Description: When your father walked out with his soulmate, you realised that soulmates were nothing but ugly things that ruined your life. You couldn’t understand how people dedicated their lives to finding “the one” when there were dreams to be chased. But then you meet him and maybe a soulmate wouldn’t be too awful after all.
You didn’t believe in soulmates.
Well, not the kinds that were happily immortalised in fairy tales anyway. Soulmates existed, you couldn’t argue that the tree marks didn’t exist without looking crazy but they weren’t the kind that were good for you, not like they were in the books. You’d watched from a young age how soulmates destroyed each other and took everyone else around them down too. The thought that one day you might be the same scared you. Your parents weren’t exactly great role models, they hadn’t been soulmates and you hadn’t ever thought they were. It had been hard when people found out, they looked down at you like you were a kicked puppy. Their voices would echo around your seven-year-old mind, you’d tug your mother’s sleeve and ask why they felt sorry for you. Because you’re not like them, baby, you’re different. “Different” had been your mother’s understatement of the century. You hadn’t fared well with it at school, the bullying had been unbearable. But you had coped, you’d survived it with minimal damage. You’d fooled yourself into thinking that once school was over, nobody would care about your parents. Oh, how naïve you were. It got worse when you realised that adults could be even crueller with their digs and taunts. Yet the fact that your parents weren’t soulmates wasn’t the biggest issue you had, it was what happened when your father found his soulmate when you were younger.
The thud of the box landing on your desk startled you. You looked up and saw the smiling face of your personal assistant, you could’ve sworn that Christina was always grinning. She always looked like life was fantastic since she’d met her soulmate in October. She constantly mentioned him, pointing to her ring which you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at sometimes. You couldn’t understand how your father had coped with her constant happiness.
“That band are here to record,” she sang cheerily. “I’ve booked them into the studio and I have the techs—”
“Christina, it’s your job to know what’s happening. I have this mountain of paperwork to look through so unless I’m needed, please let me get on with it.”
She nodded, the smile still plastered on her lips. “Okay, but just to let you know you have a meeting with the band at ten.”
Your mouth fell open as you glanced at the clock. It was five to ten.
“When were you planning on telling me?” you asked her with a sigh.
“Of course he did,” you muttered.
You pushed yourself away from your desk and tried to conceal the eye roll. You picked up the files on your desk labelled “5 Seconds of Summer” and tried not to sigh at the fact you had to deal with them. It wasn’t anything personal, you’d never met them before, but they shouldn’t have been your problem. If you were forced to thank your father for one thing, it was for leaving you the recording studio. It was the only thing you could actually say was a sort of advantage to your dad walking out to chase his soulmate halfway across the world. The studio was a steady way to earn money, its reputation made sure the bills were paid but this wasn’t your passion. Your song writing had taken a backseat indefinitely while you played CEO of a company that you never wanted to be involved with. You had tried to tell him repeatedly he couldn’t just leave Jet Studios so when the appointment for your father to sign it over fell on your doormat, you knew it was the end of you chasing your own dream and the beginning of clearing up after your wayward father.
You fixed your hair in the one way glass before walking into the meeting room. The band hadn’t arrived yet, it was their first time using the studios in your city. You’d heard that they were big on the music scene, not that you followed it much anymore. You glanced at the immature tree on your wrist, the scars from when you were drunk still remained. They made the tree looked jagged and twisted from how your skin had healed. You tried to cover it these days with the media already trying to find out who you were, they’d nicknamed you the “Mysterious Miss Jet” like you were really that hard to get hold of. They weren’t interested in the truth only scandal so when you told the magazine you were normal, they’d taken it that you were struggling with the depressing reality that your father had abandoned you to take care of his empire. You’d laughed at the article when Christina had been almost distraught by the whole thing. That’s when you’d realised that you and Christina were two very different people.
The door opened and you tried your best to smile at the four boys who entered. It wasn’t their fault you were here, they were just here to sign the terms of lease of the studio while they recorded their next album.
The confusion on their faces was clear, it amused you since they were expecting a balding, middle aged man opposed to your much prettier self.
“Are we in the right room?” the tallest one asked before he sat down.
“No offense but you’re a little young to own a music recording place, aren’t you?” another said.
“So you’re the owner of Jet Studios?” the dark haired boy questioned. “Because we—”
“Need to sign a contract?” you finished his sentence. “I’m the owner now, my father decided it was time to chase a new, younger dream called Hanna half way across the world.”
You saw the attempts to refrain from laughing but you smirked at your own joke, it was a line you’d started using since you’d taken over even if Hanna had been around for years and the only reason your father had left the studios was because Hanna had decided a new country would be exciting. But you knew she just wanted to forget your father had had a life before she’d walked into it. The dark haired guy laughed then threw you an apologetic smile. You slid the sheets out to the boys and threw the pens to them.
“It’s only a quick thing to say you won’t damage the studio on purpose and any breakages will be paid for,” you explained quickly. “Basically, don’t be a dick and we’re all good.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?” the curly haired one said. “Like that’s it?”
You nodded your head slowly as you wondered if you’d forgotten something.
“I’m pretty sure that’s it,” you replied with practically no confidence. “Unless you have any questions?”
“Yeah, who are you?” the dark haired one asked. “I guess we better introduce ourselves too.”
They headed around the four of them until you knew them as Ashton, Calum, Luke and Michael then you told them your name, making the whole thing feel like it was your first day at a new school.
“I’m guessing you didn’t want the studio?” Mikey said to you.
You shook your head with a laugh. “I hadn’t been in this place since I was sixteen until the day I got the keys. It’s not my thing, this isn’t how I planned on spending my life.”
You brushed your hair out of your face and looked at them.
“I think we’ll get on,” you added with a smile. “The first band I’ve dealt with that haven’t asked if I’d like to be shown a good time.”
“We’re real gentlemen, we’d at least buy you dinner first,” Ashton said which earnt a laugh from the others.
You rolled your eyes but at least this time you were laughing. The others made your skin crawl just thinking about how creepy they were.
“Right, so if you’re happy, you can head over to the studio and if you’ve got any issues, talk to Christina, my PA. She’s pretty resourceful, high on life but okay.”
They nodded and thanked you. You smiled but sighed when you saw the crate of documents that Christina had probably abandoned because Stanley had called.
“I swear I pay her to just hide things unintentionally,” you muttered.
Calum moved quickly to help you, saying something about proving what Ash said about them being gentlemen. He dipped to pick up the crate at the same time as you did though your hands made it first. He looked up at you like you were stuck in a romantic movie, though you had to admit, the boy was beautiful. His eyes dropped to your hands just as the smile broke out. He opened his mouth to say something, you didn’t know what because as soon as his eyes rested on your wrist, his jaw snapped shut. The scars seemed to change his manner, he stiffened for a minute. You expected the usual look of disgust, the one that told you that they knew it had been you to ruin your mark like that.
But his callused fingers took your wrist and traced the deepest scar.
“You’ve been through the wars,” he mumbled so only you’d hear.
You were almost too surprised to speak but somehow you managed to.
“Yeah, something like that. I got drunk and the bottle won.”
From his expression, you knew he didn’t believe it was that straightforward but he didn’t pry. Instead he stood up and smiled at you, carrying the box like it was nothing.
“Hey, guys, I’ll meet you at the studio,” he said to them. “I’m going to help take these to the boss’ office.”
They nodded but Michael nudged and winked at Calum before slipping out of the door to follow Ashton and Luke. Calum waited for you to take the lead, you walked silently down the corridor. Your eyes caught on how defined he was in the reflection of the one way glass. He was the kind of guy you could only dream of having as your soulmate, at least if you actually wanted to find your soulmate. You liked to tell yourself that the chances were slim with seven billion people in the world. You weren’t ready to confront the issues you had that surrounded soulmates. But, you found yourself thinking, if you were then Calum was not a bad place to start looking. Maybe if I explained why my mark is like it is. You shook your head, Calum wasn’t going to be interested in some screwed up philosophy. Why were you so bothered about what this boy thought anyway? You’d just met him. Honestly, you sighed mentally, I can’t go after the first guy who is nice to me now.
You walked by Christina who was frantically hunting for something, the phone cradled to her ear as sheets flew everywhere. You held the door open for Calum who eyed your PA with some level of concern. You kicked the door closed. He dropped the box on your coffee table and gestured to the door.
“Is she okay? She looks a little lost.”
You hopped up onto the edge of your desk and swung your legs like you’d done when you had come here as a child.
“Christina is her own worst enemy, she forgets things and I have no idea how my dad coped with the preppy attitude at six in a morning.”
Calum came closer, admiring something on the desk though you knew it was something else. You felt the nervousness radiating from him like you’d morphed into a sabretooth tiger in the last few minutes.
He looked up at you, his doe brown eyes looking at you widely. He nodded quickly before he backed away.
“I – I better go do some stuff,” he stuttered as he opened the door to escape.
You creased your brow but you smiled at him, maybe you were wrong about him not being a bad soulmate option. He was intimidated by the idea of being alone with you, which for some reason, you found hilarious. You’d never intimidated somebody like him before, it made the boss thing almost worth it. Almost.
For a few days, you didn’t see Calum. If you saw the boys wandering the corridors, Calum was never there. Apparently he’d been hit by a burst of song writing inspiration and hadn’t wanted to stop until he had it all out on paper. You couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Song writing had been your thing until your father landed you with the studios. You’d refused to sell him any of your songs because you knew it was his way of making up for the arguments and the shitty childhood you’d been landed with. You wanted to prove your songs were good, you needed to see if you could make it without Jet Studios but you knew that you’d never find out now. There wasn’t enough time to write between meeting clients, signing new deals and organising the chaos your father had left behind. You knew that in time, you might have a shot at crafting lyrics again but until then, you were stuck with pretty things swarming your brain without anywhere to put them.
You’d come back from yet another meeting with yet another client who wanted to know where your father was. You weren’t sure you could face hearing the same old joke you look different, Jet again without biting somebody’s head off in the process. You walked by Christina who was on the phone again, you hadn’t got the patience to ask her to stop calling Stanley today. She looked up like she wanted to say something but you didn’t stop to listen, instead you slammed your office door behind you. You closed your eyes and exhaled sharply.
You looked around in shock to find the owner of the voice. Calum was sat on your black leather sofa wearing a smug smile like he hadn’t ran out of your office a couple of days ago. He stood up and made his way to you, he looked confident now about what he wanted to say whereas it had been too much last time. He walked you backwards, taking your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand so you had to listen to him. His grip was loose enough for you to escape but, god, you didn’t want to. His chest was rising and falling fiercely and the smirk on his lips made your legs feel weak. What was he doing to you? Guys never made you feel like this.
“You’ve been in my head and you won’t fucking leave,” he mumbled into your ear.
You felt his breath against your cheek and shivered. He lifted his wrist up and revealed the summer tree, you stared at it mesmerised by how it moved. You’d never seen one up close, your father had barely said goodbye and you tended to ignore Christina’s happy attempts of proving it was true love with Stanley. Calum moved it away and stroked your cheek lightly.
“And now I know why. You’re my soulmate.”
“Fuck,” you muttered. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Calum looked up at your wrist and frowned, you guessed your mark was too broken to change or maybe Calum had got the wrong girl. He let your arms drop but he didn’t move back, instead he seemed closer but you didn’t want to run from him.
“I know it’s you,” he said with a grin. “I just know. I wrote a song about you.”
“Calum, you don’t want it to be me,” you said quickly. “You really don’t.”
You looked away from him and took a deep breath.
“My parents weren’t soulmates then my dad left to go chasing after his when I was ten. I’ve got a messed up view of soulmates, Calum. You hardly know me, it’s the best time to leave before you get too caught up in it all.”
“Yeah,” he said with a breathy laugh. “I’m not sure it works like that.”
You moved towards your desk, unsure of how you could convince him to run for his own sanity. But then it hit you when you saw the determination etched upon his face as he watched you. You reached into your father’s cabinet and placed two crystal glasses on the desk with a bottle of brandy onto the desk.
“Sit down then,” you said as you poured two generous glasses. “And I’ll give you a lifetime of reasons of why this won’t work.”
The sunlight streaked into your bedroom through your blinds, the bars of light spread across the bed sheets that were tangled around you. You tried to piece together what had happened the night before, the hangover making your head feel groggy. You rolled over, only to bump into a very naked Calum Hood in your bed. That’s when it all fell into place. The moaning, the arching back, the screams.
Calum’s eyes slowly opened, his arms stretched over your head. His arm circled around your back and he pulled you closer to him.
He chuckled darkly with the biggest shit eating grin you’d ever seen. “I think last night went well.”
You rolled your eyes but fuck you hadn’t felt this good since your wild teen years.
“I didn’t know you were that flexible,” he added slyly.
You nudged him before brushing your hair back from your face. You knew you must look awful, a sweaty hot mess that had obviously drank too much but Calum was still looking down at you like you’d just walked off the runway.
“Last night,” he started, “you started to tell me about your mark but you fell asleep before you really explained.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” you sighed as you tipped your head back against his arm. “It’s not a pretty story.”
“I’m not here for pretty,” Cal said into your hair. “I’m here not matter what, that’s kind of what soulmates do.”
You laughed a little, it still sounded weird when he said it. The word sounded odd in his accent but that’s what made it so perfect. He lifted your wrist into his hand and traced the scars across the tree with his thumb. He waited, simply beholding them and willing you to tell their story.
“After my dad left, my mum went a little off the rails. She’d party and drink and sleep with guys just to feel something like she’d had with my father. I was just passed around like some re-gifted Christmas present until she pulled herself together. I guess I hit my teens and thought that was how people dealt with anger and pain. One night, I flew off the handle when I got drunk. Walked into my dad’s studio, smashed all of the windows in the place. In my head, all that mark did was ruin lives so I tried to destroy it and it looks like I succeeded. Look, nobody knows about that. My dad swept it under the carpet and told everybody it was from some freak skiing accident.”
Calum brought your wrist to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your tree.
“I’m glad you’re out of that stage in your life,” he said softly. “You know I won’t say anything, soulmate’s honour. Though I’m amazed the media didn’t go crazy, Jet’s daughter destroys studio.”
“Dad paid a lot of money to make it look like a robbery,” you admitted. “It was some form of miracle the press never heard about it all. I guess my dad’s money really got me out of trouble. What time is it?”
Calum groaned, mumbling something about how he wanted to spend the day lounging around rather than recording.
“You didn’t need to be in early today, right?” he asked you after he’d fished his phone out from under your bed. “Because it’s almost twelve.”
You jumped up, picking up your towel from the laundry pile. “Shit, I have a meeting at one with another band.”
Calum laid back as you ran around getting dressed and he laughed when you swore at how hungover you looked. You threw a pillow at him and told him to get dressed.
“I told the guys I’m sick,” he said as he stretched out. “I didn’t think you’d have to go in.”
You shrugged and tried to resist calling Christina to say you were feeling like you’d caught a cold or something just so you could crawl back into bed next to him. You closed your eyes and shook your head with a smile.
“Damn you, Calum Hood,” you said which made him laugh. “There are some spare keys in the flower pot by the door if you decide to leave today.”
“I’ve got to, I’ve got something I need to do today now you’re blowing me off.”
You glared at him jokingly. “Don’t make me feel guilty.”
“I’ll be here when you get home,” he said with a smile.
You’d never wanted to leave work this much before. You’d even smiled at Christina when she told you about Stanley’s date plans which had confused her even more than usual. Your mood had been better than it had ever been since you’d taken over.
Just as you shoved the final folder into your bag, Christina barged into your office with this terrified look on her face that made you think somebody had died.
“Are you okay?” you asked her as she stumbled around to your computer. “Christina?”
She googled your name and clicked on the first article that came up. You wondered if this was her attempt at a joke until you read the headline.
MET JET STUDIO’S NEW OWNER: FORMER OFF THE RAILS TEEN
You skim read the article as the sick feeling rose in your throat. They’d got the whole story, the break in, the smashed up interior, the broken mark, even the cover up was mentioned.
“They all have the same story, all calling you crazy or deranged, they’re questioning if people should sign with the studio or label anymore. The phone has been ringing off the hook since the news broke. Who the hell sold the story?” she told you quickly. “What do I tell the clients?”
You sat back into your office seat and rested your head in your hands. There was only one person that sprang into your mind.
“Oh Calum, what have you done?”
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