My birthday party had gone horribly. Everything was perfect then my best friend got sick and to make it worse my boyfriend since middle school isn't my soulmate. And now I've just run away from my party and to make it even worse my best friend refuses to pick the damn phone up. 

Avery: Layla!! Answer the damn phone!!

…

Avery: Layla!!! Please!!

Layla: What's wrong? Are you okay?

Avery: Have you listened to any of my voicemails? 

Layla: No, I was too worried to, what's wrong? What happened?

“Layla?” I ask as tears stream down my face.

“What happened?” Layla orders.

“He's not my soulmate,” I wailed into the phone.

 A silence answers my cries before Layla finally speaks, “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. What luck, neither of us has found our mates.” I laugh dryly. Silence. “Have you met your mate?” I ask excitement for my friend suddenly outshining the sadness of my situation.

A blunt, “No,” is all I hear in response.

“Layla, are you okay?” I ask, something has been off with her ever since her birthday. Maybe she met her mate and hadn't had the chance to tell me with all of my soulmate talk.

A curt, “I'm fine.” came over the phone.

“Okay, I'm coming over,” I say, hanging up before she can answer.

“Hey, Avery. It's been a while,” Mrs. J says stepping aside to let me in.

“It has, I'm sorry I haven't been over in a while. How's everything? Is Layla feeling okay?” I ask turning to look at the older woman.

“Everything’s good. Layla hasn’t met her mate yet but that will happen in time, how about you? It's your birthday, have you met them yet?” Mrs. J asks, elbowing me.

“I thought I had, but when I looked at him today he wasn't it,” I say sadness seeping into my voice.

“Oh, well I'm sorry sweetheart.” Mrs. J says resting a hand on my shoulder in a show of comfort.

“It's fine, I'm not here to cry. I'm here to see Layla, is she feeling any better?” I ask wiping the few stray tears that had made their way down my cheeks.

“Better?” Mrs. J asks, confused.

“Yeah, she's sick.” 

“No, she is perfectly fine. She was just out running not 20 minutes ago.”

My ears perk up at that, “What?!” I whisper.

Mrs. J sighs, Layla had lied to her too many times to not sniff out a lie when her daughter told one, “Layla Jackson!!” Mrs. J yells over the stairs. Loud footsteps can be heard as someone runs toward the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, mom?” Layla’s warm voice comes with concern as she freezes mid-step halfway down the stairs. Before I can even get mad at her our eyes meet. She's still in her running outfit, a pair of old Nike sweats she wouldn't mind losing, and an old crew neck tank top she used to use when she’d paint. While a bit baggy somehow the sweatpants still clung to every curve perfectly and that crew neck…

“You faked being sick so you could purposefully miss your best friend's party, why?” Mrs. J’s thundering voice seemed to thin the fog that had collected in my head.

“Mom-”

“You son of a bitch,” I say without thinking, she knew.

“Avery!” Mrs. J yells.

“You're my mate and you knew, for five months you knew,” I growled, stepping closer and closer to the stairs with every word.

“Avery-”

“No. I'm not done. You watched me for five months cuddle and kiss him while you knew…Why?” I ask tears pricking my eyes.

“I…” Layla mumbles before jumping over the handrail of the stairs and b lining it for the open sliding glass door before I or her mother could stop her. I chase after her in a full sprint towards the forest in her backyard. She got mere inches from the clearing before I tackled her.