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The band was the most important thing in my life. And, here I sat, one
week before one of our biggest gigs, watching it disintegrating. And, it
was all my fault.

My name is Sara. Sara Keeling. I'm the keyboard player, and the
lyricist. We call ourselves One Night Stand, a fitting name for a band,
especially one that has three guys and three girls in it. We're all
sophomores here at the University of Massachusetts, and the band got
together right at the beginning of freshman year.

We started with five people. My best friend Amanda Wilson, she's the
bass player. We had played in bands all through high school. There was
another set of best friends who had played in bands in high school--Patrick
Bowen, our lead guitarist, and Dave Schmidt, the drummer. And last, but
certainly not least, there was Greg.

Greg Zelinsky. He played second guitar, and occasionally second
keyboards. He also became one of our lead singers, along with Amanda.
And, he's our chief composer. I had always written songs, but knew that my
lyrics were better than my music. When I met Greg, he started putting my
words to his own music. It wasn't until then that my lyrics started to
truly sing. He's one of the most staggeringly gifted composers you'll ever
meet. I know my words are good--I know that a lot of people identify with
and can relate to what I'm trying to say--but they wouldn't be half as good
without his music. Plus, he's a terrific singer.

We started rolling, back there a year and a half ago, and started
getting good, and started getting gigs. We'd play whatever we felt
like--our own stuff, old Beatles tunes, modern rock, whatever. It was an
eclectic mix, and it was a lot of fun to do.

However, when we came back from Christmas break, Amanda let us all know
that she wasn't happy with the situation. Specifically, she wasn't happy
with doing so much of the singing. It was too much of a strain. We
thought about carrying on with just Greg as the singer, but there really
were a lot of songs in our repertoire that needed a female voice. Greg
approached me--I can sing--but that would have put a lot of strain on me,
too. Singing with some of the keyboard parts I had to play is hard.

So, this series of events is how Donna came to join us.

Donna Bellini. Blond, blue-eyed, big tits, a Barbie doll come to life,
and she knew it. You know the type. The teasing blonde bombshell--that
was Donna, to a T. And she could sing. I was wary about bringing her in,
but I was outvoted.

If I had known then what I know now, I probably would have threatened to
leave. At that point, it might have made a difference.


Sound-wise, it tightened us up in some ways. Freed from the demand of
singing, Amanda proved what I had always known--that she was a genius with
the bass guitar. Donna's bold, brassy voice got us some attention.
Sometimes, it conflicted with the song--especially our own, as both Greg
and I can get very subtle in our writing--but it was OK. Until I wrote
"Destiny Delayed."

Greg came up with a wonderful, light, airy piece of music for it, and it
seemed, instantly, to be the best song we ever wrote together. But it was
light, subtle. I wanted Amanda to sing it. I approached her, and she
agreed--one song would be fine. Greg thought it was a great idea.

Until Donna protested. Who was the female singer around here, anyway,
she asked? Patrick backed her up. Then, to my utter shock, Greg backed
her up, too.

That's when I saw it. Greg had the hots for Donna.

Patrick had from the start, I knew that. Dave didn't, because he had
the hots for Amanda, who had the hots for Patrick. Yeah, it was tangled.
Greg, before Donna joined and he became enmeshed in the whole thing
himself, used to joke that we should call ourselves Fleetwood Mac Two.
Now, he was involved himself.

Of course, he had been involved all along, he just didn't know
it--because I think I fell in love with him almost right away. He never
saw it. Of course, now he never was going to see it, because he was
Blinded by Donna. And, since I'm shy when it comes to guys, I never could
tell him. I'm not generally shy, it's the whole fear of rejection
thing--in fact, Greg would not call me shy at all, we've had enough give
and take over writing that he knows I can hold my own. However, when it
comes to those little phrases: "I like you, Greg" or "Greg, will you go out
with me?" then I suddenly become a shrinking violet. I've had one
boyfriend in my life, who I gave my virginity to, but that was it. I never
learned to talk to guys I liked-my Senior-year boyfriend took all the

Like I said, my songwriting can be subtle. Too subtle. "Destiny
Delayed" was about Greg, and nobody but me knew it. The lyrics I wrote
talk about waiting, and trying, and the frustration you feel knowing that
all the waiting and trying might not ever be enough. It's a song about
delayed gratification, and wishes that never come true, and fear. Everyone
who heard it thought it was a wonderful song about the trials and
tribulations of playing in an up-and-coming rock and roll band. Which, I
suppose, is one way you could take it--but that's not what I meant when I
wrote it. It was all about Greg.

Greg never knew it. Actually, I hope he never knew it. I'd hate to
think he intentionally farmed out my most personal, heartfelt song to a
singer who regarded subtlety and poignancy as foreign languages. If it was
just about a rock band, who cared, right? I couldn't speak up, so I lost
the argument. Donna sang the song. I just put my heart and soul into my
piano part and tried to ignore what Donna was doing to my lyrics. It
instantly became our most loved song. We closed every show with it. I
suppose I should have felt gratified.


I don't know if my problem with Donna's singing was exacerbated by my
problem with her personality. I really don't. However, as we came back
from summer break and started our sophomore years in college, I realized I
really had a problem with her voice.

Not all the time. If we were doing something brassy and bold, she was
fine. Anything that required a lighter touch, she was brutal. And the
percentage of songs she was singing got higher and higher, even at the
expense of Greg. It was ridiculous. Greg was the best singer in this
band. Somehow, she had convinced him that she should sing more, because
that's what she did, since she didn't play an instrument. And, if the song
required any kind of anything other than balls-to-the-wall, the music
suffered. I really did try to be objective about it.

It's true, her repulsive personality didn't help; neither did the strain
she was putting the band through. I still don't know what got into Greg.
Greg was smart, sensitive, witty, sweet--this is why I had been carrying a
torch for him for a year. When Donna was around, he acted like a horny
14-year-old. When we were together, writing, he was the Greg I fell for. I
didn't get it. Amanda didn't get it either, because Patrick was the same
way. And Patrick and Greg had gone from the best of friends to eyeing each
other warily as each tried to get the attention of this overboobed little

Oh YEAH I was jealous. My plain face, plain brown hair, average
body--that couldn't compete with the blonde Bombshell, and I knew it. What
was worse, she knew it. It became increasingly grating to hear that little
bitch singing my words, while making goo-goo eyes at the love of my life
that she had absolutely no intention of following up on.

Anyhow, the band kept getting more and more attention. This was good,
and bad. Bad, because Donna was under the impression that the reason for
the increased attention was....Donna. I never thought it was. I finally
got some ammunition in early November.

We had a gig at a frat house for a party. Donna was unavailable. She
was incensed that we had even taken a gig when she wasn't going to be
around but, for once, Greg held his ground. The guy that had hired him was
a good friend. We played the gig without Donna.

And we were great,and went over really well. A couple weeks before, we
had kind of stumbled upon Shawn Colvin's "Get Out Of This House" at a
rehearsal, and Amanda and I sang it because Donna didn't know the words.
When Donna insisted on singing it if we ever did it--which would have
ruined the song--we shelved it. At this gig, without Donna, we opened with
it. It was great.

Greg sang more than he had in a long while. Amanda sang. I sang
"Destiny Delayed" for the first time, and loved it. The gang at the party
did, too. Maybe Greg and Patrick would figure out that we didn't *need*

Of course, for that to happen, they had to stop being in lust with
her--and I didn't know if that was ever going to happen.


It all came to a head, a few weeks later. We had been hired to play at
the school's Christmas formal--a huge, prestigious, and well-paying gig.
About a week and a half before it, Greg and I were having a writing

We had polished up a couple of half-finished pieces, and he had brought
the music for one of my lyrics, and we finished that. Then, he said, "I've
got another one. You have to move over, though, because I wrote it on

He sat down at my piano and started playing a riff. It was soft, and
gentle, and quite beautiful. We ran through it a couple of times. On
about the fourth run-through, the words poured out of me, all at once. Not
my usual style of writing. We were very glad we had a tape recorder

Catch my fall, if I should trip Mend my heart, if it should rip Tell me
that you love me when there's no one else around And if I should run, hold
me down

Hold my hands, if they should shake Stitch my wounds, if I should break
Take and keep my feet on solid ground And if I should run, hold me down

I don't wanna know, what your life was like before me And I don't want
to tell you about mine All I want to do, is lean back in your shadow And
capture this moment in time

Point the way, if I go blind Soothe my nerves, if I lose my mind Show me
all the treasures that you have found And if I should run, hold me down

I don't wanna know, what your life was like before me And I don't want
to tell you about mine All I want to do, is lean back in your shadow And
capture this moment in time

Watch over me, while I sleep Wipe my tears, if I should weep Hold me in
your arms and don't make a sound And if I should run, hold me down

I got done, amazed at what had poured out of me. Greg said something
that I didn't quite catch--and then he just said, "Wow." It's the best set
of lyrics that I had ever written. The title was obvious: "Hold Me Down."
It was about him. Weren't they all, lately? Of course, he had no clue.
But, he agreed, it was a gorgeous song. The lyrics fit the music like a


Under no circumstances did I want Donna singing it.

"Why?" Greg asked me.

"Well, first of all, it's too low for her. And transposing it or going
up an octave, it will lose that hushed quality."


"Plus, that's a very personal set of lyrics."

"Really?" He grinned at me. "Who's it about?"

If only you knew, I thought. What I said was, "Nobody in particular.
But the thoughts and emotions are very personal to me."

"Ok. But if it's personal, what does it matter if Donna or I sing it?"

"No, Greg, I want to sing it."

"Donna won't like that."

Who gives a fuck what Donna likes, I wanted to scream. What I said was,
"It's my song. It's a personal song. It's not fit for Donna's voice. I
should sing it."

"OK. You're right."

"Please, Greg, please stick to your guns with Donna on this one."

"I will."

Which is how we ended up in practice, a week before the big gig, with
the band hanging in the balance. Because I threatened to quit.

We had run through "Hold Me Down." Everyone loved it. Donna requested a
copy of the lyrics, so she could learn them. Greg informed her that she
didn't need them, as she wouldn't be singing. I guess she thought Greg was
going to sing it--she must have gotten a surprise when we practiced it with
me singing. Everyone in the band loved it. Except for Donna, of course.
She exploded.

"Wait a minute, I thought I was the female singer in this band!"

"Not on this song, Donna." Greg, God bless him, was standing his ground,
at least so far. "It's a personal song for Sara, and it's too low for

"So shift it higher!"

"It loses something when we do that."

"Well, then, we don't do the song. We shouldn't have anyone singing
except you and I, Greg. If you have a song that I can't sing, we shouldn't
do it. Write some stuff for me to sing." And she batted her baby blues at

This is when I, after a year of swallowing my tongue, finally exploded.

"Why don't you go write you own fucking songs, you bitch? Write stuff
for you to sing, my ass. You don't do anything. You don't play an
instrument. You don't even sing particularly well. You don't write songs.
The only asset you bring to this band is your tits, and that don't impress
me much."

"Looks like Plain Jane over there is jealous," Donna said with a sneer,
tossing her blond hair behind her back.

"Riiiiiight." I turned back to the rest of the band. "The bottom line
is this--that song goes into the permanent repertoire. With me singing.
Or I'm out of the band."

"WHAT?" Greg yelled.

"You heard me. I'm sick of the blonde bimbo over there dictating
everything that happens in this band. I'm sick of being shy, and meek, and
swallowing my tongue. blonde bimbo singers that can't sing very well are a
dime a dozen. Keyboardists as good as I am are rare. Not to mention
lyricists as good as I am. You want to replace me? Good luck." I couldn't
believe those words had come out of my mouth.

"I just can't believe that you would even consider leaving the band,
even as a threat." Greg said. "I mean, you wrote the greatest song about
being in a rock band I have ever heard."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Destiny Delayed', of course."

"Dammit, that is not what that song is about!" Every member of the band
stared at me. Shit, what had I just said?

"It's not?" Greg asked, amazed.


"Then what's it about?" I didn't say anything. "What is that song
about, Sara?"

I lost it. "Goddammit, Greg, it's about you! You are my destiny, not
some stupid band! "Hold Me Down" is about you, too. Every fucking song
I've written in the past year has been about you! YOU IDIOT!!"

And with that, crying, I ran out the door, away from the rehearsal
space, away from the bimbo, away from that Goddamned band, away from him,
and away from my admissions.


I lived in the dorm, in a suite. There were two small bedrooms on
either side, with a bathroom, and a large living room/kitchenette between.
I shared my "side" with Amanda. I was in my bedroom, still crying, when
Amanda knocked.

"You OK?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"I have to say, when you let it all out, you let it all out."

"Tell me about it. I don't think I've ever done anything like that in
my life."

"How did it feel?"

"Good to get it out, but absolutely terrifying." I sighed. "Well, I
always wanted to have the courage to tell Greg how I felt. I didn't
particularly want to do it like that, though."

"He surely knows, now." Amanda giggled. "He spent the rest of the time
we were there sitting on a chair and staring into space like he was in
shock. Until Donna started with her shit."

"What did he do?"

"He glared at her, and said 'I vote that we kick Donna out of the band.
Who's with me?'"


"Yeah. And everyone agreed. Even Patrick. Donna is out. I thought
you'd like to know. That means you don't have to quit. And Greg says,
even if we get another singer, he wants you to sing 'Destiny Delayed' and
'Hold Me Down' every gig."

"Wow. Maybe he does care."

"I think he does."

I half-hoped that he would come knock on my door that night, but he
didn't. I stayed in, thinking, did a little studying, noodled on my
keyboard. Amanda went out and, when she came in, told me she had run into
Greg and he was very drunk, which was extremely uncharacteristic.


The next day was a Saturday. The big gig was the following Saturday.
Amanda woke me up at the ungodly hour of 8 am.

"Hey. Greg and Dave have called a major, big deal practice."

I hauled my ass out of bed. Amanda and I grabbed some breakfast and a
much-needed gallon or so of coffee, and headed to our rehearsal space.
Greg was bleary eyed. "Hangover, Greg?" Amanda teased him. He just sort
of grinned ruefully at her. I think he was trying to avoid looking at me.
I'm not a hundred percent sure, because I was definitely trying to avoid
looking at him.

Suddenly, I noticed a cute redhead standing next to Dave.

"Yo, guys, this is Christine Bellows. She sings, she plays sax, she
plays keys. I've known her for a while. She spent last night with me
listening to some of our repertoire, so I thought we'd give her a tryout."

We all talked for a bit, and she seemed cool. So, we decided to see
what she could do. First, she launched into one of Donna's specialties,
Jefferson Airplane's "Somebody to Love." It was great--better than Donna.
And, then, she proved some versatility. She asked to sing "Get Out Of My
House." She said she didn't want to step on anyone's toes, but she was a
huge Shawn Colvin fan. She nailed it.

Greg then said, "And guess what? She knows the organ part to 'Racing in
the Street'." The Bruce Springsteen tune had long been a favorite of
Greg's, but we had never been able to do it properly, because he had to
play organ and sing, or I had to play organ and piano. I let Christine use
my Hammond B-3, and we sailed through the song.

A few more songs, and we took a vote. She was in. We practiced all
day, incorporating her into our setlists. She worked up a fantastic sax
solo to one of Greg's and my masterpieces, "Around All Day." It was great.
And, at least on first glance, she seemed like a great girl. I hoped I was
right about that.


Monday, after class, Greg called me.

"Are you free tonight? I need to write."

"OK." His roommate was around, so he came up to my place. We usually
wrote in one of our rooms.

"First of all," he said, "I came up with some music for that set of
lyrics you gave me the other day."

"Great. Show me." It was called "The Gleam In Your Eyes." The music he
came up with was great. It was a rocker. I hadn't quite seen it like
that, but it worked. That's why he wrote the music.

I can't escape The gleam in your eye It follows me as your eyes do I
can't hide From the gleam in your eye When you look at me It's all I can
see I give in......

"Like it?"

"Yeah. It's great."

Then, he said the first words he had said about my outburst three days
before. "So, is that one about me, too?" He grinned when he said it.

I couldn't help but grin back. "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Well......." I took a deep breath. "I wrote it as you. It's the words
I had always hoped you would say to me."

"So, you want me to sing it, then?" He still had that grin on his face.

"Yeah, I want you to sing it," I laughed.

"Good." He stopped grinning, and looked down. "When you got done with
the words to 'Hold Me Down' the other day, did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah. You said, 'wow'."

"That was the second thing I said."

"It was?"

"Yeah. The first thing I said was, 'gladly'."


"Yeah. Think about the words to the song, Sara. I didn't even know, at
the time, that you were singing to me, and I answered you anyway. Catch
your fall? Wipe your tears? Watch over you? Hold you in my arms?

I sat down, hard, on my piano stool. "Oh my God."

"Sara, I've felt that way about you for a long time. You seemed
completely disinterested."

"I did? I've been in love with you for a year!"

"You don't act it."

"I have trouble with that. I'm shy with guys I like. Plus, you've been
throwing yourself at Donna!"

"Defense mechanism. She's safe--she wouldn't have me in a million years
even if I was truly interested, which I never was. So I flirted with her,
because she was harmless."

"Oh Jesus. What a mess." I couldn't help but laugh. "So, you wanted
me, and I wanted you. But I thought you wanted Donna, and you

"That you wouldn't go out with me in a million years. Sara, I'm not
experienced in that kind of thing."

"And I am?" I laughed again.

Next thing I knew, he was standing over me. He crouched down--I was
still on the piano stool--took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

It was a good thing I was already sitting down.

When he was done, I stood up, wrapped my arms around him, and returned
the favor. It was wonderful. I had waited too long for this. We broke
the kiss, I smiled at him, and ducked out of his embrace, and went over to
the door to the room and locked it. Then I walked back over to him. "Now,
where were we?" He smiled, and kissed me again. I leaned into it, getting
hotter by the minute.

I think he was a little surprised, when I led him to my bed. "It's much
more comfy over here," I smiled at him, as I lay down on the bed. He slid
in next to me, and resumed kissing.

"You kiss almost as well as you sing," I giggled at him. He smiled, and
bent down to kiss me again. I felt his hand, tentatively snaking its way
up my stomach, outside of my shirt. It crept up and cupped my breast. I
could tell Greg was looking for my reaction. I smiled at him. I was not
going to stop him.

In fact, I decided to encourage him. I pulled his hand away from my
breast--ignoring his slightly disappointed look--sat up, and took my shirt off. I lied back down next to him, and whispered in his ear, "The bra
clasps in the back, so I'll let you handle that." He did, in a hurry. I
grabbed his face and went back to kissing him, while his hands roamed my
breasts. And what a job they did at roaming. His ten fingers felt like a
million, as he ran his fingers all over my breasts, massaging them,
tweaking my nipples. I was tingling all over. He played me like I was his

As I was lying on the bed, enjoying this delicious feeling he was giving
me, I realized one of his hands had left my breasts, and was fiddling with
the button on my jeans. He was clearly going to undo that button, but was
giving me a good, long chance to stop him.

When I brought him over to the bed, I really didn't have any idea in my
mind how far I was willing to let this go. I trusted Greg, I knew if I
said stop, he would. However, I had no intention of stopping him here. I
wanted those fingers on my pussy.

I got it. Once he realized I wasn't stopping him--in fact, I just
kissed him harder--my jeans and panties were in a ball at the end of the
bed in a remarkably short amount of time. Then I felt those fingers,
tracing up and down my pussy lips. I moaned. I tried to hold it in--I
could just picture Amanda, or worse yet our suitemate Kendra the Sex
Maniac, standing outside the door-- but that moan was involuntary. His
hands--one on my tits, one on my pussy--had me burning.

He slipped a finger up inside, gently but steadily, and then started
moving it in and out. Oh, I was definitely on fire. He kept that up, and
then took his thumb and planted it right on my clit. I yelped.
Unfortunately, because I was nibbling on his earlobe at the time and I
yelped right into his ear, but he didn't seem to mind. I burrowed my face
into his neck as he worked me over, sliding his finger in and out as his
thumb drummed my clit on every downstroke. "Oh my God," I whispered into
his ear, as I realized that he was quickly going to make me come. Sensing
I was close--probably because of the ragged whines I was moaning into his
ear--he picked up the pace. It didn't take much of that, and I was
cumming, spasming all over the bed, head buried in his neck so that whoever
out in the suite wouldn't hear the unearthly noises coming out of my mouth.

"How experienced are you?" I asked him after I had calmed down.

"Not very," he smiled at me. "One girlfriend in high school, that's

"Coulda fooled me!" I told him.

He laughed. "I have to say, my old girlfriend was never I never knew if she was enjoying it, or if
she was.....uh......"

"Getting off?" I laughed. He smiled and nodded. "You never knew if she
had an orgasm or not."

"Right. She'd never say anything, never tell me what she liked, never
tell me if she liked what I was doing. And, that's one thing they don't
tell you in sex ed class, you know, what a female orgasm looks like. The
male one is rather obvious." I cracked up. "But, a female one? I've never

I reached up and whispered in his ear. "Now you do." He blushed. It
was so cute. "It's hard to tell, you know, because women can fake it.
Trust me when I tell you I did not fake it." He blushed even deeper.

I reached down and undid the snap on his jeans, and pulled them down. I
grabbed his boxer shorts and pulled them down. He was as hard as a rock.

"Hmmmm. Well, hello there," I joked.

"I thought you were shy," he laughed. "What happened?"

"Ah, heck, you've been writing with me long enough to know it's not a
general shyness, it's just fear of rejection." I batted my eyes at him.
"Are you going to reject me?"

"Not on your life!" He grinned, and then looked serious. "Sara, how far
do you want to take this?"

"That's an interesting question, isn't it?"

"Sara, we can stop right here if you want. As far as I'm concerned, we
have plenty of time."

I smiled at that. "What, stop here?" I looked down at him. "And leave
you all frustrated?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Excuse me?"

"What condition do you think you usually leave me in? Watching you bend
over those keyboards. Jesus. Especially when it's just the two of us,
writing? Especially considering how I feel about you? This would not be
the first writing session that I left with a boner that wouldn't quit."

"Wow." I couldn't help but giggle.

I made a decision. I reached over to my desk next to the bed. I opened
a drawer on my desk, and pulled out a condom. "Kendra, my sex-maniac
suitemate, put these in here," I told him with a laugh. He watched me as I
opened the condom, and went down to his cock. I stroked it with my hands,
as he jumped a bit. I unrolled the condom onto his cock.

"That's how far I want to take this," I told him.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be. As long as you promise me this will not be the last

"I am not into one night stands. Especially with people I'm in love
with." I smiled at that one. "Sara, you're not a virgin, are you?"

"No. Not by much, but no." He laughed at that, and then climbed up so
that he was hovering over me. I felt it at my entrance. I spread my legs
as far as they could go. I felt the head push past my opening.

"Oooffff!" He slipped a little more in. "Oh GOD!" A little more,
stretching me, opening me up. "Unnggghhh!" A little more. He was so
gentle. "Nnnnnnn!!!!"

"OK?" he whispered at me.

"Oh God yes," I whispered back. He kept sliding in. Finally, he was
all the way. "Ooooooohhhhh...." He started sliding in and out, slowly and
deliberately. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! OhmyGod, I waited too long for this!" I

"I know the feeling," he managed.

I was in orbit by now. I knew he wasn't all that experienced--and we
were nineteen--I didn't think that he'd last long enough to give me another
orgasm. I was wrong. He picked up the tempo and away I went. This time,
if anyone was in the apartment, they heard me, I can guarantee it. I was
uncontrollable. As I was coming down, I felt his cock pulse in me, as he
let out a little groan of his own.

"Wow," was all I said.

"You can say that again. I think you need to get this room

I laughed at that.

"Sara?" he asked. "When you pulled me over to the bed, did you have any
intention of going this far?"

"Truthfully? No. I figured we'd make out and fondle a bit. Then you
started playing with my tits, which I didn't mind, but it drove me crazy.
When you went to take my pants off, I was not going to stop you. The
rest.....I guess it just felt right."

"I agree, it definitely felt right."

"I just hope you don't think I'm always this easy."

"Easy? We've had a year of foreplay!"

"Excuse me?" I asked him, confused.

"I think, in our case, songwriting was foreplay."

I cracked up laughing. "You may just be right about that."


We spent the next couple of days practically inseparable, except for
classes. We studied together, ate together, wrote a few songs, even
managed to find time to make love once or twice. We had been friends for a
while, of course, so it wasn't really getting to know each other--it was
more getting used to each other, in a more intense relationship than we had
previously had. It was also getting used to having sex. For both of us,
it had been infrequent and a couple of years ago. This was all new. It
was going swimmingly.

Thursday night was going to be the big test, because we had band
practice. The band didn't know. Not even Amanda had figured it out. She
must not have been in the suite while I was screaming. All the times that
I was screaming. But, she had definitely not figured it out, I knew that
for a fact. Greg and I had had a discussion about how our new-found
relationship was going to affect the band dynamic. We didn't know,
honestly. But we weren't going to hide it.

And we didn't--when we walked into practice, the last two to arrive, I
had my arm wrapped around his. I caught the look from the band members
that knew us--meaning, everyone except Christine--but ignored it. We
already decided we weren't going to make any big announcement, but the guys would figure it out.

In fact, Christine seemed to be the first to twig onto it. While I was
fiddling with my keyboards, I heard her whisper to Amanda, "Are those two
going out or something?"

"Not as far as I know," Amanda whispered back. I just smiled.

The practice went swimmingly. Christine was damn good, and turned out
to be a constant joke machine. The rest of the five of us were rather
serious--except for Dave, who had a goofball side--and her one-liners were
a nice change. Especially the self-depreciating ones, which came
rapid-fire. She hit a bum note on the organ during "Racing in the Street"
and yelled, "Somebody go get me Danny Federici's fingers, because mine
suck!" Stuff like that.

Anyhow, we were about halfway through, and Greg and I hadn't said or
done anything except our entrance. Until we ran through one of our new
songs. After the run-through, Greg turned to me, and said, "Hey, Lovebug,
could you play arpeggios during the middle eight?"

"You got it, sweetie," I replied. I could see Amanda's eyes bug out at
the "sweetie" and "Lovebug" comments, but I just smiled to myself and
started the song again.

After that song, we took a break. It had become almost tradition that I
took my break right where I was, sitting on my piano stool. Greg would go
out to the soda machine in the hall, get us each a coke, toss mine to me,
and I stayed put. Not tonight. He grabbed a chair, put my coke next to
his on the table, and I went and sat in his lap. I wish I had a picture of
my bandmates' faces at that moment, I really do. It was hilarious.

After practice, on the way out, Greg kissed me, and said, "See you
tomorrow, Lovebug." I went back to the suite and waited for Amanda--and an
expected grilling--with a smile on my face.

"All right, what is going on with you and Greg?" she said without
preamble as she burst through the door.

"Hi, Amanda. How are you?"

"None of that. In your room. Now!" I followed her in, bemused. "All
right, spill the beans!"

"Why, Amanda, whatsoever do you mean?"

"You guys were practically all over each other tonight!"

"Oh, that's nothing. You should have seen us the last three nights, if
you want to see all over each other." I was enjoying this, cruel beast that
I am. "Right here, in fact. I'm surprised you didn't hear me."


I decided that was enough playing. "All right. Greg and I are going
out. It started Monday. Our writing session ended up with us in bed


"Yeah." I grinned at her. "Finally!"

"Why didn't you tell me right away? I'm supposed to be your best

"I know, but I decided to see what happened for a few days. I knew
you'd figure it out tonight."

"Yeah. boy was I surprised when you ended up on his lap!" I just
giggled. Then she thought a minute. "Wait a minute--you guys have slept

I just nodded. "We started making out Monday night, and one thing led
to another.....good thing Kendra put all those rubbers in my drawer."

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Sure I do. I wasted a year. He was as in love with me as I was with
him, the whole time. I wasn't going to waste another second!"


The Big Gig? A smashing success. We rocked. They loved Christine,
they loved me singing my two songs, everybody had a blast. Then it was
time for finals, and after that, Christmas break.

Greg and I had never spent much time together out of school, even though
we lived barely thirty minutes from one another. That changed this break.
Without the pressures of school and the band, we spent that month learning
as much as we could about each other. He met my parents, I met his, and we
got seals of approval all around. By the time we went back to school, we
both knew what we most wanted from life. Each other.

That was five years ago. One Night Stand--with the same six people--is
on tour right now, supporting our first album. Our first Number One album,
that is, on the strength of our first Number One single--a little ditty
called Destiny Delayed. That's right, it hit the top of the charts. Which
is ironic, if you think about it, because the minute it did so, the song
became irrelevant, no matter which meaning you chose to put on it. We're
not a struggling rock band anymore. And Greg and I got married last

Destiny Delayed is a hell of a song, but Destiny Fulfilled is a much
better life, I can promise you that.



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