All of the Above Read online

  Brendon moved to the next question, now fully invested in this quiz.

  What’s your favorite movie?

  He wondered how the author would handle this one. Usually the answers were a collection of blockbuster hits, vague genres, and “anything starring insert popular celebrity here.” Option one seemed to confirm his theory:

  A) Anything directed by J.J. Abrams! Am I blinded by love or lens flares? Don’t know, but there’s a Star War going on for my heart, and he Treked right into it.

  Wow. Brendon pursed his lips. That was terrible. But funny in a corny way, he supposed. And hey, he worked at Hairway to Heaven, so he couldn’t judge.

  He read the next option and nearly choked on the breath he’d just taken.

  B) The Ramen Girl starring Brittany Murphy. “Stop thinking about words! Use your heart!”

  Brendon blinked three times in rapid succession. What the fuck? He didn’t know anyone else who’d even seen that film, let alone would dub it their all-time favorite. Quizzes like this usually listed popular movies to appeal to a wide audience. It was shocking to see an Indie film mentioned by name, let alone Brendon’s favorite film.

  Goose bumps crawled up his arm. He didn’t even read the rest of the options. He circled B and jumped to the next question.

  How do you want to be proposed to?

  A) At a family gathering. Mom and I can start making wedding plans right away, and I can show off my bling to my unmarried cousins.

  Well, that one definitely wasn’t Brendon’s choice. He didn’t have any close family, let alone cousins to be passive-aggressive toward. His parents had moved to Florida after he’d turned eighteen, and hadn’t taken him with them. He was pretty sure they’d sent him a birthday card back in May. Too bad he’d been born in April.

  B) Somewhere public, like at a baseball stadium or at a concert. I want all eyes on me when he gets down on one knee!

  Anyone who’d met Brendon’s manicured self would assume he’d pick that, but surprisingly, Brendon hated public proposals. Way too much pressure. And instead of thinking about what was happening, he’d probably panic and forget to answer. Plus, it was kind of shitty to spring a question that important on someone in front of an audience.

  C) I’m a traditionalist. I want a ring at the bottom of a champagne glass.

  Blah. Definite pass. Way too cliché, and knowing Brendon’s luck, he’d swallow it. So far this round had left him underwhelmed. Maybe he’d given this quiz too much credit. He glanced at the last possibility, not expecting much.

  D) Wine. Soft music. Candles everywhere. No one around but me and my perfect man. He cooks dinner, and after reminiscing about all the good times we’ve had, he’ll ask the big question. But wait. He doesn’t have a ring! Is the proposal ruined? No, because he hands me a blank check and drops me off at Tiffany’s.

  Brendon snorted. Okay, that was hilarious, and the best proposal idea he’d ever heard. He circled it.

  His initial spark of curiosity about the author had grown to a roaring flame. He checked beneath the title of the quiz. With any luck, it wasn’t an uncredited intern or a pseudonym. In a tiny font, he located the words written by Matthew Kingston.

  A guy wrote this? Brendon hated to stereotype, but he’d been expecting a woman. Was this Kingston guy gay or just really devoted to his work? Brendon supposed he could be a romantic. Those still existed in this modern age.

  The next question piqued Brendon’s interest if only because this was a local magazine.

  Where in the city would you most like to spend your time?

  If Kingston was smart, he’d keep the answers general, so they could apply to wherever the reader was. But as Brendon had learned from the movie question, this quiz wasn’t afraid to get specific.

  He read the options quickly, and the very first one both solved the mystery and made his heart thud in his chest.

  A) A little Spanish restaurant in the heart of the city. It has a second-floor balcony most people don’t know about. The regulars are allowed to slip out the window and enjoy their wine on the private terrace, which is draped in string lights and boasts a beautiful view of the city. And the food is just as amazing.

  Though no name was mentioned, Brendon was certain he knew exactly which restaurant Matthew Kingston was talking about. It was Brendon’s favorite: Café Luis. It had fandango lessons on Thursdays, and their house wine was imported from their winery in Spain. And just like the quiz had said, they had a little balcony that was reserved for special occasions.

  Brendon had been out there a handful of times. It wasn’t big enough for more than two people at once, so he’d never spent long out there, but it was easily his favorite place. Once, he’d sat on the ledge and swung a leg over, drinking wine while he watched the stars poke through the darkening sky. Up there, his uncertainties melted away, and life slotted into place.

  Whenever he had extra money lying around, he went straight for Café Luis, and right now, he would bet his paycheck that was the restaurant the author had described. It was too much of a coincidence.

  Actually, a lot of the answers had been huge coincidence. What were the odds that they both loved the same mom-and-pop Spanish food? And The Ramen Girl? And the Dragonscale bookstore? And everything else?

  Who was this guy?

  Brendon hurried through the rest of the quiz, which went on to list his favorite band, concert venue, and describe his ideal lazy Sunday morning right down to how he liked his eggs.

  By the end of it, conspiracy theories were germinating in his head. Did the author know him? Had Matthew Kingston—whom he was now calling Matt in his head, as if they were old friends—written this quiz for him?

  But that was ridiculous. How could anyone predict he’d read this magazine? That Areesh would clean out Sasha’s closet and give this to him? There was no way, but it was hard to believe it was a fluke too.

  Brendon shook his head and checked the time just to have something to distract himself with: 8:51 p.m. He had some wiggle room, but he should really start packing up if he wanted to get home and cook dinner before it got too late.

  He was burning with curiosity, though. Maybe the quiz results could tell him something. If there was a sliver of a chance, he had to take it.

  He tallied up his points and found a key that directed him to the different types of perfect men. The results were silly: the Hopeless Romantic, the Bad Boy, the Sensitive Soul, and so on. Their descriptions weren’t much better. Your perfect man is sweet and caring and probably has a dog. He could be a teacher or a sexy firefighter! Brendon prayed his perfect man was a little more original.

  His points took him to the Artistic Amor: Your perfect man is creative and fun-loving. Forget about typical dates and traditional romance. He’s got a head full of ways to woo, and he wants to use them on you! If you’re up for a little adventure, you and your Perfect Man will paint the town, sometimes literally. He probably works in a field that requires thinking outside the box, like advertising, graphic design, or even acting. Or maybe he writes romantic quizzes for a small, local magazine! Who knows? Whatever he does, his most important job is loving you, or it will be, when you two finally meet.

  A new possibility occurred to Brendon. It was true that there was no way Matt could have written this quiz for him, but that didn’t mean fate wasn’t still at work. After reading that description, he was convinced Matt had put a lot of himself into this quiz, and since his choices lined up with Brendon’s, there was only one explanation.

  He and Matthew Kingston were soul mates.

  “You’ve read one too many romance novels.”

  Brendon rolled his eyes up toward the mall’s familiar ceiling. “I have not, Sasha. I’m telling you, Matt is my soul mate.”

  Sasha swept her thick black hair up into a facsimile of a bun and pinned it in place with a butterfly hairclip. “And I’m telling you that you’ve finally cracked, beta. Sweet child, this place has gotten to you. You ate one too many orange chickens from the
food court.” She turned to one of the many mirrors her kiosk sported and stuck bobby pins into any loose strands.

  Brendon had to admit, being back at the mall again for the morning shift made it feel like he hadn’t left. At least now he was lounging next to Areesh and Sasha’s jewelry stand. Even small changes made a difference. “I can’t argue with that, I guess.”

  “Oh, and what’s with you calling him ‘Matt’ like you know him?”

  “He seems like a Matt to me.”

  “Brendon.” Sasha stopped what she was doing and took hold of his shoulders. “Dost. My friend. You don’t know what this man seems like. You don’t know him. Okay?”

  “Just hear me out.”

  “Isn’t there something else you should be doing right now? Like—oh, I dunno—working?”

  “Well . . . yeah. If Mr. Kenji comes by, I’ll be in trouble, but he usually doesn’t pop in until the evening shift. Besides, this place is a dead zone.”

  It was a little after ten in the morning, which meant the early birds had left but the lunch crowd hadn’t quite hermit-crabbed their way in. There were only a handful of people milling around. Compared to the rest of the day, they were practically alone.

  Which was why Brendon was so eager to tell Sasha about his future husband while he still could. “It’s not that far-fetched. Just look at this.” He pulled the rolled-up copy of Extra out of his back pocket, opened it to the last page, and plopped it down in front of her. “Matt and I are clearly meant for each other. Read these answers. We like all the same things.”

  “Oh hey, I was looking for this. I knew Areesh was lying when he said he didn’t touch my magazines.” She tried to flip to a different page, but Brendon smacked her hand. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, but I need you to focus. Read the quiz.”

  “I read the quiz when the magazine was mine. I’ll be honest, I thought it was cheesy. The similarities are just a coincidence.”

  Brendon sighed. This was what he got for hanging out with married people. They had no sense of romance. Sasha finished with her hair and faced him. She was wearing head-to-toe black, as per usual: slacks, a nice top, and sensible, clunky heels. After having grown up in a conservative part of Chandigarh, she seldom showed much skin, though she wore her hair uncovered and always dressed fashionably.

  Today, Brendon looked downright dumpy in comparison. He’d thrown his hair up into a ponytail, which for him usually meant he was sick or cleaning house, and he hadn’t put on moisturizer. He sneaked a peek in Sasha’s mirror. His pallid skin made his eyes look creepily bright. Like luminescent moss or something.

  If only I weren’t years too late to audition for Avatar.

  “Sasha,” he said, getting back on topic, “saheli, I think we both know it’s more than a coincidence.”

  “Don’t you try to sweet talk me with Hindi. Especially when you’re not even using it correctly.” She muttered something that he couldn’t understand.

  Since he’d met her, he’d gleaned a fair amount of Hindi, but not enough that he could tell what she was saying when she didn’t want him to. He’d tried to get her to tell him her real name, but she always said he would just butcher it, like every other American. Hence, she went by Sasha.

  In English, she said, “You don’t know anything about this guy. You don’t know how old he is, if he’s single, or even if he’s gay.”

  “Actually.” Brendon held up a finger. “I did some research, and he most certainly is. Gay, I mean.”

  “Research?”

  “Yup. When I got home, I googled him and found a blog he wrote about growing up gay in small-town Ohio. Pretty damning evidence, right?”

  Sasha shook her head. “I have no words.”

  “You’re just jealous my soul mate is a famous writer. Or at least he will be. Mostly, he’s written a bunch of fluff pieces for local websites—you know, reporting about playgrounds being vandalized and new restaurant openings—but I also found this one piece about an eighty-year-old marine finally marrying his long-time lover. It had me in tears.”

  Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ignoring your increasing creepiness, I have to point one thing out. You decided you were soul mates based on what he wrote in that quiz, right?”

  “Right, and some of the other things I read online. We like all the same music, we’re both dog people, and his description of his ideal Friday was just—”

  “Assuming it was true.”

  Brendon stopped. “Huh?”

  “What if he didn’t mean any of it?”

  Brendon squinted at her. “I don’t follow.”

  “He might not like any of the things he wrote about. He might have googled random movies and places and thrown them into the quiz. Didn’t you say it seemed like he was advertising the Dragonscale when you were yammering on before? He might have never set foot in there in his life. Or, hell, he might have had an intern write the whole thing, and then he slapped his name at the top. I really can’t emphasize this enough: you know nothing about him.”

  “I recognize that you have a point, but I’m ignoring it, and here’s why.”

  Sasha tilted her head back and groaned like a dying animal.

  “He’s not faking it. You can tell when you read his pieces that he poured his heart and soul into them. The words jump right off the page. They’re raw and emotional and”—he clasped his hands together like a classic-movie heroine—“deep. If he’s faking, then he’s in the wrong business. Should’ve been an actor. I’m telling you, I really got to know the guy.”

  “Cyberstalking someone is not getting to know them.”

  “Hey, everything that popped up was public information. It’s not like I paid one of those shady sites to give me his address or anything.”

  “Oh good. You have one boundary left.”

  Brendon sidestepped that comment. “Oh! And he’s hot too. There was a photo of him on his blog, and lemme tell you, he is drea-my. Brunet. Fit. Probably tall. I hit the jackpot.”

  “Uh-huh. Now I see the real reason you’re so convinced.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not that shallow. I just have a good feeling about this.”

  Sasha sighed. “I hate to say this, but you had a good feeling about culinary school. And that one guy you dated who stole from you. And that YouTube makeup channel you tried to start.”

  “Did start,” Brendon corrected. “Pardon me for not realizing that everyone and their mother has a YouTube channel these days. I’m young, though. What are your twenties for if not making mistakes and figuring things out?”

  “That’s true.” She pulled a cleaning cloth out of a drawer, selected a silver bracelet from one of her displays, and shined it to perfection before moving on to the next one. “I sense you’re not going to give up on this, so I’ll change my line of questioning. If this guy is really your soul mate, you’re going to have to meet him at some point. How are you going to make that happen?”

  Out of the corner of Brendon’s eye, he saw someone pause while walking past his cart. He started to approach them, but when they spotted him walking over, they hightailed it the other way. Whatever. Their loss. He felt like he could produce a masterpiece on the spot.

  He returned to Sasha’s side and plunked into her chair. “Sorry, what’d you ask me?”

  “What’s your plan for meeting this soul mate of yours?”

  Brendon bit his lip, and a burst of flavor from his strawberry Chap Stick hit his tongue. “I, uh, don’t have one, exactly.”

  She shot him a weary look. “You decided a perfect stranger was the man you’re destined to be with and even went so far as to read up on him, but you haven’t put any thought at all into meeting him? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. But that’s why I came to you. You always have the best ideas. I figure with our powers combined, we can come up with a plan.”

  “Beta. Dear child. You know I’d love to see you settled, but I don’t know how much help I can be
. I’m not convinced you should pursue this at all. Besides, Areesh and I have been married for eight years. It’s been a long time since I was involved in a wooing.”

  “True.” Brendon smiled. “But the way Areesh tells it, you were the one who did most of the courting.”

  Sasha sniffed. “I did not. I simply gave him the encouragement he needed to finally make a move. Six months that man hovered around me like a big, fuzzy bumble bee. If I’d left it up to him, we be in the hand-holding stage right now.”

  Brendon laughed. “That’s exactly the sort of go-getter attitude I need. Will you help me?”

  She studied him, her dark eyes growing more serious with each pass. “I will, but perhaps not in the way you want.”

  Brendon’s mirth died. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Honey, you have to admit, this is a pattern of yours.”

  “It’s not, though. I—”

  She silenced him with a look. “I’ve been down this road with you before. You get a ‘feeling’ about something and decide it’s the solution to all your problems. You get excited for a couple of weeks, but then halfway in, you realize you have just as many problems as you did before. I’ve seen you do this with new friends and new career paths, and now with a lover.”

  Her face softened as if that could take the sting from her words. “I don’t want to see you get your hopes up yet again. I think you convince yourself that what you’re looking for is out there, and if you can just find it, everything else will fall into place.”

  Brendon shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “But how else are you supposed to meet your soul mate if you don’t get out there and find them?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not quite what I mean, but I think that’s enough mall philosophy for one day. Just do me a favor and don’t get all your naan from one bakery.”

  “Is that the Hindi version of ‘don’t put all your eggs in one basket’?”

  “No, that’s a Sasha original.” She winked. “Like you said, you’re young. You have plenty of time to figure things out.”