Until We Meet Again

There was a boy, there was a girl, there was a 24 hour Wal-Mart, and there was a short, beautiful relationship that started with a bag of Cheetos. This is the story of him and her, she and he, and the power of coincidences and fate.


5. 5


Fate- (noun)  [ fāt ]

To be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way; the development of events beyond a person’s control.


The boy was ordering dinner, and the girl had just received hers.

They were in The Pizza Kitchen, which was jam-packed with students and kids and parents and senior citizens all mixed together, the music was blaring, and the lights were dimmed, and yet still, the pair of eyes found each other.

She was getting a straw for her soda, he was in the middle of telling the woman behind the counter what he wanted, and then they saw each other.

He finished up his order. She finished getting a straw. And when the two were done with their unimportant tasks, they walked over to one another.

“Someone really wants us together, eh?” The boy asked, smiling widely and happily.

“I think you’re a stalker,” the girl cried, and her face turned red. The boy laughed.

“I’m really not.”


“Coincidences. That’s all this is. Well, that, and, of course, fate,” he replied, and the girl scoffed.

“There’s no such thing as fate. An ending is not predetermined,” she explained once again, and the boy just shrugged.

“Maybe. But maybe not. We live in one of the biggest cities in the world, and yet, we’ve met five times just in the last year. Maybe we’re not destined to be together, but maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.” The boy meant it now from the bottom of his heart.

The girl’s already red face turned even pinker.

“Um,” was all she could spurt out. “How did you do on that test?”

The boy was confused. “Which test?”

“You know, the one you didn’t study for. Did your ‘ridiculously high IQ’ help you at all in the end?” She asked, taking a sip of her soda when she finished.

“Oh. That one. I failed it.”

“Serves you right. I bet the other people studied.”

The boy, again, shrugged, and decided to change the subject.

“Would you hate me if I kissed you right now?” He asked, randomly, out--of-the-blue. The girl stared at him, taken aback. The kiss at the ice rink wasn’t necessarily a bad one, but here? Now? She barely knew him-

“No,” she answered, and then she felt his lips on hers.

It tasted like everything they didn’t have, everything they ever wanted, and everything that they desperately needed. It was beautiful but raw, real and short, and yet sweet as honey and thick as molasses. It was consuming and exquisite and even though neither of them were struggling for breath, they were breathing heavily and rapidly when it was over.

“Well,” the girl repeated, and when she smiled, it lit up the dark room like a light.

“Well,” the boy said, and he slipped his hand into hers. His fingers were calloused but rough, while hers were smooth and cool.

“Why did you do that?” The girl asked, her voice soft.

“Because I wanted to see.”

“See what?”

“I wanted to see if what they say is true. If you can tell that two people are made for each other through a kiss,” he explained, and she looked puzzled.

“Did you?”  She questioned, and the boy leaned his face close to the girl’s, so close that they were almost touching. Close enough that she could feel his body heat against her skin.

“Yeah. I did,” he answered. She sucked in a breath, then released it, trying to keep her scattered nerves in place.

“I-I-have to go, my mom said she wanted the pizza back home five minutes ago,” the girl sputtered. The boy was slightly hurt, but he tried not to show it.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” she whispered, and the two stared at each other for several seconds before the girl hurried away.

As she disappeared through the front door, the boy was almost certain that a part of his soul left with her.

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