minutes.

"Coming," I say, looking over at Julia, whose eyes flutter open at the sound of my voice. She smiles at me before she is fully awake. Her hair flows over my pillow, the blanket hiding her bare skin from my eyes. The sight of her is so powerful that I feel like the bottom has dropped out of my ribcage, sending my heart somewhere around my ankles. She's just so beautiful.

I can't help myself. I lean down to kiss her.

"Happy birthday," she bids me, framing my face in her soft hands.

"I love you," I tell her.

"I love you, too," she whispers.

I leave the bed first, pointedly turning my back to her so she has some privacy. She has some clothes over here, neatly folded in one of my bottom dressers. Remnants of swimming and camping trips, mostly. But she loves wearing my shirts. When I finish dressing myself in a simple sweater and jeans, I turn to see her wearing a pair of her own jeans along with a shirt of mine. The sight delights me. Not only do I love the instinctive pleasure of my scent on her, but the larger shirts that hang lankly around my frame fit hers perfectly, deliciously accentuating her bust and hips. I can't stop myself from pulling her in for another kiss.

We keep the bathroom door open as we brush our teeth. I watch Julia carefully touch up her makeup. She usually never wears makeup, but she says today is a special occasion. She traces on some eyeliner, then hides spots of acne with concealer.

"I love you as much without makeup as I do with makeup," I tell her.

"It's not for you," she informs me, giving me a teasing look before she elbows me. "My mom would have my ass for having pictures taken of me without makeup."

"Your mother wears metallic gray eyeshadow. I don't think she has a leg to stand on," I mutter.

Julia elbows me, but she is laughing.

We head downstairs. I open presents from my pack members, surrounded by smiling faces in the living room. There are a lot of new clothes, and some merch from the local community college I'll be attending in the fall. My favorite is a new pair of waterproof boots from April. I look up to thank her, but she still isn't here.

Julia gets me a thick Hollister sweatshirt, a pair of movie tickets, and a big kiss on the cheek. I couldn't be happier as I pull on the sweatshirt, even though I know I'll be too hot in the packhouse.

Darla, the pack's beta and April's second-in-command, ushers everyone to the dining room for cake. One of my pack members baked the cake themselves. From the way people murmur to Misty, I think it was her. It's a wide, perfectly shaped sheet cake, covered in flawless white icing and decorated with delicate detailing of a forest with green icing.

Thank you, I tell her over the mindlink. It's beautiful.

Misty smiles at me from across the room. She looks fresh as a daisy despite last night's indulgences, her dark hair straightened, the edges a uniform line about her shoulders. You're welcome, Ethan! Happy birthday!

I don't make a wish as I blow out the candles. I can think of nothing in the world I want. I am so happy, so complete, sitting among my friends, with my father and my beautiful girlfriend on either side of me, eating delicious vanilla cake with a layer of lemon gel halfway between each perfect layer. We talk about my plans for my newfound adulthood. Sierra suggests I get my ass tattooed. I tell her I'll get whatever she wants if she pays for it. My dad and I make plans to go down to the nearby convenience store to buy Powerball tickets. I joke about all of the cough syrup and spray paint I'll now be able to buy.

Then it happens.

10:06.

It almost caught me off guard. Almost. I was so wrapped up in a conversation Julia was having with my father about the first gun I should purchase for myself. Which caliber, which brand. Though werewolves don't have much use for guns, I think I would enjoy hunting as a human if I were to give it a chance. I'd certainly have some natural advantages with my sensitive ears and nose.

My phone buzzes. I reach to turn it off instinctively, not wanting it to distract from our conversation. Julia's eyes flicker down to it as she discusses the importance of remembering a rifle's weight when purchasing it. She notices the alarm I had set, and is probably smart enough to assume it is my birth time. She doesn't question it for even a moment, probably thinking it is just a quirk of mine.

But the rest of the room knows. A collective breath is drawn. My father, who had been engaging Julia in conversation, glances at me expectantly, his brown eyes asking the questions his mouth currently cannot.

I take a deep breath, and the pain starts. It's a searing pain of longing, as though my lungs have been coated in acid, as though there is a golf ball in my throat. My hands spasm with the ache to touch. I want to grab, to hug, to hold, to squeeze and caress. I want to bury my face in something, whether a shoulder or chest or stomach, it doesn't matter. I'm filled with desperation to grab my mate, protect them from the world, and make them happy in every way I possibly can.

The longing seems... unobjectified. I look down at Julia as she continues to speak, glimmering in a moment of frozen time, her teeth shining as she lives in this second blissfully unaware of the desire wracking my body. She is beautiful, perfect, wonderful, as she seems to tower over me, a statuesque bastion of sweetness and wholeness while my body feels like it has been pushed off of a cliff.

I try to direct the desire to her, to imagine touching her, kissing her, hugging her.

My body recoils. I feel physically nauseous. I actually lean away from her, against my father, as much as I try to avoid the movement. The pain intensifies.

WRONG! My brain shouts at me. My body joins the chorus, making my muscles ache, filling my bones with fire.

I grit my teeth to keep from vomiting and try to keep control of my breathing as the unthinkable dawns on me.

Julia is not my soulmate.