Gale’s Rose - Chapter One

Gale’s POV

Present

Deep breath. Spring off the back leg, one step, two, gain speed, leap in the air, and let the wind catch my wings. It’s all in the intent. Building up the momentum, and then that moment of fully letting go. That first rush of air surging through me as I take to the skies I haven’t soared in a solid three months.  

I’ll never forget the scolding I got from my mom the first time she caught me shifting mid-leap. Totally unwarranted because the worst thing that could happen would be missing the shift and landing on my face. It would be humiliating, not deadly, but you know… moms. 

She and Dad are more elegant in their shifting habits. They stand still, shift, and then take to the skies. Boring. I mean, I’m not exactly a thrill seeker, but a little exhilaration here and there never hurt anyone. 

Something I had to work hard to convince them of when I told them I wanted to leave Ferry Vale to attend university in Central California. For a nightingale shifter, that’s more than just leaving home. That means understanding that half of my nature would be completely suppressed the entire time I was away. 

Ferry Vale is the little seaside port town where I was born. To the naked eye, it’s nothing more than a stop for traders that pulls in some tourism with its quaint charm. But for those belonging to the world of magic, it acts almost like a gateway between this world and countless others. From magical to non-magical, from parallel universes to entirely different realms, from our time to futuristic or even past times, the possibilities are endless. However, the magic there doesn't extend past the town limits. 

My family thought the restriction on my nightingale form would be too much for me, especially since I spend more time as a nightingale than I do as a human when I’m home. However, this just brings me back to a little exhilaration, a little adventure, a little exploration outside of the world I’ve always lived in. 

I’ve been obsessed with California's sandy beaches since before I even saw pictures of them. All we have here are rocky shores and cold water that’s unfriendly for swimming or lounging in the sun to get a tan. The walks along Ferry Vale’s shores are lovely at the very least. But the sand and sun at the beaches near Cal Poly are exactly as amazing as I expected. More so, if I’m honest, even with the unexpected dose of heartbreak I’ve found there. 

But it’s fall break, and I’m home. Maybe I’m a day early getting here, but I needed to stretch my wings after months of dormancy. Taking in the familiar landscape and letting the comfort of home soothe my heartache, I alternate between flying along the main path of the woods I've spent most of my life in and flitting from bushes and branches while avoiding the falling leaves of the trees I know so well. I may not be a high flier, or even an acrobatic one, but still, simply feeling the air through my feathers is usually my favorite feeling in the world. 

Used to be my favorite feeling anyway. That recently changed on the first day of classes at Cal Poly three months ago at nine fifty-seven on a Monday morning, to be exact. 

* * *

Three months ago at nine fifty-seven on a Monday morning

Gale’s POV

A buzz of excitement runs under my skin from the constant activity around me. Everyone is moving about, either solo or in groups of two or three. Some hold their schedules in their hands and frantically search for their classes; others chat and gossip while either standing around or heading to their next destination. No matter where I look, there is something to see, to observe, to figuratively pinch myself to remember that this is real, and not a dream. 

No matter how many times I’ve visited the Cal Poly campus, I never seem to get used to the sheer size of it. While Ferry Vale is magical and amazing both literally and figuratively, its size is nothing compared to the ‘what Californians consider a small-ish’ city of San Luis Obispo. 

It’s still a complete mystery why this place, of all places, has been my obsession for as long as I can remember. Most people see a place first and then become obsessed with it. Whether through movies, pictures, books, or even a vacation, there’s usually something that draws a person in. 

That’s not what happened with me. From the first time I saw a map, and every subsequent one since, whether it’s a globe, an Atlas, or simply a traditional map, my fingers and eyes have always landed on this particular place. Even blindfolded and with someone moving the map or spinning the globe, I still inexplicably get drawn to this singular point.  

I’ve researched the city, trying to find why that pull, that absolute necessity in my chest that has always told me I needed to be here despite seeing a million places throughout the world with more lore, history, even better aesthetics, exists. Ultimately, I just tell people it’s the long stretches of beautiful beaches and the idea of a city and small-town vibe existing in one place that draws me in. 

It’s easier just to say that because anytime I’ve ever tried to explain to someone that I have a feeling in my chest that says this is where I need to be, they’ve always made me feel like it’s a weak reason. Honestly, with what happens all the time in Ferry Vale, an inexplicable feeling in my chest that draws me anywhere should be taken much more seriously. And honestly, if my parents weren't so worried about me coming here, I think they normally would have.

I’m definitely overwhelmed to be here now, and more than a little awed to finally be in a place I’ve spent most of my life obsessed with, but the realization that this is home for the next several years as an official Cal Poly student hasn’t fully sunk in yet. 

And you can definitely count on me being one of the solo students with a schedule in hand and eyes frantically searching the buildings for their first class. Pretty sure there was a point where I veered left when I should have veered right, and the breath of relief that comes out of me when I find the right building is palpable.

Luckily, I had the foresight to leave my dorm for classes early, because even though I’d toured the campus with my family, and then several times on my own while getting settled in, and even the night before to map out my classes, I still managed to get lost on my first day. If shifting were possible in this part of the world, flying overhead would have been a most welcome advantage this morning. 

I still have a few minutes to spare when I walk into the auditorium-style classroom to find a place to sit. I’m not usually this lost, but everything is so different and overwhelming that my head feels more up in the clouds than usual, which for someone who spends most of their time as a nightingale, that’s saying something. 

There’s an empty seat right by the door when I walk in, but before I can drop my stuff and sit, a weird gravity pulls my attention to an empty seat halfway across the room in the third row up. A flutter in my chest thuds with a ridiculous claim of the seat belonging to me. 

I’ve never felt the need to claim a random spot to set my behind on; maybe it’s just my brain trying to rationalize some sense of ownership or belonging in such a foreign place. Either way, my feet are moving across the white-tiled floor towards that seat before I firmly determine I must sit there instead of the empty seat I was about to drop my stuff next to. 

A guy with surfer vibes is hunched over a notebook at the desk next to it. Maybe that’s why my eyes got drawn straight to the empty seat next to him. I’ve never surfed a day in my life, but I’m obsessed with it. Watch it, follow it, love it, even though the idea of trying to ride a wave myself is absolutely terrifying. But I love watching surfers out there, even if I am swallowed whole with jealousy that I’m too scared to try it. 

As much as I love a little exhilaration, there’s a difference between flying and swimming. Do you know what happens to a bird’s wings when they get wet? Not good. And I can swim in human form. Not great, but well enough not to drown in calm waters. Regardless, the irrational fear of water the nightingale side of me has still lingers, despite how much I love it as a human. It’s oxymoronic, like my human and nightingale forms are arguing inside of my head. 

Focusing back on the guy, I can’t really see much of him beyond the broad cut of his shoulders and a curly mop of brown hair with golden brown highlights. He’s wearing a thin, loosely collared button-up, faded shorts, and well-worn sandals. 

It feels equal parts rude to just sit next to him or disturb him from whatever he’s focused on in his notebook. But I square my shoulders to ask if the seat beside him is being saved because the idea of just assuming it’s not and taking it, only to subsequently find out that it was actually saved and putting him in an equally confusing conundrum of either shooing me away or having to be apologetic to the possibly imaginary owner of the seat for the sake of not being rude to me, is absolutely too much to add to my first day, especially after having already gotten lost once. 

It’s a completely ridiculous spiral to have over an empty desk while shuffling my feet, hoping he’ll sense my presence and look up. It’s not until I softly clear my throat that his head tips up, and my eyes snag on the thick thread around his neck with beadwork and a shark tooth dangling just under a tattoo on his upper chest that says oceanlife. 

“Is this seat taken?” And I’m so damn lucky I got the question out before my eyes moved from the tattoo to his face because the moment his soft brown eyes land on mine, I’m obliterated, just absolutely gone. 

I can’t say everything freezes, because it doesn’t. A steady thrum of activity still surrounds me. The quiet murmur of conversation, the constant movement as people pull their stuff out of their bags and prepare for class, and the occasional notification ping from their cell phones. But it’s all just random static in my head, a clatter that’s being drowned out by the now completely erratic pulse thrumming in my ears. The reality that there’s nothing more necessary to my existence than the flecks of amber floating in the soft brown pools of his eyes. 

My stomach flips the way it does whenever I take off or land when I fly. My heart stutters in my chest as every molecule in my body resets, reshapes, and shifts around him and the way his eyes steadily stare back into mine. Something ancient and primal stirs in my blood. Just because I can’t shift in this part of the world doesn’t mean my innate nature doesn’t still exist within me, and it’s there that I can feel my inner nightingale perk up with recognition. 

Fated mate.

Soulmate.

Soul Bound.

So many names throughout so many species and cultures. Definitions, theories, rules, parameters. But can you really narrow down the specific whys and hows crafted by fate herself in a state of existence so far removed from ours?  

All that matters is pinpointed to this one moment, this one place, right down to the click of the second hand of the clock in time, is that this beautiful man sitting in front of me was deemed by fate herself to be mine. 

His mouth moves, words spoken that are too quiet over the buzzing in my ears for me to hear. His brow furrows, and I realize I'm not just staring at him; I'm completely ‘eyes wide, lips parted’ gawking at him. 

So much comes crashing in, along with the reality of when and where I am, and embarrassment floods into my system in a torrent. This guy has no way of knowing who I am, and I know next to nothing about humans outside of Ferry Vale, other than that their definition of soulmates is more of a concept than a physical reality, whereas soul bounds for shifters and other ‘magical’ beings are a tangible reality. He might not even feel the same pull as I do, or recognize it, even if he did. So the mindless staring is probably more than moderately creepy, if not borderline invasive. What a way to make a first impression. 

His mouth moves again, and thankfully I hear him this time. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I spaced,” I answer quickly, trying so hard not to get lost again in the sunshiny warmth that washes over me at his friendly, concerned tone. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes light up with amusement. “Spaced, right,” he says in a way that makes it obvious he not only doesn't buy the excuse, but totally knows I was drooling over his handsome face. Also pretty sure there's no way he can look like he does and not be completely used to it. At least, thankfully, he doesn’t seem offended by it. 

“So are you gonna sit?” he asks, raising a brow that’s torn somewhere between amusement and curiosity. 

“Sit? Yes, sit, of course,” I rush out a bit breathlessly before moving forward to claim the seat. 

There’s absolutely nothing graceful about the clash of limbs and jerky movements as I sit down. My body processes a million new sensations with him so close, while my brain cruelly catalogs every ridiculous thing I’ve done in the less-than-five-minute span of entering this classroom. The list is far too long for comfort. There's no saving this now. How mortifying is it to meet your soul bound and come off like a creeper? 

I lean down, using the excuse of pulling a notebook and pencil from my bag to hide my face and gather my wits. 

“First day at Cal Poly.” It’s a statement, not a question. His voice is light and buoyant, and cool confidence radiates from him as much as friendliness does.

“Is it that obvious?” It’s a question, not a statement. A ridiculous one, too, because it’s the first day of the semester; obviously, some of us are going to be in our first semester. And I can tell just by looking at the ease and absolute lack of first-day jitters or excitement that this isn’t his first day here; if I can tell that just by looking at him, then it’s elementary to assume he can tell the exact opposite about me.

I sit back up and observe him again, a bit more conscientious about eye contact this time around. He sits there, elegantly composed, chin in his hand and elbow propped on his desk, mildly curious at best, but mostly just amused. Not surprising, since I’ve given him plenty to be amused about in an absurdly short time. And me? I’m still a mess of jumbled nerves and far too much to process. There’s nothing composed about me at all. 

His lips tip up into a smile that settles somewhere between perpetually amused at this point and reassuring, like he’s trying to be friendly or put me at ease. “Kind of, yeah. You’ve got that whole ‘deer in the headlights’ look. I’m Rubio, by the way.” 

“Rubio,” I repeat quietly, my chest squeezing at the name, so completely new, and yet so familiar at the same time. He raises an expectant eyebrow, and it takes me a beat or two to catch up. “Oh, right. I’m Gale, and doesn’t everyone have that look on their first day?”

Rubio shrugs. “I guess it kind of depends. Those who aren’t from here tend to be more overwhelmed, but those of us who grew up here have been on campus enough for it not to be a huge thing. That’s easy for me to say, though, since this is my fourth year, not my first, but I don’t remember being overwhelmed on my first day either. Just kind of new without really being new.”

I nod my head like I understand what he means, but I really don’t. I guess maybe it’s like transitioning from elementary school to middle school? New, but not all that new. Same faces, just a different building. And then the other admission in his statement hits me, and I gaze at him curiously. 

“Have you always lived here?”

His eyes crinkle a bit as he smiles. That, and the constant lift of his cheeks, make it obvious that being friendly is his natural state. “Yep, born and raised,” he says happily. 

My brain starts to spin. He’s older than me, and I’ve been inexplicably drawn to this place my whole life. Was it the place itself? Or was there some cosmic understanding that he was here that drew me to it? Is that even a thing? I’ve always assumed recognizing your soul bound happened the moment you saw them. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the soul knowing where its counterpart is and finding a way to reach them. 

“So where are you from?” he asks while I’m busy unraveling another of nature’s mysteries instead of contributing to the conversation. 

“Ferry Vale?” 

Rubio huffs out a laugh. “Was that a question or an answer?” he asks teasingly, not in a disparaging way, but in an amused way. I think amused is just his personality. He seems at ease finding everything amusing. I don’t know if it’s just me, or if he’s always this way, but I’m crossing all of my fingers and toes that I’ll get to find out. 

“Answer, definitely from Ferry Vale,” I giggle, my head clearing enough for me to act like a somewhat normal person, even if only for a moment. 

Rubio nods. “So you’re from abroad, abroad. How are the oceans on that side of the world?”

“Nice, a bit colder. Nothing like here.” I know my wonder at the area is in my voice. Even if the mystery of why I’ve always been drawn here has theoretically been solved, it doesn’t change the years of finding a million reasons to fall in love with this place. And now that I’m here, I’ve just found the biggest reason of all.  

He raises his brow as though he’s curious to know more, but the conversation is cut off when the professor walks in and starts teaching with barely a hello. 

* * *

Back To Present

Gale’s POV

Ever since that day, my favorite feeling has changed from the air between my feathers to the warm flutter in my chest every time Rubio smiles at me. The way my entire soul soars at the sound of his voice. It’s ridiculous how quickly everything shifted with just one meeting. I can’t even say that I regret the change.  

Which is saying something because right now, I feel wrung out in a way I never have before. Every time the tears stop, and I think they’re done, some random, wonderful, amazing memory of how his eyes soften whenever he looks at me, or how his laugh makes my heart feel light and happy in my chest, or some of the fun adventures we had creep into my head and make the tears start again. Despite all that, I still can’t regret meeting him. 

And all of the tears are a massively drastic reaction, really. It’s not like I haven’t known from the beginning that Rubio would never be mine. Sometimes, the universe just makes mistakes. Not that Rubio is a mistake, of course. Rubio is stunning, warm, and wonderful in every way. Definitely not a mistake; no, that part comes in with thinking that someone as radiant as him could ever be destined for someone as lackluster as me. 

There were a lot of things I expected when I left home for college. Mostly just for an adventure in general. Traveling abroad for school felt like having one without getting off the track I’d set for my future goals. The last thing on my mind was meeting my soul bound. 

If it weren’t for the suddenness and strength, and the overall sense of rightness and belonging that hit me the moment our eyes met, I would still doubt that’s what happened. But there’s no mistaking what he is to me, and yet, there’s also no mistaking that he’ll never be mine.