I drew closer to the bench, pausing when I heard a loud sniffle.  The boy reached into his coat to pull out a handkerchief — a handkerchief! — and dab at his nose lightly.  I debated leaving him alone and returning to the party, but the idea of facing the sea of blonds again was less than appealing.

“Excuse me,” I ventured.  “Would you mind if I joined you?”

He coughed quickly, shifting over on the bench and looking down.  “Of course, of course.”

I took a seat on the other side, gazing out at the field.  I didn't look over at him; I could tell that he was wiping his cheeks with embarrassment.

“So,” he said finally.  “Are you a fellow Anderson?”

“Me?  No, no.  My soulmate is.”

“I should've guessed.  I think my mom and brother and I are the only ones with dark hair.”

“Black sheep?” I teased.

“Something like that.”  He let out a long breath.  “First time out to the estate?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What do you think?”

“Eh, it's all right.”  I lifted one shoulder.  “Kind of small.  I guess your great-great-great-grandfather wasn't one to flaunt his wealth.”  That earned me a soft laugh, and I smiled to myself.  “Actually, this field is my favorite part of the estate.”

“That so?”

I nodded.  “There's something so beautiful about it.”

“Well, I'll let you in on a little secret,” the boy said.  “This isn't part of the estate.”

I turned to him in surprise, but he was looking down at his gloved hands.  “No?”

“No, this is actually part of a public park.  The bench, however, is on my family's land, and apparently they get highly offended when commoners visit the park and sit on it.”  He glanced over at my coat, then looked away quickly.  “Though in clothes like that, there's no way you'd be mistaken for a commoner.”

A blush bloomed across my cheeks, and I bit my bottom lip.  “You like fashion?”

“Not enough to own any McQueen myself, but I do rock a good Burberry coat now and again.”  He smoothed down his coat and I shot him an admiring glance.

“That's a nice one.”

“Thanks.”

We sat in silence for a long time, before I garnered the courage to ask, “Are you all right?  You seemed upset before.”

He hummed.  “Birthday blues, I guess.”

“Today's your birthday?”

“No, it was a week ago.  I, uh...” he shook his head.  “I turned fifteen.”

“And your mark appeared,” I supplied.

“It did.  My dad hired a private investigator to find my soulmate.  Only took a few days, as luck would have it.  He lives in Philadelphia.  My dad flew him here and we met yesterday.”

“And you brought him to the reunion?”

“Dad insisted.”

I whistled low.  “How's he handling the pressure?”

“I don't know.  He's... he just... can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”  I tried to catch his eye, but his gaze was fixed on his gloves.  “Seen any good movies lately?”

“I'm more of a theater guy.”

“Me too!”

“I saw Rent when the tour came through Columbus a couple of months ago.”

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” he said, smiling.  “I had the biggest crush on the guy who played Angel.  Don't judge me, but I waited at the stage door for an hour afterwards so I could meet him.”

“No judgment here.  I stood in the rain for three hours to go to Patti LuPone's book signing.”

“You met Patti LuPone?” he gasped, finally looking over at me.

And then, time seemed to stop.  

The boy had the lightest honey-colored eyes, framed by long, thick eyelashes.  His full lips parted as we stared at each other, and all I could think was, this was him.  This was him.  This was exactly who I'd always imagined my soulmate to be.

Oh, there you are, my heart whispered.  There you are.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, and I blinked.

“What?”

His cheeks flooded with color.  “I... sorry.  You are, though.”

I felt my own face grow hot, but I couldn't look away from his eyes.  They were mesmerizing.  “You're, uh... not so bad yourself.”  My hands itched to reach out and touch him, so I pushed them into my coat pockets.

“Patti must have told you to go into show business,” he said.  “With a face like that.  Or modeling.”

“Actually, she didn't say anything to me,” I laughed, feeling the flush creep down my neck.  “I never got to meet her.  Apparently the bookstore didn't supply her with her preferred brand of coconut water, so she threw a fit and stormed out.”

His eyes shone.  “I have to admit, I love a good diva tantrum.”

“Oh, you should meet my friend Rachel.  She's training to be the next Barbra Streisand, only more demanding.”

The boy laughed, and I told him story after story about Rachel and her ego.  He told me about a boy named Wes at his high school, imitating him banging a gavel until I was clutching my stomach with laughter.

It was so easy to talk to this lovely boy.  He was sweet and attentive and funny.  We talked about our childhood struggles — him living in the shadow of his older brother, me growing up without a mother — and commiserated over bullying.  He wanted to be a singer, he told me, and my eyes lit up.

“You sing, too?”

And then it was on to music.  The boy favored top 40 but confided that he had a secret love for the golden oldies.  I swore I'd never tell a soul, then admitted that I wanted to star on Broadway one day.

“I'll go to all your shows,” he said fervently.  “Every night.”

I believed him.  I believed every word he said.  This boy moved me, like no one ever had.  I wanted to melt into him until we couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

Overcome, I turned and looked back at the field.  To my surprise, dusk had fallen while we'd been busy talking, and stars were beginning to emerge in the sky.  “I should go... they're probably wondering where I am.”

“No, don't.”  He started to reach toward me, then stopped himself.  “Please, just a little bit longer?”

I couldn't.  I couldn't spend another minute with this enchanting boy, whose name I still didn't know but who made me want to grab his hand and run, run, run away from BJ and the rest of the world.  “I really can't stay.”

“But baby it's cold outside,” he sang softly.  I looked back at him in surprise, smiling.

“I've got to go away...” I sang back to him.

“But baby it's cold outside.”

“This evening has been...”

“Been hoping that you'd drop in.”

“So very nice...”

“Why isn't it you?” he burst out, and my heart sank.

“What?”

“He's awful,” the boy said.  “Just awful.  He's not even gay.  And he's old.  He's not... I mean, I imagined my soulmate.  My whole life, I imagined him, and I waited, because he was supposed to be perfect for me in every way.  And now I've met him, and he's nothing like I imagined.”

“I—”

“You.  You're who I imagined.”

I took a shaky breath.  “I... I don't know what to say.  I think maybe soulmates aren't all they're cracked up to be.”

“Then they should tell us that when we're little.  I shouldn't have to watch Sleeping Beauty every day as a kid and dream of what it'll be like when I finally meet my soulmate and he makes me feel like Im waking up.  Now that I've met him he makes me want to sleep forever.”

“Don't say that.”

“He told me he won't have sex with me, but that he'll let me give him oral sex,” the boy said furiously.  “Because a mouth is a mouth.  He said that.  He's the worst match I could have possibly imagined.”

I smiled ruefully.  “At least you got a guy.”

The boy's angry expression faded.  “No... you... really?”

“And it's not like I'm floating in the middle of the Kinsey scale.  I'm 100% gay.”  I shrugged.  “Like I said, it's not what people made it out to be.  But I'm dealing.”

“You shouldn't have to deal.  It's not supposed to be like that.”

“But it is,” I said sharply.  “This is how things work.  I'll figure out a way to live with her, and maybe in time we'll grow to love each other platonically.”

“And you'll never feel passion,” the boy said.

“Maybe I don't need passion.”

“Bull,” the boy breathed, and he reached out one gloved hand to clutch my shoulder.  "You deserve it.  We both do."  He leaned closer to me, and I found myself leaning in too, in spite of the alarms ringing in my brain.  He smelled amazing, and he licked his lips as we grew closer—

“There you are,” called a familiar voice.  “I've been looking for you forever!”

I pulled back at once, looking behind me to see BJ marching toward us.  She hadn't caught our near-kiss, from the looks of things. 

I wondered if I wished she had.

“You missed dinner,” she said as she reached us.  “I didn't know where you went.”

“I'm sorry.  We got to talking and I lost track of time.”

BJ and the boy nodded to each other.  The boy looked back at me, his eyes soft and miserable.

“Well, come on back.  Mother and Father want to introduce you around before the fireworks display begins.”

“I...”  I looked at the boy, my heart pounding.  “I'll be right there.”

“No, you need to come now.”

“Just give me a few—”

“Kurt Hummel, I swear to god, if you don't come with me right now I am going to lose my fucking mind!” she screeched, and I shot to my feet in an instant.

“Im sorry,” I said to the boy.  His mouth hung open, his eyes hazy and unfocused.  

“Kurt?" he whispered.  "Kurt Hummel?”

“It was nice meeting you,” I told him.  BJ was already stomping away, and I hurried to follow her.