Written in the Stars

Chapter 1

UP has been waiting in the restaurant for quite a while now.

He's been waiting, and he's been grazing on the side dishes that have been arranged in front of him since he took his seat, taking these minuscule bites of rice with stir-fried beansprouts and cold, wilted spinach, and he's sipped away the shot of vodka that he'd ordered, and its kick of bravery is wearing off, so he orders another one, just in case. Anything to keep his hands and mouth occupied while he just sits, and waits, aware that he's almost definitely being stood up and doesn't have a clue what to do about it. Like, should he order anyway? He's got to eat, supposes, so he might as well since he's here and all.

It's a nightmare, really, this whole being-stood-up thing. UP so rarely goes out with anyone he matches with on this Date App "While You Wait", the number one casual dating app for people who haven't met their fated soul match yet or, less commonly, people who have met their soul match but have zero interest in dating them, or are dating them and also dating others anyway (UP has seen it all), but this Henry guy had seemed different. He'd seemed fun, interesting, and, most importantly, interested.

After weeks of flirtatious texting, he'd asked UP for a 'sneak peek' of what he'd get to see on their date if he was lucky, and, in a state of desperate horniness, UP had complied. While he and Henry had exchanged quite a few selfies, he'd been very careful when sending this more risqué picture: a tasteful shot of his parted, glossy lips, the muscled planes of his chest and stomach, the image cutting off at the soft shadows of his hip bones. There were no identifying features—UP's face was obscured, as was his Soulmark—and the photo he'd been sent in return was similarly posed, but the whole situation was bugging him now. He had freely given this guy a glimpse of himself and his life, and now he was being stood up. Ghosted.

Ugh.

UP knocks back his second shot of vodka, thinking he should stop prolonging things. He should pay for what he's had and leave, but it's not that simple. There's still some small spark of hope flickering in his chest and it turns out he's lonely enough not to extinguish its shine.

UP leans back in his seat and stretches out his arms, rolling his wrists so that they click, and looks down at his Soulmark in the process. His Soulmark sits where everyone else's does: on his forearm, just below his elbow crease. It's of a splintering diamond, each tearaway shard sparkling with clusters of tiny stars. He's seen gemstones or jewel marks on others before, of course, and even some with ones that are broken, or breaking, like he is, but he's never seen another with the same details as his own.

The only person who would share such a mark would be his soulmate. His fated match.

And here's the thing: UP wants to meet his soulmate. Though he doesn't express it often, he has always liked the fact that true love is a fated thing, that his perfect match has already been decided for him. It feels safe. Neat. Easy. Nothing at all like the other aspects of his life, the ones in which he's had to choose and fail and learn, over and over again. No. His perfect match is already chosen and one day they'll both get the call from the Soulmark Database and then that will be it—they'll finally be able to start moving forward together—and that feels like a good thing. It feels like security. Feels like a promise from the universe: one day, you will be cherished.

That said, he still needs to wait, and he's not sure if loneliness breeds horniness, or if it's the other way around, but he finds himself installing and deleting and then reinstalling the Date While You Wait app over and over again, trawling profiles as he longs for some company and affection, and then inevitably being let down when things don't work out.

Because it can't work out, can it? Not with someone who isn't his soulmate.

And certainly not with someone who's just fucking ghosted him.