Could This Be Fate?

I'd "kidnap" you for the day. You'd grin and come willingly; that defeats the purpose of "kidnapping", doesn't it?

The day would pass quickly, as we enjoyed conversation and one another's company. Our interests match, and you wile me with your gentle voice and amazing sense of humor. We discuss Shakespeare and poetry, long walks on the beaches of the East Coast, and our favorite movies. You're single, you emphasize, and I simply nod in agreement.

We find our way to a nice restaurant for dinner, some place near your hotel for tonight. You can't be gone for too, too long; the band members start to worry.

"They'll think I was kidnapped by some crazed groupie," you laugh.

You brown eyes are so dark, so enchanting. I lose myself in them every time you smile.

We eat and talk, talk and eat. I cannot believe I've just spent an entire day in your presence. Not because I feel you're some rockstar god that is infallibly, magically wonderful; but because you're a normal human being; a simple man; someone I feel I could call a friend.

"You want to come back and meet the guys?" you ask innocently. Some might have a secondary motives in asking such a question, you do not.

"Sure," I grin. "I'd love to."

We walk back to the hotel through the bustling city. Shops are still open, passersby everywhere. No teenagers, thank God, to swarm you and turn our evening into a spontaneous Meet & Greet.

Peaceful and intimate. We hold hands and smile into one another's eyes. I feel as though I've known you my entire life.

"Here we are," you beam and hold the door wide open for me.

Such a gentleman, I think to myself as I walk under the arch of your arm and into the Radisson.

We're standing outside your hotelroom door as the twins approach us, you laugh at their stupidity and make introductions. Whispering, "They're crazy" when they turn to leave.

Entering your room, we erupt into laughter.

You fall onto your bed and stare up at the ceiling, running a hand slowly through your unusual hair.

"I really like you, Jenna," you grin. "You're cool."

"Thank you," I smile appreciatively.

"I'd like you to stay tonight," you smile back. "No funny stuff, just, you know, you can have that bed and I'll be in mine."

I nod. "I'd like that, but what about your roommate?"

You bolt upright on the bed and glance around the room nervously. "Shit!"

I begin to giggle.

Another man walks out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, your roommate, Chris.

"Uh, hi," he stammers, confused.

I'm still laughing.

"Uh, Chris," your eyes are wide. "This is Jenna."

"Hi," I wave to the nearly naked male.

"Hi," he smiles back. He's young, like us.

He's familiar: I've met him before. At a festival show you played. He was wandering through the audience, and we bumped into one another. Literally.

"I'll just grab some things and go....to lil Billy's room," he shrugs.

"Sorry," you wince and pull him aside, whispering.

He leaves and you throw yourself back down onto the bed. "Wow, that was uncomfortable."

I shake my head and grin.

"Jenna?" you ask, still staring at the ceiling as though it holds special answers to questions we have yet to ask.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about fate?"

"Sure," I nod.

"And what do you think about fate?"

I pause to collect my thoughts, to register an intellectual response.

"I believe that things happen for a reason. I believe that everything in life is meant for some greater purpose. What that purpose is, I don't know," I sigh. "I believe that there's someone up there, a God, Gods, whoever. Someone watching over us."

You nod.

"We're not puppets, we have free-will. We make choices and they effect our outcomes. Nothing's written in stone."

You roll onto your stomach and face me. Those piercing eyes digging a hole in my soul.

"Do you believe it was fate that your friend made you come to our show yesterday?"

"Yes," I smile.

"So do I," you grin.

"Do you believe fate wants us to be here, right now, together?"

"I don't know, Paul," I frown. "I don't know what fate wants."

You gaze at me longingly.

"But I know what I want."

"And what's that?" you smile.

"You," I grin.

I climb on top of you and our lips meet. You taste like a thousand steamy nights, a rainy afternoon, warmth and safety, security. Passionately, you place your lips onto my neck, my collarbone, between my cleavage. I know we both want this, and I know why I'm here. Maybe it's just for a night, maybe something more. Either way, it's fate, right?

Fate.