Meant to Be (The Saving Angels 1)

I felt myself freaking out. I couldn’t help feeling like someone was playing some kind of joke on me, first with Mark and now Sam. I would have believed that this was their idea of a good way to torment me if Sam didn’t look as surprised as I felt.

Sam must have felt the same, because she looked at me to see if I was pulling her leg. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I wish I was. All of this is wigging me out,” I replied.

“Well to tell you the truth, I’m relieved. We can be freaks together,” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood.

I smiled a half smile. It was hard not to respond to Sam’s positive attitude. I had always been the glass half empty kind of person, but Sam was obviously a glass half full person.

We walked the rest of the way to my house in silence, both of us lost in the thoughts that were circling around in our heads.

By the time we reached my house, we both were sweating slightly from the short walk. I pulled open the fridge and grabbed two waters and two chocolate bars. My mom bought chocolate candy in bulk for me. I often joked that a candy bar a day, kept the doctor away. My mom had given up years ago, and as long as I brushed my teeth twice a day, she kept me stocked with chocolate.

I handed one of the bars to Sam, who was studying all the family pictures around our small house.

“My mom loves to take pictures,” I explained. “She hates photo albums though, so most of our pictures wind up in a frame, or get thrown into a box.”

“That’s me right after they found me,” I said, when I noticed Sam studying a picture of me where I was crying. My mom had told me that all I wanted to do was sleep. I never had to ask why, I already knew, he had been in my dreams, even then.

“I’m hungry,” I said, changing the subject. “Let’s order the pizza now, and listen to music upstairs while we wait for it.”

After ordering the pizza, we headed upstairs to my domain, which was more like a loft than a full upstairs. It was narrower than the space below, and consisted of my room, a bathroom, and a small sitting room between the bathroom and my room. The only other door upstairs of course, led to the hall closet that I kept mistaking as the bathroom.

“This is pretty,” Sam commented, as we settled into the chairs in the sitting area.

“Thanks. My mom and I wanted to make it a comfortable, soothing space.”

We had worked hard to create just the right look. We painted the walls a nice warm taupe that glowed when the sunlight hit them and placed bookshelves from floor to ceiling around the room for the many books we had both read over the years. In between the bookshelves we placed framed posters of some of our favorite books. The frames were made from the same tasteful wood as the bookshelves. We searched high and low for the two comfortable lazy boys that sat in the middle of the room. Both of us could read for hours, so we wanted to be comfortable. The last touch was a sturdy table to sit between the two chairs. We liked to snack while we read, so having a durable table to hold our drinks was a must.

“I’ll put some music on,” I said. “Do you have any preference?”

“No. Anything is fine.”

We listened to the music and talked until we heard the doorbell ring. After paying the delivery guy, I grabbed a couple sodas, and some paper plates and napkins.

We ate in silence, enjoying the cheesy pizza with its hearty sauce. Finally after dinner, Sam looked at me with a serious look on her face. “I’ve been putting off mentioning this, but I think we should make a list of things we have in common,” she told me. “That way, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

I had to agree with her. I had been trying to ignore it all day, but it had become glaringly obvious that Sam and I shared some kind of link. I grabbed a notebook and started taking notes on our commonalities. Sam filled in the ones I had forgotten, making a point to mention our common defective “emotions,” as she liked to put it, of course I still didn’t believe that her emotional “madness” was the same as mine. Finally, I set the pencil down. “I think that’s it.”

“You forgot the biggest one,” Sam said quietly.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking up in surprise, I thought we had them all.

“You forgot to write down the dreams,” Sam said in the same quiet voice.

“What dreams?” I asked, suddenly starting to feel panicked.

“The dreams we have about the guys?”

“How do you know about that?” I asked, standing up abruptly, suddenly very angry. The notebook slid off my lap and landed on the floor at my feet. I gave it no notice, as I felt the emotional wave approaching.

“I think you should leave,” I told Sam, trying to fight down the nausea. I didn’t know what kind of game Sam was playing, but I wanted no part of it. The anger began to engulf me; I knew I was on the verge of getting sick.

I rushed into my bathroom and threw-up immediately. It had been a long time since my emotions had made me sick enough to throw up. The retching finally ended as the waves receded. I rested my forehead weakly against the cool porcelain on the side of the tub.

I felt a cool cloth being placed on the nap of my sweaty neck. I wasn’t surprised that Sam had stuck around. Though I tried to convince myself that she was playing some kind of game, I knew we had far too much in common to be just a coincidence. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know, it wasn’t Sam’s fault.

Sam handed me a glass of water. I looked up to see her studying me.