Fate is defined as "the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power." Fate is oftentimes associated with destiny, and the two are--at least in my opinion--interwoven. As much as I love to claim that I carve my own destiny, I cannot deny that fate bit me in the ass. How? That's an interesting story.

It begins in my senior year of high school. I was a mere eighteen years old, and like every other guy my age, I thought I had the world figured out. On April 18th, my cousin Samantha got married. She and I had been close since childhood, she who was four years older than me, always saw me as her younger brother. We grew up down the street from each other and spent our days together. I was happy for her, she had never been more excited. She told me that when she met her husband, it was love at first sight. That it was fate.

Of course I snorted and called her a hopeless romantic. I was fifteen then, I didn't believe in love at first sight or fate or any of that. I regret laughing at the idea of fate, it got it's revenge on me at that wedding.

It was surprisingly a dry April day, much to Samantha's relief. That morning I woke up like always, showered and gelled my chestnut brown hair, the only difference was that I put on my black suit and dress shoes. I showed up at the church an hour before the ceremony and decided to visit the bride's quarters, wanting to see my cousin before she was swamped with others, lining up to congratulate her.

I leaned against the door frame as she stared herself in the mirror. She wore a white gown, with lace that covered most of her back. Her light hair was pulled into a complex up do, and she looked beautiful. "Getting cold feet?"

She smiled and turned around, her blue eyes excited, "Gabe! I'm so happy to see you!"

"You look good," I stated. "Like a bride."

"I am a bride," she smiled excitedly. "I'm so happy I could die!"

"Don't do that. That would be a waste of the past three years and defeat the purpose of a wedding."

She rolled her eyes and wiggled her eyebrows, "So what about you? Gonna pick up any cute girls?"

"I told you, I don't want a serious relationship. I'm going to the army soon, remember?"

She nodded her head, only half listening and turned back to the mirror. I smiled and gave her a hug, "Congrats, Sami. You finally found someone who will accept you."

He hugged me back, "You will soon."

~oOo~

At the reception, there were lots of drunk people. There was loud talking, music, and people were dancing. I sat at my table, sipping my ginger ale and watching the young children running around the dance floor, laughing. There was a group of girls huddled together around a brunette in a violet dress. The brunette had been the one to catch the Samantha and Jackson were dancing together, smiling brightly, disgustingly in love. I was happy to see her like that; if she was happy, so was I.

Beside me, my Aunt Denise was talking about her second husband, and how she wasn't sure why she even married him in the first place. I smiled politely and pretended to be listening as she drunkenly blubbered. I sighed and turned around to examine the room again. And in that moment, fate bit me in the ass.

She was dancing, looking shy and beautiful. She wore a pale blue dress that fanned out around her. The blue of her eyes were perfectly complemented by the chiffon dress. There was a white sash right under her chest that matched the straps that held her dress up. Her creamy pale skin was contrasted by her long, black hair. In that moment, she turned around, and our eyes met. She smiled sweetly, a smile that reached even her eyes.

I understood what Samantha meant by "love at first sight."

I put my glass of ginger ale down, and got up, walking down to the dance floor. She smiled at me again, looking up at me through her long eyelashes, and I found myself smiling back, "What's a lovely girl like you doing, dancing by yourself?"

She reached up to push a dark curl out of her face, "What's a charming boy like you doing, coming to a wedding alone?"

I grinned and held out my hand, my eyes locked with hers, "I'm Gabe Whit. And what can I call you?"

Taking my hand, she smiled, "I don't just give my name out to anybody, Gabe."

"Let me prove that I'm not just anybody," I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to me.

"You've got a couple hours until this wedding is over."

I smiled and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the humid dance floor and into the hallway. She smiled and held onto my hand, her short legs struggling to keep up with my long strides. She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling, "Where are we going?"

?

Instead of answering, I led her out into a garden behind the venue. The garden was filled with white roses and purple orchids, bathed in the pale blue light of the full moon. She gasped and stepped out gingerly, examining the garden. Her eyes traveled from the fountain, to the roses, to the orchids, and finally to the patio. She turned to look at me, her eyes shining, "It's so beautiful!" She pushed her wild hair behind her ear, and that's when I saw the silver bracelet with the pink cherry blossoms on them. "How did you know about this place?"

"I checked the venue out with the bride," I answered, leaning against a tree trunk. "Will you tell me your name now?"

She smiled sweetly, "I'm not sure you've earned it."

I groaned, "This girl... Fine, I'll call you Cherry for now."

"Cherry?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Your bracelet has cherry blossoms on it."

She sat down on the edge of the fountain and smiled at me as I took a seat beside her. She looked around again, and touched her bracelet. "So Gabe," she smiled. "Let's play twenty questions."

"Let me start. How old are you?"

She feigned hurt, "Didn't you know it's offensive to ask a woman for her age?"

I snorted, "You look like you're my age."

"Hmm, I'm actually sixteen. And what about you, Mr. Whit?" 

"I was born eighteen years ago."

"Wow," she teased, lightly shoving me. "Aren't you an old man?"

I pulled her close to me, looking down into her eyes, "A sexy old man."

She nodded sarcastically, "Yes, yes. Of course!"

She looked up at me through her eyelashes, and I whispered, "You must be popular with boys; you're so pretty."

She leaned in closer, "You must be popular with girls; you're so charming."

"Who will answer first?"

"So tell me," she smiled, purposefully changing the subject. "What are you doing in the future?"

"I'm enlisted in the army," I answered seriously.

"I see." She backed away from me a little. "When will you be leaving?"

"A couple of months, for boot camp. And then I'll be probably be deployed."

"So you probably shouldn't be with a minor...like me."

I scratched the back of my head, "Let's forget about that..." I reached for her hand. "Let's just have tonight."

She didn't respond, and I could see the doubt in her eyes. I stood up, still holding her hand, and pulled her up with me. We stood, facing each other, about a foot apart, and she stared at the ground. I felt the tension, I felt the way she was shielding herself from me; and I hated it. I wanted to know everything, I wanted to be with her. It was the strangest feeling, I barely knew this girl, but I knew that our paths were already intertwined. I wasn't sure if she felt it too, but I knew that she would play a role in my life. "Tell me," I whispered. "What are your dreams?"

She hesitated for a moment before looking up at the stars, answering, as though she were talking to herself, "I want to be a nurse, and work in a hospital--back home in Ohio."

"You're from Ohio?" I asked. She nodded, our eyes meeting again.

"I'm going to have kids. And I'll live in a cute house, with my husband," she paused for a moment, before abruptly saying, "Ella."

"What?"

"My name...is Ella. Ella Anderson. Just in case you wanted to know."

I pulled her in close to me, "Ella," I whispered. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Don't forget it," she whispered.

That night, we talked about everything. I told her about my dream to become a commander, to make my family proud. I told her about my fears, about my family. We talked about my mom and how much I missed her. She listened to me, and I felt her sympathy the entire night. Her presence was so welcoming. We both talked to our hearts content. For just the night, it was only us. For me, it felt like a dream--something I never would have imagined happening.

But maybe it was a dream. Because after that day, I never saw her again.

Fate really is a bitch.