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“Tay-Tay,” dad called, spotting me and waving.
Shit.
I took a deep breath and walked over.
“Miles, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Taylor. Tay, Miles is an old friend. We were at Punahou together in high school.”
My dad knows him? He knows my soulmate?
Miles turned, his handsome, chiseled face boring into me, and I felt myself blush. “Yes, we bumped into each other outside,” he said, smiling.
“It’s actually Taylor’s eighteenth birthday today.”
“Oh, wow, happy birthday!” Miles said, his eyes glistening.
“Thanks,” I said, so nervous I could not keep eye contact.
“Taylor will be going to Kauai Community College for a couple of years, then probably move to the Mainland for her major.”
“Oh, where to?” Miles said, directing the question at me.
“UC Irvine,” I managed to mumble.
“Cool. That’s a nice school. Good neighborhood too.”
“Miles went to UCLA,” dad said. “He’s a lawyer now.”
My breath hitched in my throat. My mom had divorced my dad and left us for a lawyer, and I knew how much dad disliked them. But Miles was his friend. Maybe this was different?
“Well, enjoy your stay, Miles,” dad said, handing him his room key. “We’ll grab some beer later and catch up. Tay, would you show him to his room, please?”
“Thanks, John,” Miles said, shaking dad’s hand.
“You bet.”
I bent to pick up Miles’ black duffle bag at the same time he reached down, and our hands touched. A white-hot bolt of current shot through my entire body, and I gasped out loud. A sharp intake of breath from Miles told me he felt it too, and we stared at each other in surprise.
“I, uh, got it,” Miles said, recovering fast, but there was a confused look on his face as he slung the bag across his shoulder.
He doesn’t understand what’s happening!
Of course he didn’t understand. How could he? He never had the benefit of a fortune teller describing in great detail how he would meet his soulmate.
The problem was, how do I make someone like him understand? As a lawyer, his world was probably centered around facts, not superstitious delusions of an old woman, or the young girl who believed in them.
“Could I see your key?” I said. He handed it to me, and I noticed how careful he was to avoid any kind of contact. A sharp pang of hurt burrowed its way into my heart.
The brass room key was attached to a mini wooden surfboard that my dad had carved himself. The number ten was etched on the tip and right under it, embossed sideways, was the word Moikeha.
“What does it mean?” Miles said, nodding at the wooden key fob.
“Dad labeled each of the rooms after ancient Hawaiian monarchs. Moikeha was the name of the first king of Kauai. Looks like you’ve got our biggest suite.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Miles said, smiling.
“It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
