Fate is a versatile thing.

Skeptics find the notion ridiculous, but for the people who believe, it is anything but. It is solemn and fragile, pleasantly and dangerously unpredictable all at the same time—one moment your dearest friend, and the next, your saboteur.

Scientists have built an entire theory about the workings of fate on the hypothesis that something so minuscule—like one too many flaps of a delicate little insect's wings—could ripple through time like a domino, changing past, present, and future.

They called it the butterfly effect.

I. THE PAST

It was all wrong.

A hummingbird a mile away had beat its wings a second too soon, a tenth of a degree too extreme, and everything unraveled. Time shifted, giving way to new possibilities and rescinding old rules.

"I need to go," Rhea said in Caleb's direction without making eye contact. As she scrambled out of the booth, she swiped the scarf she'd discarded on the seat and made a beeline for the exit.

Rhea burst through the doors of Last Call, a mess of thoughts and emotions. It wasn't right—the twinge in her heart told her as much. It was a terrible night, and she was mentally berating herself, so preoccupied in her own misery that she'd barely noticed the guy with the familiar dark hair, sitting hunched on the curb next to her bike.

"Xander?"

He looked up, a gloved hand held flush against his cheek. "Rhea."

"It's freezing," she said, wrapping the scarf around her neck and her coat tighter around her body. "What are you doing out here?"

He lifted a shoulder helplessly in response, and Rhea noticed suddenly what she hadn't at first glance. His expression was somber, humor unusually absent. Under the dim light of the lamp, she could see the glint of hurt in his eyes.

Slowly, she settled down on the curb beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Xander, what happened?"

He chuckled bitterly. "I kissed Alice."

"And?"

"And she slapped me."

He took his hand away gingerly, revealing a stroke of red across his left cheek, just a tender hue darker than his right. If Rhea hadn't known any better, she would have just thought it was because of the cold weather.

When Rhea stayed silent, Xander returned her question. "What happened to you?"

She hesitated. Would he judge her? Hate her? Could she tell him? He nodded at her reassuringly, as if reading her mind. His eyes relayed so deep an empathy that she couldn't help herself. Her heart was gripped with guilt, stomach flipping as the words came out like vomit.

"Caleb and I kissed."

For a moment, everything was still. And then Xander sighed heavily, his breath fanning like tendrils across his face.

"Shit," he breathed. After a beat of silence, he cracked a sad tentative smile. "Well, at least I'm not the only one having a crappy night."

Rhea was momentarily distracted by a strange feeling of familiarity, as if she'd heard that phrase from a dream before. Déjà vu? Close, but no, it wasn't that. This felt as if it were a different memory, like a past perfect hidden in a present tense.

Or maybe she'd just watched one too many science fiction movies lately. Damn it, Willa and her movie collection.

Lost in her thoughts, Rhea hadn't realized Xander had gotten up until he was putting a hand on her shoulder. "Wanna get out of here?" He crouched to stare her straight in the eyes. His were a deep warm brown, like a mug of hot cocoa at the end of a long day. Kind, inviting, forgiving—everything Rhea needed right now.

She nodded speechlessly, letting him help her up with no resistance, which surprised Xander. She'd usually give him a hard time, but tonight she was limp. Her features were tired and her skin cold. A part of his heart broke for her.

"Come on, then," he said, draping an arm over her shoulder. "Before either of us freezes to death."

❄

Xander wasn't sure why he'd taken her there.

When he'd asked where she wanted to go, she'd said, "Anywhere but home." That was a pretty broad caveat.

He could have easily gone for somewhere generic, like a Starbucks—where he'd met Alice, he recalled with a twinge—but instead, he'd taken her to the hilltop on the outskirts, lights from the town below glittering like stars in the night sky.

In their shared silence, both trying and failing to come to grips with the evening's turn of events, Xander found himself pondering heavily on Alice and what she'd meant to him.

She was his soulmate, sure — there was no doubt about that. Age-old magic had placed its stamp of approval over their love... if it would only come. And that was what burdened Xander.

When would their love come, if Alice was so intent on keeping him in the borderlands? Xander wasn't sure fate was a strong enough foundation for their entire relationship, but he hoped to God it would be. At this rate, it was the only thing he had going for him.

The deep-seated furrow in his brow didn't escape Rhea's notice. After a few soft nudges, she finally got his attention and asked him what was wrong.

Xander hesitated for a moment, then shrugged it off. "It's nothing."

Which Rhea knew was total bullshit. She fixed him with a look.

"Fine," he conceded with a sigh. "I was just thinking... Have you ever known that you and another person were meant to be? Like, really known?" He waited, but Rhea was stunned silent. "God, it's stupid, I know. Never mind—"

"No," she blurted out. "I mean, yes — I mean, yeah, I do. I have."

Xander looked at her strangely.

Rhea took a deep breath. "What I mean to say is: Yes, I have known." Her tone was imbued with a deep empathy, and a flicker of curiosity lit in Xander's eyes. Could it be? Did she really mean what he thought she did?

He had to find out. "Care to explain?"

Rhea hesitated, but as she glanced back at him, his discerning gaze locked with hers. The tension rolled and built between them like a tidal wave gaining momentum as it billowed towards the shore. Imminent, impending, inevitable.

"Here's the thing," she started, pausing apprehensively. "The women in my family have this legacy."

❄

Xander drove Rhea to Willa's place at a quarter past five in the morning. Neither of them had wanted to part—not after the secrets they'd shared that night—but they were both exhausted and agreed that they could continue discussing the nuances of their ancestral magic another day.

In the few minutes it took for Xander to drive home, the full fatigue of the night crept up on him. When he arrived, it was all he could do not to fall asleep on the couch then and there as he passed it—like father, like son, he thought amusedly—but he managed to make his way up to his room, shrugging off his leather jacket immediately.

But as he moved to unbutton his pants, he froze, catching a flash of ink on his bared arm. As he fully beheld it, panic rose like bile in his throat.

"Holy fuck," he choked out.

It wasn't possible. And yet, there it was.

On the inside of his wrist, off-center to the left, was a small but intricate butterfly in plain black ink, wings filled with geometric patterns that would've surely been difficult to construct if done by human hands. But that was the thing — it wasn't.

He was certain it wasn't there earlier that night, which means there was only one explanation: Fate.

And, as was the trend in Xander's life, it only made things more complicated.

❄

In the morning, Xander found himself standing outside his father's study. He hesitated, before letting out a frustrated sigh, rapping his knuckles against the open door lightly as if hoping he wouldn't be heard.

But alas, a muffled voice called for him to come in. "Xander," his father said, surprised when he trudged across the carpeted floor. "You're awake early. Weren't you out at the bar with your friends?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

His father's eyes peered at him concernedly. "Is there something wrong?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Xander answered apprehensively, reaching down to push his sleeve past the newly inked flesh. "Is something wrong here?"

His father stared at the bared flesh with a hint of recognition in his eyes before they widened with realization. "When did you get that?"

"Last night, at Last Call."

"Did anyone touch you?"

On another day, Xander would've been able to joke about how inappropriate it was for his father to expect him to screw and tell, but the mood was set strictly to somber that first day of the year.

"I spent most of the night with Rhea," he admitted. "She might have touched me once or twice."

"Rhea, your soulmate?"

"No, that's Alice."

His father sighed heavily, leaning back into his leather chair. The tension was heavy in the room, and it was a while before he spoke again. "I hoped this day wouldn't come for myself. I never anticipated it would for you."

"Why?" Xander asked, stomach flipping with anxiety. "What's happening?"

He held his father's gaze, willing him to both speak the truth and somehow keep its terrors at bay. But his next words only brought them around full-force.

"Son, Rhea's your Alternate."

II. THE PRESENT

The next few days were torture of the acutest kind.

When Monday rolled around days after the New Year's Eve fiasco, Xander's life had become a jumbled complexity. More so than usual, that is.

For one, he still wasn't sure what to make of the whole Alternate thing. He'd spoken to Rhea since that night — he'd called her the following morning so they could pick up the bike she'd left at Last Call and ended up going out to brunch to make a day out of it — but the topic that gnawed away at him was never broached. Of course, he was content just to be around her. To his surprise, despite pulling the proverbial carpet out from underneath his feet, Rhea's presence was still comforting to him.

Secondly, Caleb's drunken ass had done some serious damage that night, and there was a whole lot of shit to sort through in the friend department. There was no way in hell Xander would have let him drive home in his state of inebriety that night at Last Call, so he'd had no choice but to call Luke.

"Hey, man, could you do me a favor?"

The Brit didn't sound pleased. "Not the best time, mate."

Of course it wasn't. It was past midnight on New Year's Eve, and he was over at Anne's place for the holidays. Nobody needed to spell it out for Xander.

"I know, but it's really important." Xander sighed. "Caleb's drunk off his ass, and there may be potential here for a whole lot of drama."

"And how does you being a cockblocking wanker fit into all this?"

In the background, Xander heard Anne scuffling and giggling. It sent a shiver of visceral disgust through his stomach. He'd never get used to his friends dating each other.

"Trust me, dude," he said somberly. "Serious shit could hit the fan if you don't take fifteen minutes off your girlfriend to pick Caleb up at Last Call."

An impatient sigh. "Why can't you drive him home? I thought you both were there together."

"I'm... sort of with Rhea. I have to drive her home."

"Rhea?" There was a tone of surprise in his voice, and the scuffling stopped. "His friend from school?"

"Yep. She was there. And that's not all that happened."

"Well, damn."

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'm on it. But you owe me an explanation, Lakefield."

"Luke," Xander added seriously before he could hang up. "Let's keep this between us for now, agreed?"

Luke sighed. "Agreed. But don't pretend like that's going to help anything."

And indeed, it hadn't. Keeping Caleb's secret was gnawing at Xander's conscience, especially when he finally saw Yasmin on Friday after avoiding her the entire week. As the friends sat together at their lunch table, Luke gave him a pointed look, which Xander promptly ignored, launching into an animated anecdote to ease his own discomfort.

As soon as school let out, Xander made a beeline for his car and drove downtown. He'd texted Caleb to meet him at Granny Grease, a diner they frequented halfway between Rockwood and Lincoln.

As he strode into the diner, he was unsurprised to find that Caleb was already sitting at their usual booth with a milkshake and fries. His classes always let out earlier.

"You owe me," Xander started, slipping into the seat, "one hell of an explanation."

Caleb sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. God, I'm such an ass."

"Fucking huge donkey's ass, man."

"Helpful. Really helpful."

Xander felt a tinge of sympathy for his best friend. Caleb, in actual truth, was not an ass. He was the most conscientious person Xander had ever known, and however inexcusable a mistake he had made, he was probably entitled to one. He was only human after all.

"Did you talk to Rhea?" Xander tried with a kinder tone.

"Barely. She won't even look at me."

"Well, did you talk to Yasmin?"

Caleb's silence told Xander all he needed to know.

"Dude, come on," he squawked. "I'm at my wit's end here. Luke doesn't know the details, but he's been hounding me for them. Eventually everyone will figure it out — Yasmin included — and that's going to hurt a lot more in the long run."

"It was one kiss," was Caleb's frustrated whisper. "Drunk and meaningless." He faltered briefly, but the hesitance didn't go unnoticed by Xander. "I mean, Yas and I are already at the end of our rope. I just can't tell her. It'd ruin us."

"But what if it doesn't?" Xander pressed on, marveling inwardly at his sudden bout of counselor-league wisdom. "You can tell her the truth and fight for her, man. This could be what your relationship needs — just a little challenge."

Caleb still seemed unconvinced, but Xander liked to think his words had gotten to him, at least a little. As they finished up their orders, he billed them out, refusing to take Caleb's money and offering him a ride home, much to Caleb's chagrin.

The mood was a touch lighter as they left the diner, loading into the car. When the Mercedes came to life, so did the stereo, blasting Xander's guilty musical preference.

Caleb burst out laughing. "Sensei Drop? You still listen to this stuff?"

He shrugged with a sheepish smile. Trashy nineties trap-hop never failed to comfort him. "I have the new Wools album in the glove compartment," he said. "You can change it if you want."

"You're kidding—that only came out yesterday!" Caleb eagerly reached forward, but stopped short as the compartment clicked open.

"What's wrong?" Xander sneaked a glance, careful not to let his eyes leave the road for too long as he drove. He caught a flash of deep red cloth in Caleb's hand and knew exactly what it was. He wasn't sure why his friend seemed to be so stunned by it. "Oh, I keep forgetting to give that back. It's Rhea's."

"I know," Caleb said slowly. "I gave it to her for Christmas."

Xander's eyebrows lifted. That was interesting. "Did you?" he mused. "I got her a present too — a pair of snowflake earrings. You seen her wear them lately?"

"She wears them all the time now," he answered. "But why do you have her scarf?"

Xander shrugged. "I drove her home that night from Last Call. She must've forgotten to take it with her—you know, considering the mess of emotions she must've been feeling then?"

He threw a look at his friend meaningfully.

It was a cutting jab, and Caleb took it like a man. "Okay, I deserved that," he admitted. After a moment of silence, trying to figure out whether he wanted to know or not, he hesitantly asked, "How was she that night?"

Xander's hands tightened around the wheel. He wasn't sure when it started — probably somewhere between discovering she was his Alternate and spending so much time with her in the past week — but he'd started feeling strangely protective of Rhea lately.

"Broken," he finally said. "But strong. She's just... really something, man." He lapsed into silence, clearing his throat. "Gotta say, you were pretty vigilant, making sure I wouldn't be another asshole in her life. I guess you just didn't think it'd be you."

"Touché," Caleb answered quietly a beat later, and the rest of the ride proceeded without conversation — the glove compartment open, the scarf in his hand, and Sensei Drop in the background, unchanged.

As the car came to a stop in Caleb's driveway, Xander insisted he should take the scarf. "Look, maybe you can use it as a way to get Rhea to talk to you," he said.

Caleb nodded. "Thanks, man. For setting me straight. Appreciate it."

Xander quirked a subtle smile. "My pleasure," he said. "Making you feel like shit's a special kind of fulfilling."

❄

The first week of January went swimmingly for Rhea.

Not.

If she thought the Sunday after New Year's Eve was torturous, the first week back in school, where Caleb lurked at what seemed to be every corner of the campus, was absolute hell. His presence, once a reliable comfort throughout her day, was now the flowerbed on which the Rafflesia of her horrible deeds grew.

Rhea had masterfully avoided him with the help of Willa and Wade, who had both gone out of their way to keep her out of Caleb's way. By the end of the week, she let out a sigh of relief. She'd done it — avoided his face for an entire five days.

Or so she thought.

That Friday afternoon, she'd gone over to Willa's for a hardcore sci-fi movie marathon. "No rom-coms for at least another month for you," Willa had announced, deftly plucking The Notebook from Rhea's hands. "God knows you've got enough relationship drama to handle right now."

And that was how she got assigned to nuking a bag of popcorn in the kitchen while Willa picked the line-up of absolutely anti-romantic films for the night.

As Rhea shook the hot contents of the bag into a bowl, the flourish of a film's opening credits played from the television set.

"Yo!" Willa yelled from the living room. "Marty McFly ain't waiting for nobody!"

She chuckled, taking the bowl in her hands. "I'm coming! Just give me a sec—"

Rhea barely made it past the doorway before a dizzy spell she thought she'd never feel again clouded her consciousness. In the back of her mind, she heard the bowl clatter to the ground and her friend's worried yelp. But beyond that, Rhea wasn't in Willa's living room anymore.

She was having a snippet — a SNIPPET — after she'd met her soulmate! Fear and panic closed in on her, only doubling as the vision rolled out before her eyes.

It was the same greasy diner she'd seen Xander and Yasmin at months ago through Caleb's eyes.

Except now, it was neither Xander nor Yasmin sitting across from her view — it was Caleb himself.

And it most definitely was not through his eyes.

The vision was there one second, and gone the next. Rhea blinked multiple times, coming to. Willa gripped both her arms, holding her up as her knees weakened, sighing in relief as her friend's eyes cleared with consciousness.

"Should I even ask what that was about?" Willa ventured worriedly.

Rhea shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Give me a second."

"Alright, just — God, come sit down. You look pale." She led her to the couch, kicking away the spilled popcorn in their path. "Ah, what a mess. Stay here while I go get a broom."

When Willa's footsteps pattered down the hall, Rhea stared at the ruined tawny carpet, dotted with a buttered catastrophe that would have otherwise tasted so good. She thought it was a lot like her life.

"What a mess indeed," she whispered numbly.

❄

The front door clicked quietly behind her as Rhea slipped into their home. From out in the hallway, she heard the shuffle and chatter of her parents in the kitchen, and she stiffened, suddenly afraid.

"Are you sure?" Willa had asked for the nth time after she'd finally told her. "It was absolutely, positively Caleb?"

"Absolutely, positively," Rhea echoed. She had no doubt about it. It was definitely Caleb in her snippet, looking forlorn as he stirred a fry in his milkshake, mouth moving as he spoke to whomever was sitting across from him in the booth.

Which brought on the question: Who was sitting across from him?

Rhea had already met his friends — all of which had existing girlfriends, save for Xander, who was also well on his own trodden path of soulmate misery. Funnily enough, in her haze of panicked thoughts, all she could hope was that she wasn't trading one whipped guy for another.

With shaking hands, Rhea pulled out her phone and dialed a number that had been calling her nearly every day of the past week.

"Xander?"

"Hey," came his cheery reply. "Can I call you back in a while? I'm driving."

"Oh?" Rhea said casually. Or as casually as she could, given her entire future was in question at the moment. "Where from?"

"Caleb's place. Dropped him off."

"You guys hung out?"

"Yeah," he said. "Granny Grease's, the diner downtown. I'll take you there some time—they've got the best fries and milkshake. But seriously, I'll ring you up later. I'm pulling into the main road."

"Alright. Talk later."

"Later. Bye."

The line disconnected, and Rhea slowly lowered the blaring phone from her ear. Willa had her curious eyes trained on her, understanding without words what her best friend had just discovered.

"What could it mean?"

"Hell if I know," Rhea said dazedly. But she was certain, if there was anyone who did, it was probably her mother.

Rhea stepped into their kitchen in time to catch her parents in the midst of a tickle fight. Where a feeling of faint disgust would usually be — because, come on, it's your parents — sadness settled into the pit of her stomach. Her parents had it so easy. Sometimes it was hard to believe they could still be as in love now as they were so many years ago.

"Honey," her dad was the first to acknowledge her, straightening as he cleared his throat. A bright grin was still plastered across his face — the expression of a man who was happy because the love of his life was happy. "I thought you were staying over at Willa's."

Rhea shrugged. "I was."

Her parents glanced at each other, instantly knowing there was something wrong.

"Did you and Willa get into a fight?" her mother tried, although she knew it was a shot in the dark. Her daughter was a grown adult; the last time she'd come home distraught over a misunderstanding was in fourth grade.

"It's not that. I just... I have a problem."

"What is it?" her dad prompted gently. "You can tell us, sweetheart. Whatever it is, we've got you. We'll always love you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Rhea thought if romance never worked out for her, it would be just fine. She already had a wellspring of unconditional love in her family, and that would always be enough.

She swiped at her cheeks, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the tension in her father's shoulders. God, he probably thought she was pregnant or something.

"I don't know how to start," Rhea hiccupped, "except by saying that I kind of really hate magic now."

❄

That night, Rhea lay in bed, replaying her parents' words in her mind.

"Oh my god. We didn't think—"

"I can't believe it, the only time this has ever happened was—"

"Honey, Clarice and Arthur?"

"Your grandmother—well, she always told us it was possible."

Rhea squeezed her eyes shut tight, and, taking a deep breath, waited for morning to come. She knew there would be no sleeping tonight.

III. THE FUTURE

Several other snippets came sprinkled across a span of weeks.

Xander's hands on the leather-skinned steering wheel of his Mercedes. Making a pot of coffee on a granite kitchen counter. Sitting in class, staring at a blackboard brimming with chalky equations. It was like texting Xander, "WUSSUP?" and getting a live-action GIF in reply.

With the graciously spaced snippets and the uncovered secrets of her ancestral magic, Rhea was slowly growing accustomed to the truth, which was this: Xander was her Other. Or at least, that's what her parents had called him.

It was rare. So rare, in fact, that the only woman who had ever had an Other in their lineage was Rhea's grandmother, Clarice. Her first soulmate had been Arthur's best friend, Donovan, but somewhere in the middle of the story, she'd started seeing Donovan through Arthur's eyes. It was a matchstick made in hell, and the drama was unbelievable, especially considering Arthur had been engaged at the time to Clarice's best friend, Tilly.

The story made Rhea's head spin. And it certainly put things into perspective.

Like, sure, Rhea's new soulmate was her old soulmate's best friend, who'd already been endowed with his own soulmate and a rad tattoo of a wolf to show for it — but at least none of them were engaged. Right?

"But the beautiful thing is," her grandmother had said in a phone call, "With the Other, you get to choose."

"Choose?" Rhea echoed.

"It's rare," she said, as she had about a thousand times already. "Once in a while, Fate gives you the wheel. I don't know how, or why, but you get to make the next move, Rhea, dear. It's a privilege and a powerful thing to choose to love, rather than merely be destined to love."

"Is that why you chose Grandpa? Over Donovan?"

"That, and other things. With Donovan, it felt... well, I liked him a lot. And we could have been a lovely couple, but I was always trying to solve a problem to get to him — and that's not necessarily bad, just perhaps a little exhausting. With Arthur, even with the odds initially stacked against us, it was organic — challenging for growth, but also strangely comfortable."

Strangely comfortable. That was certainly a way to put it, and Rhea was familiar with the notion.

Despite the crazy double-soulmate reveal, she was constantly spending time with Xander. He'd called her out for coffee some afternoons, asked to take a walk with her — initially, he'd wanted to take a drive around, but Rhea insisted she was the travel-on-foot type of person, and if he wanted her company, he'd have to deal with it. And he did.

When they were together, the soulmate business didn't exist. It was just them, Rhea and Xander. Not soulmates, but rather, kindred souls.

❄

"Got any plans for the weekend?"

Rhea glanced at Willa. They were in line at the cafeteria for lunch, piling food onto greasy trays. Wade was ahead of them, already loading two servings of cheese fries on top of his own.

"Yeah," she said. "Xander's coming over tonight, he just got The Martian in Blu-Ray. Wanna come? Invitation extends to you too, Wade," Rhea called out.

"Nah, you lovebirds should get some alone time, but merci for asking," Wade tried in an exaggerated French accent. That was his latest thing, trying to learn French for two reasons: a) "It's sexy," and b) "Willa's into it. Right, babe?" All he'd learned in the past two weeks, however, was that one word, and he beat the hell out of it.

Willa rolled her eyes. "I swear I can't wait until his French phase blows over," she muttered.

Rhea chuckled. "Seriously though, The Martian? I can't believe you're turning down the opportunity to see Matt Damon."

"I'm turning down the opportunity to be your third wheel," Willa corrected.

"Come on, Xander and I are just friends."

"Uh-huh."

"Seriously."

"Totally believe it," Willa sang.

"We can't be more."

"Of course."

"Willa, come on, stop it. I mean, he's got a soulmate."

At that, Willa stopped to raise an eyebrow over her shoulder. "You're seriously playing that card right now?" she said. "Caleb had a girlfriend, and that didn't stop you."

They plunked into their usual lunch table, Rhea with a little more weight on her shoulders. The guilt ate away at her again, as it did any time anyone mentioned last month's Caleb fiasco.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Willa quickly amended.

Rhea shook her head. "No, I know. I get it — I just, still feel really bad about it, I guess."

"Well, it's over now," she said, trying her hand at comforting. "You've both put that behind you, right?"

But that's the thing, they hadn't. Rhea hadn't spoken twenty words to Caleb since New Year's Eve. They'd even done their chemistry project for Mr. Martin's class online to avoid a real conversation. Rhea had gone to great lengths to set barriers between them, and so far, Caleb hadn't tried to deter that effort.

❄

"So, I bought Lays, Doritos, and Cheetos," Xander announced as he walked through their doorway. "Which one do we have first?"

"Lays," Rhea said without blinking, shutting the door behind them. "Always Lays."

"Brilliant choice, Ms. Myers," he said, disappearing into the kitchen to get a bowl for the chips. He'd been over so many times in the past month that he knew exactly where the cutlery and porcelain was.

"Oh, hello, Emily," Rhea heard Xander say in the kitchen.

"Xander," her mother greeted him. "It's nice to see you — again. Are you sure you're not living in the guest room yet? I mean, you're always welcome, a lovely young man such as yourself."

"Oh, positive. I think I'd notice if I started living in the warmest, kindest household in the country, along with the most stunning woman in the state — yourself." And then he called out, "No offense, Rhea!"

Rhea rolled her eyes at his obvious flattery, loading the DVD into the player. That's how it worked between Xander and her mother. It was an ongoing battle — they exchanged a battery of compliments, trying to see who could out-courtesy each other. Meanwhile, Rhea and her dad tried to outlast each other's stomachs. There was only so much cheese you could take before blowing chunks.

"The movie's on," she hollered. "Stop hitting on my mom and come out already."

He strolled out with a bowl full of Lays and a grin full of smug. "Jealous, are we?"

"Disturbed, I am," Rhea answered. "And it's The Martian, not Star Wars, get your puns with the program."

No sooner than they had plunked into the couch comfortably did a knock on the door resound, catching Rhea off-guard. She traded a glance with Xander.

"Not my house," he said evasively.

"Real gentleman," she joked, getting up to get the door.

When she swung it open, the last person she'd expected to see stood on the porch. It was jarring, like she'd been pulled from a cheesy Friends re-run and thrown into The Lord of the Flies.

On the other side of the door was Caleb, a familiar and forgotten scarf in one hand.

"Hey," he said apprehensively.

Rhea was speechless. Xander, on the other hand, was not.

"Hey, man!" he called from the couch.

Caleb tentatively peeked around Rhea to see where his best friend was sprawled on the loveseat, feet up on the coffee table. "Xander? What are you doing here?"

"Hanging out," he said. "We're watching The Martian. Come to join?"

Rhea almost face-palmed herself.

"Uh, no," Caleb replied, seeming a little jarred himself. "I just wanted to talk to Rhea." His eyes flickered back to hers, and without permission, Rhea's heart ached. She hadn't seen his gold-speckled irises face-to-face in a while, and they still evoked mixed emotions within her.

"Well," Rhea said drily, at loss for what to do. "Do you want to come in?"

"Out here's fine, thanks."

It was a straightforward, robotic answer, a far cry from their former easy banter. Just as robotically, Rhea stepped outside, pulling the front door shut behind her. It was a cold, crisp evening, and she wrapped her arms around her body to keep warm.

For a moment, all they did was look at each other. Caleb seemed conflicted, confused, and even a little remorseful as he gazed at Rhea, and it was all she could do to keep a straight face, waiting for him to make the first move.

Caleb cleared his throat. "So, you and Xander have been hanging out a lot lately."

Rhea shrugged. "He comes over a couple times a week. Why are you here?" She thought she'd get right to the point and be done with it.

He rubbed the back of his neck — his discomfort tell. No matter how much Rhea tried to convince herself she was over Caleb, she knew there were things she'd never forget, like the gleam of his eyes in laughter, or his little ticks that spoke volumes louder than his voice ever would.

"I'm just — we haven't spoken in weeks," Caleb said. "I guess, I don't know... I guess I've just come to clear the air?"

Of course. Clear the air, save face, haul ass.

Rhea raised a brow.

"Make sure you're okay," he clarified. "That we're okay. I mean, obviously, we're not. But I wanted to say I'm completely, totally sorry. With every fiber of my being, Rhea, I don't—" he stopped, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what kind of guy does that to a girl, but he'd at least have to be a real baseline dick. And that was me on New Year's Eve — just a dick with a broken relationship and, I don't know, a need for attention. And you were there, beautiful, and smart, and someone I could want. And I thought, in that second, I could want you and have you."

Rhea tried to cut in, but Caleb held a hand up. "Please," he said. "Just listen first, and I swear I'll take all of your cutting remarks. God knows I deserve each one. I just want you to know that I know I was in the wrong. I knew you liked me, and I used you because I could. I talked to Yasmin today — I told her everything. And it's on me, Rhea."

She inhaled sharply at the thought of Yasmin knowing. She'd only met the girl once, but that was enough to know that she was a genuinely kind soul. Rhea imagined her expression crushing with the disappointing thought of her boyfriend kissing another girl, let alone one he'd supposedly spent a lot of time with at school.

Still, the conversation had taken a turn for the unexpected. It's on me, Rhea. The weight on Rhea's shoulder lifted, but only slightly.

"Okay," she started, gathering her wit. "Okay, first of all — first of all, thank you." Caleb looked up in surprise. She couldn't blame him; she was taken aback as well.

"Thank you for owning up — but to be clear, it isn't all on you," she went on. "I can't believe that you'd think that. I'm pissed at you for using me to validate yourself when your relationship was shaky, but you've got to know I'm in the wrong too. I can't let you take all the consequence, because I'm better for it, Caleb. I make a mistake, own up to it, and I'm better for it. I don't need you to shield me, or anything like that. I don't need you for anything."

Rhea made for the door, but spun around last minute to face him again. "I've always just wanted you," she admitted. "Do you realize that? I wanted you, but I didn't need you. You needed me, but you didn't want me, so you used me. And that is what hurt the most, Caleb Archer."

All Caleb could do was stare. The breath in his lungs were knocked out by the sharp truth of her words. Rhea, of course, was absolutely right, and he was an idiot for missing it.

"It's my loss," he finally said.

"It really is," Rhea snapped, sighing as she roped her anger in, leaning against the door for support. Her litany had taken a toll on her. After a moment, she said, "Well, what did Yasmin say?"

"A lot," Caleb said. "We broke up. That was in the works for months, but I guess I needed to be honest with her first and end the relationship the right way." He lifted the hand with the red scarf. "And now I guess I was hoping to make things right with you."

"How'd you get that?"

"Xander," he answered. "After he fixed my mess at Last Call, he thought I should have it so I could have an excuse to talk to you."

When Rhea didn't respond or move to accept the scarf, he went on, "I was — I don't know, I thought maybe I could have another shot? At wanting you? If you'd let me."

The gravity of his words sunk in slowly as she stared at his outstretched hand, holding the scarf forward like a proposal. Here and now, she was made by Fate to choose. She'd tried all month to put off the decision between One and Other, but somehow it had snuck up on her.

She'd wanted Caleb for so long, and now she wasn't so sure. She wasn't sure about Xander either, but she realized she didn't want to choose between two boys. She wanted to choose herself.

Rhea reached over to run the cloth between her fingers, and then pushed the scarf away gently.

"I can't let you," she whispered. "I'm sorry. Not only is it too soon for you—but it's just not right for me. At least, not right now."

"At least take the scarf," he said, meeting her eyes to relay a deep regret. "The moment I bought it, I think I'd really, truly wanted you. I'm just sorry I was too much of idiot to figure it out sooner."

❄

The Martian had been put on hold.

Caleb left shortly after, trudging out into the cold night. Rhea took a moment for herself before entering the house, scarf in hand. When she did, she found that Xander was still seated on the couch, but the television had been turned off. He raised his brows at her, not missing the sliver of red cloth in her grasp.

"That was — a long conversation," was all he could think to say.

"You don't even know," she replied, dropping next to him on the couch with a sigh. "He told Yasmin," she said after a while.

That was news.

"He did?" Xander repeated incredulously. "How'd that go?"

"Badly. They broke up."

"So, you two?" he ventured carefully. Rhea didn't seem very happy and in love at the moment, but you never could tell with her. And besides, they were soulmates.

She shook her head. "That's not happening anymore."

Xander couldn't explain why he felt a twinge of relief mixed with the jolt of surprise upon hearing that, but he ignored it all the same. Instead he put a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "Any time you want to talk about it," he said simply.

She gave a weak smile, patting his hand. "Thanks. Is The Martian over?" she asked.

"Nah. I turned it off when you left."

"Why?"

He shrugged, unsure himself. "I guess I just didn't want to see it without you."

❄

On Sunday morning, Xander slurped a milkshake from a striped curly straw, swiping his bottom lip with his thumb.

He'd been waiting at Granny Grease's for about thirty minutes now, and his patience was growing thin as cured salmon slices at Le Bistro Maison. He occupied himself by thinking of the other pretentious meals available at the local Parisian restaurant his family used to frequent, just as the chimes on the swing door signaled the entry of a new customer.

Caleb slid into the booth with him seconds later, frustration radiating off of his body like Ground Zero. Xander picked up on it immediately.

"You're like, thirty minutes late, dude," he hazarded.

Caleb shook his head briskly. "My dad just came by and I don't think I've handled as much bullshit in the last year as I've had to in the past hour."

Xander raised his brows. "What'd he want?"

"Not any of his kids, that's for sure," he said. "Care's just about beside herself to see him after months of magical disappearance, but he doesn't seem to care as much. He only dropped off some cash and divorce papers. He's proposing to the secretary."

"Shit. Miranda?"

"I can't believe you remember her name."

Xander shrugged. "Alright, whatever — but are you okay?" he asked with a gentler tone he wasn't used to pulling with Caleb. The two best friends were always as straightforward with each other as a knife fight. It was this authenticity that had kept them thick as thieves for years, but Xander knew a few moments called for sensitivity as well.

If he found it odd, Caleb didn't show it. "Honestly?" he answered with a sigh. "Not really, man. Between Rhea and Yasmin, and now this with my dad... I don't know. But anyway, that doesn't matter, we're not here for me — you said you had something to tell me?"

Xander suddenly felt a twinge of worry for what he was about to admit to Caleb. It wasn't two days ago that Rhea had rejected his friend. He had to still be nursing his wounds — and now Xander was going to season it with salt like a slab of fat marlin.

Salmon, marlin. Obviously, today was a fishy day for Xander.

"You can tell me," Caleb said. "We got each other's backs, right?"

Xander nodded. Aside from Luke, Caleb was the only friend he'd trusted with the secret of his ancestry. Xander figured it was about time to bring him up to speed — and to ask for his opinion. And so he did.

In one swift motion, Xander pushed the sleeve of his sweater up slightly, not enough to show the wolf — Caleb had already seen that.

Today wasn't about the gray-eyed predator. It was all about the fluttering, independent beauty that came and went as it pleased.

❄

Xander rapped his knuckles against the old oak door of his father's office. It reminded him faintly of that first day of the year when he'd come, confused and afraid with so many questions. It was in stark contrast to his confidence now as he sauntered in, endowed with the answer.

"Xander," his father said in greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to stop by to tell you something."

"And what's that?"

"I'm choosing Rhea, Dad," he said, fiddling with his sleeve.

Mr. Lakefield straightened in his seat. "That's — wow. A bold choice, son. You're sure about this? The Alternate?"

"As ever," Xander said. "She's not even an Alternate for me... it seems like, she was always the One."

His father was silent for some amount of time, perhaps mulling over his own choices in the past, Xander would never know. Some things in the family were always going to be a kept a secret to him. When he did finally speak, however, he matched Caleb's words at Granny Grease's with surprising accuracy.

"Well, if you want her," he said, "then you better let her know — now."

❄

Sunday, February 8, 2015, 11:03am.
Voicemail from Xander Lakefield.

"Hey, Rhea. I guess you're busy, but look, I wanted to ask if you had anything planned out for Valentine's Day? I know it sounds a little odd, but do you want to spend the night together? I mean, shit — not like that. I was just thinking, dinner at the hilltop, that sort of thing. Yeah. Okay, call me."

❄

Sunday, February 15, 2015

2:06am
Rhea: Thanks for tonight. And for everything.

EPILOGUE

"So, what do you think?"

Rhea gave the place a slow, sweeping look. "I don't know," she mused, frowning as she leaned against the sink. "The price is perfect, and the place is great, but the plumbing's iffy."

"Could cost us in the long run," Xander agreed, coming up next to her. Their arms brushed against each other.

"What about the house in Fate?"

"Absolutely not," he answered immediately.

"That was quick. You're not even gonna think about it?"

Xander gave her a look. "We're not living on a street called Fate, Rhea."

"The place in Lombard?"

"I didn't like the neighborhood."

"What's not to like?" Rhea said. "Safe, close to the shopping center, and that taco place is right around the corner."

"You're forgetting it's next to Delta Mu," he said. The last thing he wanted was to lose sleep three nights out of the week to loud parties and drunken laughter. He'd had enough of that in college.

Rhea chuckled. "And here I thought you liked being around hot women."

At that, he wound an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Her chest rumbled with laughter against his own as he tickled her playfully.

"I've got all the woman I need right here," he murmured, grinning as her breath hitched.

"Such a cheeseball," she whispered.

"Lucky you like cheese then."

And then he kissed her, his own chapped lips grazing against her soft mouth. It was gentle and trite, his favorite kind because it was similar to the first they'd ever shared on Valentine's Day of 2016. That was exactly one year after he'd asked her out to a date at the hilltop.

That night in their senior year of high school, they'd let the proverbial cats out of the bag. It was the beginning of many things — for one, a deeper friendship between the two, if that was even possible — but the relationship didn't come until much later. They'd decided that taking things slow was the right thing for the both of them.

By coincidence — and okay, Fate — they'd ended up going to the same university without even planning on it. UPenn had always been at the top of both their lists, and the time they spent there together, away from old drama and expectations, shifted the dynamic of their friendship rapidly.

By February of their freshman year, they were dating, and had been ever since — or at least, up until two months ago. Since then they'd been engaged.

In perfect moments like these, Xander still couldn't believe his luck. Every time he kissed her was an experience, all his senses heightened to unreal levels. His heart raced as he deepened the kiss, breathing her in, an intoxicating scent of watermelon and something so distinctly Rhea. He thought he needed it more than oxygen.

But as quickly as the tension was built, the bubble broke as a conspicuous cough echoed through the bare room. Rhea broke away, blushing.

"Seriously," drawled a British accent. "I leave you two for five minutes."

Leaned against the doorpost in a three-piece suit was Luke, a smug look on his face. Xander shot him an annoyed look. For once, it wasn't a pleasure to see his best friend.

That was another new development. While Luke and Xander had always been great friends in high school, their friendship only grew stronger into adulthood. With his easy nature and wise advice, the Brit had become Xander's right-hand man in all matters pertaining to life.

Caleb and Xander were still in touch, of course, but they'd grown somewhat apart with time. After Caleb's dad had started financially supporting the family, he followed Yasmin out to San Francisco for college. A few months into the fall semester, they got back together.

Xander liked to think it was the distance that drew a natural rift between the two best friends, but he knew other things had had a hand at that as well. Still, it never helped to dwell on what was lost. That was life. You gain some, you lose some.

And did Xander ever gain some — a fiancée, soon to be wife in a month's time, and not mention a best friend who doubled as a life coach and the couple's official realtor.

With Luke's professional help, they were looking for a house to move into, which was going rather swimmingly, if Xander could say so himself. He and Rhea had made out in just about every place they'd gone to see today.

"We were just testing the place out, seeing if it suits our needs," he said with a grin. "We'll need another hour to come to a conclusion, Luke. Don't think you'd want to stick around for that, though."

The Brit rolled his eyes, glancing at his watch. "Look mate, time is gold in real estate — and I don't have much of either. Do you want to get a house or not?"

"I'd rather we get a room," he quipped, which earned him a slap on the arm from Rhea.

"Class act as always, Lakefield," Luke said, shaking his head in mirth. "But come on, be serious, what's looking good right now? We've seen five houses. You guys have got to like something."

Xander glanced at his fiancée, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Well," Rhea started, the corner of her lips twitching in a smile, "there is one place."

❄

Two silhouettes of tulle and suit shuffled into their new home one summer night, exhausting but hearts full. Their cheeks hurt from the night's laughter, and their eyelashes heavy with fresh tears.

They fell into bed, a tangle of arms and souls, staring at the ceiling.

"I can't believe we're married," Rhea whispered.

In the silence, all Xander could hear was his wife's breathing and the muffled noise of traffic down in the street below them. Which reminded Xander...

"I can't believe we live on Fate Street," he complained.

"Come on," Rhea said, chuckling. "Look at the bright side."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"We get to keep a close eye on it," she said simply. "Make sure it doesn't screw either of us over ever again."

They laughed, and as Rhea snuggled up against her husband, he wound an arm around her. It was a simple gesture, a mundane moment, but as they lay in each other's embrace, their breathing synced.

It was one of those beautiful details of life that would never be lost to memory, a moment echoing through all eternity — future, present, past, and everything in between.

THE PAST PERFECT

THE END