A.N.:So it's been almost a year since I posted this story! Wow. That's really crazy to me.

I've decided to go back and edit it, since I'm not all too happy with the old version, and I want to add to this for SOMA week 2016! So for those of you just joining, thank you for reading, and those of you who have already read this, I've made a few changes! I know it's been way too long, but I want to thank you all for reading and commenting regardless!

Watch where you're going, Tiny Tits.

Maka stares at the words printed on her wrist in complete and total horror.

"This is not happening," she whispers. She tears her comforter off of her, sprinting to the bathroom. "This is not. Happening."

She hunches over the sink, pouring half of a bottle of soap on a loofah and nearly screaming as she begins scrubbing.

She accomplishes nothing.

Well, almost nothing - she's managed to give herself a raw and bright red wrist first thing in the morning. But as she stares at the tiny, six-letter Sentence written on her left wrist, she refuses to believe that this is happening to her.

There is no way that Maka Albarn's soul mate's first words to her will be "watch where you're going, Tiny Tits".

Nope. There's no way she will let that happen. And there's no way in Hell she will be seen in public with those words written on her wrist.

This is unacceptable, and Maka is furious.

"I'll just ignore it. I'll just pretend it never happened. I'll just… I'll cover it with makeup. I'll tell everyone that my Sentence hasn't shown yet."

She practically tears her bathroom cabinet off of its hinges as she searches for her foundation.

"And you know what? Once I meet the guy who's supposed to say it, I'll act like I never met him. I can do that, right? I can totally do that." She dabs some foundation over the letters, black ink still able to be seen. She chokes, tossing the bottle into the sink and slamming her hand on the side of the counter. "Fuck! … This isn't happening. I refuse to believe that this is happening."

She catches sight of herself in the mirror: panic evident, mascara and eyeliner giving her raccoon-eyes, hair sticking out at odd angles.

She looks like Hell.

She shakes her head, calming down a bit, holding the sink for support.

"Okay Maka. You can do this. Tsubaki's Sentence was 'hey baby, how would you like to sleep with a God tonight', right? If she and Black-Star can end up happy and functional with that as their first meeting, then anything is possible."

She groans, slumping over the sink and contemplating just staying inside all day and not leaving her apartment. Maybe she could avoid it….

But she couldn't do that either, could she? Liz had refused to leave her house for 2 weeks once she got her Sentence. But eventually she ventured out for food, and the first encounter she had was with some white-haired stranger, letting her know that she had something in her teeth.

She and Wes moved in together not even a year later.

Maka groans a second time, letting her head fall forward against her mirror. She decides to face the facts.

She would meet her soul mate in the most humanly ridiculous way possible, and there is nothing she could do to change that fact.

By the time Maka showers and gets changed, she figures that the mess of "Happy Birthday" messages crammed into her mailbox can no longer be ignored.

She hates birthdays, and today is definitely taking the cake as the worst one yet.

She does laugh, though, at the twelve new texts and three missed phone calls from Liz, Patty and Tsubaki. She rolls her eyes, smiling to herself as she thumbs through the message thread.

Her eyes eventually fall on the clock in the corner of her phone screen, and she realizes just how late she is.

She panics, throwing herself off of her bed in a half-dressed state. She whips through her apartment, shrugging on a coat and her messenger bag, grabbing her coffee and picking an apple from the pile sitting on her counter. She would have preferred toast, but she doesn't have the time. She curses to herself as she hops through the living room, attempting to slide on her boots as she moves.

She huffs out a breath in frustration, eventually falling backwards onto the edge of her couch. She flips her pigtails over her shoulder and pulling on her boots, already wanting to get today over with.

She just wants the words on her wrist to disappear.

If she's being completely honest, Maka isn't even sure she believes in that kind of stuff. Yeah, the Sentences have a 97% success rate, but what about that extra 3%?

Her parents fell into that 3%.

Besides, she had never been one for big romantic gestures. In fact, Maka was just not a very big fan of romance at all.

She'd never have the time. She was just at community college right now, sure, but that was just to get all of the basic classes out of the way before she went to law school. And that meant no time for distractions, which meant no time for a boyfriend.

Maka Albarn is too determined to let anything get in her way.

Which was why she detests the idea of these words on her wrist so much. Not just because they're an eyesore (and one of the most ridiculous Sentences she'd ever heard), but because she doesn't care about meeting her Mate. While everyone around her wanted nothing more than to turn 18 so they could wake up and see their Sentences printed out on their wrists, Maka had always dreaded the day it would happen.

And her fears had not been wrong, it seemed.

What if her Mate doesn't care about her dreams and aspirations? What if he only gets in her way, or slows her down?

What if he hurt her, like Papa hurt Mama?

Being a part of that 3% is looked down upon by society. What well-respected lawyer would fall under the 3%? Who would hire someone who couldn't even keep their own Mate?

If she woke up one day to her Sentence being Lined, she wouldn't know what to do. She had seen Mama and Papa's Lines - thick and black, running straight through their Sentences the minute their marriage fell apart.

Maka had decided that she refused to let that happen.

She hurries through the crowds of people moving between classes. She moves with the herds, letting herself be swept toward the east side of campus. She brushes past a group of guys outside of the library, nearly bumping into one of them as he leans against the wall.

He has incredibly sharp teeth and a copy of Ender's Game, and Maka nearly smacks herself as she remembers the analysis paper she has due on that same book for her English class. She slides past the group of boys, ignoring the way the sharp-toothed one stares after her as she does.

She makes her way through the library in silence, finding an open study room in the back and not daring to talk to anyone.

She meets up with Liz, Patty and Tsubaki later that night for dinner.

"There you are," Liz calls out to her once she arrives, waving her down from across the room. "It took you long enough to get here!"

Maka smiles, weaving through tables like a maze. She keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact with people as she passes them.

It's nearing 7 and she still hasn't met her Mate. She's beginning to get anxious.

She doesn't get a chance to sit down before the questions begin.

"So? Have you met him?"

"Or her. We won't judge."

"Let me see!"

"Are they nice?"

"Are they hot?"

"What's their name?"

Maka shakes her head quickly, pigtails whipping her face as she waves her hands dismissively.

"No, no… You guys, I haven't even met them yet."

Silence follows her statement. The three girls sitting across from Maka share a look before Liz finally speaks.

"But it's already so late."

Patty nods next to her. "Yeah, you've had all day!"

Maka shrugs. "I haven't been focusing on that today. I had stuff to get done for school, so I spent all day studying in the library." She turns to face Liz, frowning. "It took you two weeks to meet Wes. And it took Tsubaki what, a month? And has Patty even met hers yet?"

Liz shrugs back at her, reaching across the table and picking up her wine. "That's true, but you're... Maka. You're so efficient, you know?"

"Yeah!" Patty nods again, smiling. "We figured you'd be all over this. You're always pretty good at everything."

Maka snorts a bit, placing her elbow on the table and dropping her chin into her upturned palm. "I guess. But I'm just not really looking forward to this, is all. Frankly, I wouldn't care if I never even ended up meeting them at all."

Liz chokes on her wine, and Tsubaki rolls her eyes.

"Oh Maka, now that's a bit dramatic."

"It is not!"

Tsubaki places her hand on top of Maka's in reassurance. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to find them. I don't think either of you are going anywhere any time soon, you know? Now let's order, I'm starving."

Maka nods, picking up a menu.

"Speaking of going places, Black-Star's moving in with me soon." Tsubaki says it so casually, Maka almost misses it.

"What?! That's amazing! How is that going?"

"Good. He just wants to help his roommate find another place. Either that, or someone else to room with him. Black-Star says that's going to be hard, what with all the piano this kid plays."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I guess he's from some rich family of musicians or something. He practices pretty much every day. Strictly classical music, too. Black-Star hates it. But he loves the guy, so he puts up with it."

Liz hums from next to Tsubaki. "That sounds like Wes. He plays his violin like, every morning. It's definitely not the worst thing to wake up to every day."

Maka mutters something about enjoying classical music under her breath as their waiter approaches.

By the time they leave the restaurant, it's well after 10. The other girls take a cab but Maka turns them down, deciding to walk the few blocks it took to get to her house. Tsubaki insists she not go alone, but Maka only waves her off.

Ten minutes later, walking through the crowded downtown-district, she begins wishing she'd taken Tsubaki's offer.

Armed with only her pepper spray, she takes in her surroundings and groans softly to herself. She would be dumb enough to walk five blocks to her place through the bar-scene at 10:45 at night. Maka knows no bounds when it comes to this kind of stuff. She likes to prove she can handle it on her own.

Never again, she thinks, speeding up to get past some sketchy drunks who whistling their approval over the length of her skirt.

She rounds a corner quickly, brushing past a guy with styled white hair. She keeps her head down and walks faster, feeling his eyes on her back.

She dives through the doors of her complex, practically singing with relief once she makes it to the elevator. She's pretty much home-free at this point.

Once she gets to her door, though, she freezes. She'd forgotten to grab her mail while she was downstairs. She's expecting a letter from Mama today, and she wants it as soon as possible.

She rests her head against her door, debating whether or not to just wait until tomorrow. She sighs after a minute or two, deciding to just suck it up and head back there now, before she forgot tomorrow after her classes.

So she heads back downstairs and into the lobby, near the front door where the mail boxes are located.

She's rifling through her mail on her way back to the elevator when she collides into someone's back, her mail falling every which-way. She takes a moment to recover herself, sighing and dropping to the floor, scooping up bills and letters and staring at the feet of the person she'd collided with. She hears a scoff from the guy standing over her.

"Watch where you're going, Tiny Tits."

Maka freezes, a postcard from Spain slipping from her fingers.

No way.

No way did she just hear that.

No way was this happening to her right now. She's unsure as to what she should do. Should she go with her earlier plan and ignore him? Or maybe she should see what he looks like first…?

The stranger speaks before she can decide.

"Hey, did you hear me? What's the matter with you? Do you not say sorry to people you run into on the street?" He continues, and suddenly she's angry.

He just called her Tiny Tits, and expects her to apologize?

She stands to face him, and holds her wrist to his face to show him her Sentence.

"You're fucking kidding me," she says, and she can't help the small bit of pride that swells in her chest as his eyes slightly widen. She rolls onto the balls of her feet, jabbing her finger into the guy's chest. "You expect me to apologize after you so blatantly insult me? Yeah, right."

As she takes a step back and finished collecting her mail, she can't help but take him in. For the guy she assumes is her soulmate (really, what are the odds that two people are supposed to insult her breast size on the same day?), he really isn't bad looking at all.

He stands taller than her, with white hair and skin only a shade or two darker. She thinks that maybe she should be put off by his shark-like teeth and incredibly red eyes, but honestly, they don't affect her all that much. She thinks them interesting more than anything else.

Her second sentence seems to snap him out of his thought process. He blinks a few times before he begins to smirk, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Well I guess my insult backfired anyway, because it looks like I'm stuck with 'em."

"Excuse me?!"

"I'm Soul." His smirk grows into a grin as he holds his right hand out in greeting. Maka debates whether to acknowledge it or just punch him directly in the face.

She decides on the former, because as much as she hates it, punching her soulmate in the face within 2 minutes of meeting is not an ideal situation. But that doesn't mean she has to play his game, either.

"I'm Maka," she ignores his hand, pushing past him toward the elevator, "and I refuse to let this be the first real conversation we have."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he calls out from behind her, slightly jogging to keep up with her strides. She may be shorter than him, but she can certainly walk faster. He pulls to a stop as she enters the elevator, pressing her floor number and waiting for the doors to close.

"You get one date," she says, holding her mail to her chest and refusing to let him see just how much her legs are shaking. "You get one date, tomorrow at 3 at the café down the street from here. And this time, try not to insult me as soon as you see me."

"No promises," he says. Maka opens her mouth to object, but is cut off by the doors closing. When she's finally alone, she lets herself collapse a bit, her legs lead.

This will be more interesting than she'd first thought.