Disclaimer: The story’s mine. No one else’s. So don’t steal it. Well, except for the Washington Post. That definitely isn’t mine.

Author’s Note: To those of you who have read Lejos de Romántico (my novel length interracial romance), this is a stand alone. This fic contains some parts of LDR, but all in all, it is a one shot stand alone. There’s nothing in here that gives away the plot. Just so you’d know. And for the rest of you, enjoy!

And thanks to Sandra – for everything. That and giving me the plot bunny for this!

The Main Characters of Meeting (and Lejos de Romántico):

Nirupa Vasireddy – 22-years-old

Adam Etedel – 22-years-old

- start flashback -

Adam looked at me incredulously.“What are you talking about, Nirupa? Just because we costarred together in the same movie does not mean that we’re automatically friends! As if you would be my friend, anyway!”

“Why is that, Adam?” I asked quietly. “Is it because I’m a geek? A social outcast? Your worst enemy? Or is it because you’re afraid to be in a relationship with me, simply because of how your reputation would be trashed and tarnished? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Nirupa, I . . .” he trailed off, speechless.

“Save it, Adam. Besides, what does us costarring together in the same movie have to do with anything? I only asked you a simple question, and you bit my head off. I know you’re afraid that the press will find out that we’re together sooner or later, not to mention the whole entire school back home, but that doesn’t mean that you have to keep on dredging up the past which is already gone.”

“Nirupa . . .” he faltered.

I left.

And I never saw him again.

- end flashback -

Or so I thought.

Walking alongside the busy, bustling streets of New York City, I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets just for the heck of it. And to keep my hands warm. I wasn’t really feeling the cold, though. I only felt this frozen numbness in my body and my heart. My mind was a total and utter blank. And my face was set in a blank mask. My mask covering me from the world. Shielding me from everything and everyone. From the curious eyes peering at me, from the pain of everything around me. From everything.

Even though it had been only four years since I had last seen Adam (I’m twenty-two now), the pain would never lessen, let alone go away, I knew. It would always be there, tormenting me inside to no end, never ending. Always there. Always there with me. Never going away. No matter how much I wished for it to, it would never go away. Wishes were only blind excuses for pain, anyway. Blind hopes and dreams for the bleak future of the world. That’s all they were. Just blind excuses.

Only four years ago I would’ve thought different. I would have been the complete opposite of who – or what – I am now.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. For I am no longer the same person anymore. Am I still Nirupa? You ask. My name remains the same – the inside is not. I’m only pain on the inside. Nothing more, nothing less. Just that. Just pain. Nothing else.

I turn a corner and find myself near the entrance of Central Park. Already I can see splashes of color here and there, dotting the trees and the dull dreary atmosphere with some vibrance. There’s nothing like fall to brighten up your world.

I enter the park with some reluctance; I’ve rarely been out because of my job as a busy journalist for the Atlanta International (a small magazine dedicated to New York’s culinary arts, tourism and the history of the city). It’s a tiresome job, but it pays off in so many ways. I’m happy being a journalist, anyhow, either way – even if it’s for an up and coming magazine that’s barely known to New York’s own citizens. Surprising, really, considering that the magazine’s based in New York City and all of its articles and features are about New York in some way.

As I walk down the worn down stone path, I somehow manage to lead myself to a dark alcove near a fountain that’s merrily gushing out water as if there were no tomorrow. Dark, secluded. Away from people.

Well, I think, as I survey the place, Might as well take a look. Wouldn’t hurt.

I’m just done encircling the fountain for the fifth time when I suddenly hear the crunch of boots upon leaves.

My heart froze then. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything to save my life, for that matter. (In a city like New York you learn to be on your toes all the time, even when you don’t notice that you’re doing it.) I just kept still and tried not to move. Nor breathe.

The crunching stopped. Then a sharp intake of breath.

“Nirupa?”

I look up.

And can’t believe who’s standing there, right in front of me.

“A-Adam?” I say dumbly, my eyes locked with his. “W-what are you doing here?” I’m not stuttering just because of the cold, mind you.

“Nirupa.” He has a look of disbelief on his face. And somehow I can’t help but shiver when he said my name in a breathless tone of voice. Then his eyes flicker and become closed off. “I think the more appropriate question here is what are you doing here?”

It’s all I can do is to not wince. I’m still a delicate shell; no matter how strong I may seem to you. “I live here.” I manage to reply civilly. “You? It’s been four years since we’ve seen each other, and you haven’t even answered my question yet.”

He’s surprised now, I can tell. Good, I think silently. “I’ve been here and there,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’ve been traveling for a bit – it did me good.”

“Took some of the stress off of you, huh?” I asked.

He shot me an unreadable look. Then he slowly nodded.  Then we looked the other way.

After a few seconds of the distantly heard sounds of crickets chirping and kids shouting in glee and playing, he turned to me. “So how have you been?” his voice was soft, quiet. It could barely even be heard, let alone to someone who had a hearing aid. But I could hear it; loud and clear as a bell. Not a soft tone, obviously.

“Fine. Been here and there.” I replied curtly. Desperately I thought What ever happened to us, Adam? To you and I? I didn’t realize that I had said it aloud until I heard a soft gasp from him.

Oh shit. Me and my big mouth. I only looked at him wide-eyed.

“Adam, I . . .”

He held up a hand. “Stop. Just stop.” His voice was shaky. “Don’t go any further, Nirupa. Please.”

I fell silent.

He swallowed. “Do you care for a picnic.” It wasn’t a question.

I knew that I had only one answer to give him.

“Sure.”

He led me to a wide clearing that was quite close to the alcove and the fountain. Spread out on the ground was a plain checkered tablecloth and a picnic basket. Not very elaborate or elegant – rather simple, really. I didn’t mind it, though. I don’t like elaborateness. I’m just a simple girl.

“Bit too late for a summer picnic isn’t it, Adam?” I looked at him.

He smiled at me briefly and signaled for me to sit down next to him. I was a bit reluctant at first, but finally I just decided the hell with it and sat down right next to him. “What did you bring?” I asked, looking at the basket curiously.

He couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Food, Nirupa. Food.”

“You know what I mean,” I said, grinning. For a moment it seemed almost like old times. Almost. We were only kidding ourselves, though. “Really, what did you bring?” I reached over, picked up the basket and set it in my lap.

Adam laughed hard this time. “Nirupa . . .” he gasped out. “You’re killing me, I swear.”

“That’s my job.” I smiled slightly. My eyes widened upon seeing the basket’s contents. “BLT sandwiches, apples, grapes, Pepsi . . pumpkin pie?” I glanced at him.

He laughed slightly. “Something extra Jess must’ve packed for me.” He shook his head. “She’s something, I swear.” Jessica, or Jess, was Adam’s little sister.

Jess. I thought with a pang. Then I quickly closed off the memories. No, mustn’t remember. No.

I only smiled at him, and began eating.

Needless to say, the pumpkin pie was the best of them all.

Later, after we had made our stomachs hurt a lot from being full (and from eating so much), Adam and I sat back and talked. For the first time in a long time, I felt relaxed. Although the sun wasn’t shining (it was cloudy and looked about ready to rain any minute), I felt as if no day could ever match this one. This one was perfect all on its own. No, not perfect. That was the wrong word. Rather, it was the best day I had ever had. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could match up to this one.

And I was right. None did.

We talked about anything under the sun – or rather, clouds. Music, sports, our jobs (he was a freelance sportswriter for the Washington Post). We avoided anything about our relationship, the past, and anything about home or back home itself, however. Too painful for the both of us. Too painful to bear, let alone think about, even now.

Finally, after we’d exhausted our voices talking, we laid down on our backs on the grass and counted the stars that had started to appear. They were faint, but they shined brightly like no other all the same. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes as we counted silently the constellations and the numerous stars above that had no name, no identity of their own, but were roaming around the sky, searching for it.

Like me, I thought.

“Nirupa?”

“Hmm?”

“Your question earlier, at the fountain –”

My heart was in the pit of my stomach. I was hoping that he had forgotten about that. Guess not.

“Yes?” I forced myself to keep my voice even and from trembling. No matter how hard it was, I wasn’t going to let him know how I felt at that moment.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”

I understood. I don’t know how, he was telling me.

Somehow, the pain in me lessened a bit at that. My identity was slowly starting to slip out from underneath its shell. The delicate protective shell that I had built around myself.

So much for never breaking.

Yet, it felt soothing. To not have a shell around me, to keep it from slipping, to feign an unknowing innocence. My mask was starting to break slowly. Little by little, piece by piece.

I was starting to become Nirupa again.

“Adam,” I gulped and sat up, my hands on my knees. “Do you still –” I took a deep breath and looked at the ground. Looking at him would only make things worse. “Do you still regret us not being together?”

There. I had finally said. Now to wait for his answer.

“Nirri –” he stopped and cleared his throat.

I knew what he was about to say. Nirri. His nickname for me. The only endearing nickname that I had ever gotten from anyone besides my own parents. Adam knew better to push the limits even further than I already had by calling me by Nirri. He didn’t want to hurt me – us – that he had already had.

Somehow, I loved him even more for that.

“I do.” He said quietly.

I looked up then. The only thing I saw in the dim darkness (it was nearing evening now) was his eyes – brown and shining in the light that a nearby nightlight gave us.

“I regret it all, Nirupa.”

Somehow, I knew he meant it. All of it.

But the question was – was I ready to forgive him?

Would I ever be?

And my silent answer to all this was yes.

My shell broke then.

And I was Nirupa.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “Yes.” His answer came out strangled.

We both knew it was the inevitable. It was now or never.

I took a deep breath.

Then I kissed him.