by Lola Gabriel
That successfully brought his wry smile back. In high school, they had attempted to make a guy jealous of Winter over Corey. Jokingly calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend began, and it lasted for years. God, she hadn’t thought about that for at least a couple years at that point.
“I know; I know,” Corey said. “All I want is for you to be happy and not cooped up alone so much. It can really mess with a person.”
“It can, but I promise you I’m fine. I don’t need a man to be happy, Corey. Dating has never been my thing, anyway. It’ll come eventually, I’m sure. It’s simply not something I’m searching for right now and don’t plan to anytime soon. I can’t force it.”
After a momentary look of defeat, Corey chuckled. “As cruel as the universe is, I bet you just jinxed yourself.”
“I sure did. Oh, by the way, don’t let me forget to mail my letter to Santa this week.”
He shrugged and lifted his iced tea to take a sip, “You never know.”
“Unless he’s at my apartment, curled up on my couch, and ready to dive deep into conversation over my midterm paper on the Restoration Period, I don’t think I’ll be meeting him today.” Winter spoke as she dug through her wallet and fished out enough of her tip money to pay for her lunch.
Corey popped the back of her hand when she attempted to place it on the table. “My treat. I work now, too, remember? Also, why are you leaving so early? Do you work tonight?”
“I just told you why I have to leave. My midterm? Ring a bell?”
“You forget I went to the same school, and I know for a fact that midterms are two or three weeks away. You can ditch studying to spend the day with me. We need to put some mileage on that dusty ID of yours.” That was his oh-so-eloquent way of saying she needed to go drinking with him. Winter was almost twenty-three, and she had only gone to a bar a handful of times and seldom bought wine for herself.
She had a slight look of remorse on her face, “Maybe another time, okay? I would rather get it done ahead of time, so I don’t stress about it.”
Corey let out one of the longest and most dramatic groans she had ever heard and slouched in his chair; heads at nearby tables turned in their direction momentarily. Eventually, his mouth snapped shut, and he sat up straight.
“Fine, fine. Go on, my little overachiever. Go save the world, one kid at a time,” he sighed, shooing her away. Winter said her goodbyes with a wave and headed for the exit. As she approached the doorway to the restaurant, Corey called after her with a flourish, “The future of our world depends on you!”
Embarrassed and flushed, yet still somehow laughing to herself, Winter made her way out onto the sidewalk and aimed for the bookstore. While she didn’t like telling even white lies, she didn’t want to hurt Corey’s feelings by admitting she wasn’t in the mood to keep hanging out. She wasn’t upset with him in the slightest, knowing he had only confronted her with the best intentions, but the conversation had left her in a weird place. She only hoped that studying would distract her from it. All she could think about was getting home, curling up in her blanket, and getting to work. The only thing standing between her and her couch was a quick trip to the bookstore to get the reading material she needed for some of her upcoming projects.
3
When a sign to a bookstore came into view, Sebastian made a beeline for it. He needed the quiet comfort of books and craved the smell of fresh ink on crisp white pages. Just steps into the store, Sebastian was more at ease. It was quiet yet crowded, the balance he was searching for so he could get out of his head. The large, open space had an aroma of coffee beans and soft, mellow music to finish off its relaxing ambiance. As he wandered up and down the aisles at a leisurely pace, Sebastian wound up in the history section and was distracted by familiar names on sleek cardstock. His fingers grazed their binds as he remembered his reading on each of the historical events and figures—some, Sebastian could recall in great detail.
One of the great advantages of being immortal was having the unique ability to experience history in the making and living to see how it was taught to future generations. Ever since Lucia taught him to read, Sebastian had remained an avid reader who stayed current with the times. From the first widely spread pamphlets and newspapers, to biographies, and textbooks, Sebastian had obtained a great understanding that the saying was true: it was the victor who wrote the history books.
The arguments and embarrassing moments of Sebastian’s day melted away into the background. His heart rate slowed, his breathing evened, and his shoulders relaxed. Then, while taking in that blissful moment, a soft voice sounded from faintly in the distance. It was a dreamy, disorienting hum. It wasn’t the song playing from the store’s speakers; the music was quiet but loud enough to clearly make out the melody and rhythm. No, the voice had a distinct sound to it, almost as though it were playing off a vinyl record. Sebastian took a few steps and turned his head side to side, wanting to pinpoint where it was coming from. The voice didn’t appear to grow in volume or clarity no matter what direction he turned, yet as minutes ticked by, the grainy filter lifted, and his heart plummeted into his chest. Lucia.
She was reading the words of Plato and Aristotle to him. His head felt fuzzy, and a concentrated heat prickled at the back of his neck. What was going on? Was he having a panic attack? Sebastian’s eyes shifted around the room as he tried telling himself he was fine. Continuing to fixate his focus on inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, Sebastian tried calming himself as he read each book’s title on the shelves he passed. They were organized by time period: Aztec and Incan civilizations, studies of the Dark Ages, Revolutionary War, Abraham Lincoln. Still, none of them could erase the panic in which his mind was very rapidly submerging into. With each blink, images of being in Ancient Rome would flicker across his mind in fuzzy but familiar shapes.
Lucia’s voice became louder, purring the words of a philosopher. It was as if her voice were echoing off the same stone walls they were once surrounded by so many years ago.
“Anybody can become angry—that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose…”
The sound of it was as sweet as ripe honeydew. The core of his being could still feel the distant but undeniable pull of their bond: the all-consuming bond of soulmates. Each brief moment of pleasure and pain Lucia had ever felt engraved themselves onto his very soul. Her last moments on Earth weren’t thin, fine etchings, either, but rather deep, jagged gashes. A pain so unimaginable yet so vivid, he wasn’t sure any person could ever heal from it.
The thought of the bond alone seemed to make the flashbacks all the more real. Sebastian’s hands reached for a shelf to steady himself as the images of his memories overpowered him. He could see the fabric of Lucia’s fine white linen gown hugging her womanly curves in places while falling elegantly in delicate folds in others. He distinctly envisioned a few rebellious curls brushing across the back of her neck, escaping the hold of her hairpins. All of his body hairs suddenly stood on their ends, and a chill crawled its way up Sebastian’s spine.
As if Lucia were there herself, he could feel the warmth of her skin gliding across the length of his hand as she recited the final words to the quote: “… and in the right way—that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”
Just like that, Sebastian was transported back to the day she had read that passage to him; the summer heat with a light breeze rolling in through her windows and sending those same loose hairs dancing about the perimeter of her face. He could taste the sweet, heady wine and could feel her presence. She was within reach, and all he yearned to do was reach out and pull her into his chest and never let her go.
Umfph.
The sensation of someone colliding with him brought the entire vision to a shattering end. Sebastian was blinking rapidly, trying to regain his grasp on reality and the situation before him. A woman was bent down to pick up a modest pile of books, which had
fallen from her arms during the collision.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry! That was my fault. I never seem to watch where I’m going,” she stammered out. Managing to put on a calm demeanor despite still being in a sea of emotions, Sebastian bent over to pick the last book up and hand it over to her.
“It’s all right, I don’t think I was looking, either.” They moved to stand up straight, and when they were finally eye to eye, Sebastian’s knees nearly gave out.
He had to resist the urge to close his eyes shut and wait for the sight to go away. He had finally lost his mind. There was no way what was happening was real. Yet there he was, staring at a woman with the same luxurious brunette curls—though they were cropped short to her chin—the same perfectly sloped nose, the defined yet soft cheekbones, and the peculiar hazel eyes. The main difference between the woman in his head and the woman before him was that the one inches from him was several skin tones paler. As if he were truly in the presence of the dead.
“Lu… Lucia?” he let out in a croak.
Between her perfectly arched brows formed a crease as the woman’s head tilted ever so slightly to the left—exactly as Lucia had so many centuries ago whenever she was confused.
“No, sorry,” she said. “Winter.” When he didn’t respond and instead only stared with a stunned expression, she followed up with a weak smile. “I guess I just have one of those familiar faces.”
His brain could in no way process what was happening. Sebastian was a remarkably well-educated man and would like to consider himself logical along with reasonable. The dead didn’t come back to life, but he was certain that he was, in fact, awake and not dreaming. With how pale the woman’s complexion was, Sebastian’s brain momentarily wondered if she could have been a ghost. That was absurd, though. In all of his thousands of years, he had never seen a ghost. Not on battlefields, not in places of tragedy, and certainly not in places advertised as being haunted. Beyond that, this woman’s skin had a glow to it. She was alive and just happened to look exactly like his late Lucia.
“Well, once again, sorry,” the woman, Winter, apologized. “I hope you have—”
“Wait,” Sebastian blurted without thinking, and she paused but didn’t peer in his direction. His chest tightened at the thought of her leaving. His brain was screaming at him that she couldn’t be real, and the logical explanation was that, after fifteen hundred years of locking away all of his pain, Carlyle had finally pushed him past the point of no return. Sebastian had lost his mind. In spite of all of his, the thought of letting Winter go right then was almost too much to bear. Doing his best to coach himself to get it together and act normal so he didn’t scare her off, Sebastian displayed a charming smile.
“Sorry, I was in my own head for a bit there. You just look so… familiar.”
When Winter’s gaze returned to him, Sebastian witnessed a thought flicker across her mind before fading away as their eyes met. Only, she wasn’t just looking at him; she was taking him in for perhaps the first time. It gave her pause, but only for a second.
As if she recognized me but couldn’t place where, a delusional thought called from somewhere in Sebastian’s head. He did his best to dismiss the thought, but it still lingered. Before she could say anything, he continued.
“That’s my mistake, however. I’m Sebastian.” Winter accepted the extended for a handshake, and Sebastian foolishly hoped that his name would have jogged her memory. Memory? It isn’t her. This woman is in her twenties and just so happens to look like Lucia. I was bound to run into someone who resembled Lucia eventually. At least he had made it that long without doing so.
“Winter,” she greeted but then pushed her brows together and let out a small laugh as a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I already said that. Sorry…”
“I think we need to stop apologizing when we’re doing absolutely nothing wrong,” he joked, actually chuckling a bit himself. Sebastian wasn’t particularly known for having a sense of humor. He had become more like a monk, where literature and art were his religion.
“I think maybe you’re right,” she giggled. His heart soared at the sound. How could this woman have the same laugh as Lucia? Was it possible they had the same voice? It was hard to tell, considering Lucia had spoken Latin. Sebastian tried to sum up the similarities he thought he heard in Winter’s musical and breezy voice as wishful thinking. Lucia had been on his mind too much that day, and he happened to cross paths with someone who resembled her. Everything beyond that was his aching heart seeing things in this woman that he only wished were there. “I think maybe we should stop shaking hands, too.”
Sebastian was horrified to realize he had held her hand captive the entire time and quickly released it. “Sorry, you’re just stunning… I-I didn’t even realize we still were.”
Winter’s eyes widened, and she looked away shyly but stood her ground. “Is this your way of picking up girls? Acting like they look familiar and then hitting on them? If it is, I have to tell you that it’s cute, but rather dated.”
“I could see how it would seem that way,” he admitted, reserving his smile. Sebastian nervously scratched at the back of his neck when he went on, “That’s not what I’m doing at all. You just really stand out. Well, at least to me.”
That was when she finally scanned him from head to toe, analyzing his attire. Since Sebastian had had a family meeting that morning, he was wearing a three-piece suit; designer, of course. Without Winter uttering a word, Sebastian knew she was comparing their social classes, as if there could be no possible way that someone of his rank would be interested in an ordinary person such as herself. If only he could remind her of how when they had first met, he had been a bloodthirsty soldier and she had been the daughter of a top general. Almost royalty. At that time, dragons had been nothing but clans of families and allies, and Sebastian had not yet donned the title of prince. Still, he had to keep reminding himself of what he knew as fact.
This woman was not Lucia.
The similarities Winter held with her were disorienting, making Sebastian constantly forget that it really wasn’t her. He watched as Winter’s eyes grew bashful, accepting his compliment. “That’s very sweet of you to say. It was nice meeting you, but I should probably get going—”
“I apologize if this is too forward of me, since we are only strangers…” Sebastian paused shortly, with a dozen scenarios flashing through his head of how Winter may react to his approach toward her, but there was no way he could let her slip away from him. He quickly composed himself. “Would you consider getting coffee with me? Doesn’t have to be long. Just one coffee.”
“Why do you want to get coffee with me?” she asked, tilting her head again. The curiosity illuminating her eyes and the intensity of her gaze acted as an anchor, pulling him down into a bottomless pit of desire, intrigue, and other feelings he couldn’t begin to describe.
Sebastian gave a modest shrug. “It isn’t every day that I meet someone who strikes me in the way you did.”
“Is that a pun?” Winter asked.
Sebastian couldn’t stop grinning. Winter was probably referring to how they had collided into one another just moments ago. She was humorous, just in the way that Lucia had been. “The pun wasn’t intended, but let’s say that it was so I seem clever.”
Her smile then mirrored his. “Deal.”
Without saying anything, they moved in unison for the checkout desk. As Winter dug through her purse to find her money, Sebastian leaped on the opportunity to swipe his card. There was a bit of protest from her on their way out of the store, but he assured her that he was glad to and would like for her to think of it as a gift from one humble stranger to another. As they stepped outside of the building, Sebastian realized that the warm, tingling feeling of his bond with Lucia was still present. Winter pressed the crosswalk signal and peered up and down the street at the flow of traffic as Sebastian examined her intently.
Who is this woman?
4
There was no doubt
in Winter’s mind that she had cracked under all the stress and officially gone insane. She never even acknowledged men who tried to hit on her while she was in public, not wanting to reward them for disrupting someone from their day just to talk to them for the objective value they held. However, Sebastian didn’t seem that way to her. The look he had on his face when they finally met gazes seemed to have told his entire story.
Then, there was also this aura about him that Winter couldn’t quite put into words, as if she instinctively trusted this stranger with her life, knowing without having to be shown that he would never intentionally bring her harm. The notion caused alarm bells to sound off in her head, and every logical thought in her brain was demanding her to make a quick exit. Every time she tried to depart and Sebastian clung to the interaction, Winter strangely felt relieved that he had stopped her; something in her wasn’t done with him, either.
That was how she found herself sitting in a coffee shop with a total stranger, the exact scenario she had been so adamant on avoiding thus far. Winter did her best not to ogle at him, but it was rather difficult. It wasn’t just the sheer size of the nearly giant man—Sebastian looked as though he had walked right out of a photo shoot. Tan skin from days spent in the sun, a ruggedly defined jawline, jet black hair that was cropped short and buzzed on the sides, and electric blue eyes, which held such intensity that Winter found it hard to maintain eye contact with him for more than a few seconds. It was as if he could see right down into the very center of her being and knew all of the secrets she had ever held in her life.
Winter idly wondered if that was just the effect that beautiful people had, finding him all too charming for having known him for such a short amount of time. It was like he had his own gravitational pull, and she was tauntingly getting sucked in just from being within his proximity.