The sun shone its usual May routine. While the four occupants were giddy with anticipation of the lake and BBQ, his little car zipped along the twisting mountain roads. He and she met only minutes earlier, introduced by a mutual friend. Unlike most such events, no awkward smalltalk was needed to kindle a bond: conversation flowed smoothly, filled with laughs.

All the while, she was carefully -- though none too discretely -- playing with the various switches and buttons from her passenger seat, peering curiously into the storage compartments, the arm rest cabinet, and anywhere that would bear hints to his personality. A question tore through the conversation mid-way.

"Are you gay?" she asked of him, almost in mocking.

A moment passed as he realized the source. His eyes never left the road as his arm moved to shut the armrest, with a sheepish look of embarassment on his face.


She giggled with mischievous delight, reopened it, reached in, and re-emerged, brandishing a lovely tube of hand cream in some kind of fruity scent.

"Don't listen to her. She listens to weird music ... like musicals," her friend in the back mused with a wrinkled nose.

"RENT and Les Mis are my all-time favourites!"

"No way!" he exclaimed in incredulous disbelief. Without a word, he flipped open his music collection ... to those two soundtracks. RENT was the selection of choice for the rest of the trip there.

These were only the first of many clicks between him and her. And as it turned out, it would be only the first of many days shared between him and her.