Soulmates

Craig Timmons did not mean to fall asleep on the bus.

He blamed the heat.

Late summer had settled over the city like a heavy hand. Even with the windows cracked and the air conditioning rattling above, the bus felt thick, airless. The sun poured through the glass in molten sheets, turning the vinyl seats tacky against skin.

He sank into one near the middle, shoulders slumped, department store polo wrinkled and clinging to his back.

Tracy.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and saw her face again. Tracy with the soft brown waves and glossy lips and that effortless way she laughed at other people's jokes.

"You're really sweet, Craig. I just don't see you that way."

Sweet.

He hated how gentle she'd been. It made it worse somehow. If she'd rolled her eyes, if she'd smirked, if she'd been cruel, he could've blamed her. Instead, she'd been kind.

Kind enough to remind him he wasn't wanted.

Thirty-five. Never past a second date. Always almost. Always close. Always missing something he couldn't identify.

He exhaled slowly and let his head tip back against the seat. Across the aisle, a couple leaned into each other, sharing earbuds. Their fingers were intertwined in the casual, absentminded way of people who had stopped worrying about whether they belonged together.

Craig looked away.

Why can’t I have that?

The bus lurched violently.

A sharp BANG echoed beneath them, and the vehicle swayed hard to the right. Gasps rippled through the passengers as the driver fought the wheel and guided the bus to the curb. Craig grabbed the metal bar in front of him, heart thudding. After a tense moment, the bus hissed to a stop.

The driver's voice crackled overhead. "Blown tire, folks. Another bus will be here in about fifteen minutes."

Groans filled the aisle.

Craig's pulse slowed. The adrenaline left him abruptly, replaced by a wave of exhaustion so sudden it felt physical. The heat. The rejection. The constant low hum of disappointment. He rubbed his face and leaned back again.

Fifteen minutes.

He closed his eyes.

Just for a second.

The air changed.

The heat vanished.

Craig opened his eyes to the sound of distant wind moving through something vast. He was no longer on the bus.

He stood barefoot on cool white marble that stretched outward in every direction. Above him, the sky wasn't sky at all but a swirling expanse of rose-gold clouds threaded with streaks of crimson and molten amber. Light shimmered like sunset caught in motion.

The air smelled faintly of jasmine, warm cedar, and something electric, like a storm about to break.

"What the hell..."

His voice echoed softly, as though the space itself were listening.

"You desire love."

The voice came from behind him. Low. Smooth. Amused. Craig turned.

And forgot how to breathe.

The man standing several paces away was... impossible.

He looked young, mid-twenties perhaps, but there was nothing youthful about the weight of his presence. His skin held a warm olive glow, luminous beneath the shifting light. Dark curls fell around his temples and brushed the nape of his neck. His eyes were not one color but many: deep brown at first glance, but flecked with molten gold that caught the light like embers.

He wore something that wasn't quite modern and wasn't quite ancient: soft linen draped loosely over one shoulder, belted at the waist with braided leather. It revealed just enough to suggest the sculpted lines of his chest and abdomen without flaunting them.

He was beautiful. Not in a fragile way. Not in a delicate way. In a way that felt intentional, designed.

Craig's stomach tightened.

He was staring.

He couldn't stop staring.

Because this man, this stranger, was the most attractive person he had ever seen. Not just attractive. Attractive was too small a word. Beautiful. Alluring. Enchanting. Craig could feel himself becoming aroused just by looking at him.

And he was a man.

Craig swallowed hard.

"I'm dreaming," he muttered.

"Yes," the stranger agreed pleasantly.

The man stepped closer. The air seemed to thicken with him. Every movement carried a quiet gravity. The marble floor warmed beneath Craig's feet as if responding to his pulse.

"My name," the stranger said, "is Eros."

The name rippled through the space like a plucked string.

"I am the god of love. Of desire. Of passion." His lips curved slightly. "Of procreation, when I am feeling traditional."

Craig blinked.

"Like, the Greek god?" he asked weakly.

Eros inclined his head.

Craig's brain tried very hard to reject the premise.

Greek gods weren't real. Gods didn't show up in bus-naps. Beautiful men didn't radiate heat like living sunlight.

And yet... he could feel him.

There was a pull in his chest, subtle but undeniable. A current humming beneath his skin. His gaze kept tracing the line of Eros's collarbone. The slope of his shoulders. The way the linen shifted with each breath. What would it be like to touch a man like that? To kiss him? To kneel down before him and...

Craig **** himself to look away.

This is insane.

"You're not..." Craig began, then stopped.

"Not what?" Eros asked softly.

"Listen, I'm not into men," Craig said, too quickly.

Eros's smile deepened. Not mocking. Knowing.

"Most are not," he said gently. "And yet."

He stepped closer. The scent intensified; jasmine, heat, skin. Eros lifted a hand and brushed his fingers lightly through the air between them. The space shimmered. A faint warmth passed over Craig's chest, down his spine, pooling low in his stomach before making its way to his groin, almost making his knees buckle.

Craig inhaled sharply.

"I don't understand," Craig said, steadying himself. "You brought me here to, what, seduce me?"

"I am desire," Eros corrected. "I have no need for seduction."

There was no arrogance in it. Only fact. Craig's throat felt dry.

He had never reacted like this to a man before. Not once. He'd noticed when someone was objectively good-looking, sure, the way everyone could, but this was different. This was visceral. Magnetic.

Confusing.

Embarrassing.

Compelling.

Eros studied him with open curiosity.

"You think of yourself as lonely," the god said.

Craig huffed a breath, fighting to keep from growing erect. "You've been watching?"

"I watch everyone."

Craig folded his arms, trying to ground himself. "Then you know I'm not exactly lucky with the ladies."

"You are not unlucky," Eros said, turning and walking a few paces away, swaying his rear end in a way to draw Craig's eyes back. "You are misaligned."

Craig frowned. "That sounds worse."

Eros laughed softly, and the sound sent a ripple through the sky.

"There are very few in your world who are blessed with a soulmate. You are one, but you are misaligned. The stars, the world, conspired against you too soon it has passed you by."

"What do you mean? I have a soulmate? Who is she?"

"Unfortunately, your soulmate is beyond what is possible. But that missed purpose is the cause of your heartache, the cause of your loneliness."

The rose-gold clouds above shifted, deepening toward crimson at the edges.

"Hold on a second. A soulmate. Like in the stories."

"A true counterpart," Eros' voice rose to fill the room in a beautiful melody. "A bond written long before your present life."

Craig's heart began to race again, hope flaring so suddenly it almost hurt.

"Can't you fix it? You're the God of love, right? Can't you fix the... alignment thing?"

Eros turned back toward him, his gaze softening.

"It is within my power," he said, "but..."

"But nothing!" Craig interrupted the deity. "You've got to help me! I can't go my whole life being a reject. If I've got a soulmate, please fix whatever went wrong."

"You are certain," Eros murmured, "that you understand what love means? What it means to be loved?"

Craig swallowed.

"I know what I'm attracted to, and I've gone on a few dates."

Eros tilted his head slightly and laughed, bells ringing in the heavens.

"A true expert in affairs of the heart," he stepped closer, causing Craig's heart to beat faster. "Very well. You have brought joy to my weary life. I will grant you your boon."

"My soulmate?"

"Your soulmate. In one turning of the moon, your life will have fully aligned, things will have been set right," Eros got close enough for Craig to feel his breath on his lips. "And all changes will be complete."

"Wait... changes?"

Eros leaned in and pressed his lips against Craig's, just for a moment, but it was enough for his power to rush into him. Warmth surged through his whole being, deeper than before. Not dizzying, but shifting. Like something inside him had been gently turned, reoriented.

The marble beneath his feet dissolved.

The sky cracked into light.

Craig jolted upright in his bus seat.

The replacement bus had arrived. Passengers were filing past him, grumbling as they transferred over.

His heart hammered. His palm tingled. For a brief, impossible second, he could still smell jasmine in the air.