Pre-Determined (Chapter 1)

CHAPTER ONE

Some things are just destined to be. The stars and the universe colliding at the exact moment, at the exact time, in the exact place allowing it to come to fruition. The infinite universe extending beyond our imagination; creating and ending life itself at every possible moment. Bending our will to its; forming its destiny.

That’s what my dad always told me.

When he was my age, he had his future all laid out in front of him: Yale for undergrad, Harvard for Law school, and by the time he reached thirty he would be a partner at a top law firm in New York.

So long as he carefully followed his plan. It was on his way to submit his college application where the universe intercepted.

That interception was ravenous beauty with ink-black hair down to her waist and deep, dark eyes.

Instantly, he fell for her.

Distracted by her devastating beauty, his undone shoelace caused him and his application to cascade across the floor.... landing right at the foot of my mother.

Being the ever-gracious woman that she is, she helped him pick up his application and confessed that she too was there to drop off her college applications. Whereas my father had only brought in his Yale form, my mother had a stack full of potential universities. She applauded him on his courage to only submit to one.

“What if you don’t get in?” she inquired.

“I’ll get in.” My father responded as he dusted himself off.

They carried on their polite small talk to the front of the line where they dropped off their applications, and even though my dad was done in a matter of seconds he waited for my mom to dispose of all of hers and offered to walk her to her car. He struggled to build up the nerve to ask for her number but ultimately failed to do so.

He has stated that to date that was the biggest regret of his life.

Begrudgingly he drove home where he spent the next seventy-two hours redoing those two minutes over and over in his head.

The following Monday morning, he arrived at school, twenty minutes later than he normally did due to his wallowing around in self-pity, and was about to open the door when a hand was placed on his shoulder. Spinning around he was greeted with the same deep, dark eyes that had filled his mind all weekend.

My mom says he broke into the dopiest smile and stuttered over “you go here?” so much that it took him four tries to make it even somewhat understandable. She, in response, just laughed and shook her head. My father knew that it was his moment. His first now or never feeling that bubbled up with him on only three occasions. The moment before he asked her to marry him, the moment before they shared their first kiss and this one. The one where he asked for her number. Scribbled on a piece of scrap paper the ten digits of her home phone and the rest is, how they say, history.

I come from a family with a strange tradition. Some have college legacy’s, others have family businesses, well, mine is marriage. My parents, my grandparents, my grandparent’s parents, my brother, and cousins have all married their high school sweethearts.

Some, like my grandparents, have known each other from diapers but others, like my Aunt Tracey, didn’t meet until Senior week. Okay, so maybe that’s a stretch when you’re saying “high school sweetheart” but the point being, Foster’s meet their one and only by high school graduation.

Which brings it down to me. The youngest of the Foster clan, seventeen years, five months, and two-point-five weeks. I have until May 29th, which doubles as both my high school graduation and my eighteenth birthday, to find my soulmate. My best friend Jenny, says the whole thing is ridiculous.

“You don’t even know who you are in high school.” She scoffed when I first told her.

“That’s the thing,” I corrected her, “We don’t. Until we meet our other half.” She practically rolled her eyes out of her head at that. “My father thought he was going to be a top criminal defense lawyer in New York City, but now he wouldn’t change a thing about his life.”

“Yeah, he’s still a lawyer.”

“Prosecution for an environmental agency in Connecticut.”

“Wow, he really sacrificed a lot there, Brooke.” She replied, sarcasm dripping off her voice.

Some people just don’t get it. But still, she had a point.

“Okay, my parents didn’t change a lot of their futures to be with each other, they planned to go to school in the same area, and live where they grew up. I’ll just have to find someone with the same aspirations as me.”

“Brooke.” She sighed shaking her head.

Yeah. I was hopeless.

That was until I met Stephen.

The man who I am certain I will marry one day.

The already accepted Berklee College of Music class of 2024 graduate. He’s the next John Mayer, or that’s what everyone says, which fits perfectly because John is his idol, not that I would ever tell him it’s not really my kind of music.

Stephen and I met around Halloween; we were both working the Autumn fair that our school puts on every year. While I was handing out the sometimes-hot apple cider, Stephen was performing for the attendees under a small tent.

“Hey.” The first word he ever said to me.

“Hey,” I said back, completely naive of the sparks about to hit, “Do you want some warm cider?” gesturing to the cups in front of me, having to surrender my hands to the cold of the late fall weather instead of my coat pocket. Chastising myself yet again for forgetting my gloves in Jenny’s car.

“Sure, how much?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him as I handed him a cup, “you don’t need to pay if you’re working.” He smiled in return and took a sip of the Styrofoam cup, grimacing as he swallowed.

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, “it’s cold.”

“Yeah, well, it’s almost November, and we’re living in New England.”

He chuckled. It sounded like how the stars in the sky look, “It’s… refreshing.”

“So, you’re playing-” I started as he began, “I’m playing over-” Which caused him to do the same bright, star laugh.

“I’m playing over by the corn maze entrance; you should get someone to cover you and come over.”

“Yeah,” I could barely keep from jumping, my heart was pounding, “Jenny, my best friend, just went to get my gloves out of her car, as soon as she’s back I’ll head over.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” I repeated as I watched him walk away, his tousled brown hair blowing in the wind.

As soon as he was out of sight Jenny came back.

“How did it get this cold,” she zipped up her fleece, “It’s still October.”

“Almost November,” I said refusing to break eye contact with the last place I saw him.

Jenny waved my gloves in front of my face, “Hello, Brooke. Earth to Brooke. What are you looking at?”

“I met him,” I told her.

“Who?”

“Him,” I turned to face her. “The person I’m going to marry.”

“Oh God, Brooke. Not this again.” She tried a second time to get me to take my gloves but to no avail.

“It’s real this time.”

“You thought it was real the other three times.”

“But this time it is.”

“Fine,” she threw her hands up, “who is it.”

“Stephen,” I sighed and returned to staring at the air he touched last.

“Stephen,” she thought for a moment. “Sanchez? The guy with the man bun?”

“He cut it over the summer.”

“Brooke-” She started but I cut her off.

“I’m heading over to watch his set.”

“Whatever.” She shoved my gloves into my palms, “Just come back in five minutes. I ran into Ms. Heady and she said she’d bring us some more warm cider. People were complaining.”

I was already running towards the corn maze.

After that I saw every show, he played. He taught me how to play guitar, kind of. By winter break we were texting every day, staying up into the morning hours, getting only minutes of sleep sometimes before going to school.

He told me everything, and I did the same.

I told him my deepest fears (bears) the hardest thing I had to do, (come out to my parents), and my college plans, Boston University. Where I would study engineering, or graphic design, or… something else.

It was a sign, I could practically hear him smile through the phone. Him at Berklee, me at Boston University.

It was February 12th when he asked me if I had plans for Valentine’s day. I tried to play cool but I'm sure he could tell my excitement when I immediately responded, letting him know I didn’t.

“Cool, I’ll pick you up at your place around five. Is that good?”

“That’s great. Amazing actually.” I was beaming.

“See you then.” I stared at my phone screen re-reading those three words.

See you then, see you then, see you then.

See.

You.

Then.

I grabbed my pillow and held it close to my chest. The stars and the universe had finally collided.

Stephen picked me up at 5:08 wearing an oversized denim jacket and a bouquet of an assortment of flowers that he picked up at the grocery store down the street. I had bought the same ones for my mother on her birthday. I took this as a sign.

My parents were hoping to be home by the time he arrived, but let me know they were probably going to be late and I shouldn’t wait for them and instead, they would wait up for me.

“You look… wow...I uh.” He stuttered me as I put the flowers in a vase. I smiled as I looked down at my dark red dress and black shoes with just a bit of heel. Stephen was a good six or seven inches taller than me so I felt justified in wearing them. “Make sure to bring your jacket. It’s pretty cold out.”

I grabbed my winter coat and followed him out to his early 2000’s Toyota 4runner. Though it was dented and scratched it still looked like a magic carriage and I already had my prince.

He cranked the heat up as he started the car, ensuring that the chill from outside would remain on the other side of the door. Backing out of my driveway and down the road to his place. The music from the speakers filled the space between us. Stephen pressed skip twice and then changed his mind and rewound one track. The first few chords a popular Bon Ivor song from a few years back played and Stephen struggled to find the perfect balance of background noise.

He softly sang the melody while I tried to mouth along even though I didn’t know the words. I looked out the window watching as the trees flew by and people walked around the neighborhood, completely unaware of what was going on in the car that was missing a headlight.

Sonder, noun, by definition of the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, reads that it is: the act of realizing that everyone has a story; one as complex and unique as your own.

It’s something I always think about when passing by others. Where are they headed to? Or to whom? What does an average day look like for them?

I wonder if anyone else wonders this.

Stephen pulled into a parking spot close to the door and helped me get out of the car. I was acutely aware of every time his hand brushed against mine and the sound of the fabrics of our coats meshing together as we walked in sync to the door. Taking the elevator up to the top floor I shuffled my feet uncertainly and it felt like my heart was in the midst of a sprint.

I looked over at Stephen to see if he was harboring the same nerves that were so alive in me. His perfectly tanned face, not marred by a single imperfection and in the middle, brown eyes so deep I couldn’t wait to get lost in them. A piece of hair escaped from behind his ear and he removed a hand from his pocket and placed it back, where it remained for a second until he lifted his head and it slipped away again.

The door opened to the rooftop terrace, sixteen floors above the sidewalk. The typical barren rooftop was instead covered in lights that would illuminate the space when the sunset. A path of rose peddles led to a small table and two chairs where candles were burning brightly on top.

A young boy, no more than nine or ten, stood to the side in a suit.

Had Stephen planned this all for us? For me?

“Madam?” I heard from beside me. Stephen held his arm out and I slipped mine through his as he guided me to the table, pulling the chair out for me to sit before taking his place at the other side.

“Good evening lady and gentleman,” The young boy said to us. “For tonight we have a Jalapeno Rosemary Alfredo, with handmade pasta by my brother,” he extended his arm to where Stephen was sitting, “Can I get you both some water?”

“Please, Max.”

“Right away, sir.”

Max walked off to a door near the elevator and dipped inside.

I looked at Stephen, pressing my lips together to stifle a laugh, “Sir…?”

“I have trained him well.” He smiled.

“So, that’s your little brother.”

“Yeah,” He began, “Max.

The door opened to reveal the younger Sanchez wheeling a tray of metal plates over on a rolling cart. He clumsily rolled the cart over to our table and placed the iced waters in front of his brother and me. He picked up the trays below him using both hands to make sure it was steady and laid them in front of us. Lifting the top off of the plates he revealed the meal underneath.

The pasta emitted steam and the jalapeno smell was enough to water my eyes.

“Would either of you care for parmesan?” Max asked us.

“I would,” I spoke first and Max reached under the cloth covering the cart reviling a small can of parmesan cheese.

“Tell me when.” He started to shake some out and I waited until it formed a small mountain on top of my pasta to let him know to stop. He immediately turned to his brother and gave him a short sprinkle, “I know what you like Stephen.”

He gave a short laugh, “Thanks, Max. I think we’re good for now.”

Max gave a curt nod and wheeled his cart away back to the door he entered from. I swirled the first bite of my pasta around my fork. The parmesan cut back the spice of the jalapenos allowing it to be more of an undertone than a main ingredient.

Stephen swallowed his first bite and immediately reached for his glass of water.

“I didn’t know the jalapenos were so prominent.” He got out in between coughs.

“That’s where the parmesan comes in.” I took another large bite.

“I’m not too big on parmesan, or any cheese actually.”

“Then why did you have us eat this?”

“I knew you liked it.”

I bushed into my plate. Thankfully, the air had a chill to it and my cheeks were already red.

We ate our meal discussing our classes, how Ms. Harmon definitely had it out for him ever since last year’s April fools' prank, “How was I supposed to know she’d walk into it before Carter did?”, and our Hogwarts house (Ravenclaw for him, Hufflepuff for me) and what decade was truly better for music (agreed to disagree).

Max returned with a large number of blankets in his arms as we finished our meals.

“Mom said that it’s too cold out here and had me bring as many blankets I could find up to you guys.” I chuckled at him but was eternally grateful as I could no longer feel my fingers.

“Set them up over there will you Max?” His brother asked him.

“Yes, sir.” Max went to the corner of the roof and arranged the blankets into an artful nest. He kept two blankets in his arms and walked over to us each giving us one.

“Thank you, Max,” I told him. He smiled and left leaving Stephen and me as the only ones.

“Come on, the sun is setting and we’ll have the perfect view from up here.” I took his extended hand and walked over to the pile of blankets and sitting down. We sat close enough to each other so that we could drape both of our blankets over the two of us, giving us extra protection from the dropping temperature.

We sat in silence as the sun dipped lower and lower and the colors mixed and faded until only a slight glow remained from the almost sunken sun and with it, the small amount of warmth that it provided was now gone.

I wrapped the blankets around my shoulders to help keep me from shivering.

“Cold?” he asked me.

“A little.”

“Yeah, maybe a dinner on the rooftop wasn’t such an amazing idea in the dead of winter.”

“It was a nice idea, in theory.”

“Do you want to go inside? We could watch from the window. It’s not as nice of a view as up here, but it’s also warm.”

“No.” I turned to him, “Just a few more minutes.” I wasn’t going to ruin this moment for anything.

I felt his hand close around mine under the blanket, it felt warm and reassuring.

We sat hand in hand as the light faded completely and we were left illuminated by the stars and moon.

“I’m really happy you came.” He whispered.

“I’m happy I came too.” I turned and came face to face with him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” He told me as he squeezed my hand a little harder.

He closed his eyes and started to move closer. I felt my stomach do a summersault, a now or never moment.

I closed my eyes and leaned in. I felt his lips press into mine and then…. Nothing.

I opened one eye a slit, his were still closed, and his mouth and mine were intertwined, but it felt like pressing up against glass.

Where was the fire?

The sparks?

Anything.

I felt nothing. I waited for a second and then two but nothing changed.

I pulled away and turned my face away from his.

What do I say? Did he feel that, or not feel that too?

“Wow,” I heard him breathe, answering my question, “That was,” he paused for a second, “incredible.” I felt his arm wrap me closer into him.

I let out a shaky breath.

Great.

I moved an inch or two away from him and turned to face him for the first time.

I was greeted with his eyes, which had lost all of their shine.

I gave a weak smile, “it’s getting late. I should probably get home.”

“Oh,” he said, obviously disappointed. “Yeah, sure.”

“It’s just. It’s a school night.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” His smile returned.

I kept my answers brief in the elevator and on the car ride back to my house. What was I supposed to tell him?

Sorry, I felt nothing even though you obviously did. Literally an “it’s not you, it’s me” situation.

He parked outside my house and offered to walk me to my door.

“No, it’s cold,” I said as I flung the door open and turned my body away from him.

“Okay, that’s fine.” I saw him start to lean in and close his eyes, but there was no way I was going to have a repeat.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” I said extra cheery and stepped out of the car.

I turned and walked up to my front walk and inserted my key into my front door without turning around. I closed the door as quietly as I could.

“Sweetie?” I heard my mother call to me, “is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, mom.” I walked into the kitchen.

“How was your date?” She looked at me, with a glimmer in her eye. As hopeful as I was just a few hours ago that I had found someone to spend my forever with.

“It was fine” I lied, “I’m tired though,” I faked a yawn that I hoped was convincing enough, “time for bed.”

“Oh,” my mother said, looking at the clock quizzically, “Well, your father and I are going out when he gets home, he just had to run to the store real fast, do you need anything before we leave?” We both knew that dad was going to whatever jewelry store he had overheard my mother talked about the past few months to pick up the bracelet/earrings/necklace she had not so subtly told my father she wanted.

“No, I think something isn’t agreeing with me, so I’m just going to lie down.”

“Oh, Hun,” she placed a hand on my forehead, “go on and I’ll check on you before we head out.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I climbed the stairs and laid down in my bed. Even though I wasn’t tired physically the events that had played out in the previous few hours were enough to send me to sleep before my father even got home.

I woke up with an uneasy feeling. It took a moment for me to place it, but then it all came flooding back in.

Stephen.

The rooftop.

The kiss.

I groaned and threw my pillow over my head. The last thing I wanted to do was go to school and have to face him.

I reached for my phone to turn off my alarm and I saw a half dozen texts from the night. Jenny wanting to talk about the latest episode of The Good Place, my brother checking what date our grandmother’s birthday party was on, and one from Stephen. He asked if I needed a ride to school.

I sat up and responded to my brother

"April 28th".

To Stephen, "No".

And finally, Jenny, "Meet me before the first bell".

I got dressed and ran downstairs, skipping breakfast and running out the door and into my car.

I arrived at school five minutes before the first bell, which beats my previous record of at first bell. I found Jenny exactly where I knew she would be, the hallway connecting the art wing and the science wing.

Her short white hair a dead giveaway, that and she was just barely five feet tall.

She was hanging up the AP art projects on the wall, struggling to pin the top due to her stature.

“Jenny,” I called out.

“Brooke, Brooke.” She looked over her shoulder. “What’s up? Why the early morning meeting?”

I opened my mouth at the same time the first bell rang. If I was late to Mr. Truxton’s class one more time he was going to start deducting points from my overall grade.

“Last night,” I breathed, out of breath from my run into the school. “Stephen and I- “

“Yeah, yeah you had your date whatever you’re in love.” She turned to grab her bag from the ground.

“No. That’s not it. Jenny. It was awful.”

She furrowed her brow. “Brooke. I thought you said that he was the one.”

“Yeah, I know what I said. I thought he was. But…” I sighed, “When he kissed me- “

“He kissed you?”

“That’s not what’s important, Jen. There was nothing there. I felt nothing and had him bring me home immediately after.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, but he felt something.”

“Double yikes.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I pleaded with her as we reached my classroom.

“Tell him you don’t like him? Sounds like the simplest way.”

“Yeah, for you.”

“I’ll hold your hand.”

“Seriously,” I needed to get back on track to the real situation here. The second bell rang.

“I got to go Brooke. Look I’ll help you with your problem after school. Meet at our cars?”

I agreed and raced into class before Mr. Truxton could say anything.

I was able to avoid Stephen all day, even hiding out in the library during lunch to ensure I wouldn’t run into him. Jenny met me outside of the school entrance and we drove to ICEE, the Italian ice shop in town. During the warmer months, we would walk the mile, saying we were burning the calories off, but we also ordered double what we would get when we drove because we “deserved it”.

We walked into ICEE and went to the counter, where a girl a year or two older than us stood behind the counter.

“Where’s Amelia?” I asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t even know an Amelia.”

“She works here. I normally see her behind the counter.”

“Ah,” She said has her bright blue eyes lit up, “Lia. She left.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know. I never asked. I’m pulling doubles to fill in for her since she left without any warning.” She scrunched her nose which had septum piercing.

“Well,” Jenny told her, “You’ll be seeing a lot of us then since we’re pretty much always here.”

“Well,” she tightened her ponytail, “What can I get you regulars?”

“Two medium watermelons, please,” Jenny answered.

“Make mine a large.”

“Oh, a rough day?” The jet-black-haired girl asked.

“You could say that.”

“What me to upgrade yours to a large too?” She asked Jenny.

“Nah, I’m good with a medium.” She started to scoop the Italian Ice into cups for us.

“Okay,” She said when she had finished both orders, “One large and one medium.”

“What the total?” Jenny asked as she fished for her card.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do.” She turned to face me, “I know what it’s like to have a crap day. Hopefully, this cheers you up.”

“Thanks…” I looked for a nametag but came up empty.

“Nova.” She filled in.

“Thanks, Nova.” I returned her smile. “I’m Brooke and this is my best friend, Jenny.”

“Brooke and Jenny. Nice to meet you both.” The phone in the back room started to ring. “I have to get that but enjoy your icee’s.”

Jenny and I sat at our regular table in the back and started to eat. We sat in silence for a few minutes as we tried to lick the parts that were melting.

“So,” Jenny said between licks, “What’s your next move?”

“I don’t know.” I sat back, “I thought this was it. I was banking on this, on him, and now…” I let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, Brooke.”

“I wish I never... I mean this is just so…” I stopped and tried again, “This sucks.” Jenny gave me a deep frown and I continued, “I’m not heartbroken. I’m just… bummed. It’s like a movie that was so hyped up and then you get to the end and you’re like 'that’s it?’”

Jenny gave me a sympathetic nod, “It’s not like I was in love with him or anything, I mean I’ve felt stronger feelings for other people I just thought this was going to have a different ending. That maybe- “

“Wait.” She said suddenly, “What did you just say?”

“That I thought it was going to have a different ending?”

“No, before that.”

“That I’ve felt a stronger connection to other people?”

She banged on the table with her fist, “Yes!”

“What?” I asked concerned.

“That’s it! Other people.”

“Yeah, Jenny,” I shook my head, “I don’t think I’m going to find someone else before graduation. Stephen and I took four months before we went out. Plus, you know it takes a while for me to develop feelings, and I- “

“No,” She interrupted me. “Not just other people, your other people.”

“I don’t think I’m getting it.”

“Brooke,” She eyed me intensely, “You’ve had this situation once a year since we started high school.”

“I never thought about it like that before.”

“Stephen was this year, senior year. Last year was Jeremiah, sophomore was Layla, and freshman year was…” She tried to remember the name.

“Kennedy.” I filled in.

“Yeah, Kennedy. You don’t need to find someone new; you just need to see if there’s a spark with the old. Like those ‘missed connections’ on Craigslist, but a ‘missed spark’ kind of thing.”

“Oh my God, Jenny. You’re a genius.” She beamed from across the table. “One of those three has to be the one. I just missed it the first time around.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a genius but, I’ll take the compliment.” She paused. “And, it’s a pretty great idea.”

“I just need to talk to them all and see which one I connect with the most.”

Jenny furrowed her brow at that. “What are you going to do? Call them into a meeting. Oh, hey guys. I think I’m going to marry one of you so I need to see who I connect with most.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I concurred. We both sat mixing our melting Italian icee’s with the straw-slash-spoon, thinking of how I could get a second chance with my “missed sparks”. “I’ll go backwards.”

“What?”

“The best way would be to go backward, junior year, sophomore year, freshman year. Jeremiah was the one I like last year, whereas Kennedy I like freshman year. A lot can change in three years, so I think the best way to do this is to retrace my steps with them each and see if there's still potential.”

“So, you’ll talk to each of them and then pick?”

“No, or maybe. I’ll know after I talk to them. If it’s not Jeremiah, then I’ll see if it was Layla and if it’s not her then it’ll have to be Kennedy.”

Jenny sat quietly for a moment, “What if it’s none of them? What if you go back to all three of them and you don’t have that spark?”

“I can’t live my whole life knowing that the person I’m supposed to be with was there all along, and I had them, but I was too afraid to try again.”

“You are brave, girl.” She laughed, “and that is why I love you.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled nervously, “Hopefully Jeremiah does too.”