Soulmates & Twin Flames

7 - Human Nature

My phone's screen lights up in the dark as the cab takes off from Hell's Kitchen.

"It was great meeting you, Abby. Looking forward to seeing you again on Monday."

There's something wrong with Roman's text, and I don't know what it is. I am not big on emojis or pet names, but his plain message tightens my chest. Letting out a sigh, I scroll through my contacts and call Olga. She's the only one who can put my mind at ease. My person. My best friend.

"What's wrong?" she screams over some rock music. "Aren't you supposed to be on a hot date with Mr. CEO?"

"I don't know," I say, rubbing my forehead. My voice is breaking. "Something feels wrong."

The loud music and dull noises of a crowd slowly fade from the other side of the line. A metal door creaks open, and Olga's footsteps start clicking on a stone pavement. Cars are honking in the background. "Where are you?" she asks.

"In a cab. Heading home. Alone..."

"Nope. You are coming to East Village. Purple Elephant," she says. "I'm buying the drinks."

I sigh and shuffle my bangs. Going home would only push me into a dark headspace. "Yeah, okay. See you there."

The cab leaves me on the corner of my favorite Friday spot, Purple Elephant. It's a speakeasy with rock music, reasonably priced drinks, and a decent amount of craziness. I give the bouncer July's password, comet, and step in.

The place is packed tonight. Colorful, industrial lightbulbs dangle down the high, black ceiling, creating a haze in the tunnel-like space. Thank God, Olga meets me by the door, because there's no way I could find her petite figure in the crowd. We try to squeeze past our way to the bar, but after several battles, we give up and hang by the door.

She offers me a sip from the large glass of Guinness she's holding. When I shake my head, she gives me a concerned furrow and crosses her arms. "Tell me all about it," she says.

Would she call me crazy if I told her how I felt about Roman after only one date? Probably. But I need to hear her unfiltered opinion to keep my feet on the ground. So, I take a deep breath, brace myself, and part my lips...but nothing comes out. Because a pair of green eyes are shining like headlights in the back of the room, looking our way.

Nate raises his cocktail glass and slips away from the girls under his arms.

I squint and blink a couple of times. Yep, that's him! Nate Fucking Rhode, with his tousled hair and crooked smile. He is swiftly cutting through the crowd and making his way to us.

When Olga pokes my arm, I lean into her ear. "The guy who ended the drought... He is Roman's younger brother."

"No way..."

"And he is coming here in three... two... one," I say, and then fake a wide smile. "Hi, Nate."

"Hi, mystery girl!" he chirps. Then wrapping an arm around my back, he presses his cheek against mine. He must have shaven right before he went out tonight, because his skin is still cool and feels softer than mine. His plain, white t-shirt stretches around his well-defined biceps. And his oceanic perfume is... not that bad.

Olga's baby blue eyes widen when she looks up at Nate. Her jaw falls open. "I'll take him," she whispers, and then groans when I elbow her side.

"This is Olga, my sidekick," I introduce her.

Nate clinks his glass with Olga's, then scoots closer to me. "We keep meeting under the most surreal circumstances," he says, poking the green lightbulb hanging above us, making it swing left and right. "Would you like to join us?"