“Mum, don’t smother me. It’s not like it’s my first year or you won’t see me for ages. I’ll be home again on Friday.” I awkwardly pat her back, because she holds on for a few seconds longer.

“You better,” she mutters jokingly. When she finally releases me, I step aside to peck dad on his cheek.

“I’ll text this evening and call tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sorry again we can’t bring you to your dorm.”

“It’s really no problem. Tell granny I said hi and wish her good luck with her surgery for me too.”

“We’ll do that,” dad assures.

Mum adds: “Take care of yourself. Now go, before you miss your train.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.” I take my backpack and hurry to track one, where I blend in with the other students going to Leuven. The train has a delay of six minutes, but that was probably to be expected, since all the students travel to Leuven on this Sunday to get ready for the coming academic year.

I seek a spot where there are not too much people waiting, hoping that I’ll get a seat, because my ankle is already throbbing. I broke it at the beginning of the summer while hiking with mum and dad – luckily not on top of the mountain, but at the end of the trail – and it hasn’t got its full strength back yet. It royally sucked, because I love hiking and I had to spend the rest of our time in Switzerland looking at the mountains and listening to the mooing and the bells of the cows from the vicinity of our chalet.

When the train finally arrives, I don’t get a chance to wait close to the doors and I’m already accepting I’ll have to make do. There isn’t any place in my current wagon, so I start strolling through the train in search of one with a few other unlucky people in tow.

When I’ve walked through two wagons already and I enter the next one, however, I halt, because of the smell and presence that penetrates not just my senses, but my whole being. Earthshattering doesn’t seem all that far off. It doesn’t take me more than five seconds to realise this is it. One of those moments every single person among my people knows and talks about. Somewhere in this wagon is my soulmate – or better: one of my possible mates, since the mating bond is more of a strong suggestion who you could get a satisfying and livelong relationship with, plus physical attraction of course. See it as a relationship advisor.

Now I just have to figure out who it is. Your mate is always your age, but that doesn’t help much in this case, since there are mostly students on the train and they don’t have their age tattooed on their forehead. I expect it to be a girl, but I can’t be so sure since the mating bond doesn’t take that kind of thing into account. That’s why it’s just a suggestion. I can only hope my mate noticed my smell as well and maybe they’ll find me.

I decide to just go sit for now and luckily, I see a spot in front of a tall girl with long, dark brown, curly hair. When she looks up and our gazes meet, my breath stutters. She is it! She smells like a library and … grass? Weird combination, but there is no mistaking the attraction it evokes and the realisation in her eyes.

“Hey,” I utter awkwardly. Nice pick-up line, isn’t it?

“Hey.” Even in that one word, I recognise a West-Flemish accent.

“Also returning to Leuven?”

She smiles. “Actually, it’s my first time. I did the previous two years in Kortrijk.”

“Oh. What do you study then?”

“Linguistics and literature.”

“Don’t you have to choose languages then?”

“Yes. I’m studying French and German.”

“Really? Aren’t those the languages everyone hates?”

“Not me. Plus, it comes in handy for a job when you know all the official languages of your country and teachers for French and German are scarce.”

“Do you want to teach?”

“Maybe. Try it out, at least. But what about you? You look like you’re going hiking or walking in the woods.”

“I know. I’m a woodsy person, so to say, but I study geology. Minerals and rocks are my passion.”

“I suppose you often go to the mountains then?”

“Yeah, or just somewhere untainted by metal, concrete and bricks. Luckily the love for nature is kind of in the family, if you know what I mean.” We share a secret smile, because it is well-known that werewolves crave nature, even if we’ve lost almost all of our animal features and can’t even shift until we’ve bonded with our chosen mate. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you a real nature lover?”

“I live in a West Flemish farmer’s hole, so it’s not like I have much of a choice, but I must admit I do sincerely love me a brisk walk in nature. But I’m also a bit of a culture buff, so I’d like to think I taste the best of two worlds.”

I chuckle and joke: “Good. I don’t think I could have liked someone who doesn’t like nature. That’s, like, the eighth sin.”

“Sure. You like me already? You do realise that at the moment we’re just two near-strangers on a train, right?”

“It was hypothetical!”

“I know, I know. I was just teasing you. I tease a lot, so if you can’t accept that, we’ll have a problem.”

“No problem, as long as I can tease you as well. Teasing back is half the fun of being teased.”

“True.”

We take a moment to gather our thoughts, while the train stops in Wezemaal.

“Hey, what’s your name by the way? I realised we’ve already talked quite a lot, but we never said our name. Mine is Amber.”

“Charlotte. Nice to meet you.”

Amber smiles. “You too.”

Again, there’s a bit of an awkward silence, so I decide to ask another of those standard questions. “Do you have siblings?”

“Yes. Don’t remind me.”

“Why? Are they that awful?”

“You’re one of those only children, aren’t you?”

“No, I have a ten-year-old sister and brother.” My mouth curls upwards just thinking about them.

“Maybe it’s because they’re much younger than you. I have a brother who’s only one year older and he’s the biggest pain in the neck you can imagine. I’m so happy I don’t have to see his face for a week or hear his outbursts or remarks. Luckily he studies in Ghent.”

“What kind of things does he say then?” Amber hesitates. “Or forget I asked, that’s probably too personal to delve into.”

“No, it’s … Actually, you should probably know I’m trans and, well … He has trouble understanding and accepting that, even though I told my parents I wanted to be a girl when I was eight and they have been supportive in every way from the very beginning.” The people sitting next to us glance curiously at her, but they just return to what they were doing. I’m delighted to see their casual reaction, as if meeting trans people is an everyday occurrence. Maybe nowadays it is.

Apart from that automatic registration of their reaction, my mind is blank. I mean, it’s not every day you hear one of your possible soulmates is trans, right? I know I wished for a girl, but that I wouldn’t care if it turned out to be a boy, so this shouldn’t be all that different. Besides, she looks like a girl and sounds like a girl and in any case, if she says she is a girl, she is one. It only gets trickier when I start thinking about physical (and sexual) aspects, but that isn’t a topic to broach in a train full of people with zero privacy.

In the end, my intelligent and elaborate response is: “Oh.” When she frowns, I hastily add: “I just don’t know what to say. I’m not transphobic or anything, but it’s probably something to discuss more in depth later on. I mean, if you want us to see each other again, that is?”

“I do, I do, and you’re definitely right this isn’t the time or place.”

After a minute of silence, I ask: “Do you know your way in Leuven? Where do you have to be?”

“The Maria Theresia Street, but it should be easy to find since it’s close to the station, isn’t it?”

“Such a coincidence! My dorm is also in the Maria Theresia Street. Which house number is yours?”

She rumbles in her handbag and takes out a folded paper. “Thirteen.”

“Mine is forty-six. I’ll walk you to yours then. If I’m allowed?”

“I’d like that.” She smiles. It’s the kind of smile that puts you at ease, that pulls you in and makes you trust someone. She has a really pretty face, but it would be rather strange if I didn’t find everything about her attractive – at least physically. That’s the mating pull for you: plain sexual attraction, which definitely doesn’t guarantee romantic attraction.

The train conductor announces we’re going to arrive in Leuven and I look at the tower of the library and the more prominent modern buildings in the dwindling light. Amber and a few other students stand up to take their suitcases from the luggage rack.

“Amber? Don’t go too fast when we’re there. I broke my ankle this summer and I still can’t put too much strain on it.”

“Oh. Okay. What happened?”

“Hiking. It was at the end of the trail and my laces were loosening a bit, but I didn’t think it worth to redo them, so when I fell, my shoe didn’t protect my ankle as it should have.”

“I can imagine you were quite upset with your own carelessness afterwards. Isn’t that a rather silly reason to break your ankle?”

“Isn’t breaking something almost always because of some silly reason?”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” When she looks at me, I wink.

“Not funny.”

“I know. Another warning: I make corny jokes.”

“Duly noted. You’re not the first one.”

“I know.” I lead us to the stairs and the tunnel on our left. We cross the square and the street next to it and then we’re already in the Maria Theresia Street.

Sometime after we’ve crossed the Justus Lipsius Street, she exclaims: “But the numbers count down! Don’t we pass your dorm first then?”

“Yes, but I still want to walk you to your dorm. Maybe we can already talk a bit? I was honestly just looking for an excuse to talk to you a bit longer.” I blush.

Amber looks away with red ears. “Okay.”

“Uhm … Maybe I’ll just drop off my backpack then and come back here? Or you could text me when you’re ready? I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay.” She hands me her phone with a new contact open and I fill in my name, number and e-mail address. I want to add a heart emoji, but that’s probably too early.

“Here you go. See you soon.” I wave and continue my way.

***

It's nine o’clock when my phone finally pings. The half hour prior was enough to unpack more or less and I was playing Candy Crush to kill the time.

I’m ready.

I’ll be there in two minutes.

I grab my purse and hurry off the stairs. Amber is waiting for me in front of her building.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Is there maybe somewhere nearby where we can sit? I didn’t have time to unpack anything, so my dorm is not the best place.”

“Uhm … the Erasmus Garden probably … and Ladeuze Square of course.”

“Erasmus Garden?”

“That’s the Faculty of Arts’ garden.”

“Oh, right. Why don’t we go drink something in a café at Ladeuze?”

“Okay. I know a good one.”

After we’ve settled with a drink at a table inside, protected from the quickly cooling night air, I try to gather my thoughts in order to start up a conversation.

Amber beats me to it: “So, I assume you’d like to know more about my being trans?”

“Yes,” I admit, “but I wouldn’t mind getting to know you in general.”

“Alright.”

“To be honest, I expected my mate to be a girl.” She frowns. “And I’m not implying that you are not, because to me, you are. I don’t know how I would have reacted if you weren’t trans and were a boy, but I was thinking …” She pulls up her eyebrows. I narrow my eyes and she smiles. “As I said, I was thinking that sexual attraction isn’t all that unique, since there can be a lot of people you’re attracted to and you even have several possible mates, but you don’t feel romantic attraction for all those people. And as far as we’ve talked, you seem nice and someone I could easily get along with and I think that’s much more important.” And I still find her an attractive girl, but I’ll probably burst into flames if I have to confess that out loud. “So … I don’t really care if … if your body isn’t … isn’t fully female – it’s not insulting if I say that, is it?”

Amber chuckles. “At least not to me.” She keeps silent for a while. “I’m happy you … are that accepting. I was afraid …” She struggles to find the right words. “I also like you and just the fact that you don’t care, is already a huge plus.”

A sudden thought occurs to me. “You’re not settling for me because you think another wouldn’t accept you, are you?”

“No, no! Of course not. I’d sincerely like to … explore our possibilities.” I laugh. “But before … I probably have to tell you that … I haven’t undergone any surgeries, so … I know you said you don’t care about my body, but I still look quite male and … At the moment, I have no ambitions of ever doing those surgeries. To me, it’s more important to be able to live as a woman and to be seen as one. And every surgery poses certain risks, so I try to avoid them as much as possible.”

I reach over the table to touch her hand. “I understand. I’ll accept whatever you are comfortable with.” I down half of my Kriek to obtain some liquid courage, my face already growing hot. “So, how about we turn this into a first date?”