"Do you believe in fate?"

Fiddling nervously with the bottom button on her favorite purple sweater, Christina waited.  What was she doing?  The anxiety she'd been battling all day threatened to overwhelm her and she put a hand against her stomach.  Closing her eyes, she fought to control her breathing.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd thrown up and she didn't want tonight to break that streak.  Especially not in such a public place.  She glanced around as she stood waiting outside the restaurant they had agreed to meet at tonight.  She hoped her nerves weren't as obvious as they felt, but knew--from the looks she was getting from other patrons--that she wasn't as good an actress as she hoped.  

She knew it was crazy.  How did you go from being complete strangers to sharing the ins and outs of your day with someone you'd never met face to face?  She knew it was dangerous.  The internet provided a sense of anonymity that was both a blessing and curse.  She felt free to be herself--to hold nothing back and be brutually honest with him.  She let her guard down when they were chatting in a way she never would in the real-world.  Yet she knew, even though she was being completely honest with him, she could never been one hundred percent certain that he was being honest with her.  He could be an eighty-year old pervert for all she knew!  Their relationship had never been about the physical appearance of the other.  They had never exchanged pictures.  She had made it clear to him that she wasn't looking for anything romantic--having just gotten out of a serious, long-term relationship--and he'd echoed her sentiments--stating his job didn't allow for a girlfriend at the moment.  It had been mutually agreed upon that if they continued communicating it would be purely platonic.  

But how did you keep a relationship platonic when the sharing of deep and personal secrets and feelings led to a strong sense of emotional intimacy?  The longer they talked, the closer she felt to him.  She found herself wanting to email him a hundred times a day to share a funny thought, or a joke, or to tell him whenever something good or bad happened at work.  She complained to him about her classes, and he was there to congratulate her when she passed her finals.  He was the last person she thought of when she went to bed at night, and the first one when she woke up, and she didn't even know what the looked like!  

All he'd told her was he had blue eyes and light brown hair.  She had assumed his name was Jay, from his username.  She addressed all her emails to him, and called him that whenever they chatted and he'd never corrected her.  Through their many conversations, she'd pieced together that he was in the music business and that he lived in Southern California like she did.  She knew working in "the music business" could mean a thousand different things.  He could be anyone from a singer, to a musician, to a producer, to a song-writer, or just some pimply-faced kid who worked in the electronic section at Target.  

She liked to imagine he was famous, hob-nobbing it up with all the big-time celebrities out in Hollywood but knew he was probably the guy working at Target instead. That was more her level.  She could dream about maybe one day meeting Jay, the red-shirt wearing Target employee.  Jay, the Hollywood hot-shot, was so far out of her league she couldn't even see him.  Besides, what famous Hollywood celebrity would want to have anything to do with boring old Christina Peterson, first year UCLA law student?  They wouldn't, which was why she insisted on picturing Jay as the small-town guy instead and since they were never going to meet, he could go on living in her imagination as such.  

Though she'd contemplated what it would mean to take their "relationship" to the next level, she'd never had the courage to bring it up. Part of her wanted a deeper--a real--relationship with him, but the other part of her was scared.  No, the other part of her was terrified.  It was the old dilemma: keep the friendship how it is, never realizing it's full potential, or risk losing the person you're closest too on the chance that what you have together will only get better?  How did you go from friends to more than friends?  She'd never made the transition before--especially not with someone she'd never actually met!  Her mind was screaming at her that this was a bad idea, but her heart whispered for her to take a chance.  

Jayman: Are you busy tomorrow night?

Those five words, and her answer to his question, were going to either make or break them.  

She had lowered her leg and reached out to the keyboard.  Her fingers had hovered over the keys as she swallowed and closed her eyes. Sending a quick prayer heavenward that she was making the right decision, she typed out her response and hit "enter" before she could erase it.  

Angeleyes81: No.

She had opened her eyes and waited, trying to keep her heart rate and breathing under control.  Just because he asked if she was busy didn't mean he wanted to meet.  That was just her assumption.  He could just want to make sure she was available to chat tomorrow.  Maybe he had to get offline and wanted to continue the conversation they were having--

Jayman: How would you feel about meeting?

Her heart rate had spiked and she had had to remind herself to breathe.

Jayman: I know this goes against what we agreed at the beginning, but...I want to meet you.  I promise I'm not a psychopath or a serial killer.

Jayman: But, that's probably what all the psychos and serial killers say...

Christina had let out a strangled sound that was supposed to be a laugh. One of the things she'd always liked about him was his sense of humor.  No matter what was going on, he always made her laugh with some quick remark, or his take on the situation.  Her fingers had tapped against her desk as she thought for a moment.  This was it.  She had had to make a decision.  Stay anonymous friends, or risk everything by meeting?  

Angeleyes81: Are you sure?

Jayman: Some of my friends might argue with me about the not being a psychopath, but I'm pretty sure I'm not a serial killer.

Angeleyes81: Lol...no.  Are you sure about meeting?  

Jayman: Yes

Angeleyes81: What if...what if you don't like me after you meet me?

Jayman: Why wouldn't I like you?  Are YOU a serial killer??  ;)

Angeleyes81: Ha. Ha. Ha.  No.  I'm not a serial killer.

Jayman: Then we won't have any problems.  I have no doubt I'll still like you after we meet.  

Angeleyes81: Ok.  

Jayman: Yeah??

Angeleyes81: Yeah.  Coffee?

Jayman: I was thinking dinner. Rosita's on 4th?  Do you like Mexican?

Angeleyes81: Who doesn't?

Jayman: Would 6 work?  

Ageleyes81: Yes, 6 works.

Jayman: How will I recognize you?

Angeleyes81: How will I recognize YOU?

Jayman: I'm the one with the blue eyes ;)

Angeleyes81: Lol...I'll be wearing a purple sweater.

Jayman: Green sweater.  Check!  I will see you tomorrow at 6!

A car horn honking brought Chrsitina out of her thoughts.  It was just dinner, she reminded herself.  She could do this.  She would deal with the reprecussions later.  She brought to mind her image of the khaki and red polo shirt wearing Target electronics salesman that Jay was in her head.  He was just a normal guy and nothing spectacular would even happen tongith.  

A shiver ran up her spine and she instinctively knew he was there.  Behind her.  

"Christina?"

His voice caused her stomach to flip and goosebumps to wash over her.  Doubts once again swarmed her.  What if he were super old?  His voice didn't make him sound like he was old, but she knew he still could be.  What if he really was a psycho serial killer?  There was only one way to find out.  Turn around.  She told herself.  Just turn around.  

Pulling her shoulders back, she took a deep breath and drew on every ounce of courage she possessed.  Before she could chicken out, she turned around--her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as her eyes finally met his.  He smiled at her tentatively and she felt the sudden need to sit down.  

Her preconcieved image of "Jay" vanished.  He wasn't super old, or still in high school, or a psychotic killer, but he was so far out of the realm of possibilities she felt sure someone was playing a joke on her.  She looked around to see where the hidden cameras were hiding.  There was no way this was real.  

"You're ‘jayman'?" She asked, needing to know for sure that she wasn't just jumping to conclusions.  He could just be here for dinner randomly and somehow knew her name...

"In the flesh." He smiled and she found it hard to breathe.  

"You've got to be kidding me." She exclaimed with a strangled laugh.  She lifted her hands, her fingers raking back her dark blond hair.  "All this time...it's been you?  All this time I've been chatting and emailing Justin Timberlake?!"

Justin watched Christina closely.  She looked suspiciously like she was on the verge of passing out.  He'd known revealing his identity would come as a shock to her--he was still waiting to see just how big of a shock it would be.  He couldn't explain it, but the connection he felt to this girl was undeniable.  The last six months had found him sharing things with her he'd never told anyone else.  She knew things about his mother and the four guys he'd spent the majority of his life living with 24/7 didn't even know.  He didn't know how she did it, but she had pulled secrets from him he'd thought he'd had an iron grip on.  

Through all the craziness surrounding the upcoming release of his second album he had found himself anxiously waiting for every email from her.  She helped him calm down when he was worked up over recording and stressed about all the publicity that went along with releasing a new album.  She didn't know the particulars of his job, but just knowing she was there--on the other side of the computer--helped him more than she knew.  

She'd only shared a basic description of herself with him, but he had gotten to know her heart and soul so intimately that the outside didn't matter.  Not to say she wasn't beautiful, becuase she was.  Her dark blond hair, grey-blue eyes, perfectly pink lips, and small curvy body was better than any fantasy he'd ever had of her.  She was gorgeous!  He hoped and prayed his true identity wouldn't make her run.  He needed her.  He needed her in his life, and he needed her to be more than just an electronic pen-pal.  Millions of people around the world thought they knew him, but all they knew was the image.  Christina knew the man.  She knew his hopes and dreams, his fears, his insecurities.  He knew meeting her face to face he was taking the chance that he was going to lose her but it was a chance he was willing to take because something told him she wasn't leaving.  

He hadn't expected their relationship to progress as far as it had from that first mistakenly sent email.  Something about her though, drew him like a moth to a flame.  He couldn't stay away and pretty soon, he hadn't wanted to.  Assuming she'd been as honest with him as he'd been with her (and he realized that was probably a naive assumption) he knew her as well as she knew him.  He knew how to make her laugh.  He knew her likes and dislikes.  He knew she was intelligent and witty.  He knew all about how she'd been hurt in the past and how she struggled with opening up to people.  That last one had surprised him when she'd admitted to keeping a wall up around herself.  She hadn't seemed to have any trouble lettting him in.  The anonymity of the internet had allowed him to get closer to her than he knew he would have been able to had they originally met in person.  Though he never would have thought he'd ever be involved in an online relationship, he was thankful fate had intervened.  If not for that small change in email addresses, he'd never have been given the chance to meet Christina.   

"Are you mad?" He asked, still waiting for her full reaction.

"Yeah." She nodded.  "Kind of." He dropped his hand from her.  "Why didn't you tell me who you were--who you are?"

"You never asked and we agreed to not get too personal." He reminded her.

"You should have told me." She shook her head and turned from him.

"Christina." He reached out, placing his hand on her arm.  

She turned back to him.  "Was this all just a joke to you?" She asked.  "Who put you up to this?" She demanded--her eyes blazing.

"No." He shook his head.  "No, it wasn't a joke.  I...I never lied to you and nobody put me up to anything.  You sent me an email by mistake six months ago, I replied to it, and we've been emailing and chatting ever since."

"I can't believe this." She muttered again as she turned away from him again.  "I'm not sure this is going to work.  I..."

"Christina," he reached out to her again.  Her eyes met his once more.  "Do you believe in fate?"

She remained quiet as she looked up at him.  

"Do you believe in fate?" He asked again.  He said as he stepped closer to her.  "Fate intervened that day you sent the email and I have been thankful everyday since.  I know it looks and sounds crazy, but I want you in my life.  I..." he hung his head and swallowed.  "I need you in my life."

"You need me?" She questioned.  "You...need me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one who knows me."

Christina was silent--her eyes regarding him intently.  He met her gaze, allowing her to look into his soul--hoping she could see the honesty of his words and intent.  She took a small step toward him and his heart skipped a beat.  Hope flared in his chest and he prayed her small move meant what he thought it did.  

"Are you hungry?" She asked and he felt his lips lift in a smile.  

"Starving."

She slipped her hand into his and his heart picked up speed.  "Then let's go eat."