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As far as soul marks went, Julian’s was rather simple. He had a habit of tracing the outline of the small heart on his left wrist, pressing on the five-pointed star circumscribed within it. There was no color to it, no shading. Just a simple drawing, the lines slightly raised and a shade lighter than his wrist, like a scar, inconspicuous. He’s been told that it might change when he meets his soulmate, that it was rare, but there have been circumstances where soul marks have grown in size or changed color.
Julian didn’t mind, though. Others may prefer a more intricate-looking mark, but he was honestly happy with his. He liked that his mark was subtle, that it didn’t attract attention.
Julian was jostled out of his thoughts when his coffee and turkey sandwich were placed in front of him. The waitress—Merril, her nametag said—smiled at him. She reached up to tug her ponytail tighter, and Julian’s eyes were drawn to her soul mark immediately. It couldn’t be helped, with a mark as obvious and breathtakingly beautiful as hers. A red rose bloomed on the back of her right hand, its green stem wrapping around her arm up to the elbow. It had a certain style to it, like an exceptionally skilled artist had painted it on her arm.
“Your mark is gorgeous,” Julian said, shifting his gaze to her face when he realized he had been staring. Not everyone was comfortable with other people looking at their mark. Julian was certainly one of them.
But Merril’s smile only brightened. “Thank you. My soulmate is an artist. I always say that has something to do with it, but he doesn’t think soul marks work that way.”
Julian didn’t think anyone actually knew the way soul marks worked. Sure, there’ve been studies, multiple theories and possible explanations for how and why soul marks exist, but none have ever been confirmed. Julian doesn’t think they can be confirmed. It’s like religion. You just have to believe what you want to believe in. Personally, one thing is clear to Julian—the mark is the manifestation of the soul. Someone—whether it be God, the Fates, or some other, higher powers that be—decided that humans needed a way to recognize their kindred spirits, and that’s why people have soul marks.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Merril said suddenly. Julian blinked up at her, and she flushed. “Sorry, it’s just that—this is a small town, and I’ve never seen you before.”
Julian smiled reassuringly. “I’m from a few towns over. I’m on my way home for the holidays, and I don’t usually stop here, but I wanted to get some last-minute Christmas shopping done.”
“You must come from a big family, then,” Merril said, eyeing the rather large paper bag filled to the brim with gifts sitting next to Julian.
Julian grinned. “So big. I don’t even know how many cousins I have in total, and I have no idea what to get the ones I don’t really know too well.”
“Well, what do you know about them?” Merril asked.
“Hm, let’s see,” Julian thought for a moment, “I know Guido likes sweets, so I think I’m just going to give him some cookies I baked. Leo’s easy—he’s a kid, I’ll get him the latest toys—but Marco’s a bit difficult. I know he likes to read, but he’s very particular about his reading material. I gave him a romance novel last year and he spent the entirety of Christmas dinner ranting to me about how subpar the plot was.”
Merril laughed good-naturedly. “Books, huh? Have you gone to the bookshop on main street? I’m sure the owner there can help you. All he does is read.”
Merril gave him directions to the bookshop (“It’s right next to the coffeeshop, you can’t miss it.”) and then left him to enjoy his lunch.
The Whetstone was a small bookshop on main street, pressed against the much larger Stuart Café. It might have been small, but it was classy—a word Julian never thought he’d use to describe a bookstore. If the Queen went shopping for books, she’d probably go here, Julian thought as he stared up at the sophisticated, cursive lettering of the sign proudly displaying its name. Julian marveled at the bay windows showcasing books stacked artfully to form a Christmas tree in the left window, and a large, five-pointed star in the right. A sudden gust of cold wind made Julian shiver, and he reached out to open the—heavy, bocote wood—doors and get out of the snow. A bell chimed overhead, but the man at the counter didn’t look up from his book.
“You can put your coat on the rack,” the man said as he flipped a page.
Julian raised an eyebrow. So much for customer service with a smile.
Nevertheless, Julian dusted off the snow from his clothes and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it next to the Armani peacoat he could’ve sworn he just saw on the fashion channel a few weeks ago. A quick look around tells him that he’s the only customer, and that the interior of the shop is just as impressive as the exterior. Heavily polished wooden shelves lined the walls and went up almost to the ceiling, while shorter displays were arranged in the middle. The floor was carpeted, and an honest to God chandelier hung from the ceiling. The counter took up almost the entire back of the place, with the shop’s logo on the wall behind it. Reading sharpens the mind, which must be the shop’s tagline, was embossed underneath it.
The man behind the counter looked up, and wow.
Oh, wow.
Julian was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe. The man had stunning, green eyes the color of jade, the wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose doing nothing to distract from their beauty. For a moment—so fleeting that Julian wondered if he imagined it—the man seemed to be just as shaken as he was, but he quickly gathered himself and smoothed out his expression.
“Were you looking for anything in particular?” The man asked, standing up from his seat.
Julian cleared his throat and tore his gaze away to look at one of the shelves. “Um, not exactly? I’m looking for a Christmas present for my cousin. He’s really bookish, and is picky over what he reads.”
“Well, what kind of books does he like?” The man asked as he removed his glasses—probably reading glasses, Julian thought—and combed a hand through his blond hair.
“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I was hoping you could just point out some books that were definitely awesome?” Julian asked, a little sheepish. “Fancy place like this, I’m sure I can trust your judgement, mister…?”
“Logan. Logan Wright.” The man—Logan—replied. He tilted his head to the side. “Reading is subjective. What I or even majority of people prefer to read won’t necessarily be a book your cousin would like, especially if he’s picky. But…” Logan walked over to the section labeled Mystery, reaching up to grab a book from one of the higher shelves. The action caused his arm muscles to flex, and Jesus Christ, but if those aren’t the most ridiculous arms Julian has ever laid eyes on. He didn’t even know he had a thing for arms, but he wanted Logan to wrap his arms around him and—
“…I’ve read this recently, and I’d say it’s undeniably great. The plot and setting are pretty interesting, I—um, hello? Are you even listening to me?” Logan raised an eyebrow.
“I—yes. Sorry. Yes, I’ll take it.” Julian replied hastily.
Logan’s other eyebrow went up to join its sibling. “You sure? I haven’t even told you what it’s about.”
“Uh, yeah.” Julian glanced at the book’s cover. “Club Dumas. Sounds…cool.” Julian finished lamely. Get it together, Larson. Julian thought to himself admonishingly. You flirt with people all the time and you’re suddenly panicking now, in front of this dream of a man? Julian mentally shook himself and plastered on his winning smile. “Like I said, I’m sure I can trust you.”
Logan stared at him for a moment. “Alright then,” he said. He turned back to the shelves and picked up another book. He held up both books for Julian to see, one in each hand.
“This is the paperback edition,” he wiggled the book in his left hand, “and this is the special edition, with the author’s signature.” He wiggled the one in his right. “If your cousin is the sort to collect books as well as read them, he’d probably appreciate this one more.”
Julian eyed the special edition. “Looks pricey.”
Logan smirked at him. “I can give it to you for free, if you want.”
Julian’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh? And what would I have to do to get it for free, exactly?”
Logan’s smirk grew. “Go out with me? Dinner, maybe?”
Julian raised his eyebrows, but he couldn’t help the pleased smile forming on his lips. “You don’t even know my name.”
Logan shrugged. “I’d like to. I’d like to get to know you, too.”
“And why is that?”
“You just seem interesting.”
“Well, Logan,” Julian said, honestly regretful, “If you really want to get to know me, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until after Christmas. My grandmother would be terribly upset if I don’t make it home in time for dinner.”
Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine, and maybe even a little bit sad. “Of course.” He walked over to the cash register to ring up the book, and Julian came over to pay, but Logan waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
Julian frowned. “I can’t just take it for free.”
“Sure you can. My shop, my rules.”
Logan placed the book in a paper bag and held it out to Julian. He glanced from the bag to Logan’s face, realizing that he was completely serious. Julian reached out but instead of taking the bag, he gripped Logan’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked, startled.
“Relax,” Julian replied. “I said after Christmas, not never, didn’t I? Let me give you my number.”
Before Logan could say anything, Julian had reached for the pen on the counter and pushed up Logan’s sleeve, intending to scribble his phone number on the other’s arm.
Julian’s eyes went as wide as humanly possible.
There, on Logan’s right wrist, was a soul mark the exact opposite of his own.
A small, five-pointed star, with a heart set within it.
Logan cleared his throat, and gave a half-hearted tug on his arm. “You know, some people think it’s rude to stare at other people’s marks.” Logan said, but he didn’t sound offended.
Julian looked up at him, death grip on the other man’s arm not loosening in the slightest.
He looked just as shaken as Julian did, and Logan hasn’t even seen his mark, doesn’t even know his name, but he somehow has that same look on his face, full of shock and disbelief and a glimmer of hope—
Julian let go of Logan’s arm, and the bag with the forgotten book fell onto the counter with a dull thud, Logan’s fingers numb from lack of circulation and, probably, nerves.
Wordlessly, Julian gripped at the left sleeve of his sweater with shaking fingers, pulling it up to reveal his own mark.
Logan inhaled sharply, and slowly reached out to take Julian’s hand in his. He pulled Julian’s arm closer to him, marveling at his mark for a moment before looking up at Julian.
“May I?” Logan asked, brushing his thumb against the side of Julian’s wrist, just shy of his mark.
“Please do,” Julian responded, sounding breathless. He daren’t believe that he’d found his soulmate, not until—
Logan moved his hand so that he could hold on to Julian’s forearm, their wrists pressed together, and Julian followed suit.
Warm.
That was the only way Julian could describe the feeling that coursed through his veins as their soul marks touched. There were no fireworks, no flying sparks like how they always portrayed soulmates touching marks for the first time in movies and television shows. It was like he was being enveloped in a wonderful hug, he felt safe and warm. He felt like he was where he was meant to be.
He felt like he was coming home.
Logan pulled away first, but only enough so he could see their marks. He let out a huff of surprised delight.
“I thought this only happened in movies.”
Julian looked down at their marks, and found that they had changed color. The heart on Julian’s wrist was now a deep red, and the star within it was now a vibrant yellow. Logan’s mark had changed to match his own.
“I’d heard that it was a thing, it’s just rare, I think.” Julian said, smiling at how happy Logan looked.
“So,” Logan said, eyes shining, “about dinner.”
Julian grinned. “I can stay a little longer. Julian, by the way.”