"There are no accidental meetings between souls."

—Sheila Burke

Julian welcomed me with a small, warm smile that, somehow, both quickened and slowed my breath. We were definitely in a suite, and it was very modern, in shades of dark blue, gray, and purple—a stark contrast to the old-time, swoony voice of Bublé emanating from a docking station by the bed.

The living area had a giant, round, wooden kitchen table, with two blue chairs at either side. To its left was a lounger sofa, facing a giant flat screen TV and coffee table. The local news station was on, but the volume was too low to hear what the anchors were saying.

The window shades were drawn behind a bright lamp that lit the entire room. I was sure the skyline would have been beautiful to see through the window at that time of night. I knew without asking why he had them closed, and it saddened me to think that he could not enjoy such a simple thing.

"Are you hungry? I've got lots of snacks here," Julian said, pointing to party-size trays. "They always give me way too much. Totally not complaining, though."

"No, thanks." I shook my head and smiled. As if my stomach could have handled anything at that moment.

"Some water then?" he generously offered. "Juice? I've just had a tea but I wouldn't mind having another. I could put some on, if you'd like. I don't drink... kidney problem... but you could help yourself to the mini bar."

"I don't drink either," I said. "Some water would be great though, thank you."

Julian stared at me and I could not figure out the feeling behind the look. He bent down into a mini fridge and pulled up a big bottle of water, covered in cool condensation.

"Come and sit with me," Julian said, while situating himself on the couch and patting the empty space next to him.

As soon as I sat by him, he handed me the water bottle and asked, "So, Brooke... where were we?"

"I think you were interrogating me," I quipped with a smile, and twisted off the cap, taking slow sips. It seemed I had a talent of pretending to not be fazed by him. In reality, I was ready to implode.

"Right," Julian said, looking down at the small space between us on the couch. He was pensive. Smiling. "Well, let's make this a proper interrogation then, and start at the beginning. What's your surname?"

His wavy, light brown hair swept across his forehead as Julian shook his head a bit.

"Fray," I answered, looking down at the table in front of us. Had I really forgotten to type my last name into his phone contact?

"And your middle name?" he asked.

"Hayley." I nearly whispered it.

"Brooke Hayley Fray," Julian murmured quietly to himself.

The peace in his voice effectively eased the shakiness of my own.

"Why do you ask?" I coerced my timid lips to form a small smile in his direction.

"I'm only curious." He grinned back at me. "Besides, I'd be a terrible interrogator if I didn't ask. I must be very thorough."

"I can understand being curious about someone's surname... but a middle name? That just seems like an inconsequential detail," I muttered in amusement.

"I've always found middle names to be misrepresented in that way," Julian confided. "I believe them to be rather significant, at times."

"They can be," I agreed, faltering under the intensity of his sweltering stare. I glanced away from his face, toward the flashing screen before us.

The near-silent television was showing images from a local college. From this, the boy beside me drew inspiration for his next utterance.

"You said earlier that you've got your journalism degree..." he began.

"Yes." I nodded.

"Tell me, what's university like?" Julian asked.

"Well, the one I went to was probably a bit different than most," I started.

His eyes lit up, encouraging me to go on.

"It was a private school," I continued. "Very prestigious and demanding. I was lucky to attend."

"No, they were lucky to have you," he imparted.

I couldn't help the small smile from growing upon my lips, as my gaze fell to my own lap.

"Bet you met lots of people there," Julian said, drawing my attention upwards again. His eyes were locked powerfully on mine.

"Just a few," I said, looking down again. "I mostly kept to myself, actually."

Not everyone was like Julian. Not everyone was worth meeting. I'd learned this the hard way.

"I tend to do the same," Julian said quietly. He cleared his voice gently, breaking through the fading murmur, before continuing. "Please, go on. Tell me more."

I didn't particularly enjoy thinking about those years. It was an accomplishment tarnished by outside factors. And Julian couldn't have possibly been so interested in what my schooling experience had been like—surely, he had his own, and could remember it for comparison purposes—so I tried to keep my reply as concise as possible.

"With my major, it was very reading-and-writing intensive," I explained. "Just getting through it is definitely one of the most challenging experiences, but you feel so proud when you finish."

Julian looked me dead in the eyes, excitedly. "I would love to go someday. Know what I wanted to be growing up?"

"What?" I asked. "Please don't say Batman."

"Close," Julian said, grinning. "I wanted to join the fire brigade. Right, I know that's every kid's dream, but it always fascinated me that they have the power to literally save lives every day. I love that."

Julian's gaze traveled around the room—lingering along the closest corners of the ceiling—while a wistful smile grew upon his lips.

"Yes. I think, if I had to choose another path, it would be that. A real life superhero," he explained. "Either that, or a pirate. Sail the world by myself, with nothing but black water for all that the eye can see. True tranquility."

I laughed, and was about to comment on the pros and cons of being a pirate and a firefighter, just as the song shifted and caught my attention.

Although Bublé had been quietly playing in the background the entire time, and I recognized his voice, I did not really know the songs that were playing, until just then. Familiar chords were filling the room, and almost perfectly in tune with our reminiscent conversation, "Home" began to play softly.

"I'm sorry," Julian said, while starting to get to his feet. "I should turn this off, so we can listen to something a bit more upbeat. Sorry—"

Gently, I grabbed his forearm, to keep him from leaving.

"No," I said, with my voice softening on its own. "I love this song."

"I do as well," Julian agreed, as he sat back down, closer to me now than he was just before. "We've almost reached the end of this playlist, anyway."

Within moments, he was humming tenderly along to the melody. The peaceful vibrations from his chest seemed to move through the air, directly to the skin of my own chest.

My poor, poor heart... working overtime, and beating out of rhythm. Considering the style of music that Julian played with Ascend the Stars, I would have never taken him to be a fan of any type of softer, pop music. Nor would I have expected his aspirations to include firefighting, or his interests to remain so youthful in nature.

Everything about him was unexpected. These small, endearing surprises were tiny glimpses into his mind, and although I was only just beginning to become acquainted with its beauty, I was sure that I could have spent all of my time there, exploring it. Exploring him. That was all I wanted to do.

Instead, we continued chatting, with Julian smoothly prompting me to fill in the silence. He asked question after question, about the most mundane aspects of my life.

He wanted to know everything. My birthday. My favorite shows. Whether I had any siblings.

Julian never seemed to run out of questions for me. And no matter how unremarkable my answer, he took an unbelievable amount of interest in my words. Every so often, it seemed that my response would surprise him in some way. There was a gorgeous authenticity in his laughter. There was a candid glow to his lifted cheeks, when he smirked. And there was a veritable comfort in his body, as the muscles of his shoulders loosened beside me.

Relaxed. He was so relaxed with me. In turn, I felt myself thoroughly melting into the comfort of his presence.

In here, Julian almost seemed... normal. Just like a regular guy, who was thrown to the wind so quickly, and at such a young age, that he was still struggling to catch up to the mentality of fame. It appeared as though he had no idea how very special he was, and therefore could not have possibly foreseen the peculiar beatings of my heart.

And every aspect of his welcomed interrogation made it beat in odd time.

"Don't I get to ask you loads of questions?" I wondered, grinning, after his fourth bout of queries. "Nothing too invasive."

"You can ask me anything you'd like." Julian chuckled. "I could carry on talking to you forever. I just don't think I'm all too interesting. So, I can't be wittering on; if you find out how boring I am, it will blow my cover."

Just as I was about to argue against it, Julian put his right arm around me, exactly as he did in the parking lot of the venue. But now, it was just him and me. This was not just a pose for a photograph; he wanted to be touching me.

Julian could have had his pick between females. Despite this, his arm was around my shoulder. This made me feel equal parts confused, enlivened, and weak.

Julian's thigh rested softly against mine—a sign of his serenity. A rush flooded my brain, and I felt lightheaded. I had to plead with my body to calm itself, despite the echoing heartbeats in my ears.

I was afraid to look at him, for fear that all of this might have disappeared. I was afraid that he would have seen me for just how insignificant I really was. I was afraid that our time together was quickly running out. Despite my best efforts to ignore the pressure of it, the sensation of intense worry had begun to stir in me. Before it could take over completely, Julian cut through the darkening thoughts with just a touch.

He lifted his left hand to brush the bangs out of my eyes. When I still wouldn't look up, he trailed his fingers so softly, and with undeserved reverence, down my face. He touched my chin—lifting it—to make me face him again.

"Do you have any idea how absolutely beautiful you are?" he asked softly. Just as he did, another song ended, and the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of our breathing—mine slightly more rapid than his.

"I'm really not," I contended, shaking the thought from my head before it could enter.

"You are," he murmured, slowly measuring every syllable. "You're breathtaking."

I caught the glint in his eyes.

"Better than any dream," he whispered.

I didn't intend to inhale as audibly as I did.

"Are you comfortable here, with me?" There was a nervousness to his voice that hadn't been there before.

It felt like my voice had been temporarily stolen from me, so I only nodded.

"You're safe here," he promised, and proceeded to study my face for a reaction. "You know that... don't you?"

Words failed me, in that moment. I stared, wondering why this kind, beautiful, strange boy cared so much about my feeling of safety. Julian's lips were partially parted, even once he finished asking. After a moment, however, he shut them tightly, in order to swallow hard. I watched the shift in the center of his throat.

"Please tell me that you don't regret coming to see me," he whispered.

There was a slight crease of confusion between my brows, at his words.

"I feel safe with you," I finally admitted. "And of course, I don't regret coming. It's just that..."

"What is it?" he asked.

"To be honest, Julian," I focused my sight on a specific patch of carpet fibers as I spoke, "I still don't really know why you invited me here."

When several seconds elapsed, and Julian still hadn't said anything, I found the courage to face him again. He was already burning into me.

"I mean, why me?" I whispered.

Julian stared at my lips, as the words left them. I could almost taste the trepidation on my own tongue for even having asked. We paused—a break in meter. Everything around me felt amplified. His lips closed again, as a couplet—two lines, joined together, holding meaning between them.

I wanted to part them, and find my way inside.

"I don't know," he said, temporarily calming the fever.

He spoke quietly, and yet, my body seemed to absorb every nuance and vibration of it. The timidness in Julian's voice did not match the burning in his eyes. We both breathed—he inhaled, while I exhaled.

"Well, that's not exactly true," he said, shaking his head a bit, in absolution. "I do know why. It just doesn't make any sense to say aloud."

It appeared as though Julian had more to say, so I patiently awaited more of his words.

"I just trust you," he said.

A small smile crept upon my face.

"Do you normally trust people that you've just met?" I asked.

"No," he said.

Julian spoke resolutely, whereas I struggled to speak at all. I felt the surging current—in pumping jolts of blood and electricity—as his free hand found mine. At his touch, I felt my mind spinning. He cleared it, of everything bad. I allowed myself a shallow breath before beginning to speak.

"Aren't you worried that I might do something to expose you?" My voice came pitifully soft, from my trembling lips. "I could be malicious."

"You couldn't be," Julian said.

"I could—" I started to say, before Julian moved even closer toward me.

"I'll take the risk, Brooke," he whispered.

"Why?" As I asked, my volume matched his.

"You make me feel... less alone," he admitted, with a solemn pause between his words.

"Julian," I exhaled his name. He put a finger to my lips.

Julian moved in further, toward my ear, speaking softly into it.

"I wanted you from the moment I saw you in the car park, Brooke. I had to know you."

I felt his spearmint breath on my skin and tried not to shudder.

"It was only you in the crowd," Julian said. "I can only see you."

My lips parted to speak, but I could say nothing. This had to have been a dream.

"I can't tell you how glad I am, that you came tonight." Julian looked at me as if he could see my soul through the skin that sheltered it.

"I'm glad, too," I breathed the words. More than you know, I thought.

"Brooke," Julian sighed. "May I kiss you?"

I knew I had to be dreaming then, so I decided to go all out.

I grabbed Julian's face in my hands, pulling him closer to me, and pressed my lips to his. My fingers found their way through his half-damp hair, as our mouths moved together—gently at first, then with more power, more desire. With my eyes closed, I was better able to tame the nerves that might have otherwise controlled me.

I gave in. To everything.

My entire body was on fire, as I gently parted his soft, full lips, to massage his tongue with my own. Julian's quiet, muffled moans escaped his mouth and echoed into mine, as I tasted him.

While still kissing me, Julian slowly removed my light jacket—one sleeve at a time—before tossing it across the room, without a care for where it fell. He caressed my bare shoulders, then wrapped his arms around me completely. I felt the meandering curves of his bare arms, as he surrounded me with them. Tendons, natural muscle, and fire. Julian pulled me into his lap, as if I had always belonged there.

He broke the kiss for a moment, to inhale deeply, and touch my arms again. Gently, I pressed my forehead against his, and only then did Julian open his eyes.

His heavy breaths seemed to reverberate, which only aided in the acceleration of my own breathing. My body was pressed tightly to his—tightly enough that I felt the waves of movement through his stomach.

The hem of my dress had crept up my thighs some—scrunching into a messy, black bundle below. I kept my bare arms wrapped around the back of his neck... out of his direct vision. Julian's hands were at my back, holding me in place. He held me as if I might have vanished if he let go. He held me as if I had any intention of receding.

Through the light fabric of his gray sweats, I could feel his body responding to me. Julian almost looked embarrassed, until I leaned down to kiss his neck, with my hands lying flat on his fluttering chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, next to my ear.

His potent irises. His flushed face and neck. My wildly pumping heart. All scarlet.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry for?" I stared into his strange, beautiful, glistening eyes.

When he did not answer, I went back to kissing his neck. There was an exchange of heat between his skin and mine. There, also, was an exchange of the past, for the here and now. More seconds soothed him, as Julian relaxed with a deep sigh. I savored the stubble of him, as tiny bolts of lightning. They left light, heated scrapes upon me—painless, invisible indentations—where I wanted him to always reside.

Incoherent murmurings passed between us. There was a buzz against my lips, as his throat hummed with quiet, grateful noises.

"Brooke," he breathed.

Like so many other times in the past, I began to feel out of control of myself. Rather than growing fearful or apprehensive about this, however, a sense of exhilaration saturated the blood within me. If this were a mistake—and maybe it was—it was one I felt willing enough to make, despite any future consequences.

I had no time or desire to contemplate the future, anyway. The future was never promised to any of us. All I had was this moment. This night. This brand new beating in my chest. The way my name fell from his lips, left me fanatical. My fingers eagerly brushed along his chest, desperate to emit that sound from him again. And again. And again.

He silenced my thoughts, and I was desperate for the wonderful static with which he filled my mind.

In my haste, Julian stopped me by pulling me back, for a long moment, to get a good look at my face.

"Brooke, are you sure you're okay with this? We don't have to, you know. This isn't why I asked you to come here. I promise you that. We could just talk or watch—"

"Way more than okay, Julian," I said, cutting him off. "Please."

Too fast. This was moving way too fast. He was the blaring train and I vulnerably submitted my body to the tracks.

I didn't mind if he ruined me. Besides, what was left of me to ruin?

"Say you trust me." Julian's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Does it matter if I do?" I asked, a playful smirk across my lips.

Julian gazed into my eyes, red-faced, with his full lips slightly parted. He waited for the words.

The fact that he cared at all about my trust in him... thawed me. Surely, there were countless reasons to not do this, but, in that moment, I couldn't conjure up a single one. I felt my sense and impartial judgment disintegrating into ashes before us both. It felt foreign to have my wants prioritized in this way, in any way. He wanted to know where my faith lay.

And, strangely, it was in him.