My Soulmate Counter Chose His Roommate

I’ve always been able to see the exact number of times I will ever lay eyes on a person. For strangers passing on the sidewalk, it’s almost always a "1". For Declan, the boy who grew up next door, the number floating above his messy dark hair was "31,441". Because of that astronomical number, I spent the better part of nineteen years treating him like my husband-in-training. I wrote ridiculous boyfriend rules for him to memorize, policed his late nights, and made sure he stayed on the straight and narrow. Declan always rolled his eyes, constantly threatening to set me up with someone else just to get me off his back. "Drop the psychic act, Josie," he’d tease, his smile crooked and maddeningly handsome. "My roommate’s a good-looking guy. You should try talking to an actual stranger for once instead of hovering over me." He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll. Before he could stop himself, a photo flashed across the screen—Declan with his arm slung around a girl I’d never seen before—before he frantically swiped to a candid shot of his roommate. "He’s a little quiet, keeps to himself, but he’s solid. Seriously, you clinging to me twenty-four seven is—" I wasn't listening. My eyes were locked on the staggering, endless string of golden digits glowing over the dark-haired boy in the photo. For the first time in my life, I looked up and said, "Fine. Give me his number." I pulled out my phone. Declan’s face instantly drained of color. And right before my eyes, the number above his head rapidly plummeted, spinning backward in a dizzying blur until it came to a screeching halt. A single, solitary "9". … The second I unlocked my phone and held it out, Declan slammed his thumb onto his power button, sending his screen pitch-black. I looked at him. "Battery died," he muttered, his voice tight. "We’ll do it some other time." He looked rattled, the blood refusing to return to his cheeks. Above his head, the "9" hovered like a cold, neon sentence. A sharp ache thudded against my ribs, but I didn't say a word. Seeing me stare, Declan forced a breath and smoothed his expression into something resembling his usual smug charm. He picked up his umbrella from the cafe rack. "Come on. Let’s head home." It was Friday afternoon. A late October drizzle slicked the asphalt, kicking up the sharp scent of damp earth and dead leaves. "The girl on your lock screen," I said quietly as we fell into step beneath the gray canopy. "That was Audrey, wasn't it?" Declan’s shoulders tensed beneath his jacket. After a heavy silence, he let out an irritated sigh. "It was from a club mixer last weekend. I forgot to delete it. Look, Josie, we’re not even together. You’re always breathing down my neck..." The sting was familiar, but seeing that little "9" floating above him took the edge off. The proprietary panic that used to seize my chest simply evaporated into a quiet, hollow calm. "I was just asking," I said. I wasn't going to police him anymore. I was only bringing it up because the walk back to our apartment complex suddenly felt miles longer than it ever had before, and the silence was suffocating. I knew now, with absolute certainty, that Declan and I had no future. Which meant I had zero right to tell him who he could hold. Declan, however, only scowled deeper at my lack of a fight. "You never 'just ask.' You’ve run off every girl who’s ever tried to get close to me since we were six." "Then go make some friends," I replied evenly. "I won't stop you anymore." My voice was barely louder than the falling rain, but Declan’s breath hitched. His knuckles turned white around the curved handle of the umbrella. He opened his mouth to snap something back, but his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. The screen lit up: "Audrey". Declan didn't answer. He stood frozen on the wet pavement, his dark eyes searching mine with a heavy, searching intensity. If this had been yesterday, I would have thrown a tantrum. I would have made him recite my loyalty rules three times over, snatched the phone from his hands, and rejected the call myself. Instead, I held his gaze for two quiet seconds, then looked away toward the street. The call timed out. A banner notification popped up immediately: "Declan, did you bring an umbrella? I'm trapped under the humanities building overhang. Any chance you could rescue me?" Declan’s jaw set into a hard, rigid line. "You're really not going to say anything?" "Go on," I said. "I’m actually going, Josie." I nodded, pulled my own compact umbrella from the side pocket of my backpack, and popped it open. I didn't turn back until his tall silhouette had disappeared down the crosswalk. What a cruel joke the universe had played on me. For nineteen years, I thought the numbers were etched in stone. I had been able to see them for as long as I had memories. When I was a toddler, I didn't understand the floating digits. It took years to piece it together: they were a countdown of how many times I would see each person before they slipped out of my life forever. My dad would be with me until I was eighty-eight. My mom until eighty-nine. And Declan, the gorgeous boy who lived across the hall and shared his fruit snacks with me, was supposed to be my forever. His number had been larger than anyone else's I had ever encountered. When I was five, I asked him, "Declan, what does being together for 31,441 days mean?" He had scratched his messy hair, run inside to ask his mom, and bounded back with an arrogant, dimpled grin. "It means we’re going to get married and grow old together." From that day on, I treated him as mine. I laid down the law: no flirting with other girls, eyes on me, always walk me home. And Declan had always played along, indulging my bossiness with an amused smirk—even as he stubbornly brushed off every real confession I ever made. "If I date you now, I’ll be whipped before I even hit twenty," he had laughed on our eighteenth birthdays, tapping my forehead with his knuckle. "Let's wait until we're twenty-five, warden. Let me have some fun first." So I waited. I thought when we hit twenty-five, our fate would simply click into place. Then came college. And over the past year, his indulgence had curdled into impatience. I exhaled a long breath into the chilly air. I wasn't devastated—not in the world-ending way I would have expected. It was more of a deep, quiet grief for wasted energy. If I had known the numbers could change, I wouldn't have spent nineteen years exhausting myself trying to keep him in line. The drizzle was turning heavier, settling into that sticky, humid gloom I hated. I picked up my pace, eager to get inside, when a tall figure walking ahead caught my attention. He wore an oversized black canvas jacket and dark jeans. Even from behind, his posture had that effortless, striking line that made you look twice. But it wasn't his build that made my breath catch. It was the digits. The impossible, endless string of golden numbers that had vanished from Declan's head yesterday was now shimmering softly above this boy’s damp, dark hair. My boots splashed through the puddles as my feet moved before my brain could stop them. The closer I got, the louder my pulse thundered in my ears. By the time I fell in behind him, panic set in. What was I supposed to say? "Hey handsome, are you my future husband?" "Excuse me, do you believe in soulmates? Because you're mine." "Hi, please don't call the police, but we're going to grow old together." I sounded like an escaped psychiatric patient. While my mind spiraled in complete humiliation, I kept trailing him like the world's most awkward stalker, staring up at his glowing digits. Suddenly, his long strides stopped. He turned around slowly. I froze. Rain drummed against the fabric of my umbrella, a frantic rhythm matching the fireworks going off behind my ribs. Above his head, the numbers shimmered so brightly they might as well have spelled out: "This is your man." Declan’s roommate was infinitely more striking in person than in that blurry photo. He had pale, flawless skin, a sharp, aristocratic jawline, and lips that were an unfairly soft shade of rose. Beneath dark, clean brows, a pair of clear, amber eyes looked down at me in quiet appraisal. Even the long, pale fingers holding the black handle of his umbrella looked like something sculpted out of marble. Heat rushed to my cheeks so fast I felt dizzy. "Can I help you?" he asked. His voice was low, smooth, and steady as cool water. "Are... are you scared of walking home alone in the rain?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could filter them. I immediately wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. "What is wrong with you, Josie?" The corner of his mouth twitched, barely there, but he didn't laugh. "I mean—it looks like we're heading in the same direction," I stammered, my face burning so hot it could have boiled the rain. "Do you want to walk together?" My voice trailed off into a squeak. The little romantic in my chest seemed to curl up and die of embarrassment. "Sure," he said. The voice was a rich, quiet melody, and my heart came roaring back to life. We walked side by side. I tried desperately to make small talk, but Jasper—just like Declan had said—was a man of few words. He listened intently, nodding in all the right places, but offered little on his own. Yet, for the first time, the overcast sky didn't feel suffocating. A faint sliver of late afternoon sun broke through the clouds, casting a pastel rainbow over the entrance of my apartment complex. I looked at the iron gates, suddenly annoyed with how fast my legs had carried us. There were still a million things I hadn't asked him. "Jasper," he said, pausing outside the gate beneath the dripping archway. "I know," I blurted out. Declan had mentioned his name before showing the picture. Jasper raised a subtle brow, clearly surprised. "Josie," I offered quickly, wondering if I should spell it out, but he gave a small, deliberate nod. "I know that, too." My hands shook as I dug my phone out of my bag. I had never hit on a guy in my entire life. I kept my eyes fixed on the golden numbers above his head, drawing courage from the universe's promise. "Don't be scared. He won't reject you. He’s your future." "Can... can I get your number?" I managed, nearly biting my tongue off. Silence stretched between us. The five seconds he took to answer felt like five years on a executioner's block. "I'm sorry," Jasper murmured, looking down. "I left my phone in the dorm. Maybe I could—" The classic, polite brush-off. The air rushed out of my lungs in a mortified gasp. Without waiting for him to finish, I spun on my heel and bolted through the gate. "No problem! Sorry for bothering you!" I ran all the way into my building lobby, my heart hammering against my throat and a stinging burn prickling behind my eyes. God, that was humiliating. He must think I was completely unhinged. Funny enough, Declan’s cold words over the past few months hadn't hurt half as much as the gentle rejection from this boy I had only known for ten minutes. "Josie!" I had just closed my wet umbrella inside our apartment foyer when Declan’s breathless voice echoed from behind. I turned around, startled. Declan took the stairs two at a time, coming to a halt in front of me. The sweet, floral scent of cheap women's perfume rolled off his damp clothes in waves. "I thought I saw you at the corner," he panted, his chest heaving as if he had sprinted the entire way from the campus. "Were you walking with someone? A guy? Do I know him? Who—" Before he could finish his barrage, the kitchen door swung open, and my mom walked out carrying a tray of groceries. "Oh, you kids are back? Well, look at you, Declan! Got yourself a girlfriend?" Declan froze, blinking dumbly. "What?" My mom gave him a teasing grin, pointing a finger at his jaw. "You've got bright red lipstick smeared right across your cheek, honey." The hallway went dead silent. Declan’s face turned an ash gray. He brought the back of his hand up, scrubbing violently against his skin, a flicker of sheer panic flashing across his eyes. "It was an accident," he stammered, staring desperately at me. "She tripped on the stairs and I caught her, Josie, I swear. There’s nothing going on." I was still drowning in my own embarrassment over Jasper, and I honestly didn't have the bandwidth to care. I turned toward my apartment door. Seeing me walk away sent Declan into full-blown distress. "I'm clean, Josie! I still remember the rules! I didn't mean to touch her—" He caught himself, his frantic tone melting into something softer, almost relieved, as he noticed the redness around my eyes. "Hey... don't cry. I won't walk with her again, okay? I promise." I wasn't crying over him. I was tearing up because I was terrified that the next time I saw Jasper’s gorgeous amber eyes, they would be filled with disgust. "What you do has nothing to do with me," I said flatly, exhaustion weighing on my bones. "I told you, Declan. I'm done managing your life. Stop bothering me." Declan’s relief faltered, but a small, stubborn smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Right. Keep playing tough." The heavy, sullen cloud followed me into Saturday morning. Yawning, I threw on an oversized sweater and shuffled down the apartment path toward the street to grab a coffee. I stepped out of the gate and stopped dead in my tracks. I rubbed my eyes. He was still there. Not a hallucination. Jasper stood by the lamppost, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his breath pluming in the crisp morning air. When he caught sight of me, he pulled his hands out and walked over with slow, deliberate steps. "I brought my phone today," he said softly. A brilliant crimson blush bloomed across the tips of his ears. He pulled out a sleek smartphone and held up his screen, a QR code already glowing. "Can I still add you?" My heart slammed against my ribs with the force of a sledgehammer. My throat tightened with sheer, bubbling delight. "Did you wait out here this early just to give me your contact?" Jasper pressed his lips together, the red on his ears spreading down his neck. "I didn't know which unit was yours." "Holy hell. He is adorable." My brain short-circuited. I whipped out my phone with trembling fingers, scanned the code, and practically heard a brass band playing in my head. "It’s Saturday," I teased, emboldened by the sudden realization that this wasn't one-sided at all. "What if I hadn't come out until noon?" "I didn't think that far," Jasper confessed, pocketing his phone and looking down at me with quiet intensity. "Have you had breakfast?" I tilted my head. Jasper parted his lips, but before he could answer, I noticed the faint morning dew clinging to the dark fringe of his bangs. He had been waiting out here for a long time. "Clearly not," I beamed, unable to wipe the grin off my face. "Here’s your chance to make it up to me. Buy me pancakes?" He gave a slight, solemn nod. I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and practically dragged him toward the corner bakery. Jasper didn't hate me. In fact, he liked me. A lot. Unfortunately, fate loves a bad timing joke. We had barely sat down with our pastries when a sharp, disdainful voice cut through the cafe. "Declan’s not coming, you know. I texted him this morning and he blew me off. But look at you—the little watchdog is always on duty." Audrey stood by the counter, eyeing me with naked contempt. I blinked, taking a second to process the hostility. "Josie, why don't you just let him go?" she continued, stepping closer, arms crossed over her chest. "He almost said yes when I confessed to him yesterday. The only reason he backed out was because he said you’d throw a fit. You guys aren't even dating. Why do you hold such a tight leash?" I stared at her, suddenly realizing that her entire beef with me was rooted in Declan’s mixed signals. "I made things completely clear with Declan yesterday," I said calmly. "Whatever happens between you two is none of my business." Behind me sat my actual soulmate, and I wanted nothing more than to sever every lingering tie to Declan right here, right now. Audrey narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "Are you serious?" I nodded. "May you two have a long and blissful life together." Her lip curled, and she reached for her phone. "Say that again. I'm recording a voice note for Declan—" I stared at her in mild horror. "Are you out of your mind?" Before she could hit record, a cool, firm hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back. Jasper stepped between us, his amber eyes dropping to sub-zero temperatures as he looked down at Audrey. "She doesn't owe you an explanation." His fingers were slightly chilled against my skin, but where he touched me, a bolt of electricity shot straight to my core. He led me out of the shop, our fingers naturally lacing together. Over his shoulder, I saw Audrey furiously snapping a photo of our retreating backs. "Are you... upset?" I asked around a mouthful of cinnamon roll once we sat on a park bench. I stole a glance at him. Jasper was eating his pastry with quiet, aristocratic grace, somehow making a cheap baked good look like fine dining. "People say you've been in love with Declan for years," he said, his voice dropping an octave, a subtle dip of his throat catching my eye. "Josie... Declan talks about you in the room. He says you're suffocating. I don't think... he's good for you." "Oh." I thought this was love at first sight on my end, but it turned out someone had been paying attention to me for a very long time. My heart swelled to twice its size. I glanced at the endless golden digits above his dark hair and bit back a grin. Catching my smile, Jasper looked slightly flustered and dropped his gaze. I leaned in closer, poking his cheek while he chewed. "If he’s so bad for me... what would you think if I switched to liking someone else?" He turned his head to look at me, the sunlight catching the gold flecks in his eyes. A soft blush climbed from his collar to his cheeks. "Can you just... switch who you love?" I put on my most serious, academic expression. "Of course you can. As long as the new guy treats me well enough, I can switch in a heartbeat." Jasper fell silent again. He lowered his head, methodically finishing his roll, lost in deep, calculating thought. When I finally unlocked my apartment door twenty minutes later, humming a tune, I saw a dark figure sitting on the living room couch. Thinking it was my dad, I headed straight for my bedroom, only for a hand to shoot out and grab my forearm with bruising force. I gasped, jumping back. It was Declan. His face was shadowed, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek, and his eyes burned with a dark, suffocating fury.