Okay, so this is a oneshot that just kind of popped into my head. This is my first time dong first person so hopefully it works out. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes a read!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the CBS Company.

The Tulip Lounge

Maybe some people weren't meant to find love.

Or maybe it's just me. I wondered if my inability to find a suitable man was preordained by some unnamed Greek God as I stepped out of the restaurant, the slow March air reaching my bare arms. I glanced to both sides, watching the people make their way up and down the sidewalks on the late Friday night. My current state of disappointment in relationships led me to believe that they were probably all out on dates, dates that would be more successful than mine. I clicked my teeth, mentally trying to figure out which route to take. I had no desire to go home, and though a part of me questioned the safety of my alternate idea, I pushed it aside, settling on the decision to merely walk along the sidewalks until the feeling for wondering was gone.

It wasn't that he was a bad guy; in fact, anyone else would probably consider him a great catch. Tall, successful, strong, and smart. He dressed well and was consistently articulate. No priors and he wasn't in the system, something that I naturally checked for. Once a CSI, always one right? Yet, the longer I sat there, staring at his perfect white teeth and flawlessly combed blonde hair; my thoughts kept drifting to the most arbitrary of places. Work, college, the new organic market opening up on my block. I kept trying to blame it on having a temporary short attention span, caused by a long days work but deep down I knew that that was a lie, leaving me to tell my date that I had to go.

I felt bad for the guy because it was in no way his fault. He was impeccably polite, opening the door, pulling out the chair, the whole nine yards. He did his best to seem like Mr. Right, flaunting his Harvard education while showing his humble side that led him on adventurous trips to Africa. If there was a guide book for how to be a perfect suitor, this guy wrote it. But my problem was that it seemed too perfect and too right. When my long time friend from the public defenses' office set me up, I had been hesitant, yet somewhat excited. It had been a long time since I've been on a date and she painted him in the perfect light.

Yet here I was, walking along the street, knowing the general direction my path led me but steering clear of paying attention to any direct landmarks. I was smart enough to stay clear of dark alleys and unpopulated areas so my journey seemed somewhat less dense.

My unproductive date roused up thoughts in my head asking to define the perfect guy. Surely, my abandoned partner would have made the cut yet I had blatantly ruined any chance for the relationship to move beyond tonight. They say that women tend to want to date guys more like their father but for me that wasn't a particular option. So I was left to consider the man in my life who I considered myself to be closest to.

Mac Taylor was always a popular subject in my head. There were many occasions when time was easily passed thinking about him. His soft blue eyes, his short dark hair, his playful teasing smirk. He was a man of wonder in so many ways that it was almost impossible to describe him in one word.

Charming? Mysterious? Captivating? My mind didn't have the aptitude to find such a word as I crossed the street for the fourth time. The sound of my heels hitting the pavement created a rhythmical pattern as I continued on my seemingly pointless journey.

But it was easy to conclude that Mac Taylor definitely could fit the bill for Mr. Right. I had been asked before on the status of our relationship. After explaining that we were just good friends, I was often greeted with a knowing smirk or grin. One friend had even gone to comment on 'we'll see how long that lasts.' Such common reactions often led me to ask myself the very same question.

What was going on between Mac and me?

I knew to say that there was no chemistry would be untruthful and that was a trait that was not of my nature. But Mac and I had a very complex relationship. There was so much more to it than just a 'boy likes girl, girl likes boy' kind of thing. The complications could be listed for days so I've always found it easy to stay clear of divulging in such complexities. We had a great friendship so why ruin it with romance?

Reading my thoughts like a paper, I realized that I had answered my own question. Why didn't I date Mac? Because I was scared. He is my best friend and to lose that would simply be too much to bear. Why deal with the drama when I can keep my best friend instead. Call me a coward if you want but strategically, it was my best move.

My rapid thought pattern was broken when I heard soft music entering my ear. I was positive that this venue was not the only one playing music during my focused walk so the immediate ability to focus on it made me curious.

I glanced to my left, looking in the window of what appeared to be a jazz club. The flashing lights on the window told me that this was the Tulip Lounge. I ignored the need to question the meaning behind the name as I glanced in the window, taking in the scene of the building. Deciding that it seemed simple enough, I made my way towards the door, pulling back on the large silver handle and making my way inside.

I didn't realize how cold it was outside until the heat of the lounge graced my body. It was a dark place, consisting of mainly one large room. A bar ran along the far left wall, in use by only a few patrons. Booths ran along the remaining walls leaving the centered to be occupied by round tables, each with dim candles in the center which seemed to be the main source of light. Few lights hung from the ceilings, but the low level of their luminosity gave the bar a dark intimate setting.

The front of the room was occupied by a stage, complete with a deep green curtain behind it. A man sat at a piano, playing the keys with such ease it made it seem as if anyone could tackle the task. Reasoning him to be the reason for the melodic sound that drew my inside the bar, I decided to stay and enjoy the rest of my Friday night as it seemed to be coming to a close.

I eyed a booth towards the corner that offered both seclusion and a clear view of the stage. Holding my purse close, I made my way towards the table, praising in the comfort of the booth as I sat, allowing the pressure from my feet to subside. With my elbows resting easily on the table, I turned my attention back towards the stage, allowing the music to clear my head with its soft yet memorable tune.

Not long after I took my seat, a bartender appeared, asking for my choice of drink.

"I'll have a margarita," I offered him, taking advantage of my time off from work. He smiled at me and nodded, promising to be back soon.

I returned the smile with one of my own in thanks and turned back to the stage just to see the pianist standing up from the piano. He smiled and bowed to the small crowd sitting among the various tables.

As he left the stage, another man appeared. With a microphone in his hand, he smiled sweetly towards the crowd.

"One more time for Johnny everyone," he prompted, electing another series of applause from the crowd. I joined in clapping, knowing that Johnny was the reason from my presence.

"Next up, we have our very own resident bartender who knows a little somethin' about the guitar, if you know what I mean," the man joked, earning a few laughs. It became clear that a lot of the people in the bar on this particular night were regulars and knew immediately who is being spoken of. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up, for our very own Tony accompanied by a good friend of mine, Mac Taylor."

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. From the moment I heard Mac's name my eyes widened. Not surprised by the fact that he was playing his bass guitar on stage but for the fact that he was here. I had known Mac's routine jazz bar to be on the complete opposite side of the borough.

Yet, all doubt in the authenticity of the announcer's claim had been demolished when I watched Mac enter the stage, armed with a bass guitar and a growing smile. He took a seat on the bar stool on the stage and waited for the man deemed Tony to introduce the song.

His statement went unheard to my ears for all I could do was stare at Mac in awe. It wasn't until the music began that my state of shock lessened and was slowly replaced with one of genuineness contentment. I smiled brightly as he began to strike the strings of his guitar, his head slowly moving in rhythm with the song. He occasionally glanced in Tony's direction to insure the two were in sync.

And that they were. I was by no means a music expert and while my opinion may be considered biased, I thought of Mac to be a truly gifted musician. He wasn't overdone or one to flaunt his skill. It was obvious that his true love was simply in the music and that was something that I found beautiful.

As I watched, I found myself swaying slightly to the sound of the music, a smile appearing on my face. I watched him intensely, taking joy in his content state of being. I eyed him closely as his head tilted up and he scanned the faces of the crowd.

I had a moment of doubt that he would notice me because of my seclusion from the rest of the patrons but I was proven wrong when his soft blue eyes fell on me.

As I watched his expression, he didn't look very surprised to see me, almost like he expected it. I smiled more, trying to show that I noticed his presence and my actions were rewarded with a wink.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at his actions. I had never known to Mac to be much of a winker so I was slightly taken aback by it, but without a doubt amused. Looking at him, I could have sworn I saw that trademark smirk enter his face at my reaction, as if he were hoping for it.

With my time so heavily spent watching Mac, I was surprised to hear the song come to a slow harmonious end. I immediately went in to clapping, even offering an exciting shout of my own for Mac's sake.

I watched him bow along with Tony who was without a doubt another amazing musician. When the applauds had subsided, I watched as he mentioned something to Tony while nodding in my direction.

After glancing in my direction, Tony gave Mac a toothy grin along with a manly pat on the back. I had become curious to what Mac had told him but the thought moved aside as I watched him walked down the steps on the side of the stage and make his way in my direction.

"Stella," he said as he slid in the booth across from me. "What are you doing here?" His question almost seemed to carry a laugh within it. I instantly came to the conclusion that playing on stage made him relax in so many ways.

"I was in the neighborhood," I told him. In most cases, such a statement would be a roundabout way to true reasons but ironically, it was the reason I was there.

I don't know whether he believed my statement or just chose to ignore it, but he didn't push. "What about you? I didn't know you played here."

"I normally don't but the owner is an old friend and he offered the invitation to come and play," he explained. "You look nice," he offered, motioning to the black dress I had worn.

"Thanks," I offered with a smile.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, his obvious curiosity becoming clear.

"Blind date," I said with a slight groan before reaching for the martini that I hadn't even realized was delivered.

"I'm guessing it didn't go as planned?" Mac questioned, his detective skills never leaving his personality.

"Nope. Let's just say Mr. Perfect was a little too perfect."

Mac let out a relaxed sigh as he sat back in the booth. "Sorry Stella," he said.

"It's okay. I actually got to do a lot of thinking," I told him, knowing the truth behind it. "I don't know, I guess I realize that maybe perfect isn't what I need," I continued. I've always noticed that it's easy to talk to Mac, even about the most sensitive of subjects.

"They do say that perfect is overrated," he offered.

I laughed at his statement for my date tonight was a definite display of that.

"So, what do you need?" he asked.

"What?"I questioned, not sure of what he meant.

"You said that you realized perfect isn't what you need," he started, leaving me to figure out the rest.

I don't know if it was the lighting, or the margarita but I couldn't have sworn I saw a challenging look in his eye. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Mac seemed a little different that particular night but I liked it.

"The ability to let go of the fear of following my heart," I answered after a moment.

I knew it was bold and in my head, blatantly obvious. I was sure that Mac understood but he made no move to show for it.

In the background, I noticed Johnny had returned to the piano with another soft slow song. Keeping up with the sudden burst of boldness, I took one last sip from my drink and stood up from the booth.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked him with my hand reaching for his.

"Here?"

I laughed. "Yes here. I know there's no dance floor but who cares?"

Mac chuckled to himself before accepting my hand and standing up from the booth. We took a few steps from the table before I wrapped my hands around his neck and his went to my waist.

Slowly, our steps flew into the flow of the music and we began to sway. I stared up into his smiling eyes and couldn't help but smile in return. The feeling of his hands on my waist created a sensation that I wasn't a custom to but quickly became a fan of.

As if reading my thoughts, he suddenly pulled me in closer so my head came to rest on my shoulder. The scent of his cologne was faint yet at this proximity still mesmerizing and I found my eyes slowly closing.

"Stella." Mac's soft whisper entered my ear.

As I lifted my head, I immediately missed the warmth of his shoulder. "Yeah?" I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"When you said that you needed to let go of the fear of following your heart, was that about us?"

I bit my lip for moment as I stared into his eyes, knowing that this is the moment that I learn to do just that.

"Yes," I offered lightly.

I saw him smile slightly as he looked back down at me. "Good," he said and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips.

I watched as his eyes followed my laughter to the source. I waited in anticipation as his head slowly dipped down towards mine and our lips met.

The moment they touched I could feel every part of my body weaken in the sweetness and loving affect his kiss was having. It was slow and sweet, yet the electrifying effect was as strong as ever. When he slowly lifted his head back up, my lips still tingled, a sensation I knew I could get used to.

My head went back to his shoulder and my eyes drifted over the scene of the room, while we continued to sway to the soft music in the background. At the moment, every fear of losing our friendship left me because I knew that love would always when the battle.

I guess I was meant to find love.

Reviews are welcomed and highly appreciated! Thanks!