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One thing that always surprised men on one-night stands was that Cassandra July's skin was completely bare. She still had stretch marks, a couple of freckles, yes, but no soulmark, not even a tiny tickle to hint it was finally coming in. They got a bit of an evil grin on their face when they realized they were not fated to be together, and fucked with glee, their own soulmarks white or black, waiting to be filled with color upon their first kiss with their soulmate. As if Cassandra July's soulmate would be the sloppy drunk almost sliding off his chair at the bar as they talked.
Women took it a bit differently. Some were... disappointed as their eyes roamed her body, the sadness flashing out briefly before being buried by lust. Cassie couldn't help the sadness, too, with a few of them. She would wait up at night afterwards, sometimes with the woman in her bed, sometimes long gone with no phone number exchanged, hoping to feel the itch her family members informed her about, hoping to wake up the next day with a watercolor mark to appear somewhere, anywhere. But so far, in her 35 years of life, that moment had never come. Which meant she had never so much as been in the same room with her soulmate yet. It wasn't rare, necessarily, but it was unusual for someone about to reach forty to have not have some sense about who their soulmate may be, or where they may be found.
One benefit of not having a soulmark yet meant Cassie could continue to where her attire of choice when teaching Dance 101 at NYADA University in New York City. She was on her way to her dance studio now, stalking down the halls in her black leotard, her cane thump-thump-thumping all the way. It was the first day of the fall semester, and she could tell who was a freshman or a senior based on how terrified they looked as she swept passed. Her day was about to get really, really interesting.
Cassie's eyes raked over the trembling, doe-eyed freshmen before her. Despicable. She was a Broadway star! And NYADA brings her this sad bunch? They had listened with rapt attention to her traditional, and blunt, welcome speech, before launching into the warm-up routine she ordered. One student, a tall, lanky blonde, stepped a beat off and Cassie sidled up to her, sweet smile on her face, voice filled with insult. The blonde’s eyes beaded with tears, but she nodded. Cassie felt eyes on her, and she looked around for the glare. She met a pair of big brown eyes, which looked as if they were-
“Stop the music,” Cassie barked, and her TA, Brody, flipped it off. “Excuse me, did you just roll your eyes?” Cassie asked, voice low, advancing on the brunette with tacky bangs and a leotard that was not doing anything to flatter the figure underneath.
“She’s crying,” the brunette whispered.
“What is said between me and muffin top is none of your business. Criticism comes with the territory.”
“She has a na-“
“I bet you were a big star in Iowa,” Cassie hissed, “But here, you’re nothing but a bumbling freshmnn who has to pay her dues like every sad sap who steps through my studio doors. And don’t act to smug, your pirouettes need serious work.” It was exactly like her to be mean to her students, so it surprised her when, upon the brunette’s face falling, she felt a jolt of sadness. She bared her teeth in what may or may not have been a smile. “Understood?” She turned.
“I’m from Ohio,” came the brunette, voice strong now, proud. Cassie bit back a laugh, turning her head over her shoulder.
“Even worse.” Cassie turned back towards her TA. “Music, Brody.” The music resumed, and the freshmen leapt back to attention with the routine. Cassie followed next to the brunette, and watched, half delighted, half saddened, as she stumbled and fell. As she sat up, their gazes locked again.
“Welcome to New York,” Cassie chuckled, then crouched down so she could whisper in her ear, “You suck.” She caught a hint of the brunette’s shampoo, lavender and honey. It made her dizzy.
With the brunette sufficiently humiliated for the day, she sought out her next victim, those big brown eyes staring into hers every time she blinked.
That night her back ached, her left shoulder blade burning as if she’d worked out ten times as hard as her evening workout had been. It was impossible to fall asleep, so instead she ran through all the people she’d seen. It didn’t ease the sinking feeling that the brunette with two left feet could be it. Some dumb freshmen seventeen years her junior… She prayed it wasn’t true.
In the morning, she started at her back in the mirror, her shower running. With a shaky finger, she traced the faint black mark coming in. It was too new to really tell what it was going to be, but it itched like hell.
Before she left her apartment, she slapped on too much anti-itch cream and wore an uncharacteristic sweater. It was better than giving someone the satisfaction of knowing that Cassandra July had finally met her soulmate. Her 101 freshmen were there long before she was, having been scared stupid yesterday, stretching and going through a few moves. The chattering ceased as she crossed the threshold of the studio.
“Good morning, class,” Cassie announced, tapping her cane twice on the floor.
“Good morning Professor July,” they chorused back. Cassie caught the brunette’s eyes and saw surprise at the greeting. She arranged her face too disinterest. “Today we are going to continue to work on what we were doing yesterday. Hopefully you aren’t as incompetent as you were. Get warmed up. Maybe I’ll even learn your names, huh?” She nodded to Brody, who started the music. He glanced at the brunette - God, she was really going to have to learn her name - and she felt an unusual flare of jealousy. Stupid soul mark getting to her head. Her shoulder was screaming to be scratched. She fought it.
“You,” Cassie called to the brunette when the freshmen were dismissed, “David Schwimmer, come here.” The name had come to her when she was trying hard not to stare. The brunette obeyed, eyes steely.
“Yes?”
“What’s your name?”
The brunette blinked quickly, that surprised look coming back. Cassie had to admit, it was rather adorable.
“Rachel,” she stammered. Cassie looked down at her roster. “Rachel B. Berry?”
“Ye- yes, that’s me.”
“Marginally better job today.” She added a short nod of approval. More blinking.
“Oh, I, well… Thank you?”
“It’s a compliment, Schwimmer. See you tomorrow.”
Rachel opened her mouth. Cassie raised an eyebrow in response, waiting. But Rachel just nodded twice, closed her mouth and turned to leave. Cassie watched, even took a few steps into the hallway to catch Rachel reaching for her left shoulder.
“Brody,” Cassie called.
“What’s up, Cassie?”
“What do you know about that David Schwimmer girl?”
“Rachel? Uh, not much. I just gave her some words of encouragement after yesterday…”
“I need you to find out more for me.”
“What? Why?”
“They don’t pay you to ask questions they pay you to be a teacher’s assistant.” Cassie narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m the teacher. Assist me.”
He rolled his eyes good naturedly, but Cassie didn’t take offense. “Fine, Cassie. Weirdo.”
“That’s why you’re the best.”
“You’re why I’m the best.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Brody… But you’re not wrong.”
He laughed as he shouldered his bag and left with a mock salute. As soon as he was out of sight, she shrugged off her sweater and dug her nails her shoulder blade, scratching so hard she wondered if she was going to draw blood. She had expected some itching, but not this. This whole soulmark thing was way worse than she thought.
The next week, the emerging soulmark was even darker, and she was starting to see the outline of the comedy and tragedy masks. How fucking corny! She put on more anti itch cream despite it offering so little respite from the burning feeling and donned her sweater again. When she reached her office on campus, she thought about Rachel again, and whether or not Brody had found out anything about the Ohia girl. One week in and she was hopeless to pretend she didn’t want to know every single thing about her soulmate. The certainty that this short Schwimmer look alike was her soulmate made her laugh and grab a long swig of the rum she kept in her desk drawer before stalking towards her studio.
Today, she simply nods at Brody, who turns at her arrival. He had been chatting with Rachel and muffin top it seemed. He gave her an easy grin in return and heads towards the speakers. “Good morning, Professor July,” her students chorused.
“Good morning, class,” she returned, realizing that the rum had dulled the ache in her shoulder, “You know the drill. Music.” Brody hit play. “From the top.” She got into her heckling routine, rounding first on a stocky boy who looked a touch too old to be a traditional freshman. He actually had decent rhythm, but everyone had to get the treatment. She felt Rachel’s eyes on her as she made her rounds, negating the numbing effect the alcohol had for her soulmark.
“Schwimmer,” Cassie barked, spinning away from a 5 foot nothing girl with a bob cut, “Maybe if you spent more time watching your form in the mirror instead of me, you would find yourself improving.” She heard her class snicker before quickly resuming their leaps and twirls.
“Why are you being so mean to me?” Rachel asked as Cassie crossed the floor to her.
“Keep twirling, Rachel,” Cassie ordered. Rachel did, but not before doing that blinking thing. “I am not being mean to you. I’m motivating you.”
Rachel stopped, face twisting.
“What’s the problem now, Schwim?”
“Nothing,” Rachel whispered, “Just that, I uh, can smell alcohol on your breath.” This part was louder and brought the class to silence. Cassie’s nostrils flared. Fuck, this was a bad impression for her soulmate. Her shoulder ached being so close.
“Listerine,” she spat back, “But maybe good dental hygiene isn’t a trend in Iowa.” Cassie turned, and caught Rachel mutter under her breath, “Ohio.” Yes, as if the dance teacher could ever forget. “I’m not much of a wide-eyed ingenue anymore,” she told the class, “I can literally dance circles around each and every one of you. Brody.” He jumped to his feet. “You know the song.” She had used it to intimidate her freshmen for years. He put on an edited mash up of Amricano and Dance again and hustled to be her dance partner. Cassie slipped her sweater off and tossed it aside. Brody caught her waist and the performance began. She loved the feeling of their eyes on her, but especially loved catching Rachel’s eye. When she danced, it was helpless. She let herself be bold, giving her the best smolder she could manage. Rachel’s eyes widened at that, mouth open in what Cassie hoped was awe.
The number concluded. Her chest heaved as she met each of her students’ eyes. “That is what we’re going for. Next class, we’re starting the tango. Class dismissed.”
Her class began to pack up their dance bags. Cassie watched, mostly Rachel, who looked away quickly when she realized Cassie was staring. “Do you have something to say, Schwimmer?”
“Oh, I, um. No.” Her eyes strayed towards her shoulders. “That was really good, Professor July.”
“I know.”
Rachel nodded and headed out, Brody giving Cassie a secret wink, as he was heading out. “Nice soulmark, Cass,” he chuckled, before heading to the hallway to catch up with the brunette. Soulmark? Fuck. Cassie remembered she was no longer wearing her sweater. Rachel had looked. Of course, she’d been facing her, but during the dance… oh god, her back had been bare for all to see. Was Rachel’s mark showing? If it was her? No, impossible. The whole class had been wearing high back leotards and shirts. But still. The fact that Rachel could well have only a strip of fabric standing between the whole class knowing or not made her stomach tightened.
Her phone buzzed. Brody’s name flashed and she picked up.
“Cassie,” he said, “I finally got something out of Rachel.”
“Shoot,” she barked.
“She was one of the top of her class, was in glee club in high school with her boyfriend back home and-“
“Boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“Are you going to tell me why you have me talking to her?”
“No. You’re relieved of your duty… Thanks, Brody.”
“Anything for you, Cass.” She hung up. She had to talk to Rachel. Screw Brody’s intel.
“As promised,” Cassie announced to her class that Friday, “Today, we tango. One of the most sexual dances out there, it is important to remember that it is also sensual. It’s passionate. And you all have about as much passion as a sack of potatoes. So I hope you manage to surprise me. Pair up.”
Cassie’s soulmark had stopped itching, which meant it was fully in. And in it was. The lines were crisp, the masks undoubtedly the comedy and tragedy masks. But it made it easier to hide without the itch. She watched Rachel turn towards a boy next to her, who quickly turned towards the classmate who grabbed his arm first. Quickly, her likely soulmate was alone, partnerless. Cassie realized she had found her way to talk to Rachel. After class. As for now, she just smirked. “Schwim, keep practicing your jazz hands in the corner.”
“But-“ Rachel started, and her pout was ridiculously adorable, “If I’m going to be on Broadway, I have to learn the tango.”
“Well, we are short one student, so you’ll have to sit out today and observe. You couldn’t pull off a credible tango if you tried. You’re too awkward with your body because you move like you’re ashamed of it.” From the copious studying of Rachel’s body the past week and a half, the girl had nothing to be ashamed of. Rachel scoffed and sat, scowling up at her. Cassie just flashed a smile and turned back to the rest of her students. Her shoulder, which had been quiet all night, burned again. She grimaced She wasn’t aware proximity made it worse. Maybe it wasn’t Rachel. The ache was hard to cover.
“Rachel,” Cassie called to the brunette after class, as the rest of her students were packing up and leaving. “Come.” Rachel frowned. Brody nudged her shoulder and said something to her Cassie couldn’t tell. It perked up the brunette.
“Bye Cassie,” Brody called as he left with the rest of the students. Rachel crossed the studio to her, but still stood several feet away, hesitant.
“Are you going to insult my body more?” Rachel asked. Cassie was proud of the venom behind the question, though hurt to feel it turned towards her. Not that she didn’t deserve it from the treatment she’d been dishing out.
“I did not insult your body. I simply told you that you moved like you were ashamed of it,” Cassie corrected.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, snarky I see. Where’d that attitude come from.”
“Kurt told me all about you. About you being a Broadway trainwreck.”
It was Cassie’s turn to blink fast. “And?”
“I’m sorry you lost your chance at Broadway, but I don’t see why that makes you so mean to the rest of us who still have dreams-“
“Quiet.” Cassie hissed, “Do you want to learn tango or not.”
That shut Rachel up. “Fuck- I mean, I’m sorry. Yes. I do.”
Cassie nodded once, and closed the distance between them.
“I’m mean because it makes you better. Thickens your skin. Broadway, or any dance company, will have cutthroat critics,” she murmured to the brunette, “I don’t want my students to be weakspined.”
Rachel looked down at the floor, and her breathing was raspy. Cassie felt her soulmark ache. “Look at me.” Rachel met her gaze for a second. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m trying to teach you.” She took Rachel’s waist and pulled her in. That lavender honey smell that had been hitting her nose whenever they got close was almost unbearable with her hands finally planted on Rachel’s body. Without music, she had them assume the starting position.
“I presume you observed the steps of the tango today?” Cassie asked, enjoying how Rachel’s eyes were staring into hers.
“Yes,” the brunette whispered.
“Good. Five, six, seven, eight.” They started. It was thrilling to be so close. To be touching her. To lead her around the room. They started with a small space between them, but Cassie pulled her closer, obtaining a deep blush from the brunette as they danced flush against each other. After a good fifteen minutes of this, Cassie interjecting with critiques and comments, she broke the embrace to turn on some music for them. She picked Fernando’s Hideaway, and turned back to Rachel, who was starting at her.
“Like what you see, Rachel?” Cassie teased.
“Oh, I, um-“
“Teasing. You’re still moving like you’re ashamed.” Rachel downcast her eyes. “Don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re beautiful.”
Rachel looked up with a soft smile. “Thank you, Professor July.”
“Call me Cassie.”
“Okay.”
“Ready?”
Rachel took a deep breath and nodded. Cassie pressed play and crossed back to Rachel, sweeping her up. Her thumb brushed over Rachel’s left shoulder; she couldn’t help it. Rachel’s eyes flashed and she flinched.
“Are you alright, Rachel?” Cassie asked, as she started them around the room in a sweeping tango.
“Yeah… I must have hurt my shoulder at the gym yesterday.”
“Oh? Really? Are you sure?”
“I-“
“Because,” Cassie pressed, ready to see if she could say something to trigger the truth out of her supposed soulmate, “I’ve seen you staring at me a lot… But especially my shoulder after my performance for the class yesterday. What did you see, Rachel?” She thumbed Rachel’s shoulder again, tracing the edge of her nail along Rachel’s shirt’s neck hole.
“Brody, uh, Brody said your soulmark came in.”
“Brody said or you saw?”
“He said-“
“Come on, Rachel,” Cassie purred, dipping the brunette, “We both know that’s not it.” She pulled Rachel back up and spun her out towards the mirror. With a grin, she pressed Rachel up against it. “So why don’t you tell me the truth?” Cassie tilted Rachel’s chin up to hold her gaze.
Rachel’s chest heaved. “I saw it,” she whispered.
“And?” Cassie cooed, leaning in close.
“I… I have a boyfriend, still-“
“I know. We both know he won’t matter anymore.”
Rachel didn’t get another word out. Cassie pressed a kiss to those parted lips, letting go of Rachel’s waist to thread her fingers into her brown tresses. After a moment, Rachel was kissing back, fingers wandering up her back until they touched her soulmark. The touch set the mark ablaze, almost painful, if not offset by the fact that she was finally kissing her soulmate. She had waited 35 years for this moment, and she couldn’t have waited a moment longer. She slid one hand down to touch Rachel’s mark, and felt the brunette gasp under her touch. She broke the kiss to plant her lips on the column of the girl’s throat, eliciting more gasping. She sucked a hickey; the mark was proof enough, but she wanted to truly claim this girl with her own mouth. Rachel’s nails dug in. She released Rachel’s skin with a small pop and leaned back, smirking.
“Wow,” the brunette breathed.
“Yeah,” Cassie returned, trying to catch her breath, “Wow.” She took a step back and pealed her sweater off and turned. “So? How does it look?”
Rachel sucked in a breath. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Cassie looked behind her into the mirror and saw her mark had been filled in with an almost dreamy watercolor pattern of pale blues and pink. Tears sprang to her eyes. She had been right.
“Let’s see yours then.” Cassie took Rachel’s hand and pulled her close, tugging back the fabric covering her mark. It was identical, though somehow Rachel made it look even more beautiful than her own. They locked eyes again, grinning like crazy.
“How am I supposed to be mean to you in class anymore?” Cassie chuckled, wrapping her soulmate up in a hug. “Oh my god, this is ridiculous, you’re so young.”
“And you’re my teacher.”
And they laughed, because of course that didn’t matter. Fate had spoken. There wasn’t anything anyone could do to keep them apart.
“I have so much to learn about you,” Rachel whispered when their laughter died down, and they were still holding tight to each other.
“And I you. But I guess we have our whole lives to learn. Right?”
“Right.”
Cassie captured Rachel’s lips on hers again, wanting to kiss her forever. They only had until her next class arrived, but that was enough time for now. They already had forever waiting for them.