That Thursday morning, Bryce sat in his chair while his feet danced on the floor, a nervous smile spread across his face; he was exhibiting an intense amount of anxious energy that could’ve been mistaken for excitement. Bryce lacked attentiveness and respect for personal boundaries, and for the first time in a long while, people were genuinely uncomfortable around Bryce Houghton.

Dylan, meanwhile, strolled into work fifteen minutes late, a glare permanently cast on his face. He drifted between passing out and agitation quite easily; using that frustration as motivation to finish his work as quickly as possible, ready to return home and collapse into his bed for some desperately needed silence.

“…‘Clear evening, with winds from the northwest at six kilometers per hour’,” the newspaper reported. Bryce read the printed words carefully before placing the weather section down.

Amber strolled in and sat down across from him. “Hi,” she noted cheerfully, but her greeting went unnoticed. She cocked her head and examined the section of the newspaper before noting, “Why’re you reading the weather?”

“What’s happening?” asked Travis as he sat down beside Amber.

“Bryce’s looking at the weather,” she repeated, taking a spoonful of tuna salad into her mouth.

“You’ve never been interested in weather,” Travis noted.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, besides in winter, when you complain about the temperature.”

“Something’s happening,” Bryce whispered, eyes darting across the page to absorb as much information as possible. He wanted to be certain the weather was going to be clear that evening.

Amber looked to Travis, who seemed to see the same amount of unusual enthusiasm that she saw. “I’ve never seen you this excited before,” commented Amber, taking a bite of her tuna salad sandwich.

‘Nope, I’m actually terrified,’ Bryce mentally retorted.

“What, did you win the lottery and you’re picking it up tonight?” she asked.

Bryce looked up from the paper. “No.” He considered the scenario where he won the lottery and added, “I wish I won the lottery. That would be fantastic.”

“So what’s your news that makes you look willingly at the weather?” asked Travis, opening his bag of crisps with a pop. “Are you moving flats or something?”

Bryce shook his head and groaned. “I would be so happy about that. Katie’s been driving me mad all week.” In actuality, Katie had been reminding him about his upcoming date with Dylan. In fact, everyone had been reminding him about his upcoming date with the unnamed Soulmate.

“So, what? Promising date or something?” Bryce tapped his nose, though only a portion of her question was true. “Really?” asked Amber, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, reaching back to scratch his neck.

Travis brought his plastic water cup to his lips and asked, “Why is it promising?” before taking a sip.

Amber’s eyes widened. “Are they a meteorologist?”

Travis bobbed his head in agreement, and kept nodding. “That could explain the weather?” Travis’ eyes moved to Amber, the woman pursing her lips and nodding in agreement. “Are you trying to impress this meteorologist? Use the word ‘confluence’.”

Bryce waited for a moment. “What, uh…what does it mean?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Travis admitted. “I heard it on the news.”

Bryce began a retort but ultimately decided against it. He settled with telling them, “It’s a secret.” The statement was both true and a lie.

“Who set you up?” asked Travis.

‘The Soulmate System,’ he mused but was not entertained by it. He shrugged and replied, “Theo…did.”

“Okay, wait. I lose track of everyone in your flat.” Amber paused for a moment of contemplation. “Katie’s the cook – ”

Bryce chuckled. “No, Theo’s the annoying cook. Katie’s the annoying neat freak, and Jack’s her useless Soulmate.”

Amber began laughing. “I remember the day when you came in and told us about Katie and Jack. I was in stitches.”

He smiled, remembering the spectacle at the Green Briar Pub in Camden. “I love that story. But I gotta focus. The date tonight’s really important.”

“Well, I wish you luck for it,” Travis told him, biting an alarming chunk of his sandwich away. He then knocked his knuckles on the laminate wooden tabletop three times.

Bryce pursed his lips and nodded, suddenly noticing that Dylan and Chris were absent. As Amber began speaking about some socio-economic situation faced in Parliament, Bryce mused unhappily, ‘Me too.’

At promptly five o’clock that night, Bryce arrived at the entrance to Dylan’s cubicle. “Dylan?”

Dylan swiveled around in his chair. “What?”

“Uh…” Bryce noted the scattered papers on the man’s desk, the open colour notebook and the hard Prussian Blue on the computer’s monitor. “…it’s five.”

Dylan blinked. “Okay, great.” He turned in his chair and continued typing a line of code.

“N-no, Dylan…it’s Thursday,” he pointed out, Bryce’s fingers tapping against the plastic edging of the cubicle wall.

The Soulmate’s eyes rose from the computer monitor and turned back to Bryce. “Oh my God, I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.”

Bryce flushed, pleased with the unprompted apology. “No worries. You ready to go?”

Dylan threw everything he needed into his bag haphazardly and slung it over his shoulder. “Can I drop this at my flat before we go?”

Bryce nodded. “Sure.”

Dylan stepped forward first, inhaling a stale lungful of air. He wasn’t ready for tonight, but was ready for Bryce’s first, and only, chance to surprise him.

Bryce lingered, his hands fidgeting against his messenger bag’s strap. He was wondering how he was going to fuck this up.

~ ~ ~

In the sum of five sentences, this was the outcome of their date –

Dylan returned to his flat fuming, a bouquet of dying orange roses slammed hard against the wall by the television; the petals exploded from their buds on impact. Falling into an angry sleep for two hours, Dylan then rose and, while pacing around the living room, tried to finish his work between the hours of two and five in the morning.

Bryce returned to his flat, ignoring the torrent of questions from his flatmates for the comfort of his room. He paced as well, replaying the conversation through his anxious mind before reprimanding himself. After a moment of contemplation, joint blame fell on him and his Soulmate.

~ ~ ~

That Friday afternoon brought everyone from the project together in the Break Room. Dylan sat wedged between Amber and Chris, stuffing his face with his sandwich; Travis had two empty seats beside him, one chair for his miscellaneous belongings. The empty chair between Travis and Chris was reserved for a still-missing Bryce.

“Mmm,” began Amber, swallowing the mouthful of food before continuing, “Maybe we’ll hear about his date today.”

Dylan inhaled slowly like he was trying to control the urge to kill something. “Wh-what date?”

Chris looked around the table, waiting for an answer as well; he shrugged.

“Bryce went out with a meteorologist, I think,” explained Amber.

“I hope he used the word ‘confluence’,” added Travis, his voice soft with accomplishment.

“What the hell is ‘confluence’?” asked Chris. Travis shrugged.

“We might not hear about it,” Dylan put in. “Is Bryce really the kind of person who’d broadcast his exploits?” He was hoping they’d say “no”.

Amber chuckled in disbelief. “This is Bryce we’re talking about. Who’ve you been working with?”

Dylan grimaced. ‘Oh fuck.’