"Liz, calm down!" I scolded my best friend. "What's he gonna think if he gets here and you're pacing around wringing your hands?"

Liz glared at me, but she finally stood still. "Okay, fine. We'll just sit right here -" she patted the pleather seat of the counter stool, "- and wait." I nodded to emphasize my agreement.

"So what's his name again?" I already knew the answer to my question, but I needed something to distract her so she didn't start fretting again.

"Max Evans," she said dreamily, a faraway smile spreading across her slightly dimpled cheeks. "That's such a perfect name."

"Okay..." I said slowly. Liz was so lucky. She was finally meeting her soulmate. The man who she'd marry, the man who she'd spend the rest of her life with. The letter had come a week ago, detailing the name and location of her Max Evans. I still have up to ten months to find mine; I only turned eighteen in March.

Finding your soulmate is pretty simple. Everyone is born with a unique birthmark. Birthmark data is saved at the hospital when you're born. At some point between your eighteenth and nineteenth birthday, the section of government reserved for matching pairs does a quick search via computer to uncover the person with an exact replica of your own birthmark. That person with whom you share a birthmark is your soulmate.

The system is just about perfect. Everyone's happy -- why wouldn't they be? They find their soulmate.

Of course you get the occassional case where somebody's soulmate dies before they meet them. They get a letter with a red stamp on it instead of the normal one when they're eighteen.

I think they have gatherings for those people, sort of. To hook-up, or whatever. But it's never quite the same.

"You're not, like, gonna marry him already, are you?" I don't want to lose my best friend right now, especially when I'm currently mateless.

Liz shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't actually spoken yet. We'll need to discuss it."

I wonder when it was that my Lizzie grew up and became such a serious, thoughtful Elizabeth. Is there such a thing as over-maturing? There must be. Liz suffers from it.

There was a short but definite pause. "What do you think he looks like?"

"I don't care what he looks like. He's my soulmate. That's good enough for me."

Okay then, Liz. Obviously you don't want to get into conversation with someone so childish and petty as myself.

"Why am I here with you again? He's your soulmate."

"Oh, Maria, no! You can't leave me! I need you for -- for support!" She pleaded with her eyes. I rolled my own.

"Okay. But I can't exactly accompany you on dates or anything."

"I don't expect you to. I just need you right now."

We both fell silent as the bells above the front door announced the arrival of Max Evans. I turned my head slowly, wanting a look of this guy who was supposedly the ideal match for my friend. A small smirk played at my lips as I saw that there were two men entering the Crashdown -- well, I guess soulmates think alike. I knew immediately which one was Max. It absolutely could not be the tall one with the spiky brown hair, leather jacket, and gruff demeanor. It was the shorter, dark-haired one in the black v-neck sweater. So perfect for Liz.

"Liz?" he said tentatively. He knew which of us was his soulmate, too.

Liz beamed. "Max?" She hopped off of the stool and into his waiting arms.

They looked like they were about to start making out right then and there or something. Fortunately they remembered that spike-boy and I were still in the room.

"Um, Max, this is my best friend Maria."

"Yeah, this is Michael. I was -- I was a little nervous, y'know, so..."

Liz giggled and reassured him that she'd been the exact same way. The newly matched couple grew silent, gazing into each other's eyes, and I realized that this was our cue to leave. I grabbed Michael by the arm and led him into the back room. "Come on."

Michael plopped down on the old couch in typical male fashion. I sat in an aging armchair across from him.

"It's kinda sickening, huh?" I said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. He shrugged. I tried again. "Um, so do you have your soulmate yet?"

"Would I be tagging along with Max if I did?" Michael was doing his best to look at everything in the room except me.

"No, I guess not." Pause. "I don't have mine either."

I had no idea who this guy was, what he was like, if it was even safe to be in a room alone with him. So the only thing I could think to talk about was Max and Liz.

"What do you think they're doing?"

"Sucking face, probably."

"Perv." I frowned at him and glanced out the little window on the door. Okay, so he was right. But he didn't need to know that. "I mean, Liz isn't really the type to do that. She would want to talk first."

Michael finally made eye contact with me. "Neither is Max, but you saw the way they were looking at each other."

I nodded. There was another long silence. I sounded wistful when I said, "I'm gonna miss Liz."

"What do you mean?" Wow. He was actually asking me something for a change.

"I mean, now she's not going to have any time to just be friends with me. She's always going to want to be with Max. I mean, I can't blame her or anything. But it'll just be...lonely, I guess."

Michael nodded, like he actually understood. "Max has gotten really weird lately. He's all serious, doesn't wanna have any fun. I don't really know him anymore."

"It's the same way with Liz!" I exclaimed, glad to have found some common ground with this stranger. "She acts like I'm a child just because I want to go dancing or something. We're seventeen, for God's sake, we're allowed to be wild and carefree. And she wouldn't even discuss what Max looked like with me. I think she's aged 40 years in three months. Like last Friday, I said -"

"Would you stop talking? Jeez," he muttered. I hadn't noticed when he propped his feet up on the sofa. Apparently he wanted to sleep.

I made an indignant noise and scowled at him. So much for something in common. Michael was a jerk. "No way are you falling asleep back here."

He opened one eye. "And why not?" I had to admit, he looked very cute lying there like that.

"Because I'm not sitting back here with some guy asleep on the couch while my best friend and her soulmate are out front doing God knows what. And I'm sure Mr. Parker doesn't appreciate you putting your dirty shoes on his couch." That was a lie, Mr. Parker wouldn't care, but it sounded believable if you didn't actually look at the couch and see all the old stains on it.

"Mr. Parker?" he questioned, placing his feet on the ground once more.

"Yeah...Liz's dad. Liz Parker."

"Oh. What's your last name?"

Why did he want my last name? "Maria DeLuca. I mean, it's DeLuca."

"Oh. Guerin." He pointed to himself. Suddenly he was looking at me. I mean, really looking. Not just normal guy-checking-out-girl looking. He was reading me. It made me nervous.

We didn't speak for about ten minutes. I started pouring sugar from one container to another, a nervous habit I picked up when I started working at the Crashdown. "I'm bored," I burst out finally. He just gave me a look.

"And?"

"And...we could go somewhere. Somewhere else." Maria, what are you doing, you idiot?

"The Jeep is Max's. He probably wouldn't let me take it anywhere."

"Oh well that's okay. I have a car." No! Stop it! You don't know this guy! And he's definitely not your soulmate! But...he was only a friend. If even. So it was okay to go somewhere with a guy who wasn't my soulmate if we're just friends, right?

Michael stood up. "Okay, let's go then."

Oh, God. What had I gotten myself into?

******

"Your car sucks," he muttered angrily as he hopped out of the passenger seat and looked under the hood. We were headed to the nearest mall - which also happened to be forty-five minutes away - when the Jetta decided it didn't feel like shopping today. We were on 285 South. Not many people take 285 South.

"I can't fix it." Michael mumbled a few minutes later, flopping back down in his seat.

"What do you mean, you can't fix it? You're a guy! Guys know how to do things like this!" I sputtered. Damn it, I did not want to be stuck out here all night. Especially not with him. We'd fought over practically everything under the sun in the short car ride we'd taken.

"I never really knew much about cars, okay? So shut up."

"Oh no. Do not tell me to shut up. I will talk as long and loud as I want to. And nobody takes this road anymore! I don't know why I took this road! Nobody's gonna find us, we're going to be stuck out here for -" I abruptly cut off my tirade. He was kissing me.

And damn...he was a good kisser. Not that I've actually been kissed before -- you don't do anything remotely sexual until you meet your soulmate, of course. But as his lips caressed my own and he sucked gently on my bottom lip, I knew that this was a man with talent. If only he had a crescent moon on his ankle, just like mine...

Shit! I thought. What am I doing? He's not my soulmate! If somebody found us like this...! I pulled away. "Let me see your right ankle," I commanded.

Michael gave me a funny look but pulled up his pant leg a little bit. He wasn't looking at me...I think he was embarrassed. There was no little crescent on his ankle, just smooth, tanned skin. A few tears appeared in my eyes but I wiped them away quickly.

"What?"

"You, um...you don't have the same birthmark as me, and now if anyone finds out what happened they'll -"

"Nothing happened," he interrupted.

"What? You just -"

"No. It didn't mean anything. It was just to calm you down. Duh."

Somehow that comment hurt a lot more than it should have.

***

Three Months Later

I took a deep breath as I carefully slit open the envelope and unfolded the thin paper. Black ink on white paper. It was my future.

"Adam Sharp. 249 Kingston Avenue, Sellersville, Maryland." So that was it. My soulmate. Adam Sharp from Sellersville, Maryland.

A lone tear dripped down onto the paper, blurring his name. It was so...final. As if my entire life had just been leading up to this one moment, this ultimate decision of the gods that this was my destiny. My forever.

***

Adam is sweet. Adam is funny. Adam shares my soul.

But he doesn't make my heart race or my palms sweat. I don't think I love him. And what makes it worse is that he really does love me.

Crazy. How could I not love Adam? He's perfect for me. The little crescent on his right ankle proves it. Adam and Maria, Maria and Adam. Two as one. The way it should be.

So why does it feel so wrong when he kisses me? Why do I hold back when he pulls me in for a hug? Why have I changed the subject every time he mentions marriage, our future?

Does it mean that there is no right person for me out there? Maybe I'm destined to be alone. Maybe the gods decided when they were creating me, "That Maria DeLuca, she should be a loner. We'll give her a soulmate, alright, but she won't be satsified. She'll never be satisfied."

I'll never be satisfied.

******

I slapped my order down on the counter besides Jose. The Crashdown was absolutely packed today. There was just one more table in my section to be served, over by the wall towards the back.

"May I take your order?" I mumbled, looking down at my order pad.

"Maria."

I glanced up at the customer. He looked incredibly familiar. I knew him. Who was he? Spiked brown hair. Leather jacket. Gruff. Tough. As hot as hell.

Michael Guerin.

"Michael?" I hadn't seen him since the incident on 285 South. Someone finally drove by and graciously allowed us to use their cell phone to contact Max and Liz. They picked us up and I had the car towed. Michael and Max left Roswell for their home in Marathon the next day. They took Liz with them. Love does conquer all. It conquers friendship, at the very least.

"Why, um, why are you here? I mean, in Roswell?"

"I wanted to see you."

What?

"What?"

"I wanted to see you," he repeated quietly.

"Oh." He offered no further explanation. "Well, you've seen me. I have a lot of work to do so what do you want?"

"Maria, can I talk to you tonight?"

This was so...weird. Some guy who I'd known for a day was coming back months later and he wanted to spend the evening with me?

"I can't, you know that."

"Know what? Why?"

"Michael...I have my soulmate now. It would be, it would just be wrong."

"You do?" He pondered for a moment. "So? I'm just a friend. I want to talk to you. It's platonic. What did you think?"

Leave it to Michael to twist my words around and imply the unthinkable. "Of course I know it's platonic. What else would it be? I'm just saying, people will think things. And Adam will probably be jealous or something. Even though he has no reason to be. So my answer is no."

"Please, Maria." He begged with his eyes. Whatever he wanted to talk about must be important.

"Okay. Fine. So...what? Dinner or something?

Michael nodded. "Yeah. I'll pick you up at seven." He stared at me for a few seconds longer, and then slid out of his booth. "See ya."

"Wait!" He turned back to me, just before pushing open the glass doors of the diner.

"What?"

"Don't you need to know where I live?"

"Oh...uh, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. A small grin played at my lips. Men. I quickly jotted down the address on my order pad, and ripped the paper off with a flourish, handing it to him. "See you tonight."

Michael nodded. His tongue swept quickly across his lips, and I felt my face grow hot. "Tonight."

I watched him silently as he pushed open the doors and strode down the sidewalk, glancing at me through the window briefly.

"Excuse me? Miss?" I shook my head quickly and hurried to tend to the waiting customer.

******

I tucked a piece of hair behind my hair, gazing at my reflection in the mirror critically. I'm pretty, I guess. My hair is nice. It's long, blonde, sort of wavy. And I like my eyes. They're green. My lips are a bit big, I think. And I'm not particularly fond of my nose. Who actually likes their own nose?

It doesn't really matter what I look like, anyway. Adam loves me because of my personality. My soul.

Regardless, something inside of me wanted to look nice for Michael tonight.

Even though there is nothing between us.

Absolutely nothing.

The doorbell rang, and I grabbed my purse, sliding my toes into my shoes. Adam had wanted to go out tonight. Just the two of us, he'd said. As if we ever did anything that wasn't just the two of us, anyway. I don't mind it all the time, being alone together, that is. Adam is actually quite the conversationalist.

Maybe you're getting the idea that I don't like Adam. I do. I really do. He's a great guy, a great friend, really funny and sweet. But beneath all of that, there has to be some kind of connection, you know? And perhaps something's wrong with me, but I'm not feeling the receiving end of that connection.

I jogged quickly to the front door, and pulled it open. Michael...seeing him, it nearly took my breath away. He looked incredible, which is probably the understatement of the year.

"Hey."

I coughed. "Hey."

He shrugged, and gestured towards the driveway. "You okay riding that?"

I didn't even follow his gaze when he looked at whatever it was we'd be driving in, so I just nodded. Whatever it was, I was sure it would be fine.

I followed him off of the little porch, stopping dead in my tracks when I saw it. My eyes widened.

"Wait -- I have to ride that?"

Michael held back a snicker. "Yeah. Unless you want to drive. Are you scared?"

I tried to act nonchalant. "No."

He smiled. "Okay, then." I watched apprehensively as he climbed easily onto the motorcycle. He sensed my hesitence. "Seriously. We don't have to take it," he said in a more gentle tone. I shook my head.

"No. I'm fine." I took a deep breath and hauled myself onto the beast, clinging to his waist for support. His arm reached around behind him and pulled me up closer, pressed against his leather-clad back. Oh, god...it felt amazing.

"Make sure you don't fall off," he murmured, and started the engine. I jumped, startled, and then settled back down, wrapping my arms comfortably around his middle. My cheek lay against his back, and he pulled carefully out of the driveway.

***

Michael held me by the hand as he led me to Chez Luna, a small, quirky French restaurant on the outskirts of town. I was still shaky from the ride over.

And that was the only reason he held my hand.

We were led to our table by a small, slightly plump woman with bright red hair, obviously a dye job. I could tell exactly what she was thinking as she seated us at a secluded table for two, lit dimly by candles -- what a cute couple. Young lovers, soulmates...how sweet.

I felt an urge to tell her that wasn't really the situation. This felt like some kind of horrible betrayal for some reason...but Michael and I were just...well, not even friends, really. Acquaintences.

She smiled at us as she walked back to her position by the entrance. I gazed at the small crystal chandelier that hung over the small table. "This is such a pretty restaurant," I murmured quietly. It's the type of place where you feel obliged to whisper.

"It was recommended by the hotel manager," Michael explained, he too keeping his voice low. I couldn't help but smirk. So even the manager of the Tumbleweed Inn had some taste.

A waitor soon took our orders, a seafood dish for me and steak for Michael. Adam enjoys a lot of the same food I do, so we generally end up getting the same thing. It was quite refreshing, dining with someone who had his own taste.

Waiting for our meals, Michael and I swapped little stories about Max and Liz. I asked him how they were doing. Liz hadn't written as regularly as she'd promised, nor called, and I was practically clueless.

"They're just great," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "They've got an apartment and all together. They're taking classes at the local college."

"Liz always wanted to go to Harvard," I murmured, taking a sip of water.

Michael nodded. "What do you want to do?"

The question startled me. "What do I want to do?"

"Yeah." He looked at me expectantly.

"I..." I hadn't given it much thought lately. Get married, I guess? "I don't know."

"It's a little late to not know," he smirked.

"It's not like it really matters, anyway," I admitted. "I'll just marry Adam and let him take care of me."

It was probably my imagination, but I thought that when I said the word "Adam", Michael stiffened. He drank a long swig of water. "Adam your soulmate?" he asked casually.

Casually. So obviously, I'd totally imagined the whole stiffening thing.

"Yeah. Adam. He's my soulmate."

Michael swallowed. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. "Yup."

Thank god for fast service, because at that moment our meals arrived, and eating them was enough to distract us from having to talk.

Michael's filet looked delicious. "Could I try that?" I asked.

"Sure." He cut off a small piece of meat, and held it in front of me on his fork. I frowned slightly, and tried to lower it to my plate, but he held steady. I slowly realized what he was doing, and flushed, opening my mouth so he could feed me the steak.

"It's good," I mumbled, embarrassed at my ignorance.

"I know," he assented, going to work on it. We ate in silence for a while, but this was slightly more comfortable.

"So there's nothing you really want to do?" Michael suddenly looked up at me from his plate, a small crease in his forehead.

I shrugged. "Well...I like to sing."

Michael nodded. "Then don't you want to be a singer?"

"It could never happen. I mean, Adam would hate to have me on the road all the time and stuff."

There it was again, that strange tensing of his body when I mentioned Adam. You're seeing things, I told myself. Seeing things.

A flash of something dark took residence in his eyes, but it was gone before I could place it. "That seems a little selfish of Adam, don't you think?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, yes," I admitted. "But I'm selfish sometimes too...that's why we're meant to be, I guess," I joked.

His expression showed me that the joke had fallen flat.

"If he loves you, he'll put you before himself," Michael insisted.

"But doesn't that go both ways?" I countered. "If he has to consider what I want, then I have to consider what he wants."

Michael just shook his head and turned his concentration back to his steak. I frowned and followed his lead, returning to my own food.

*******

I pulled on my coat, smiling at Michael as we stood from the little table. He'd paid for dinner, a gracious act, considering that it was a bit expensive, and that we weren't even on a date. He followed close behind me out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

I yawned. "It's past my bedtime," I giggled. Michael rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He helped me up onto his bike and we pulled away, headed for home.

At least, I thought we were going home until he took a wrong turn.

"No, um, Michael, you had to take a left back there," I shouted over the roar of the engine. I heard him yell something back but couldn't quite make out what he was saying. Needless to say, I was surprised and a bit pissed off when we ended up at the Tumbleweed Inn.

"Michael! I do need a ride home, you know!"

"Shh," he caught my wrist gently, which I'd been flailing about in my distress. "Didn't you hear me? I said I wanted to talk."

This was starting to make me nervous. Okay, so a guy I met once takes me out to dinner. A little weird, but nothing extraordinarily strange. But then he takes me back to his hotel room? "We did talk."

"Um..." Michael shifted uncomfortably. "There's something else."

"Well, tell me what it is now. I need to get home." I shivered slightly. The wind tonight was cool, and it always gets particularly cold in the desert at night.

"You're cold," he said, changing the subject. "Here." He slipped out of his leather jacket, placing it around my shoulders. It smelled like him. It smelled nice.

"Please, Michael," I said, my teeth chattering. "Just tell me what it is and get it over with."

But Michael remained silent, standing there in the nearly empty parking lot, staring into my eyes. Suddenly his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling my body up against his.

Then he was kissing me.

***

I kissed back greedily. I couldn't help myself. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It felt good. Very good. Better than good. Right in a way that I'd never felt before with Adam.

Before I knew what was happening, we'd somehow made our way into the hotel, and then into the elevator, and then finally into his room. He groped in his pocket for the key card, keeping contact with my lips all the while, until finally I dipped my own hand into his pocket and pulled it out, sliding it into the doorknob. The door opened quickly and we nearly fell into the room.

Michael slid his arms around my waist once again, and I welcomed them, pressing my chest into his own, slipping out of his jacket. Slowly he took a few steps backwards. Towards the bed. This was headed somewhere I wouldn't be able to forget about. What we were doing was wrong, completely wrong and I knew I would pay for it. But at the moment all I wanted to think about was his lips, and tongue, and hands, and how wonderful they felt all brushing up against me at the same time.

I climbed on top of him on the mattress, pressing fierce kisses to his jawline. You're crazy, Maria, crazy... His hands, his amazing hands, smoothed up my sides, bringing my shirt off with them. I slid my own beneath his shirt and pulled it off, discarding the offensive piece of cloth on the floor.

"Maria..." Michael groaned as I pressed kisses from his neck down to his chest. He had great abs...and arms...and hands...hell, everything about him was great.

More and more clothing was discarded until finally we came together, moving in a steady rhythym. It was beautiful, amazing...

And very, very wrong.

***

I awoke, wrapped in a pair of warm arms. I cringed slightly. I never liked waking up so close to Adam. I turned around in his hold, careful not to wake him, and then held in a surprised squeak when I realized it wasn't Adam that had me spooned against his chest.

It was Michael.

Oh, God. What had I done? I'd just slept with some random guy, whom I'd met only once, and who, more importantly, was not my soulmate.

Adam could not find out.

I slipped out of the bed quietly, gathering my clothing from the floor. I was an idiot. A complete idiot. I quickly redressed myself, making as little noise as possible.

Just as I was about to place my hand upon the doorknob, Michael's voice interrupted my self-loathing thoughts. "Where are you going?"

I turned, startled. "Home."

He sat up quickly and felt the floor for his boxers, standing up and pulling them on. He jogged over to the door. "Don't." He placed his hand on the door, keeping it shut.

"This was wrong. I can't...I have to forget about it. I have to forget about you."

Michael stared at me unflinchingly. It was just like the look he'd given me so many months ago, in the little breakroom of the Crashdown. "Bye."

"Maria -"

"What? You want to come back with me so you can ruin my life a little more?" My eyes began to tear up, and I wiped them quickly with the back of my hand. "Something like this...it can never be, Michael. It can't happen."

"I know," he whispered quietly, and somehow I knew that this was breaking his heart just as much as it was mine. "But I wish it could."

"And why don't you think about the poor girl you're cheating on, anyway?" I sniffed. "It's not fair to her, it's not fair to Adam...it's not fair." I choked a little on the last few words, more tears overtaking my body. "Goodbye, Michael," I whispered, and flew out the door.