Chapter One
"A star shone at the hour of our meeting." –J.R.R. Tolkien

Wednesday morning had started out much like every Wednesday morning had the past year. Emmy had woken up in her studio apartment, rolled out of bed begrudgingly desiring more sleep, and shuffled to the bathroom where she proceeded to press play on her iPod. She had a playlist to listen to while she got ready, something her friends teased her about but she couldn't imagine it any other way. She turned the hot water to a steady flow in the shower and undressed as Mumford and Sons filled the air. The water cascaded over her tired body and she took her time washing herself. The scent of passion fruit invigorated her and started setting the mood for a good day.

As she stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself she smiled. The song had switched over to Ingrid Michaelson's "Everybody." She sang along with the melody, jumping into harmony on occasion then gracefully matching Ingrid again. Her morning ritual was always just what she needed to complete the good mood atmosphere. People always said Emmy had a pleasant disposition, something she enjoyed about herself. If there was one thing she had learned it was that you had to take what life threw at you and make it positive. There was no use dwelling on things you couldn't fix. She wanted to make the world a better place.

She noted the time on the clock – 7:35am. Grabbing her makeup bag she made her way back to her bed. She hummed along with The Beatles as she applied a thin layer of powder to prevent oil, a bit of blush, and mascara. She was grateful that she didn't need that much makeup – she had never gotten used to wearing so much. The one thing she hated about performances was the makeup she had to wear, the feeling that it was clogging her pores. After putting everything back in the bag she brushed her teeth and started working on her hair. It was still damp, perfect for the look she wanted to achieve today. She scrunched it, creating gentle waves as she allowed the warm heat from the blow dryer to set them in place. She then gathered her hair loosely and pulled it into a messy bun on the base of her neck. After using some pins to keep the bun in place she made her way to the closet. She retrieved her favorite pair of jeans, a faded style with a hole in the knee, and searched for a top to go with it. She decided on a pale blue v-neck t-shirt. She liked the way the top slimmed her. She was not fat by any means, but she wasn't what the world would describe as skinny. She had learned how to dress in a manner that accented her figure. Surveying herself in the mirror she approved of what she saw and slipped into her worn out black and gray TOMS that spelled out "Journey is the Destination." Before leaving the closet she had put on her pearl stud earrings, a gift from her mother, and her paper bead necklace she had picked up in Africa.

It was now 8:03. It took her ten minutes to get to Java from her apartment, allowing her two minutes to retrieve whatever else she needed. Grabbing her oversized tote bag from the chair she had thrown it in yesterday she rummaged for her keys and cell phone, making sure both were safely inside. Noting that they were she quickly applied a sheer lip gloss and departed for her morning euphoria. The walk was a pleasant one. New York never failed to disappoint Emmy, and today was no exception. The weather was perfectly mild, and the sun was shining. Having grown up in the South Emmy had learned to enjoy the simple things in life. She had a smile on her face as she walked into the shop.

"Good morning, Miss Emmy," Greg, the owner of Java, called out to her. "You look pleasant today."

She laughed. "It's been a good day, Greg."

"You want your usual?"

"You know, I think I'm going to go a little crazy this morning and try something different."

"No! What are you going to have, little miss?"

"A black coffee…with cinnamon, sugar, and a little cream." He laughed at her. "I'll do the hard work myself." She thanked him graciously as he passed her the steaming cup of coffee with enough room for the extras. After she had poured them into the cup she made her way to her table in the corner. Several patrons looked at her and whispered, and she tried her best to ignore the stares as she opened her laptop.

Life was certainly different now that people knew who she was. The YouTube video had gone viral, and before she knew it people were begging for more. She did a few more shows in local bars, one of which had gotten the attention of an agent. He found her after the show and had given her his information, practically begging her to meet with him the next day. She obliged, and before she knew it she had been signed to a record label and was recording covers of some of her favorite songs. Her EP had been a hit on iTunes, and her fans were begging her to start writing and recording her own stuff. Then a tour had been set up for the summer, hitting big cities across the United States like Atlanta, Houston, Chicago, Seattle, San Diego, and Phoenix. Fan mail had greeted her when she got back to New York, and for the entire year she constantly tried to figure out how fortune had decided to smile on her. She didn't want to give up on her studies at NYU, so her agent began booking around her school work. For a woman of 22, life was looking good and only getting better.

Her computer loaded and she logged into her email. There were several from her agent asking about particular shows that she might be interested in, as well as a few from her mother, probably wondering when her daughter was coming home to Alabama to spend a few weeks of rest. She clicked to open the first email from her mother and stirred her coffee as the message loaded. Messages from her mother always made her uncomfortable, only because she knew her mother tried to overlook the strained relationship between her and her father. Emmy didn't want to tell her that the reason she never came home was not because she didn't have time, but instead was because she did not feel like dealing with her father's drunkenness.

Hey baby girl. I tried to call you the other day, but your phone went to voicemail. I guess you were in class. Everything here is normal; nothing really going on to tell you about. I miss you…I wish you would come home. You know that your father loves you, and he sends you his love. I hope that you aren't stressing yourself out…you know that you need your rest, too. Check your mail; I think your grandmother sent you something. Call me soon, please. I miss hearing your voice. I love you. Mama

She sighed, knowing that her mother meant well. She quickly closed out of the email and started to delete it, but then decided against it, knowing eventually her conscience would get the best of her and she would call her back. She began to log onto Twitter, still deep in her thoughts of home and her mother when a voice pulled her back to reality.

"Hey, um, sorry to bother you but do you know which one of these is cream?" She looked up at the owner of the voice, and her breath caught in her throat. He was tall, slender, and his eyes were captivating, a shade of hazel with gold specks throughout. He was awkward, and it intrigued her. "Yeah, it's that middle container. Yeah, that one." She smiled as he located it, willing him to continue the conversation while rationalizing that he would leave. Her heart sank as he started to walk away, so to distract herself she began reading new tweets from her fans. She didn't realize he was beside her until he said, "You probably get this a lot, but…" She waited for him to ask her name, but he finished, "that's a lot of bracelets. Do you mind me asking why you have so many?" She laughed as she looked toward the objects on her wrists, all gifts from various fans and friends. "They're friendship bracelets…I tweeted one time that I think they're pretty awesome and then I got, like, fifty of them in the mail."

"Wow. You must have a lot of Twitter followers," he stated, clearly not recognizing who she was. She was relieved to finally be near someone who wasn't talking to her simply because of her music. "I guess you could say that," she laughed. "I'm Emmy James."

"Dr. Spencer Reid." It was his turn to laugh at the questioning glance she gave him upon calling himself doctor. "Not a medical doctor, but I do have three PhDs…but you probably don't care about that."

"I find that incredibly fascinating. How old are you? Oh my gosh, that must seem rude of me to ask that…"

"Twenty-nine. I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory…"

"So you're a genius. Well, Dr. Reid, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. Wait, you aren't the Emmy James, are you? The one from the YouTube video…" She blushed, and he knew that he had revealed her secret. "But that's not something you like to publicize. Probably because you are humble. Based off of that and the slight accent I can pick up, you probably grew up in the South…Alabama. You like to keep your identity a secret…sorry I brought it out." Her mouth had opened slightly, not able to figure out how he had deduced so much about her based off of their slight conversation. "How did you…"

"Oh, I work for the FBI, um, more specifically the BAU, Behavior Analysis Unit. I analyze human behavior, mainly to catch criminals but also just to figure people out…am I freaking you out?"

"No, I'm just…a little overwhelmed to be in the presence of someone so intelligent. It's a relief, to be perfectly honest. I'm so used to people only coming up to talk to me because they want something. Don't get me wrong – I love my fans. I would be nowhere without them, but sometimes it gets a little exhausting only being recognized because you're famous and not because you are just another person to talk to…I'm rambling. My apologies…" She let her voice drift off, and he quickly picked up, "I didn't mean to upset you. I find you interesting outside of your music. Like…like the fact that you do things in sets of threes, like twirl your spoon or click your mouse…or the fact that you smile when people talk to you instead of scowling like most New Yorkers…" He stopped as she looked down, hoping he hadn't upset her further. His heart skipped a beat as she looked back up, smiling. "Thank you, Spencer. Listen, I know that we just met, and this might seem a little awkward, but I'm having a show tomorrow night on campus…I was wondering if you might want to come…don't feel like you have to or anything, but…"

"I'd love that." He stopped her midsentence, and her smile grew in intensity. "Do you mind if I bring some friends? My friend Penelope, in particular, she's actually the one who showed me your video…I think she has, like, all of your songs and I know she would flip out if she could meet you." Emmy laughed. "Yeah, I'd love it if you brought people. It's going to be at the theatre in the student union building. Technically it's supposed to be, like, ten bucks to get in, but text me when you get there and I'll pull you guys backstage." She quickly pulled out a pen from her purse and jotted her number on a napkin. Handing it to Spencer, she couldn't help but feel a chill as their fingers grazed. She knew she was being stupid, but there was something about him that made her want more. He smiled at her, and she blushed.

"Well, I've, um, I've got to get to work," he said. "But I'll see you tomorrow night."

"I can't wait," she replied, truly meaning it.

"Me either," he finished, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to get her off his mind until he saw her again. He grabbed his coffee from the table, adjusted his shoulder bag, and exited the store, leaving Emmy breathless. She was vaguely aware of Greg making his way over to her, laughing as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "That, my dear one, is what love at first sight looks and feels like." She playfully punched him in the shoulder, and he pulled back laughing harder. "Don't hate, sweet girl, I'm old – I know what I'm talking about. I've lived many years and I can tell you what love looks like."

"It's just a stupid crush, Greg. The guy works for the FBI…why would he want to waste his time on a college student?"

"Dear one, he looked at you first…and he couldn't take his eyes off of you." She blushed as her heart skipped and her stomach did somersaults. Greg laughed as he made his way back behind the counter, humming "So This Is Love" as he went.