Ch1 Part 1

On a Tuesday morning I found I was going to Los Angeles on business. By Friday morning, I was on the plane. Not that this wasn’t normal, for me. My job was to basically babysit clients, so I’d made many, many trips like this one. I was just nervous. Flying made me nervous. Actually, nervous wasn’t the word for it. Flying made me irrational and sweaty and shaky and, in general, freak out. I hated to fly.

I was more nervous about this flight, this trip, this meeting than I had been about any other. A 'yes' from this client would mean an expansion of my department, a lot more work and maybe, if the old crow that owned the company would loosen his clutches a little bit, a bonus. Dare I dream of a raise?   

To ease my nerves, I upgraded myself to first class. This flight was going to be difficult enough, and since the trip was already paid for by the client, and there was a seat available I figured, 'what the hell? Live a little', and spent the extra money to sit in comfortable luxury-- as luxurious as a person can be on Delta.

I had no problem getting to the airport, checking my bag, and finding the terminal. After the mad rush to get past security, there was nothing to do but check email using the airport’s free wifi and watch people as we waited to board the aircraft. As soon as the boarding call came, I stepped into the line with my ID and boarding pass, swinging my laptop case onto my shoulder. I felt it make contact with someone behind me, but the line was moving. No time to turn around.

"Ow," I heard from behind me.

"Oh, sorry," I said, turning my head slightly. “This bag is a bear to handle. I'll try not to beat you down with it."

"I'd appreciate that," said the voice behind me. I handed my ticket to the attendant, who scanned it and handed it back, then headed down the long, winding jet way to the airplane. I checked my seat number, slid my bag underneath my assigned seat, and settled back. I had just begun to relax when a gentleman stopped at my row and a smooth voice said, “I think I’m your neighbor.” I started to stand to let him by, but he stopped me.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I can squeeze in here. See," he said shimmying past me, "this is the great thing about first class. More room. I'm good." He bent to slide a worn brown leather bag underneath his seat and began situating himself, then buckled his seat belt. The scent of something incredible wafted past my nose. I realized that it was him-- his cologne or shampoo or... something.  

"You smell delicious. Are you wearing something--I don't know--pumpkin scented?"

His head was bent as he dug the seatbelt out from under him, his voice muffled. "Yeah, it's this shampoo. It's some kind of new product or something; I can't remember the name of it. Smells like Thanksgiving, I heard."

"It smells really good," I said, looking up as he raised his head. My heart slammed against my chest when I realized I was chatting so randomly and casually about shampoo and other mundane things with someone very well known, and very famous. "Oh my God," I gushed, unable to stop myself. "Hi."

He eyed me, wary, aware that he’d been recognized. "Oh my God. Hi, to you too." He smiled briefly, then quickly turned away and dipped his head toward the window. Not rude, more like shy. He clasped his hands in his lap and crossed his ankles. He looked comfortable, like a cross-country flight was nothing to him. Unlike me, afraid to fly and would have had a cocktail if it was appropriate at that time of morning.

"Did I attack you, with my bag, earlier?"

A hint of a smile crossed his lips. He turned his head to me and nodded once. "That thing should be registered as some kind of weapon. I've got a bruise threatening to pop up here soon."

"I'm so sorry,” I said, closing my eyes, completely embarrassed. “I don't know my own strength. I hope you’ll be okay. Your arm won’t fall off, will it?”

He wrinkled up his nose, glanced down at his bicep and flexed it. “Nah. I’ll be okay, I think. Some physical therapy, maybe a prosthetic, I’ll be good to go.”

I laughed and he seemed proud of his joke. “Uhm. So. What brought you to Atlanta? Working on an album?" I raised an eyebrow in hope.

He smiled, then, his blue eyes twinkling. "Yes, but not mine. Actually, I'm on my way home. I just always get the connection in Atlanta. You live here? Or going home?"

"I live here. On my way to LA for a meeting. New client, big proposal, very nervous."

He nodded. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Just... just leave that bag in the hotel."

The flight attendants began to make their announcements and safety demonstrations. When they finished, they checked the cabin and the plane backed away from the jet way and began its slow crawl toward the runway. I felt my anxiety level rise. I really hated to fly. Didn’t people realize how peaceful train travel could be? Especially since you don’t leave the ground?

I gulped audibly as the plane reached the runway and began to speed up. I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the seat. I would be fine. I would be fine. I would be...ugh... I hated the feeling of taking off, of the wheels leaving the tarmac, and the clunk of them rolling up into their little cubby up under the aircraft and the sight of this... tube... of people leaving land and traveling through the air. I hadn’t realized I wasn’t breathing until he leaned over to me.

“Are you okay? Do you need an airsick bag?”

“No,” I shot back, heaving like I’d just run a mile. “I’m not sick, I’m terrified. I hate to fly.” I was gripping the arm rests so hard that the steel was digging into my knuckles as the plane climbed in altitude.

“Here. Give me your hand,” he said, prying my fingers from the armrest, holding my small, pale, shaking hand in his warm strong ones. He stroked the back of my hand gently, a callous on his thumb doing amazing things to my toes and surprisingly, it started to work. It probably had nothing to do with the small crush on him that I had been nursing for the past ten years.

“You’ll be fine. Really. I fly all the time. We’ll make it perfectly fine.” His voice was low and soothing, his hands amazingly soft, his touch gentle and calming and I started to breathe, again. When my head cleared (not coincidentally when the plane leveled off and we weren’t shooting into the atmosphere on an incline) I became aware enough to be embarrassed. A deep pink crawled up my chest to my neck and face and I leaned over to one side, burying my face in my free hand, giggling.

“What’s funny? Share.”

“Nothing,” I said, still laughing. “Nothing. I’m just a weak assed idiot, is all.” I sat up and looked over at him, a confused look clouding his handsome features. I squeezed his hand, still holding mine. “Sorry I freaked out. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” he said with a nod. “Are you alright, now?”

“Until we land. And then I might scream,” I said with a chuckle. Thankfully, he laughed back. He released my hand as the flight attendant came by. Perky, cute, and short, with brown hair and blue eyes and a southern accent, she asked if we’d like anything to drink or eat. I had to fight a small pang of undeserved jealousy when she smiled brightly at him, winked and drawled, “Hi there, again. Nice seeing you. Your usual?”

He nodded and smiled at her, just a small grin with his mouth and not with his eyes. He smiled at me with his eyes. So there, cute perky girl.

“And you, miss?” Her syrupy sweet smile and probably fake drawl was focused on me.

“Uhm. Just water. Or wait. Sprite. And crackers if you have any?”

“I do. I’ll be right back with your orders.”

She bounced away and I relaxed against the seat, trying to believe how lucky I was to be trapped in this tube in the air next to JC Chasez. I was only slightly ashamed to say that though I was fully grown and no longer a screaming teenager, I still had all of my memorabilia, and truthfully, I still had posters on a wall in my house that I dedicated to the loves of my yesterday. ‘Nsync (and JC Chasez) were represented well. I still followed their careers, as much as a grown person really could or should and still be called sane and even though they hadn’t released music in awhile, I was still a giant fan. And now I was sitting next to one of them, just about ready to pass out from the excitement.

“What’s your name?” I heard, interrupting my stream of consciousness.

“Hm?” I asked, blinking.

He was leaning over in his seat, elbow on the arm rest, hand clenched in a loose fist and wedged under his chin. “Your eyes are pretty. I asked what your name was.”

“Oh. Uhm.” What was my name? “Serena. My name is Serena. And thank you. So are yours.”

Suddenly self conscious, I became preoccupied with the SkyMall magazine, flipping the pages so I wouldn’t stare at him. “I wonder if anyone is ever just sitting on an airplane and sees, like, this caulk spreader thingy and thinks ‘man, I’ve just GOT to have one of these’ and just dials them up right there and orders it.”

“What?” He laughed, a nice chesty laugh, one that I had been known to rewind several times during interviews. “What caulk spreader thingy? I’m retiling my bathroom; I might need one and order it right on up.”

“You are not,” I joked, and then glanced over at him to see if he was serious. He was reading over my shoulder and I pointed at the advertisement.

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I tried one like that. It sucked. I’m looking for one kind of smaller that gets the corners really well.”

“Oh. Well. If I see one in here, I’ll uh... let you know,” I said, laughing to myself.

“Your Sprite, miss,” said the flight attendant, lowering my tray and setting a glass of ice and a can of Sprite onto the tray. “And your crackers.” She placed a package of square peanut butter on wheat crackers next to the can.

“And your water, sir.” She handed him a bottle of water, so cold that it started to fog up in the warm cabin air. He thanked her and she bounced away. I opened the can of Sprite and poured it into my glass, then tore into the package of crackers.

“Cracker?” I said, as I offered him a square.

“Thank you,” he said, and to my surprise, took it. I was only offering to be polite. I kind of wanted them all. I must have given him a strange look, because he said, “you offered. You want it back?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to hit the hotel and log into my ‘Oh Em Gee, I met JC’ message board and talk about how I shared my crackers with you.”

Cracker dust and water flew out of his mouth and down the front of his zippered sweatshirt. “I could have choked,” he said, still laughing, brushing away crumbs.

“Sorry. I guess me attacking you with my bag isn’t such a big deal now, is it?” I crunched a cracker and winked at him.

“Guess not. You’ve already moved up to trying to kill me. Nice going. So you’re a fan then, I guess.”

“Depends. Do you like fans, or just tolerate them until you can get off the plane?”

“They’re alright,” he said with a shrug. “When they don’t attack me and try to kill me.”

“I’ll try not to kill you again if you promise to hold my hand during landing.” I could not believe my forward self, but I was having fun, and so was he. ‘What the hell?’ I figured. ‘Live a little.’

“It’s a deal. Gimme another cracker.”

“Get your own!” I said, but handed him another square and gulped down my Sprite. It helped to settle my stomach, not only from my flying nerves but from my ‘don’t act like a fan’ nerves.

“So, you know what I do. What do you do, Serena?”

He was lounging back in his seat, head tipped in my direction, much better looking in person than I could ever imagine. I started to launch into the spiel I gave to random people that didn’t care anyway, they were just asking to be polite, but thought better of it. I could imagine that fans, no matter how sweet, could be pests, and I didn’t want to be one.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know. Sleep or read or listen to music or whatever it is you usually do on flights. I won’t bug you. I was just happy to meet you, is all.” I went back to my Sky Mall magazine and my Sprite and crackers.

“You know,” he said, leaning over, so close I could feel his breath on my skin, “that I don’t share crackers with just anyone. And I wouldn’t have asked your name if I didn’t want to talk to you. I would have just smiled and stared out the window. So what do you do, and you’d better answer or I’ll go home and get on my ‘Oh Em Gee, I met a fan who didn’t talk to me’ message board and write about you.” He was laughing before he finished the sentence, two rows of teeth grinning at me mere inches away.

I laughed, too loud and too long but I couldn’t help it, and covered my mouth with the magazine. He laughed with me, and sat back, hands clasped over his midsection. “So?”

I closed the magazine and set it in my lap. “So, I’m a Product Manager for a software company. We write Voice over Internet Protocol phone software. You know the... internet phone.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I get that. So what does a Product Manager do?”

I grinned, and sarcastically answered, “I manage the Product. Duh.”

“Oh, how stupid of me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Seriously. I only ask if I’m interested. This is a five hour flight. I don’t want to sleep or read. Talk. Really.”

“Okay,” I said, putting the magazine back in its holder and taking a swallow of Sprite, cleverly masking my need to calm my nerves and excitement. “So, my job is to work between the developers and the client. I help to keep the software going in the right direction and make sure my clients get the bells and whistles they ask for. My meeting Monday is with Qwest. We want to sell the software design to a phone company, so they can offer the option to their customers.”

He paid rapt attention, nodding and ‘mmhmm’ ing throughout my explanation. I shrugged when I finished and couldn’t think of anything more to say. I stretched my arms out in front of me, just for something to do.

“So, do you like it?”

I nodded vigorously. “Mmmhmm. Yeah, I like it a lot. Challenging. Fast paced. I love for the day to just scream right by.”

“Challenging, how?” he asked taking a swig of his water.

“Well. In order to manage a product and market it you have to know it. So I had to start low and work my way up, from customer service to Quality Analyst, to where I am now. There are only three of us in my department. It’s a lot of work and I’m the senior person—which is scary, really.”

“I see.”

“You’re so bored. Sorry,” I said, laughing, leaning onto the armrest near the aisle, mindlessly running my fingers through my hair.

“No, no. I’m not bored. It’s interesting. Really. I’m into all that… technology stuff. You seem to love it. That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. ‘I mean, it’s not a perfect job, but it’s pretty good.”

“Sorry to be rude, but... okay money?”

“Oh. I don’t mind. Yeah, the money is good. In a place like Atlanta, too.”

“You like it, there?”

I shrugged. “It’s pretty nice. Nice when you can afford to do the fun things, the higher caliber, higher class activities like art showings and ballet and symphony, or when you have an ‘in’ on concerts and events. Not so much when you’re a poor college student or poor customer service rep. I can hang out at a bar watching Friends reruns in any city in America. You know?”

“Yeah,” he said, picking at a fingernail. “Some cities, it’s like, the same but different. LA feels like Atlanta, feels like Orlando, feels like... I don’t know, Albuquerque. For example. I like to go places where I really feel different. Like, I don’t know, New Orleans. It’s a totally different vibe. Have you been?” He shoved the nail he was picking in his mouth and glanced over at me, an eyebrow raised. It was such an innocent, casual look but it made my heart hit the bottom of my stomach.

I grinned, remembering my last Mardi Gras celebration before Katrina hit. “Yeah. I have been. I don’t know that I remember a whole lot of it, but I was there. The French Quarter, you’re right. It’s amazing. And it does feel different, unlike anywhere else.”

He nodded, falling silent. I hoped he wasn’t going to go to sleep or anything. I was recording the conversation in my mind so I could tell the story later to the two people who would care who I met on the airplane. And they would probably care slightly less than they cared when I met Bono by accident at some party.

“So, if your meeting isn’t until Monday, why are you flying out today? What are you supposed to do all weekend? “

I shrugged. “Airfare was cheaper to come out today than Sunday. I could use a few days off and I’ve never been to LA so I figured I’d spend a few days doing the tourist thing.”

“So, you’re just going to... hang out? Do you know anyone there?” 

“No, I don’t know anyone but yeah-- hang out, do whatever. Prepare. Sit in the sun. Tan a little. Shop. You recommend anyplace fun?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but though better of it and closed it. He glanced out the window at the fluffy pillow of clouds that flanked the wings. “Let me think about it. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat. I felt a little like I had crossed some kind of invisible line, maybe the pest line, and like he gave me a signal by staring out of the window. I took the cue and closed my eyes, breathing deeply, thinking maybe I could sleep.

I must have drifted off and slept for quite awhile. I was startled when the plane began to lurch and shake. Turbulence, my worst nightmare. I never knew if it was normal, or if the plane was breaking apart in the air. Terrified, I sat bolt upright and gasped, reaching for the nearest thing to grab, which happened to be his knee. He had his tray table down and his Mac laptop out and open, an ear bud in each ear.

“Hey, sleepy,” he said, removing his ear buds. “Just some turbulence. You’re okay,” he said, patting my back.

“Shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes, and then wiping away the tiny beads of sweat that popped up along my forehead. “That scared the shit out of me.” My voice waivered and I felt like I might cry if I could not get a hold on myself.

“You alright, honey?” I loved that he was concerned but I was too busy trying to erase the daydream of this plane going down over a field in Iowa.

I reached under my seat and retrieved my shoulder bag. I was shaking so badly that I couldn’t unzip it, embarrassed and frustrated that I was freaking out next to him. “I’m fine, I’m just...” I yanked the bag open, breaking the zipper, and dug into it for moist towelettes. I pressed one against my face and then against my neck, trying to stop the sweat from popping up and to calm my breath and shaky hands.

“Hey,” I heard softly, next to me. “Come here,” he said, flipping the arm rest between us up and out of the way. I slid my bag back under the seat, clutching the damp cloth in one hand and sat back. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers as if to say ‘come on’. I placed my hand in his, which then closed around mine. His thumb did that thing where he just rubbed the skin on the back of my hand. I swallowed, and closed my eyes.

“Just take a deep breath and relax. You’re okay.”

I started to calm down, and my breathing slowed, and I stopped sweating. I wiped my forehead with the cloth and blew out a breath. “I’m so embarrassed. Thank you,” I whispered.

“No problem,” he whispered back. “You okay for now?”

“I am,” I said, nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

Sadly, he released my hand and I clasped them both in my lap. I didn’t feel like chatting and flirting with him anymore. I leaned my head away from him and stared down the aisle, just praying for the flight to be over, already. I had met someone I’d dreamed about meeting for years and acted like a complete fool in front of him, not once but twice! He had to be laughing at me in his head, just waiting to tell the ‘crazy fan that kept freaking out on the airplane’ story. I didn’t want to be the crazy fan he would talk about. 

I spent the remainder of the flight in silence. Even through the landing, I closed my eyes and kept my hands in my lap and held my breath. It wasn’t as bad as the take off, and as soon as the lights came on and the seat belt sign turned off, I felt at ease and like I could breathe. I must have looked relieved as I snapped off my seatbelt and picked up my bag from under my seat.

“You look better. See? You made it.”

“Yeah,” I said, distracted by trying to pull my laptop bag out from the overhead cabinet.

“Here, let me grab that for you,” he said, coming behind me.

“I’ve... thank you,” I said, gently pushing his arm back down, “but I’ve got it. I don’t want to hit you again with this so stand back.” I slid the bag out at an angle, as it was stuck behind someone’s carry on suitcase. I made my way off of the airplane, through the jet way and into the airport. Once I reached the terminal, I had no idea where I was going and stopped to look for a sign.

“Baggage Claim is this way, come on,” I heard behind me, and a hand grab my arm, pulling me down the aisle. I looked up into JC’s face and he was almost smiling. Not quite, but almost. His face was friendly, at least.

“Did I offend you, back there? I didn’t mean to, if I did. I was just trying to help.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, tucking my newly humidified hair behind an ear. ”Oh God, no. Not at all. I—I’m just embarrassed at how bad I was on that flight. I don’t want you to think I was like... trying to act crazy or anything. I really do hate to fly.”

“Okay. You just got quiet. I wanted to make sure I didn’t, like, overstep my boundaries. I liked talking to you.”

“And I, you,” I said, smiling up at him. He smiled back, with his eyes, and we walked together to baggage claim, stood next to each other watching the carousel of luggage crawl past. I saw my ruby red suitcase and stretched forward to grab it. The carousel was moving a bit too quickly and it started to drag me along its course. I felt him behind me, a hand on my back, and then reaching around me to lift the suitcase off of the revolving belt.

“Thank you,” I said, embarrassed again, blushing. I am perfectly capable of doing very normal things. Why could I not manage to act like that in front of him? Why was I a helpless girl all of the sudden? I was touched by how nice and helpful he was being but pissed off at myself for needing his help.

“No problem,” he said, setting the case on end and extending the handle, then reaching past me to grab his own suitcase off of the belt. He extended the handle on his and motioned toward the double doors leaving baggage claim. He stopped short of the door and with a nod of his head, led me to the side, out of the way of other passengers and set his suitcase on end. He looked like he had something to say.

“Uhm. So. This is a terrible idea, and please feel free to say no, because it’s so bad, but… I’m asking anyway.” He chuckled, nervously. “So, I did really like talking to you and I’d like to talk to you more. And, well, you’ll be here just hanging out, so I thought maybe...” He scratched his temple and licked his lips, glancing around, amazingly incognito in black leather jacket, black jeans and a t-shirt.

He seemed to rush to get the rest of his words out before he changed his mind. “I was thinking I could maybe call you and show you some fun places around LA. Since you’re here, anyway. But I don’t want to like, ask for your number in case you don’t want to give it out so...uhm. Well, if it’s okay, I could call you, at your hotel.”

I blinked, and tried to think. Maybe my weekend would be more exciting than I originally thought!

“Uhm,” I said, stalling. “Yeah, that would be okay. Uh…Willis. My last name is Willis. And I’m staying at the Sheraton. South Hope, I think.” I pulled my reservation from my jacket pocket and unfolded it, smoothing out the creases. “Yeah. South Hope.”

“Okay,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Serena Willis at the Sheraton on South Hope. I will call you in your room later. Is that okay? Or is that too weird? You can tell me, if it’s too weird.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I said, nodding vigorously. “It’s fine. More for me to post on my ‘Oh Em Gee, I met JC’ message board.” I winked quickly and shot him a subdued smile.

“Ahahaha,” he laughed, then sensing he was being watched, whipped around, looking for the secret camera that didn’t seem to be there, but always was. “Will you be okay, getting to your hotel? You need a cab or anything?”

“I’ll catch a cab out here. Thank you, though.”

“Okay. I better go. I’ll call you,” he said, backing away, rolling his suitcase toward the parking deck. I turned on my heel and made my way to ground transportation, trying to breathe and contain any urge to scream.

I stepped into the first cab I could find and gave the driver the address. I eagerly gazed out of the window, enjoying the view—if one could enjoy the view of midday traffic. My phone buzzed inside my bag. Email that had piled up during the flight was starting to roll in. I pulled my Blackberry out of its protective pocket and unlocked it, then scrolled through the entries. Two missed calls and seventeen emails. I’d deal with those when I checked in.

The radio played faintly through the speakers and I smiled. Sheryl Crow, “All I Wanna Do” was a perfect theme for the weekend. I sang along, just under my breath, “..until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard…” I sighed deeply and sank back against the worn fabric seat of the cab and thought about the really weird flight and my possible weekend plans and my meeting on Monday. Too much going on, at one time!

The cab pulled in front of the Sheraton hotel and the driver stepped out to retrieve my bag from the trunk. I paid him and walked through the revolving door to the front desk to check in, then took the elevator to my room. I glanced around the spacious and simple, comfortable design. A stately queen bed was the focal point, piled with a mountain of pillows.  A small table stood in front of a bank of windows, a chair and an ottoman sat in one corner, and in the opposite corner was a small work station that would get a lot of use. The requisite large color cable TV was hidden behind the doors of a wooden entertainment center. I set my shoulder bag and laptop there and stood at the window. The curtains were closed, so I drew them open and stared at the LA skyline. Atlanta was nice but LA... wow. I could only dream of living there.

I turned around to inspect the rest of the room, digging my travel sized sanitizer out of my bag and wiping down the desk, the phone, the remote and the door handle. It was odd, but I had watched too much of John Stossel’s 20/20 Investigations on germs in hotels.

I’d been awake since six am, and I wanted to freshen up. A shower was in order, so I picked up my suitcase and dumped it onto the bed and zipped it open. My Blackberry buzzed inside my bag, and flipped it up quickly to check the display. I squealed as I realized it was one of my girlfriends, Melissa, and picked up the call.

“Hey girl, I just got to the hotel,” I said, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear, digging for my bluetooth. “Hang on, I’m trying to find my headset thing.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” her soft Tennessee accent drawled. “I was just checking to make sure you made it and got checked in and everything. How was the flight?”

“Not bad. I still freaked out, but not bad,” I answered, inwardly cringing at my behavior. “I’ll have to share more, later. Right now I want to get a shower and change my clothes, maybe find something to eat.”

“Okay, well if you need any suggestions, let me know. I’ll have Jen call you, she practically lives out there.”

“Thanks babe, I’ll call you later. Bye.” I disconnected the call and smiled to myself. It was nice of Melissa to check on me—she knew I hated to fly and that I would probably have a hard time with the long flight. She tried to offer me a relaxant but I declined. I was much better on this flight than I’d been on a flight with her to Vegas. Every bump of the plane made me want to scream, and when we hit turbulence, it was everything I could do to not rip my seat cushion up and brace for landing. I really could be overly dramatic when I wanted to be.

I gathered my shower kit and skipped to the bathroom, turning the hot water on full spray, adjusting the cold to cool it a little and standing under it. I let the strong water pressure beat down on my back, smoothing out the tension from the day, the flight, and Oh God, the Embarrassing Incident. I mean, could I have acted like more of a freak? I prayed that he was serious about calling, and that if he was serious about calling, that my usual level headed, confident, fun, sexy-flirty self would return. This weepy helpless girl would not do.

I scrubbed the dirt of the day off of my body, washed and conditioned my hair, rinsed and got out, wrapping one soft, fluffy towel around my body and one soft, fluffy towel around my hair. Barefoot, I padded out of the bathroom. The room was cool in comparison to the steamy bathroom and goose bumps began to form on my skin. I shivered, and holding the towel onto my head, picked out a pair of loose jeans and, judging from the heat, a thin, sheer blouse with ¾ sleeves and a white tank top to go underneath it. I was giddy that I was going to get to wear my sandals—it had been past sandals weather in Atlanta for a few months—so I picked out the pair I’d only worn a few times, the ones with the strap that went over the big toe and were very, very cute with jeans.

I bent to toss them onto the floor next to the bed when I noticed a faint blinking light in my periphery. I eyed the phone suspiciously, watching the red light blink on, off, on, off. ‘You can’t hear the message by staring at it. PICK IT UP!’ I thought to myself. Still holding the towel to my head, I picked up the phone and followed the instructions to hear my message.

“Hello, Serena Willis, at the Sheraton South Hope,” came a smooth voice that I could hear smiling on the other end. “I am calling you but you’re not picking up, which is okay, I guess. So, if you wanted to maybe meet for drinks or something, later I’d be up to that. I could tell you where to go, or pick you up or... well, we could meet at the bar at your hotel, if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with. So. I guess I have to, uhm, give you my number.” He paused, like he didn’t want to give it out, and I kind of hoped that he didn’t leave it on the voicemail. I listened further, and as I hoped, he didn’t. He just said he would call back in about an hour and hung up.

Drinks! With someone whose poster was, yes, still hanging on my wall! If was dreaming, I didn’t want to wake up, anytime soon. I moved back to the pile of clothing and finished getting dressed, dried my hair, and reapplied a light layer of makeup. I didn’t want to look slutty, so not a lot. Just enough to enhance. While I applied clear gel to my brows, I remembered him saying ‘your eyes are pretty’ and blushed. I stared into my grey eyes in the mirror. I hadn’t really ever noticed them. I was really more concerned about my nose. I had classic Greek features, which often included a big nose. Everyone seemed to like it but me. I was determined not to obsess about it, though, and capped the brow gel, tossing it into my makeup bag.

I unpacked my laptop and powered it up, thinking I could check some email while I waited for him to call back. I logged into the network and connected to the email system, diving into addressing a few simple questions and forwarding feature requests from current clients. An hour later I was still buried when the shrill ring of the telephone interrupted, startling me. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the phone and out of habit, answered ‘This is Serena’, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear, the same way I’d answer at work.

“Hello, Serena,” came that soft voice. I smiled and my fingers stopped typing. “Hi. I’m sorry I missed your call; I had to get a shower in. Thanks for calling back.”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry to be so... you know. I just didn’t want to leave my number in case anyone was listening to the messages.”

“Oh, that’s not a big deal. I was hoping you wouldn’t leave your number anyway. I mean—“ I sighed, exasperated. Here I go, again! “I didn’t mean it that way. Just, for the same reason.”

“I know, I didn’t think that, silly,” he teased, a light undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “So. Drinks. Did you decide what you want? “

“Uhm, yes. I would like for you to come get me and take me to wherever you like to go have a good drink on a Friday night. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yep. That is more than okay. How about... nothing’s really going on until around ten. We could eat and then go for drinks. If you want? I just don’t want to tell you ten o’clock. It’s like three, right now.”

“I have no plans, JC. Whatever is easiest for you.” I still couldn’t believe I was going out with him—if he said midnight, I’d be ready.

“Great. So, I’m going to give you my phone number. I don’t want it to get past you, and by that I mean don’t give it out and don’t let anyone find it. Got me?”

“Gotcha,” I said with a grin, copying down the number he recited. I gave him mine, and he said he would call me when he was on the way and to meet him outside the hotel at 8:30. I promised to be ready.

“Seriously, none of that ‘I just need to shower and get dressed, come up and wait’ shit. I mean it, be ready.”

“Oh aren’t we demanding? I’ll be ready. You be on time.”

“I promise. See you in a few,” he said, and then the line went dead. I hung up the phone and sat back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. Was this actually happening?

The ‘ding’ of the laptop announced a new email had arrived. I checked the time—it was just after 3pm. To pass the time, I went back to work.

###

At 8:30 PM sharp I was standing out in front of the hotel, waiting. ‘To be on time is to be late. Be early,’ my dad always said. I clutched my Blackberry in one hand and my small purse in the other, enjoying the warm night air. LA wasn’t much different than Atlanta. It was just knowing I was there, that excited me. I reveled in the fact that I could bump into someone ‘connected’ at any time. It wasn’t like I couldn’t do the same thing in Atlanta... it was just... this was LA!

I heard the rumble of an engine from down the street and knew instinctively that it was him. A jet black, shiny, two door Mercedes AMG stopped in front of me and the window slid down silently. “Good to see you can tell time,” he said, when I bent down to peer inside the window.

“It’s 8:35. You’re late.” I reached for the handle of the car and it popped open easily. I slipped into the perfectly formed cool leather seat and shut the door. The window slid back up as quietly as it slid down.

“Seatbelt,” he said, looking over at me.

“Yes, sir,” I smirked, snapping the belt in place, then glancing over in his direction. The light from the hotel entrance lit up the car slightly. I could see his blue eyes twinkling, a slight smile on his lips, and his casual, laid back posture in the driver’s seat. He smelled incredible, freshly shaven, the scent of his aftershave mixing with his cologne, filling the car with a heady fragrance. Not overpowering. Deliciously mouthwatering, actually. He wore dark, pressed jeans, cuffed at the ankles, boots and a long sleeved zippered jacket over a black t-shirt. My heart skipped a beat as I swallowed and tore my eyes away from him. I was really, really sitting in this car, with him. It was going to be a great night.

He pulled away from the hotel and maneuvered out into the street, tapping a finger on the steering wheel to the music playing over the stereo.

“Who is this?” I asked, over the music. He turned it down, slightly and glanced over at me, eyebrows raised. “I said, who is this? Playing?”

“Oh. The Donnas. It’s an old one. Good, though. You know them?”

“No, you listen to some weird shit,” I answered, laughing.

“It’s not weird,” he said, chuckling. “Just different. I just like different sounds. Give it a chance, you might like it.”

“Oh, alright. Just for you.” I rolled my eyes and took in the view. “Where are we going?”

“You’re full of questions. Relax. Listen. Watch.” He reached over and patted my hand on the arm rest.

“Excuse me, but I am in a car with a strange man in a strange city going to a place I’ve never been. I can ask questions.”

“I don’t have to answer them, though,” he said, grinning over at me. “Relax. You’re safe, with me. I just want to show you a good time, in a safe environment. I didn’t want you like, hanging around with weird people in weird places. I’m just funny, like that.”

“You’re serious? You worried about me ending up in some weird place?”

“Well, yeah. You ask anyone ‘where’s a good place to hang out’ there’s no telling where they’ll send you. You know? I just... I don’t know. Scary to think about.”

“So you just meet women on airplanes and offer to show them a good time?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. I’m serious,” he said, glancing over at me, then back at the road, then back at me. “I’m serious. I don’t. I just—nevermind.”

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing. Wow.” I leaned my head back onto the headrest and enjoyed the ride.

“Crafty woman. So I hope you like Chinese food.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care. As long as it’s edible.”

The car rolled down the street a few minutes longer, then he changed lanes and pulled up to a brightly lit restaurant, the fluorescent bulbs flashing obscenely into the night. After a few minutes in the valet line, we stepped out and he handed his keys over to a young attendant in a red vest and a crew cut. “Enjoy your meal,” he said, and stepped into the car.

“Easy on the engine, man,” JC said, before the attendant pulled away from the curb. JC watched him drive down the street to the special lot where they parked the valet cars. “I swear sometimes they just wait for me to go in and gun it. Maintenance is expensive enough.” He looked down at me and smiled, his teeth megawatt bright. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” I answered as he opened the door. “I haven’t eaten since you stole all my crackers on the plane. I could pass out at any second.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you. Food is good here, and it’s nice and homey.” He stepped to the hostess stand and said quietly, “two, please, in a booth if you have one, in the back, if you have one.” The hostess nodded and checked the chart, plucked two menus from the stack and smiled, turning to walk down the hall. The lights were low, the design classy in stark black and white. She turned a corner and stopped at a cozy little booth, away from most of the restaurant.

“Is this okay?” she asked, in a very cute little voice.

“It’s great, thank you,” he said, sliding into one side. I sat across from him and opened the menu. My mouth was already watering from the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. My stomach reminded me that it was empty, and loudly so. I blushed and hoped he hadn’t heard it. If he did, he didn’t mention it.

“So, what’s good, here?”

“Everything,” he said, a little too excited about Chinese food. “If you like Chinese, I mean like Chinese a lot, just get the special. It’s always good. If you’re picky, anything with chicken is always good.”

I opened the menu and scanned it for anything that looked good. I was in the mood for some Garlic Chicken or something and found a dish that fit the bill. He was just in my line of vision, and I pretended to still read the menu while I watched him stare at the menu, scratch his chin and turn the page, then rub his cheek and then run his fingers over his lips absentmindedly. It was eerie seeing him up close, watching those hands, those eyes, that hair—I could practically count the hairs on his arms, he was so close to me.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, without looking up. My eyes slammed shut and I dipped my head toward the table, laughing.

“You’re not the only one who can see out of the corner of her eye. Do you know what you want?” He closed his menu and slid it to the edge of the table. I did the same, nodding and blushing a hot, steaming crimson. The hostess brought us glasses of water and took our order. As soon as she walked away, I sucked down half of my glass.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I won’t stare. That probably weirds you out, huh?”

“Sort of,” he answered with a shy grin. “I’m alright. I just wanted to embarrass you.” He sipped his water, licked his lips. I swore was going to stop watching him. I had a feeling that he would drop me off at the hotel early if I didn’t stop acting this way. I steeled myself and took a deep breath.

“So what do you like to do down there in Atlanta? Like if you were at home tonight, what would you be doing?”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “If I was at home, it’s a good chance I’d be working. Or in my comfies watching something on TV.”

“What? You’re young, you’re—single, right?” He lifted an eyebrow. I nodded, sipping my water. “Living in one of the hippest cities in the southeast. You and your friends don’t get together on the weekends and hit the town?”

“Every once in awhile,” I answered, mindlessly wiping the condensation from the glass off of the table. “The older I get, and the deeper I get into being an adult and having a job and responsibilities... by the time Friday rolls around, I’m just done. I feel like I’ve been beat with a stick and I just want to relax. Take a shower, get comfortable, watch a movie, fall asleep early. Isn’t that sad?”

He laughed. “No. It amazes me how much I’m like... everyone else,” he said, extending his hand in a flourish. “Except it was Sunday. We got Sundays off. And by the time Sunday rolled around, all I wanted to do was sleep. If we got a break, forget it. The first thing I’m doing is relaxing, man.” He laughed. “So yeah, I get it. No, it’s not sad. The clubs and the parties will always be there. You’re not missing a thing.”

Our meals arrived as he finished talking, and my eyes grew huge as the sizzling plate with the delicious aroma was set in front of me. We talked and ate, laughing at the random people that walked past the window, making up stories about them.

“See, that guy right there,” JC said, nodding toward a austere man with a terse grumpy expression on his face. “He has to pee. But wants to wait till he gets home. Cause he hates public restrooms. You know, ever since ‘the accident’.” He used the air quotes and laughed.

“Oh, there’s always an ‘accident’,” I said, laughing hysterically. “Okay, stop. I can’t breathe. I’m so full.”

“Well, let’s go top off with some alcohol, shall we?” He paid the check and gave the valet his ticket, standing just inside the door and waiting on the car to come around.

“Was it good?”

“Delicious. Really good, thank you,” I said, distracted by the various hangings on the wall. There were older pictures of Los Angeles, the old black and white and sepia photos of horses and carriages and men in suits and women in long, flowing dresses and parasols. Those were always my favorite to look at, no matter where I was.

“Ready?” A soft, warm hand gently grabbed my elbow, pulling me toward the door. “Car’s here, let’s go. You can see these online, I’ll show you.”

I tore myself away from the photos and walked out of restaurant, stepping right into the car. The valet closed my door and I snapped my seatbelt into place.

“Good girl,” he said, snapping his own, and pulling away from the restaurant.

“Now where are we going?” I asked.

“Have you learned nothing? You were annoying as a child, weren’t you?”

“Maybe,” I giggled.

He drove and drove and finally turned into the circular drive of a hotel and again handed the keys over to a valet. “Some friends are having a little shindig here tonight, thought we’d stop by and have a drink, on them,” he said, swinging the door open and walking in behind me. He veered to the left and we headed toward the swankiest lounge I’ve ever seen in my life.

The perimeter of the room was lined with expensive looking couches and settees, the bar was a glossy, high shine maple, the bar stools pure soft leather with brass hardware, off of which the chandeliers gleamed. Light music played in the background and the room was about half full of very beautiful people. If he was trying to impress me, it was working.

“What do you want to drink?” He pointed toward the bar.

“Uh, I’ll start with a Corona. Work my way up.”

He nodded his head toward some open spaces on the couches at the end of the room. “Plant yourself on one of those couches, by the window. I’ll come find you.”

I glared at him, but did as I was told, kneeling on the couch and taking in the sight of the LA skyline, tiny blinking flashing lights. I wondered if it was like that all the time.

“Nice view, huh?” A strange voice whispered in my ear, entirely too close for comfort. I jumped and moved over a few cushions, staring at the man who sat next to me. He was tall, dark, and handsome, in a long sleeved shirt and pressed slacks, a close haircut and the faintest hint of five o clock shadow--but a stranger, who came too close and was too familiar with a woman he didn’t know. He looked me up and down, licked his lips and scooted closer. “What’s wrong, lil mama? Just trying to talk to you...”

I got up from the couch, determined to find a different seat, and walked straight into JC. “Hey,” he said, holding two bottles, handing me one. “Where you going? What’s wrong? You don’t look... what’s wrong?” He stared down at me, his forehead creased, his mouth drawn in a tight frown.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just... there was a guy hitting on me and he scared me. I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s sit.” I turned around and my suitor was still sitting in the same spot, shaking his head and smiling off to the side.

“Don’t tell me it was this guy,” JC said, slapping him on the arm and dropping heavily next to him. I stared at them both. “This is Marcus, my buddy. Marcus, this is Serena. She’s visiting from Atlanta.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here with JC,” he said, bashful. “Nice to meet you, miss.” He extended a hand and, cautiously, I gave his hand a firm shake. JC patted the cushion next to him and I sat and nursed my beer until it was gone. I wanted another, and JC was occupied in a conversation, so I ambled up to the bar and ordered my own drink, then sat at the bar and drank it, watching the room. I didn’t recognize any of the people, which was good. I could relax and stare without feeling weird. I had a few more and relaxed a bit more.

“Hey, you disappeared,” said a familiar voice, climbing up onto the stool next to me. His scent tickled my nose, but also made me feel warm inside.

“Hey,” I said, smiling wide, noticing that my voice slurred a little. I couldn’t remember how many of those cute little drinks I had, but I felt really loose and relaxed. And warm.

He cupped my chin, lifting my face to him. I weaved in his grasp and giggled. “Oh no. Are you drunk?”

“Noooooooo,” I drawled. “I’m. I’m kind of loose but not drunk. On my way to drunk, though.” I giggled and smacked his hand. He shook his head.

“Shit, you are... you need some water. Excuse me,” he waved to the bartender. “Could I get a bottle of water, for her? Please.” The bartender set a cold bottle of water in front of me. JC opened the bottle and handed it to me. “Drink. All of it. Here.”

I glared again. “You’re bossy,” I said, but took the bottle and sucked down half of it.

“You’re drunk,” he said. “Drink.”

I finished my water and visited the restroom. I was a little disappointed in how disheveled I looked. ‘Okay, Serena, you’re too relaxed. Pull it back,’ I told myself, smoothing down my hair and adding a fresh coat of lip gloss.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, watching me walk from the restroom. I saw genuine concern in his eyes. The reality of what could have happened hit me square between the eyes and sobered me instantly. I was lucky I was with someone who cared, and who wouldn’t let me get drunk and then take me back to my hotel and take advantage.

“Fine, thanks for rescuing me. I think I’m done drinking for the night.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can carry you to your room.”

“And I didn’t want you to have to carry me,” I said, winking at him. I asked the bartender for another bottle of water and we settled into a dark corner of the room where we could see almost everyone, but we weren’t the center of attention. I had to sit close to him, to hear him over the people and the music. I didn’t have a problem with that, and he didn’t seem to either. I sat back with my legs crossed. He was next to me, so close our thighs touched, an arm stretched out behind me. He wasn’t flirty but he wasn’t standoffish, either. Comfortable was more like it.

“So, do you know a lot of people, here?”

He glanced around for a few seconds. “You know what, I don’t hardly know anyone here. A couple of people. Most everyone here is a friend of a friend, I guess.”

“Really,” I said, kind of shocked. “So is it like this at every party? Isn’t it boring to go to a party and not know anyone?”

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “And yes. That’s why I stay my ass at home in sweats. Or in the studio. Always something better to do. Gotta relax sometime, though.”

I stifled a yawn and finished off my bottle of water. “I saw that,” he said, nudging me. “You have to be tired. It’s been a long day. You want to go?”

“Not if you’re not ready. I’m okay,” I said, yawning again. “Alright, I guess I’m tired. But if you’re not ready—“

“I can see these people anytime, Serena. Let’s go.”

He stood and offered me a hand to help me up, except he didn’t let it go when I was standing. He led me out of the room, nodding to various people, waving, saying goodbye. Out of the lounge, through the hotel lobby, and to the front door where he handed the attendant his valet ticket, he held my hand. He didn’t let go until the car arrived, and did so only so I could step into the car. I got in and snapped the belt, relaxing against the soft leather.

“Do you mind if we open the window a little bit? I’m kind of hot.” He complied by pressing the button and the window slid down a few inches. “Thanks,” I said, rolling my head toward the view of many, many cars out on the road.

“It’s late, your time. I forgot about that,” he said, patting my hand. “You’re a trooper for still being awake.”

“I was very well entertained, thank you. But now that I know it’s late, I’m exhausted.” I yawned again, loudly. It was rude but it felt so good. “Sorry. I’m supposed to be a dainty young lady in front of you, I guess.”

He laughed, soundlessly. “Be yourself, Serena.”

We rode silently, a slight wind whipping through the car, soft music coming through the speakers, a relaxed air between us. He still smelled incredible, I still felt incredible. Tired, but incredible. I almost didn’t want the night to end, except that I was starting to day dream about falling into that feather soft bed, and rolling over, and pulling the covers up over me, laying my head on that crisp, cool pillow and sinking into a deep, deep sleep. I sighed.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“Something wrong?”

“Oh. Oh, no,” I said with a smile, rolling my head toward him. “I just—I had a great time tonight, with you. And I was just thinking about that, and then about going to bed.”

His head slowly rolled toward me and he blinked.

“Shit,” I said, as I realized what he was reacting to. “Not with you. Just in general.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay. That’s what I thought. But I wasn’t going to turn you down.”

A giggle escaped my throat before I could stop it. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wow.”

He looked over at me, then at the road, then at me and back to the road. “I’m not—please don’t think I was trying to push you, or I was expecting it, or anything. I’m not like that.”

“I don’t think anything, JC. Relax,” I soothed, patting his leg just above the knee. “You’re safe with me.”

The Sheraton loomed a few blocks ahead and I stretched, trying to wake up enough to make it up to my room. The car smoothly swung into the circular drive and he stopped in front of the front door.

“You’ll be okay? You need me to see you up? I can, if you want.”

“No, nope,” I answered, waiving him off. “I mean it, I had a really, really good time. Thanks for not wanting me to end up someplace weird. Lean over here.” He obeyed and I dropped a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re very much a gentleman. I appreciate it. Have a good night, drive safely.”

He blinked, and seemed surprised, then smiled. “I will. Thanks for coming out with me. Sleep well.”

I managed to step out of the car, with the door attendant’s help, and made it through the lobby without tripping over myself. I was getting sleepier by the second and by the time I hit my room, washed my face, changed into some comfortable sleepwear and pulled my hair back, I was one blink from passing out. It was 2am in Los Angeles, 5am eastern. I had been awake nearly twenty four hours. It was a wonder I was even still standing.

I pulled the sheets back and sat on the bed, almost sighing at the firm comfort, and reached over to snap off the lamp. My phone lit up and the sound of it vibrating against the wood table startled me.

‘Had a great time with you. Let’s do it again. Lunch/Grand Tour tomorrow. Yes?’

I smiled at the text message and typed back, ‘Sure, anytime after noon,’ and set the phone back onto the table. I’m sure he answered, I just didn’t care. I rolled over and drifted into the most delicious sleep of my life.

Pt 1

How I did not have a hangover was beyond me.  Perhaps it was the two bottles of water. Perhaps it was the handsome and attentive company. Perhaps it was the deep, full, comfortable night’s sleep. Perhaps it was a combination of everything, but I woke up feeling great. Well rested, positively wonderful and full of energy.  I made use of the hotel’s workout center, took a brief swim, and then headed back to my room for a shower and to dress for lunch.

The weather was impressive for October. I had put away all of my warm weather dresses and skirts, but it was still warm in California, at least during the day, and in comparison to Atlanta. Dressed in a light, thin, flowy dress that hit just above the knee and comfortable sandals, I perched on the edge of the bed, digging through my travel jewelry box. The phone buzzed on the table next to me. Expecting JC, I picked it up.

“Hel-loooo,” I said, in a sing song voice and smiling.

“Well someone is a good mood. How is LA?” The voice wasn’t JC; it was Jen, back in Atlanta, calling to check on me.

“Hey there!” I answered brightly. ”LA is wonderful! I slept well, I just worked out and had a swim, I’m getting ready to go to lunch—I may never come home.”

“Don’t even tease. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It is. I can see how it could get old, but not today.”

“So, what did you end up doing last night?”

Okay. I love my friends. I do. However. They have the biggest mouths this side of the Rockies, so there wasn’t any way that I was sharing anything with anyone over the phone about the night before. It would be around the country by dinner, and besides, this was a story that had to be told face to face—if it would even be told at all. I was feeling more like saying anything would make the situation even stranger than it was, and I was trying to avoid thinking about how strange it was. He was nice to me and I didn’t know why, but he didn’t have to be, and I didn’t want to disrespect that. I planned to tread lightly and not get on his bad side.

“Oh,” I said, trying to make something believable come out of my mouth. “I ended up having Chinese, uhm, down the street and then I went to this lounge and had drinks. It was fun. I had a good time.” I hoped that was enough to satisfy her curiosity, because that’s all that I was sharing. “So, I hate to cut this short but I’m trying to catch brunch, can I call you back later?” 

I could hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. “Okay, fine, jetsetter. I hope we’ll talk later, but in case we don’t, kick ass on Monday, okay? And have fun out there!”

I told her that I would and ended the call. Yes. I sure would.

No sooner had I hung up the phone than it rang again and this time it was JC.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” came that smooth voice. “How do you feel today?”

I smiled into the phone, feeling like a teenager. “Very, very good,” I answered. “I’m really surprised I don’t have a hangover. I think I was on the verge of being in trouble, last night. Thanks for your help.”

“See, that’s why I didn’t want you out under your own power. You could have ended up anywhere. Are you ready? I’m outside.”

I hung up and hurried down to the lobby. He was out of the car and standing near the passenger door waiting, one hand in his pocket, the other flipping through his cell phone. I felt like I was walking in slow motion, through the revolving front door, staring at him in a crisp white t-shirt with a red and black screen print design on it, the same faded black jeans he seemed to always wear, with the same red and black sneakers he seemed to always wear. He turned at the sound of the door swinging around, and flashed that megawatt smile when he saw it was me. His blue eyes were hidden behind stylish aviator sunglasses and his hair was perfect, not short but not long, and a little messy. Somewhere inside myself I sighed, and threatened myself that, if I was indeed dreaming, and I somehow pinched myself and woke up, that I would severely hurt myself.  I was going to enjoy this day.

“Hi,” I said, sure that my grin was annoyingly wide, but didn’t care. I was very happy to see his face.

“Hi, there,” he answered back, pulling up on the door latch. “You look nice.” He watched me get into the car and my dress rode up on my thighs. He gazed a second too long at my legs, then closed the door.

We had lunch at a lovely beachside restaurant, a gentle breeze blowing off of the ocean, the umbrella shading our table flapflapflapping in the wind.

“So, you look pretty good, for being up so late,” I said, after I handed the waitress my menu.

He sat forward, leaned his arms on the table, and sipped a glass of iced tea through a straw. “That wasn’t late, for me, really. 2 am, I’m just getting going, sometimes.”

“Yeah, but… add in a flight, and it can take a lot out of you, probably.”

He shrugged and bobbed his head to the side. “Maybe. I feel good, though. You look really good for how bad you were doing last night.” 

His expression made me rewind the evening before, try to remember if I was really bad. Was that why he was holding my hand? I was feeling pretty sober, by then. Just tired. My mind raced—what was he talking about? Even the slightest thought that I might have looked foolish in front of him turned my stomach. 

Timid, I asked, “Was I looking bad? Maybe I was drunker than I thought.”

He dipped his head and let a chuckle escape. “I’m messing with you, Serena,” he said, laughing, then took a sip of tea. “You’re too easy.”

“I’m not easy,” I shot back, arching an eyebrow. He arched a brow back at me. “Can I ask what we’re doing today?”

“Nope. Just enjoy the ride.” I bowed my head, laughing to myself. I now could not imagine how this trip might have ended up, had I not met him on the plane.

“So,” he said, setting down his glass of tea. “Uhm. If you don’t mind me asking, you know, we talked last night and you said you were single. Why is that?”

“Well,” I said, picking up my napkin, unfolding it, and spreading it on my lap. “Why are you single?”

“Me?” He shrugged. “Well, I asked you, but okay. I just don’t want to deal with it right now. The whole exclusive, commitment… thing. I don’t know, not for me. Not right now. Are you saying it’s the same for you?”

I nodded. “Pretty much. I work a lot. And I travel a lot. I don’t see tying myself to someone I rarely see. I guess, if you meet someone awesome, it could be worth it.” I stared out into the day, onto the beach, watching the waves roll in, feeling the breeze. “I just haven’t met him, I guess,” I added quietly. I glanced back at JC, and found him studying me, his arms folded on the table.

“And who is ‘him’? Do you like, have an idea of what you’re looking for?”

I snickered. “Does anyone? It’s not exact, down to the letter, but I have an idea. I’m not all about a shopping list of perfection. To be flawed is to have character. I just haven’t met him.”

“Do you think this guy is in Atlanta?”

I was starting to wonder what was up with the interrogation. I felt like he was digging for something. I didn’t know if he was finding what he was looking for, but if he didn’t ask the question, I wasn’t giving the answer.  “Hell if I know. I don’t know that I’ll meet him at all. I have a few very wonderful friends who are, you know—older. Late thirties, early forties, still single, still looking, hanging on.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Dating is complicated. I don’t want to feel desperate. I’d rather just enjoy myself. And if I find him, I find him.”

“And if you don’t?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Then, I don’t. I just can’t stress out about it.” 

I picked up my glass and sipped my tea, my eyes downcast, hoping this ‘interview’ was over. I was thirty two, still young, and yet people acted like I was an old maid. I probably answered that same question, on average, once a week from friends of my parents, along with offers to play matchmaker and business cards from their ‘dateable, loveable, but just-a-little- quirky’ sons and nephews and grandsons. I’d had my fill of quirky. It wasn’t that I didn’t want someone. It was that the some ones I found just weren’t right for me.

Lunch arrived, offering a reprieve from the not-so-aggressive grilling. We enjoyed cold sandwiches and hot fries and iced tea, having an easy conversation until our plates were clean and the check was paid.  He tucked me back into the car and we were on our way to the next destination—the location of which he delighted in keeping a secret.

“I don’t get why everything has to be a surprise. Why can’t I know?”

“Because I’m a control freak,” he said, watching for a break in traffic so he could turn. Finding one, the car pushed forward into traffic. “No, really, I just want to surprise you. It’s the little things. Just relax, shit.”

I didn’t like not knowing where I was going but no amount of whining was going to get him to spill, so I sat back against the seat and enjoyed the ride. He pulled in front of a stark white building, which turned out to be a museum—not my idea of a fun Saturday afternoon, but he must have had something planned because he offered me a grin as I got out and came around to the front of the car.

Once we were inside, I felt a strong desire to whisper. There were few people milling about, and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He took my hand and headed down a hall, toward a room. I was just about to ask where we were going when I got my answer, and a giant smile crossed my face—an entire exhibit, not just a wall, of collectible photos and relics of cities around the world circa 1900 and forward. It was like stepping into a time machine, and I was instantly mesmerized by display after display.

“I can’t believe you even know this is here,” I marveled, staring at a photo from 1906.

“I came in here once, by accident,” he said, tucking his sunglasses into the front of his t-shirt, standing next to me. “Are you happy I didn’t tell you where I was taking you, now?”

“Yes,” I gushed. “Yes I am.” I moved slowly down one aisle and up another, keeping an eye on him. One sign of boredom and I would happily leave, but as long as he seemed to be enjoying it, I would soak it in. 

An hour and a half later I had looked at every piece, every photo, every display in the small room and enjoyed every minute of it. “Thank you, for bringing me here. This was great.” I walked out of the room, sure he was more than ready to go.

“You’re welcome. Glad you enjoyed it. You seemed so ‘into’ those pictures last night, I figured I had to bring you out here.”

“I loved it so much I’m not even asking where we’re going next,” I said, glancing up at him as we walked to the car.

“Good, because I’m not telling you,” he said, opening my door, and closing it once I was inside.

He turned the ignition and the car purred to life, then navigated toward the open road. Our second stop of the day took us to Pasadena and The Gamble House. I didn’t understand why were there until JC explained that it was a home built in 1908 for David and Mary Gamble of Proctor and Gamble—a perfect fit for my obvious penchant for all things historical.

“We could have done the big fancy tour,” he said quietly, standing in the entrance line, “but it started at 10:30, and I thought you’d have probably shot me if I suggested it. This is just as good.” 

I nodded, impressed that he was even paying attention to anything I liked.

We walked through the tour that didn’t seem to take the hour that it was supposed to take. He was immersed in the structure and design of the building; I was lost in the history, noting everything from the materials and the fabric used around the house, to the pieces of art and the photos of reconstruction. It was not anything close to what I had planned to do with my Saturday in Los Angeles, but I had the best time I could remember having in a long time. I decided I was done asking where we were going and would just let him take me somewhere wonderful.

“So, is this the kind of stuff you’re doing when no one sees you outside of your house for six months?”

He shot an annoyed look at me over his sunglasses, now back in the car. “No one needs to know what I’m doing when you don’t see me out of my house. You know what the weird thing is? I’m out, all the time. Everywhere. It’s really just a matter of where the cameras are. Sometimes I go places where there are cameras. Sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I really don’t leave the house for awhile. I go through those homebody times like anyone does.” He shook his head, his eyes watching traffic in the glare of the setting sun. “People don’t really think I just sit in my house for months at a time, do they?”

“Well you know,” I said, “if we don’t see you, you must not be out there.” He gave me a look I can’t really describe. Somewhere between ‘you’re crazy’ and ‘oh, please’. I shrugged and smiled. 

“I bet no pictures from today get printed, and yet I’ve been out, all day. So people are going to assume I just didn’t leave my house. That’s ridiculous.”

“Of course not. I didn’t say it made sense. It’s just the mentality, I guess.”

He leaned an elbow on the ledge of the window and bit at his thumbnail as he drove. I recognized Santa Monica on the street signs and, as I’d hoped, he’d taken me to the Pier. He parked, then reached behind him and grabbed a long sleeved pullover from the backseat.  “You might need this, will probably get cold after sunset.”

We walked the pier, taking in the amusements and the sights. I declined a ride on the Ferris wheel, but enjoyed watching it go around and around, the occupants screaming and laughing, having a great time. We dropped in and out of various shops along the way. I picked up a few trinkets for Jen and Melissa and a few other friends at the gift shop, tried on a straw hat, decided by the squint and wrinkled nose that JC gave me that it wasn’t cute, and put it back.

As expected, as soon as the sun set, the wind coming off the water chilled to the bone, so he handed me the pullover and I put it on over my dress. It helped to cut the cold a little but the wind was wicked and I worried about him in his short sleeved shirt. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking toward the edge of the Pier and we stood there, watching the last bands of sunlight disappear over the edge of the ocean.

“So, tell me more about the uhm…the ‘fan’ mentality,” he said, with a sarcastic shake of his head. “Do you think the same, then, that I’m some sort of recluse, sitting in my house, watching life pass me by?”

My short temper surprised me. I didn’t know I had an outburst until it came, and when it did, I stopped and faced him. “You say ‘fan’ like it’s an insult, like it’s weird to like you, like your music, want to know what’s up with you. Fans only know what you let them see. If you don’t like how fans think, or what they seem to think of you, or the mentality or the perception, then change what you show them. You can’t expect us to understand what we don’t know.”

Surprised, he stared, expressionless, and said nothing for a few seconds. His gaze turned back toward the water, and I wondered how long it would be before he led me back to the car and dumped me at my hotel. He didn’t though. Instead, he stole a glance or two over at me and quietly said, “I don’t mean it that way. I meant to really just ask your perspective. I deserved that, I guess.”

Relieved, I backed down. “You know what? You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said that. I have no idea what it’s like to be you. It’s very easy to sit on this side of it and say what you should do, have to do-- like it’s my life to dictate. I’ll shut up.” I crossed my arms inside the huge jacket and resolved to keep that promise.

“No, don’t shut up,” he said, looking back at me. “I want to know. I want to know your thoughts and your perspective. Really.”

For a minute, I just watched him. There was a reason I felt so drawn to him, that I became a fan, and was still a fan after all this time, after the music stopped coming and the random nonsensical projects waned on, and the promises of something new went unfulfilled-- and would stay a fan until something devastating happened, like he killed someone, or something. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to, or if I was even ready to share it with him—I had barely shared it with the people who were closest to me.

“I sort of always felt like I had—I don’t want this to sound crazy, or anything, so just bear with me—like I had a connection with you. There’s something we have in common, that I found out about you a long time ago. And I guess whenever I hear this about someone, celebrity or not, I feel like I have some kind of unspoken bond with them because I share something that not everyone else can.”

He angled an arm up, leaning his chin on a hand, a childish grin on his lips. “Really. Intense fear of needles? Hate of tattoos? What?”

I laughed, and saw that he was trying to lighten the mood and put me at ease. “Well--big announcement—I am also adopted,” I said, softly. His eyes shut quickly, behind his shades, then fluttered open. He straightened and leaned his hip against the railing.

“I found that out, awhile back. A long while back actually, and I really connected with you, over it, but it wasn’t something you talked about, publicly. Then about a year ago you started talking about it, and how it happened, and… your situation and my situation have some parallels. It’s something I personally rarely talk about and… well, it just made me really like you more, as a person and feel, like—okay, not in a crazy fan way-- but closer to you. Does that make sense?”

“Mmhhmm.” He nodded, but offered no further comment. He just stared at me, as if he was trying to determine if I was serious, or playing with him, lying so that I could appear to be closer to him than I was.

“I have no reason to lie about something like this. It would be sick if I did, just to say I had something in common with you, but you don’t have to believe me. You asked, and that’s my perspective. I love your voice, I love your music, I like how you think, and we have something in common. Period, end of story.”

He scratched at his temple and then behind his ear, leaning onto the peeling wood, clasping his hands in front of him, staring out at the water. “So, do you know them? Your birth family?” His voice was quiet, really the most serious he’d been since I met him.

“I know her. My mom. I don’t know who my dad is.”

“When did you find out? Or did you always know?” 

“I always knew. The situation was… complicated. We’ll say that. There was no way to hide it, even if they tried.” Though I had the sweatshirt on, I was feeling the breeze through the thick cotton and my legs were cold as ice, but I didn’t want to move from that spot. I felt a very important conversation coming on. I leaned up against the railing alongside him and put the cold out of my mind.

“Mine too, kind of. What was complicated?”

“I was eight, when I was adopted. But I’d been with my parents since I was born. It was… it just took that long to get everything straightened out with Regina—my birth mom—to get her to give up her rights to me and let me be adopted by the Willis family. She was, well is an addict. Drugs, alcohol. Whatever she can get her hands on, but she seemed to clean up just long enough to keep the state at bay.”

“Wow. That’s gotta be hard on a kid. I mean, I know. It was hard on a kid. I guess I feel your pain.”

“And I feel yours,” I said, nudging him. “Though, I suspect your situation was a bit more amicable than mine.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” he said with a short chuckle. “What happened?”

“Oh, she’d disappear, and be gone for months and everything would be great. I had brothers by then. Out of the blue, she’d reappear and my life would be a living hell. Every few months, she needed something, and everyone had to drop everything to get it to her, or she’d raise hell and talk about getting clean and taking her ‘damn daughter’ home. Even after I was adopted, after she finally signed the forms, she didn’t go away. She was a mess, always has been. My parents took care of her, as best they could, you know, for my sake. Now I take care of her.”

“That’s a weird turn of roles, isn’t it? Taking care of your mom?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, emitting a sarcastic chuckle. “Yep, it’s weird, seeing as how she’s only fourteen years older than I am. And she feels it, so she doesn’t let me take care of her that often. It’s just, you know, the same thing, every few months. She needs a hundred dollars, she’s in jail, she’s in the hospital, she wants to go to rehab, she needs to go to a clean house, she needs a ride to some clinic. I’m just tired. And I have a lot of residual issues over how my parents actually got me, so… I hold a pretty big grudge against her.”

He looked at me, the wind whipping pieces of his hair up so they stood on end. “What do you mean?”  How did your parents get you? She just signed the paperwork, right?”

I glared at him. “She wouldn’t go away, now why would she just sign some paperwork?  Please, JC, I wish it were that easy. I wish my mom would have just shown up at some kind folks’ doorstep with me and said ‘I can’t take care of her, will you raise her’ and then let them raise me.”

He held up a finger and shook it at me. “Fan rule number one. There’s the story that’s told to the public and there’s what’s really happened. I… don’t want to get into that, but...” He waved past the topic. 

I felt a swell of emotion rise, emotion that I did not want to show. I wasn’t going to stand here on the Pier and cry my eyes out. I kept my eyes on the water, the moon rising and reflecting off of the surface. “My dad found her and asked her, you know, ‘what do you want? You give us Serena, we give you want you want’.  She named a price. A ridiculous one. And they told her she’d get it after she signed the papers.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head turn to me, angled so he could see my face. I stared straight ahead. “So she showed up—late and lit—and signed them. And later, I’m sure she had a grand old crack smoking party with her proceeds. Truthfully, I really felt like—“ I paused. Could I really say this, out loud, to him?

“You felt like what?”

I shook my head, blinking the tears back. “I felt like she sold me,” I spit out.  “She sold me. Not exactly to the highest bidder, and it was what I wanted but she sold me. When I found that out I never felt so cheap and worthless, like a piece of property to be exchanged back and forth, you know?” I hunched my shoulders and bowed my head, laying my head on my folded arms.

“That’s…” he huffed, not knowing what to say. What do you say, to something like that? “That’s not… that’s ridiculous, Serena. I mean, she put you in the middle, but she didn’t sell you. She just… eventually did what was best for you when she was motivated by something else.”

I lifted my head, wiped my eyes and sniffled. “Well. You say potato, I say she sold me. I’ll say it till the end of time.  It’s how I feel.”

He straightened, then, and I felt arms pulling me up and turning me toward him. My face was buried in his chest and his arms were wrapped around my shoulders and his cheek was laying on my head. “Don’t believe that,” he whispered. “Just don’t. That’ll destroy you. You’re a beautiful person, and I would hate to see that happen.”

I shook with effort not to cry and managed not to. He rubbed my back with one hand and kept one arm tight around my shoulder. “You make sure to mention on your little message board how nice I’m being right now, okay? I mean really lay it on thick, with the hug and stuff.” 

I burst into laughter and unfolded my arms, wrapping them loosely around him. “There’s no message board. At least not one by that name that I’m a member of.” I noticed, then that he was trembling. “Are you cold?” I pulled back and looked up at him. 

He shivered, his teeth chattering. “Freezing!” he said, though clenched teeth. “This wind is killing me. Can we go?”

“Why didn’t you say something? Do you want your jacket back, it’s a short walk to car—“ I started to remove it but he took my hand and pulled me along down the Pier.

“If you take that off, I will be furious with you. Tomorrow, wear jeans and sleeves. Come on.”

Tomorrow?

In lieu of dinner out, we opted to go back to the hotel and warm up, order dinner from the restaurant there and then decide what else we wanted to do. The famed LA traffic really was crazy and it took nearly twice as long as it should have to get back. He parked in the lot in the back of the hotel and we entered through a side door, climbed the steps to the first floor and caught the elevator from there, sidestepping the lobby and any preying eyes.

“Here’s why no one ever sees you anywhere, sneaky.”

“Gotta have privacy, man.” I slid my keycard into the reader and opened the door. I had left the air on, so it was cool inside the room. I headed straight for the air system and adjusted it for heat.

“I need use your facilities,” he said, pointing toward the restroom. “You have any bras or anything hanging out in here?” I gave him a look and shook my head no. He stepped in, cautiously, and flipped on the light. Satisfied he wouldn’t be accosted by any unmentionables, he walked in and shut the door.

The menu for the hotel restaurant was available on screen. I sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through the screens to the entrees and rubbing my feet.

“Feet hurt?” He sat next to me on the bed squinting at the screen.

“Yeah, I don’t wear those sandals often. All that walking and standing, rubbed a little tender spot. I’ll be alright. What do you want to eat?”

“Don’t care, I’m not picky. Whatever’s on special,” he said, flipping through his phone. I called down to the restaurant and placed our orders and sat back on the bed. “Forty five minutes,” I said, stretching.

“Cool,” he said. “Come over here.” He pointed toward the chair and ottoman in a corner of the room. Confused, I did as he asked. He sat on the ottoman in front of me and reached for the foot I had been rubbing.

I laughed, more embarrassed than anything. He wanted to massage my feet? “Oh, no,” I giggled. “No, no, no. You’re sweet but no. You don’t… you don’t have to do that.”

“Will you shut up and put your foot up here? I’m a master at foot massage. Seriously. Up here.” He patted his thigh and held out his hands, and against my general nature, I gingerly placed a foot in his lap. I knew from the moment he touched it that I was in trouble. Large hands that I imagined would be rough with a woman’s foot became lithe and nimble, pushing and pulling and pressuring in just the right spots. I sank into the chair, my arms limp, head back, eyes half open, watching him rub my foot. Feeling him massage the aches and pains away. Somewhere between that morning and that very minute, I realized he stopped being ‘JC Chasez’ and started being… someone different. Familiar and kind and comfortable. Someone I could like. Someone I did like, a lot.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I told you.” I nodded, and mumbled something that probably sounded like yes.

“Want me to do the other one?” I answered by lifting my other foot and placing it next to the first one, and he rubbed and pinched and pulled and massaged them both. I watched him in awe, working his magic. His forehead wrinkled in concentration, his hands working the muscles in both feet.

“There’s this cream stuff that they make, so your shoes don’t rub against your feet, and you don’t get those tender spots. I’ll ask my friend Gina what it’s called. It works great for her though, she’s a dancer, and they have to wear uncomfortable shoes to dance in, sometimes.” He lifted his eyes from my feet to my face and smiled.

“I’d appreciate a referral, if you could. Though, I can’t wear those sandals again until spring anyway and by then I’ll forget that they rub my feet like that.”

He winked and said, “Then, you’ll just have to come back so I can give you the world’s best foot massage again.”

“Maybe I will. That felt great, thank you,” I said, lifting my feet off of his lap, crossing one leg over the other.

“Sure, no problem,” he said, but didn’t move from the ottoman. Instead he sat forward, elbows on his knees and picked at his fingernails, deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?” I asked. I’d poured my heart out to him earlier. Maybe I could return the favor.

“Just thinking about our conversation out on the Pier. Stuff.” A crease appeared in his forehead. “You uhm…. You think you’ll ever look for your dad?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been really compelled to. He doesn’t know I exist and I don’t know that I want to totally bust into his life. Plus there’s no telling what Regina would do if she found out I knew who he was. Maybe she’d show up at his place and start demanding things.”

He nodded, continuing to pick at his nails. I stared at the top of his head, his hair combed back in a perfect coiffure, very dark, with just a hint of grey. I wanted to just reach up, and run my fingers through it, but I managed to stop myself from doing so.

“Have you ever thought to look for yours?” He shook his head.

“He must know I exist, but he chose to not stick around, or whatever, so…” He shrugged. “I need to go wash my hands.”

“Are you saying my feet are dirty?”

“Not at all. But my hands smell like shoe leather,” he teased, ducking into the bathroom. A knock came at the door, then, and I got up to answer it, noting that my feet felt 100% better as they hit the soft carpet. Dinner was delivered and set up at the small table in front of the window. 

I set two places for us, JC kitty corner from me. I tuned the TV to a music station and old school R&B thumped softly in the background. It was nice, very casual, like having dinner with an old friend. An old, really handsome friend whose poster hung on your wall. He was a witty conversationalist and since I knew he would talk about anything, whenever, I just let him talk. He cleared his plate, and talked while I ate and cleared mine.

“So, Serena.” He paused, briefly glancing out of the window at the view, and then his eyes snapped back to me. “There’s something I want to ask you. I hope it doesn’t offend you, I’m just wondering.”

“Shoot,” I said, scraping the last of the potatoes from my plate.

“Okay, you went through this whole thing with Regina. And you’re still angry about it, I guess, right? So, did anyone send you through therapy or anything? Did you see a counselor?”

I ran my tongue along my teeth, picked my napkin up from my lap and tossed it onto the table. His hope that it didn’t offend me wasn’t ill founded. I wasn’t so much offended, as tired of people assuming I needed to see a shrink. It was what it was—I had a right to be upset about it. I felt like he, of all people, should understand that.

“It was suggested,” I answered, curt. “And I went for a while. But that was before I found out how my parents got me, so… since I found out, no. I haven’t gone.”

“Well--you don’t think you should?” I recoiled, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. He held up his hands, as if he was surrendering to me and my anger.

“I’m not trying to upset you, Serena. And you know I get it. You know I understand, so you understand that I’m asking because it’s important. Yeah, you have a right to feel the way you do but it’s like what I said to you, on the Pier—it’ll eat you alive. It’ll destroy you. Life is too short for that.”

He reached across the table and covered a hand with his, mindlessly rubbing the skin there with the callous on his thumb.  “I just see things that someone should have helped you through a long time ago. You shouldn’t have to still deal with this—you shouldn’t even have to still deal with her. She’s an adult, right? How can you move on from things that happened when you were a kid if you can’t get away from her?”

I picked at my teeth with my tongue, staring at the faux wood grain in the table, trying to form the words I wanted to say, in my mind.  I breathed in, and out, and then lifted my eyes. He sat across the table from me, an intensely sincere, concerned expression on his face, more ‘normal’ at that moment than I’d ever seen him. He didn’t deserve my anger and venom—he wasn’t the one who did this. He was just trying to understand.

I spoke slowly, reliving the memories. “There was a point in time, when she was very sick. And no one was there, for her. And no one came to see her, for three days, and when she finally gave my name, and I showed up at the hospital, and she was laying there, all frail and bony and sick, and strung out…”

I shrugged and sighed, staring out the window next to me. “I just felt like it was something I should do. Like she needed someone to be there for her,” I said, looking back at him, his eyes fixed on me, leaning on one arm, the other still stretched across the table, his hand still on mine. I rather liked it, there.

“I can’t say it brings me any joy, but it’s better than wondering what the hell is going on, or having her get picked up, or worse, keel over somewhere and be dead for days and no one knows where she is or what happened. I’m her Power of Attorney. I talk to her doctors, her psychiatrists, her treatment counselors. She’s not capable of making these decisions, taking care of herself, JC. I’m all she has, and yeah, I know this is why my issues fester and this is why I’m still angry. I haven’t dealt with it, but I’m not convinced that therapy is the answer for everything that’s fucked up. Sometimes, things are just fucked up and you deal. I can’t just check out. I never had that option.”

He squeezed my hand, under his. “I get where you’re coming from. What you’re saying. I do. I just, you know, I just think you need to be a whole person in order to give so much of yourself to her. You’re a good person to try to do what you do for her. I can’t say I’d do the same, if it were me. I mean, I help her, when she’ll let me, but for a number of years I kept my distance because I couldn’t handle her and handle me. You know?”

I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hand on mine. “More than you know, I know.”

He breathed in, his chest swelling, then blew out a breath and tapped my hand. “Enough of that. What do you want to do? You want to go out? You want to watch a movie, or something?”

I was relieved to have that conversation over. As much as I was touched (and let’s be honest, my crush reached impossibly high new levels over it) that he cared, my adoption was a sensitive subject and I didn’t want to regret opening up to him. The whole ordeal wiped me out, and my late hours the previous night started to catch up with me.

“I’m kind of beat,” I said, playing with my hair, twisting a strand around a finger. “I might see what’s on Pay per View, and hang out here.”

He cleared the table, setting the dishes on the tray outside the door. I piled the pillows up against the headboard and climbed up on the bed. He dove, headfirst, landing next to me with a bounce, then rolled over, grabbing a pillow and rolling it to fit under his head. I flipped through the order screen, finally settling on a comedy neither of us had seen.

“You know…you don’t have to hang out here, JC. I’m totally not expecting you to. I appreciate you being nice to me, and all, but I’m sure you have a fabulous life to get back to. You really don’t have to stay, if you want to go.”

“Do me a favor, Serena?” He propped up on an elbow and angled his head up so he could see me.

“What?”

He shook his head, very slightly. “Forget who I am. Forget my fabulous life and all that stuff. I’m just me. I sit at home and watch movies, just like you do, just like your friends do. This isn’t unusual for me. I’m not sacrificing anything to hang out with you. I’m having fun. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, then slouched down next to him against the pillows, crossed one ankle over the other and watched the opening credits roll.

The movie was humorous enough to make me laugh but not interesting enough to distract me from him laying next to me laughing, breathing, being. Smelling good. Looking good. He could be doing anything, but he chose to stay and do something simple, like watch a movie with me in my hotel room, instead of going out on the town or just going home. That had to count for something. I hoped it counted for something.

Halfway through the movie, JC relaxed, rolling to his side, sidling up to me and laying his head on my shoulder. I glanced down at the top of his head but other than that made no mention of it. A few minutes later, an arm hung over my midsection. It was meant to be casual, but it was slow and exacting, sliding across my belly and curling around my waist. I rescued an arm out from under him and rested it across his back. He snuggled closer to me, tightening his arm around me and laying a leg between mine.

In the back of my mind, I knew it was coming, it was almost cliché that it would, but there was not any chance I was fighting it. I didn’t care what kind of stereotype I would fulfill—at the moment he wasn’t a celebrity laying in my bed, but someone that, if I’d met the day before and had spent an incredible two days with, I’d still like. And still want to be with. I didn’t need any further justification than that. I laid there, heart racing, and waited for him to make a definitive move. He could have just been getting comfortable, but I wanted him to want to be with me.

I had no idea what was happening in the movie. I’d stopped watching it soon after he laid his head on me. I was preoccupied with smell of him, the weight of him on half of my body, my arm around his shoulders, my hand rubbing his back, his hand on my waist, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth against the sheer, silky fabric of my dress. I could feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart through the thin material. It felt like heaven.

JC tipped his head up, stretched and reached and his lips just barely made contact with my chin. I started to smile, and turned my head toward him, meeting his lips, brushing against them. Encouraged, he moved himself further up on the bed, propping himself on one arm. He tucked a hand behind my neck, under my head and softly pressed his lips to mine. My eyes slid shut and I savored the feeling of a wet, pointy tongue running along my bottom lip. My mouth opened, slightly, and his tongue teased and played with mine, so slowly and softly it was hypnotic. My arms found their way around his neck, and I finally got to run my hands through his thick head of soft, silky hair. We laid there together for what felt like mere minutes but when I opened my eyes again, the closing credits were rolling.

He pulled back, eventually, tipping his head to the left and raining wet, noisy kisses down my cheek to my neck, where his tongue made another appearance and licked a hot trail down to my shoulder.

I let out the breath I had been holding. I hadn’t realized I wasn’t breathing. His lips and tongue on my neck were doing amazing things to my toes and the small of my back. I almost couldn’t stand the feeling, my senses heightened and being driven higher. I shuddered, the sensation just too much to handle. He stopped and pulled back, softly brushing his lips against mine, again.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, mid-kiss. “Do you want me to stop? I will, if you want me to,” he whispered, then kissed me again. He wasn’t giving me much of a choice.

“If you stop, I will be furious with you,” I breathed, smiling, limp.

He smiled against my lips. “I can see I should have never said that, as you’re not going to stop repeating it.”

“I’m funny, that way.” 

He adjusted so he was almost fully on top of me, his lips landing on mine, licking, gentle biting, soft moaning. It was the most erotic sound I had ever heard. I opened my eyes for a brief moment and watched him kiss me, his eyes clamped shut, lush, full lashes in a layer against his cheek, his face full of pleasure. One of my legs curled around his and I clung to him. I felt a hand slowly caressing my outer thigh, making its way upward, under my dress. I wasn’t protesting in the least. I hadn’t had hands on me in a long time and his felt incredible. He’d started something and he wasn’t getting out of that room until it was finished.

Wet, warm, firm lips found my neck, again, and kissed their way down to my shoulder and across my chest. His tongue dragged a wet, fiery path between both breasts, and then he kissed the swell of one, and then the other, making his way to ultra sensitive nipples straining against the lace in my bra. By the time he closed his mouth over one, flicking it with his tongue through the fabric, I was out of my mind, gasping and moaning, sighing, shaking, writhing beneath him but stuck because he was basically holding me down. He flicked one nipple and then the other, laughing as he licked and I squealed.

“You’re fun to play with,” he said, taking the other nipple in his mouth, biting at it, ever-so-softly.

“Fuck, JC. This feels so good. I haven’t… God, it’s been forever.”

“Happy I could help, then.” Soft lips found mine again and I welcomed a deep, passionate, fiery kiss, the kind you read about in smut novels, except this was really happing. It could have gone on forever, but eventually we would need to breathe.

“Serena.” I loved how he said my name. I felt it more than I heard it, since he was mumbling against skin, licking like it was coated with sugar. He swallowed, and drew in a stuttered breath, tried to rein himself in a little.

“I want to--God, I want to-- but we don’t have to if you don’t. I’ll stop, right now if you don’t want to. But you have to tell me what you want. Whatever you say, that’s what I’ll do, and whatever you want, I’ll do it.” I could tell what he wanted, very plainly, and very thick, pressing into my belly. I wanted him, and I wasn’t even slightly ashamed to say that I had no qualms about sleeping with him.

“I’ll take whatever,” I said, giggling. Giddy.

His lips left my skin as he raised his head. “Seriously.” 

I reached up and smoothed his hair down. “I’m being serious,” I said. “I want this. I want you. I’m not going to change my mind. Do you have condoms on you?”

A look crossed his face, then. His head dropped heavily on my shoulder and he groaned. “Shit. I thought men kept condoms in their wallet? What happened?”

He lifted his head and gave me a look. “I didn’t think—I mean, I didn’t come here, come up here to--“ He punched a fist into the mattress, muttering. “Fuck.”

“I’d like to, if we can find a condom or two. Hang on, I might actually have some,” I said, sitting up, and yanking my dress down. No sense in decorum, I was about to be naked. I kicked the dress off of my feet and bent over to my open suitcase in the closet, digging out my toiletry bag and unzipping a side pocket.

I laughed and shook my head. Melissa, thinking she was funny, always snuck condoms and lube into my toiletry bag whenever I went anywhere. ‘You never know, you might need them,’ she always said, and was always disappointed when I came home with as many condoms as I left with. ‘You should really be happy that I’m not coming home with NO condoms,’ I would tell her, handing them back to her. We’d see if I made it home with any, this time.

I tossed the stack to him, the small packages raining onto the bed. He appeared to be relieved as he laughed and sat up. “Okay. For someone who has no boyfriend, you drag around a lot of condoms and lube,” he said counting the small packages. “Seven. Ambitious aren’t we?”  He tipped his head to the side and smirked, looking hot as hell. I was definitely doing this.

“No boyfriend is the perfect reason to have condoms and lube. These are courtesy of my friends. They think they’re funny. It’s actually paying off, this trip. Shut up and take off your jeans,” I said, tossing the toiletry bag back into my suitcase.

“I guess I’m getting payback for being such a control freak,” he said, unzipping his jeans and removing them, along with the grey briefs he had on under them. He removed his t-shirt and tossed it onto the pile and suddenly I had a naked man laying on my bed. In LA. I loved Los Angeles!

I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra, tossing it into the chair. My panties followed, and then I made him get up and inside the cool sheets as I folded the blanket back.

I reached for one of the foil packets as I climbed in behind him. “Can I put it on?”

“Sure.” He handed me the wrapper and laid back, getting comfortable, holding himself up for me. I held the packet in one hand and then a sly grin slowly crawled across my lips. I had one thing I wanted to do before he would be tainted with the taste of rubber.

As I dipped my head toward him, a wide grin spread across his face. He let out a deep breath as I lightly grasped him, flicking his hand away. I dragged my tongue up and down, periodically circling, very gently teasing him, playing with him. I raised my eyes to him and found him watching, mouth open, propped up on both elbows. I opened my mouth and took him in, applying very light suction. He gasped and his eyes opened wide. I moaned and watched him, moving faster, taking in more of him. He whimpered and his hips began to thrust. A hand moved to my head and fingers curled up into my hair. Except for a few mutterings of “Yeah, that’s good”, and “Oh my God”, he was quiet, preferring to show his pleasure through a smile, an occasional laugh and staggered breathing.

His breath caught in his throat and a deep crimson color began to surface on his skin. He had all the telltale signs of an impending climax and I wanted to take him there. He grunted, then shuddered and without much more warning, he groaned that he was coming, and I had just enough time to suck him to the back of my throat before he pulsed. His chest heaved with deep breaths, a thin film of sweat covered his body and he was mostly pink—the crimson was fading. I pulled off and lifted my eyes to his face, which looked so peaceful I couldn’t help but smile. His eyes were closed, his thick, dark lashes laying against pale skin, his mouth open, arms spread out across the bed.

I slowly crawled up his body, laying light kisses all the way up his belly, his chest, his neck, until I was hovering over him. I felt his hands at my waist and he opened his eyes, staring right into mine. I grinned down at him, not sure if he wanted me to kiss him. His hands slid up my side to my head and pulled me down to him, our lips meshing together in a sweaty, breathless kiss, his tongue swirling over and under mine. My lips tingled, chapped and red and swollen when I pulled back. I didn’t mind at all.

“You were just supposed to put it on,” he mumbled, his arms falling back, grinning madly.

“Oh, I’m getting to it, bossy,” I teased. I sat back and ripped open the package, removing the thin film and applying it to him while he watched. “Check it,” I said, moving to sit next to him.

“It’s good,” he said after he checked my work, and rolled toward me.

“One thing, JC, before we start.” I looked down at him, making sure I had his attention. “This is totally the wrong time to bring this up, but I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because of who you are. Not that it changes anything about tonight, just… I don’t want to cheapen this by labeling it cliché and stereotypical. I really do like you and I really do want this and none of that has anything to do with who you are. So, tomorrow when you wake up, don’t high-five yourself because you fucked a fan. And if that’s what this is about, for you, then maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

He pulled me down next to him and leaned over me, his bright blue eyes staring into my bright grey ones. “Fan rule number two. I would have followed you up here last night if that’s all I was after. If you think anything about the last two days is because you’re a fan, then you don’t know me like you think you do. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and high-five myself over you.” He stopped and thought better of his statement. “Well, actually, I might. But it won’t be because you’re a fan. Okay?”

Relieved, I let out a breath and fully relaxed, looking forward to what was about to happen. I stretched up to peck his lips and smiled. “Yes. So, are we doing this? That foot rub made me horny.”

He reached up and turned off the lamp next to the bed, laughing to himself. “Works every time.” The room was instantly dark, the only glow from the TV, which was flashing scenes from movie previews.

He rolled over, halfway onto me, sliding a hand up under my body and covered my mouth with his, his tongue hot and wet and probing. His other hand found an erect nipple and played with it, flicking it, pulling at it, teasing me. A response came from my hips underneath him. He moaned into my mouth and moved to lay completely on top of me. I shuddered uncontrollably and my hips rolled toward his. I reached around him, grasping a cheek in each hand and pulled him toward me, writhing against him. I could not get close enough to him. Closer. I wanted to be closer.

He diverted his kiss to begin a trail down my neck, across my shoulder, back up to my mouth and down the other side and then back over again, a cycle that drove me out of my mind, and he knew it. A hand snaked its way down my body, between my legs, fingers slowly crawling over me. My hips arched up at his touch and I begged him to keep going, not to stop. Two fingers found their mark and he rotated in small tight circles, applying light pressure.

“Yesssss,” I hissed. I melted into the mattress, the center of my universe being those two fingers. The kisses on my skin, the light bites on my neck were an added bonus. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. They grabbed aimlessly and clutched whatever they came in contact with—hair, skin, pillow.

“Does that feel good?” he breathed into my ear, his breath hot on my skin, but I shivered.

I was at his mercy. And it felt so good. “Oh my GOD, yes. So good. Please, I want it so bad.”

“Mmmm. Let me see what I can do about that.” In a flash, he was between my legs, licking, sucking my inner thigh, moving closer and closer and then before I knew it, he was there. Right there. My eyes slammed shut and I moaned, digging my fingers into his soft hair. I writhed and my hips rolled in rhythm as he sucked and licked and circled over and over and over again. I opened my eyes and tried to watch him, like he watched me. In the glow from the TV, I could see that he kept looking up to see my face, to see me move under his power. It seemed to fuel him, and knowing that he was enjoying it was fueling me.  I felt my climax building, starting in my toes and working its way up.

I gasped, sucking in a breath. “I’m gonna… oh GOD…OH! GOD! FUCK!”  My hips jerked, lifting my body up off of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat as my body convulsed and I twitched, grunting, trying not to scream. I finally felt the wave subside and I fell back, panting, trying to catch a breath. I had to stop him; I was so sensitive it almost hurt.

“You need to give lessons,” I panted, aftershocks still wracking my body. “Holy Shit. I’ve never had it like that before.”

I felt a chuckle against my inner thigh, soft lips licking, sucking, kissing the sensitive skin there. “Don’t get comfy, I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

I laughed, more giddy than anything. “Holy… well then bring it on. You’re not tired, are you?”

An eyebrow lifted and I saw an evil grin in the little light available. “Uhm. You are going to sleep VERY well tonight.”

I growled. “God, you’re sexy. Fuck me, already.” My anticipation built as he made his way up my body, kissing every inch.

“You’re kind of… impatient,” he said, leaving a wet kiss on my belly and moving further up. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I want you, on me. In me. NOW.”

My impatience had no effect on him. He slowly made his way up my body until we were face to face. He hovered over me, unmoving for a very long second before he lowered himself.

“You want me? Why didn’t you say so?”

He leaned on one arm, bending his head to touch his lips to mine, the other hand guiding him to me. In the next breath, I felt him push, felt him suck in a breath, felt his shoulders sag with relief.  I wrapped my legs around him and arched up toward him, my nipples scraping against his chest as my hips rolled in sync with him. I already felt my eyes rolling to the back of my head and wrapped my arms around him tighter. As he moved inside me, small, tight thrusts, I moaned quietly in his ear. He moaned in chorus, his movements growing deeper and harder as my body adjusted to him.

There was nothing more erotic to me than the sound of sex. I loved the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sounds of passion and desire and pure pleasure rising into the air. The very thought of sex turned me on -- being a part of it, with him, was driving me out of my mind. So were the hard, pounding thrusts, pushing me closer to another climax. He grunted, timing his breaths with the rhythm of his hips. He felt so good inside me, his weight on me, the muscles in his back spasming and twitching with every move. He dipped his head to my shoulder, his rapid breath in my ear, on my skin. He just felt good, comfortable, right. I didn’t want him to ever stop.

He slowed his pace to a slow, sensuous, circular thrust, my hips slowing to match him. He laid down on me, every inch of our bodies from the chest down touching, and looked me in the eye, smoothing my hair away from my face, gazing down on me.

“I want to watch you come,” he whispered.

“Only if you come with me,” I whispered.

“It’s a deal, baby,” he whispered, and then leaned down to capture my lips in a kiss, long and slow and luxurious, like he hadn’t a care in the world. When he pulled back, he grasped a thigh and rolled to his side. Without him even pulling out, I was straddling him.

I sat on top of him and didn’t move, for a moment. I stared down at him, into his face as he stared up at me, my long brown hair framing my face, lips swollen and red from kissing, face sweaty and red from exertion, nipples erect. I leaned forward and clasped my right hand in his and then my left hand in his and began to slowly ride him. His hips thrust him deeper inside me and I sighed, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

“Look at me. I want see you. I want to come with you,” he said, almost pleading. I lifted my eyes to his and I laughed at trying to keep mine open—they wanted to slide closed and just enjoy the sensation, the feeling of sex. I began to rock against him faster and with more force. He matched his thrusts to mine and groaned, his breaths coming in hard gusts in time to the rhythm. I worked my hips, feeling him thrust himself further inside me, creating that slap of skin against skin. He was shaking, a sign that he was close, I took it.

I wanted to see him at the height of passion, again. I wanted to take him there, again, just to know that I did it, that I could do it for him. “I want you to come for me,” I panted. “Are you close? Come on, sweet man. Give it to me. Come to me.”

He gripped my hips, moving them faster, harder against him. Eventually, he groaned and rolled us over, and I wrapped my legs around him as he re-established his rhythm, eyes open and fixed on me.

“I’m waiting for you,” he whispered, drawing in a ragged breath. “Come for me. Please.”

I let go, then, gripping his shoulder so hard my nails dug into him as the most incredible, unexplainable, fantastic wave washed over me, and kept washing, kept crashing, swelling higher and higher until I was either going to pass out, or cry. Or both. The sight, sensation and sheer force of my climax sent him over the edge. He grunted and pushed hard, over and over and over, until he could thrust no more, then collapsed on top of me, his breaths coming in short gasps, dripping sweat.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, very softly, on his cherry red lips, chapped from ravaging my lips, my skin, biting them, licking them, hot breath baking them. The sheets were damp with sweat and he was practically sliding off of me but I didn’t want to move an inch. Ever. He moved his head only slightly to kiss whatever skin he could come into contact with, his hands ran down my thighs, hooked behind my knees and wrapped my legs back around him. He was heaving like he’d run a mile, his chest rising and falling on mine until his breathing slowed to normal. I thought he might fall asleep on top of me, which wouldn’t be all that bad but I had an issue to take care of.

“JC. I don’t really want to but I need to get up.” I patted him on the back, making a funny, flat sound, his skin still moist from sweat. His hands slid to his side and he pushed himself up, on his knees.

“Go, this is as far as I’m moving, honey,” he said with a laugh. I slid out from under him and he collapsed back onto the bed. In the bathroom I snapped on the light and was instantly happy that he couldn’t really see me. My eye makeup had run, my hair resembled something from Greek Mythology and I looked like I’d been rode hard and put away wet. And enjoyed it. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and snapped off the light, returning to the bed, where he was laying in the same position.

“So I guess you’re sleeping in the middle?” I reached over and softly smacked his backside. A hand reached up and grabbed my wrist and I squealed, giggling. He rolled to his side and pulled me onto the bed by my wrist, laying me next to him and gathering the sheets and blanket around us. He laid down, half on, half off of me, his head laying on my chest, my arm around his shoulder and one hand playing in his hair.

We laid like that for awhile. I liked the feeling. I thought he was going to sleep but I could feel him blinking. I lightly scratched at his scalp. “You okay down there?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “You?’ he asked. 

I giggled. “What do you think?” I felt him smile against me and he tapped me twice on the thigh, then rubbed it. He lifted his head to my lips and gave me the sweetest kiss I think I’ve ever received from a man—it was so touching and light, not hungry and passionate. Beautiful, if a kiss could be described as such.

He pulled back, and didn’t move. Just stared. Then, the dreaded “I’m gonna go,” came. “Easier now than in the daylight.”

I nodded, sad to see him go but I understood why he had to. He sat up and crawled over me, rolling out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. I heard him moving around in there and then the light snap off and the door open.

I sat up, gathering the sheets around me and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a soft glow. I saw him clearly for the first time in hours. Tired eyes, messy hair, the start of some stubble on his cheek and chin, but he was never more handsome to me than right then. No matter what happened past that night, I would not regret what happened between us. Not that I wasn’t hoping something happened again—it would be the last sex I’d have for another long while.

He sat heavily on the bed, gathering up the clothes he had tossed around while undressing. I watched him lazily pull clothes back on, check the room, make sure he had everything he came with. His keys jingled in his hand as he sat next to me, leaned over and kissed me, one hand supporting him on the bed, the other behind my neck, in my hair. His tongue stroked mine in a slow, heady pattern—he seemed to want the kiss to count, and it did. He pulled back, finally, and sighed, smiling.

“I kind of hate to go but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t. Not that—I mean, you know what I mean.” I nodded, and reached for his hand. “I know,” I said.

“So. You need some time to go over your meeting for Monday, right?” He tipped his head toward the work desk that I was neglecting.

I nodded, again. “A few hours. It’s ready but I want to go through it a few times. Obsess over it. Fix things that don’t need to be fixed, things like that.”

He smiled, and said, “I know the feeling. So, maybe you could just call me, later and we could do something. Not too late, so you can still be ready for your meeting, but if I’m not being too selfish I’d still like to see you.”

I tilted my head to the side and gave him a look. If anything, I had plans of being very selfish, if I had the chance to see him again. “I’d like to see you, too. I’ll call you. Probably around six or so?”  He nodded, but didn’t move, staring out the window.

“You haven’t even left yet but uhm…so, when are you coming back?” He rolled his head toward me, laughing.

“If we get this account, I’ll be spending a lot of time out here,” I answered, rubbing the skin on the back of his hand with my thumb, as he’d done for me.

“Well then I’m rooting for you like never before, honey.” He leaned over and gave me a quick, dry peck and stood, stretching. “I better go, before I end up not leaving. I think I can lock your door from the inside. Sleep well, work hard, and call me. Whatever you want to do, I’m game. Okay?”

“Okay. Drive safe,” I called as he rounded the corner to the door.

“Thanks. I’ll text you when I get home.” The door opened, and then closed, and I heard him test the door knob, and then a few minutes later I heard the ding of the elevator arriving.

I laid back, staring at the ceiling, in complete disbelief of the last two days, not letting myself think past them. I couldn’t let thoughts of ‘what about tomorrow, and the next day, and when you go home’ cloud my thoughts. I really just wanted to enjoy the experience. Remember it. Revel in it. Celebrate it. And dream about it.  I turned off the lamp next to the bed, turned off the TV and laid there, smiling into the dark.

Sometime later, my phone buzzed and lit up, on the side table. I picked it up and checked the message.

‘You are amazing. I think I’m hooked. Will be waiting for your call. Have a good night. C’

I slept through the alarm I set, overslept by an hour. I woke up to the staticky crackle of a local radio station blaring through the small clock radio next to the bed.  I flipped the switch to turn the alarm off and rolled to my back. I was sore. ‘The good kind of sore,’ I thought with a smile.  I kicked the covers off, sat up, and bounded out of the bed, gathering my shower kit on the way to the bathroom, humming and grinning like a fool.

Sometimes the shower was a blessing and a curse. Because I was held captive, and I was relaxed, a lot of my best ideas came from a great shower. On the other hand, it was in the shower that my fears found time and opportunity to pop up. I usually spent that time thinking about Regina, and the latest issue I was trying to handle. Or work. Or friends.

I tried, that morning, to think about anything but JC. Thinking about him would make me relive the past two days, but my brain couldn’t help but fast forward past that day, and the next. What about the day after next? When I went home, and I wasn’t there, in LA, near him. And he wouldn’t be able to swing by and pick me up and take me to some oddly fascinating place, and ask me nosy questions about my adoption? What then? I just couldn’t think about it—the thought made me feel opportunistic about sleeping with him. We both knew it was more than that. It seemed to be more than that, anyway.

I had a few things I wanted to do, and I had my presentation to go through for the following day’s meeting. I was ready, but I couldn’t be too prepared. I wanted to go through it a few more times, make sure I had answered all of the anticipated questions, and that I had answers for questions that might come out of left field. As if I needed any more pressure, the idea of spending a lot of time in LA in the future was motivation to work hard and to knock the meeting out of the park.

I called a cab, and had him drop me in Beverly Hills. I just wanted to see it, to see if it was like it appeared to be on TV. Amazingly, it was like any other place. People milled about, eating, shopping, laughing, talking. I wandered into a few shops, nearly fainted at the price tags, stopped into a trendy eatery and treated myself to lunch.

I watched the people walk by, from time to time giggling, remembering dinner Friday night, when JC had me nearly in tears with his made-up stories about the people on the street outside the Chinese restaurant. I found myself wondering what he was doing. Was he thinking about last night, or the night before, like I was? Or going about his day, without a thought about me and what we’d shared. Was I just another conquest, a notch in the bedpost for him? I shook my head, chased the thoughts away. I couldn’t give in to that. It served no purpose.  

With a sigh, I laid down a few bills to pay for my lunch and wandered off to find a cab and go back to the hotel.

I had it. I knew it. But I had to go over it, again, one more time. Go over the questions, one more time. The answers, again. I pulled out the suit I would wear-- a sharp Donna Karan number with clean lines and a flattering cut-- and made sure it had no wrinkles. I sent it down to the laundry to be pressed anyway. I obsessively ran a cotton cloth over the low heels I had brought, and set those out as well. I was driving myself crazy- I was ready. ‘So just relax,’ I told myself.

I started to get hungry, and thought it would be a good time to call JC. He’d said whatever I wanted to do, we would do. I wanted to eat. And go somewhere fun, or at least interesting. And I wanted to be with him again, enjoy the feeling of him on me. Not necessarily in that order.

I curled up in the chair, remote in one hand, phone in the other, and flipped through the channels as the phone rang in my ear. His voicemail picked up, a simple ‘hi you’ve reached me, but I’m not here, so tell me who you are and I’ll call you back’. He was such a funny person, without meaning to be. I left a message that I was trying to reach him to see if he wanted to get dinner, and to call me back otherwise I would find something to eat on my own. I stopped flipping channels at MTV, caught up in a random drama-filled reality show. What happened to music? What was this crap, on MTV, in the middle of the day?

The phone buzzed in my lap. A quick check of the display told me it was JC. “Hi, there,” I said, my eyes fixed on the TV screen.

I heard music in the background, loud and then muffled as he began to speak. “Hey. I just got your message. Did you eat, yet?”

I muted the TV on my end, so I could focus on our conversation. “No. I got caught up in some crap on MTV. What the hell is ‘The Hills’?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t know. I don’t watch that stuff. What do you want to eat?”

I pondered the question. There had to be thousands of options, here. “Something not Chinese. And not too heavy. I don’t want to be bloated for my meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, that’s tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. So, did you want to go somewhere? To eat?” My stomach was starting to protest the long span of time between lunch and dinner.

“Yeah, I could eat. I’ll come get you. We’ll go somewhere fun. About an hour okay?”  ‘Somewhere fun’ sounded like the best idea, ever. I agreed to be ready and hung up, then un-muted the TV. Who were these people, and why did I care?

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. I was surprised—I’d planned on meeting him out front. Dressed in loose blue jeans and a plain long sleeved cotton shirt, he sauntered into the room with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said. I didn’t miss his eyes giving me a quick once over, noticing my attire. “You wore jeans. Good girl.”

I beamed up at him. “And sleeves, even. I’m a good listener.”

“That you are,” he said, his arms circling my waist. I had to reach, up on my toes, to hug his neck, since I was much shorter in sneakers than heeled sandals. Warm lips and the gentle sting of stubble hit my cheek as he gave me a close, tight hug, then pulled back, tilted his head and touched his lips to mine, feather soft. So soft that if I hadn’t have watched him do it I’d have never known he kissed me. That kind of thing had to be in the ‘Chasez Arsenal of Things That Drive Women Wild’ because it turned me on more than anything we’d done the night before.

“How are you, today?” he asked me, his eyes staring into mine.

I felt myself blushing, not only from the kiss, but from the attention. He was… so intense. When he looked at me, he really looked at me, in the eye. When he asked a question, he looked like he was really interested in the answer. He was like that on the plane, at dinner, at drinks and all day the day before. I wasn’t used to it and wondered if it faded, after awhile. After the novelty of someone new wore off.

“I am… wonderful today. And you?”

A smile broke across his face and he dipped his head for another kiss. “I am fucking fantastic,” he mumbled, in the seconds before his lips touched mine and he kissed me, quite like I’ve never been kissed before.

“Please say you’re not hungry,” he panted, between kisses.

“I’m sorry, JC, I’m starving. I wish I wasn’t but I’ll pass out if I don’t eat something.”

His throat made a funny noise, and he reluctantly pulled back, running his hands down my arms until he was holding both of my hands in his. “You need lots of energy, so let’s get you something to eat. Italian okay? I know a little place not that far from here.”

“Sounds good,” I said, picking up my purse and leading him to the door.

When he said ‘not that far from here’, what he might have meant was ‘kind of far away’. I felt like we drove and drove and drove and I was so hungry it hurt, but soon he switched lanes and pulled into the parking lot of a quaint Italian Bistro. Relieved, I almost fell out of the car as he turned off the ignition, and he followed me to the door. As soon as we stepped inside, we were immersed in Old World Italy—music, art, décor, the works. The servers were dressed in black slacks, crisp white shirts and black vests, with a carnation pinned to the lapel.

The hostess recognized him, and asked him if he wanted his usual seat. He gave her a warm smile and nodded, and she picked up two menus and led us to a small cozy table in the dimly lit restaurant. The table was lit by a single candle and the surrounding walls were high, making the table seem semi private. It was lovely and the smells made my mouth water.

“So, what’s good here?” I asked. “Everything?”

“Just about. I usually get some chicken and pasta dish. It’s really good. I mean, anything with pasta and a sauce is just done really well here.”

I laughed to myself. I never pictured Chasez to be a connoisseur of Italian food, but then again he did seem to be the expert on everything. I settled on a dish of manicotti, since I hadn’t had it years. I looked forward to it and my stomach rumbled loudly.  “And could we get some bread, for the lady, before she passes out?” he asked the waiter, winking in my direction.

“Thank you,” I whispered, after the waiter walked away. “So what did you do, today?”

He folded his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I slept in, first of all. Felt good. Uhm, just hung out. Sunday is still kind of my relaxing day, so I didn’t do much. Worked in the studio, on some music a little bit. Watched some football. Then you called. And you?”

I gulped water, trying to calm my stomach before the bread arrived. “Uhm, I slept in as well. Also felt good. Went to Beverly Hills, looked around. Just to see it. I didn’t buy anything.” I played with the folded napkin, trying to get it to stand on end. He watched me, amused. “Then I worked on my pitch for awhile. Not much could be done to it. Obsessed about my suit and my shoes. Then I called you.”

“And here we are.”

I nodded, watching the waiter approach the table out of the corner of my eye. I took a bite of the piping hot, buttery breadstick that I plucked out of the basket he set on the table.  

“So,” I said, chewing, “you’re not missing any important games, because of me, are you? I know how you hate to miss your games.”

“You’re creepy. You know too much about me,” he teased. I giggled, feeling better since I had something on my stomach. 

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t stop. I just need to even the score. So, tell me. What do you hate to miss? What do you and your friends do for fun, out there in Atlanta?”

I actually had to think about it. I hadn’t really socialized with my friends in a long time. I’d been feverishly working on the pitch I was giving the following day, night and day, for months. “Uhm. The last time I got together with my friends, we had a Wii party at Melissa’s. Like a little tournament thing. I suck at everything, but no one’s really that good anything, so that’s a benefit.”

“Really. I like that Wii thing. What do you play?”

“Uhm. Like. Bowling,” I threw out, laughing. “Mario Kart. I fucking HATE Guitar Hero, though. I suck at it.”

“Aw, don’t give up on it. You improve, over time.”

“I think I’m a better fan than I am musician. I have to practice at home.”

His eyes brightened, then. “You have one at home?”

I nodded, grinning. “Yeah. I’m spoiled. My dad just dropped it off, one day. He was like ‘here honey, I thought you’d like this. All the kids love them.’ Because to him, sometimes I’m still twelve.”

“Well you know, when you get back home, look me up on Mario Kart so I can kick your ass from LA,”   he said, bobbing his head in that cute way when he was being sassy.

“Okay, I said I sucked at Guitar Hero. Not Mario Kart. I kick some serious ass on Mario Kart.”

“This, I’m gonna have to see,” he said, sitting back as two heaping, sizzling plates of pasta arrived at the table. “Thanks,” he said, nodding to the waiter, declining additional cheese. I nodded for him to pile it on.

“This smells so incredible. I am going to enjoy myself. Sorry if I throw any food around.”

He laughed, swirling pasta around a fork. “You like food, then.”

“I love food. Food is good. I’m a foodie but I’m not picky. I just like to eat it.” I shoveled a bite of steamy, cheesy pasta into my mouth and groaned, eyes closed. It was delicious.

“So when I come out to Atlanta, where are you taking me to eat? Where do you like to go?’

When he comes out to Atlanta? When was that decided?

“Oh, too many choices,” I said, swallowing and preparing another bite, taking the casual, subtle announcement in stride. If he actually came to Atlanta, I would eat my left shoe. “There are new restaurants opening every day. I’ll weigh 600 pounds soon.”

He nearly choked on his dinner, laughing. “Honey, I doubt that. Stop that. Really. The last place you ate that you really liked.”

“Uhm. Okay. Last summer we had a little birthday thing at this new place called Luckie Food Lounge. It’s not so much the food, just the atmosphere. The place is gigantic, and they open it in phases as the night goes on. Usually just the lounge area, then half the bar, then the other half. By the end of the night the place is just packed wall to wall with people, and they have these flat screens everywhere, playing music video stations, really cozy booths. And the food isn’t really all that bad.”

“How are the drinks?”

I shrugged. “A little watered down. A little expensive, but not too bad. About average, maybe a little better. There are better places to go, for drinks, but I liked Luckie. It was fun to hang out. I prefer a place with things to do, like… I don’t know. ESPN Zone or Jillian’s--- billiards and games and a sports bar kind of atmosphere.”

“So the place we went Friday night…”

“Very nice. A little slow and stuffy, though.”

“For me, too. I don’t go out there that much. I was just trying to impress you.”

I looked up at him, at that handsome face with a drop of cream sauce on his chin, and smiled my prettiest smile. “Not necessary. Not at all. You got a little something on your chin.”

He raised his eyes from his plate, setting off a smoldering fire in the pit of my stomach. “Come lick it off,” he whispered.

“Don’t tempt me,” I whispered back, and handed him my napkin. He took it and wiped his chin. “Am I good?”

“Very good. Very good.” I ducked my head and attacked my pasta while he launched into a story about the first time he’d gone to that lounge and whose party it was and who was there. I didn’t know any of those people and didn’t really care. I just wanted to hear him talk, so I let him, while I finished my meal to the last drop, even scraping the cheese off of the plate.

He finally finished his story and began eating again. I looked around the restaurant, thinking it to be a strange, out of the way place for someone to pop in for dinner. “How did you find this place?” I asked him, sipping ice water, pushing my plate away.

“Ex girlfriend brought me here once. Got rid of her, kept the place.”

“Rude. When you come to Atlanta, you can never go to Luckie Food Lounge without me, ever.”

“I’m not planning on it,” he said, sliding the last of his pasta off of his fork, into his mouth, and biting off a chunk of bread.

“Are you planning on coming out to Atlanta?”

“Eventually,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, I work with Dallas a lot out there and uhm. I might have something next year. We’ll see.” He said it so casually that I almost didn’t catch it, but I’m a fan. So I did.

“Something, as in music? New music? Your music?”

He put up both his hands, palms facing me, and stumbled over his words. “Now, Serena, just… just relax. Calm down. It’s nothing to get excited over, really. I’m always working on music. But maybe. MAYBE next year. Maybe. I don’t want to get your hopes up. And please don’t say anything. Can I trust you?”

I made a zipping motion across my lips. “My lips are sealed. I hope it turns into something to get excited over, though.”

“I know,” he said, bashful. “The fans are waiting. I’m trying, I’m trying. That’s all I can say.”

I wondered what that was about but decided not to push. If he wanted to share, I would find out in due time, I supposed. I was far more excited about the possibility that he might be traveling East and that I might get to see him far earlier than I expected. Once I gave the pitch to Qwest, I didn’t expect a decision for at least 90 days.

“Are you done?” he asked. I nodded. “Dessert?”

“Cannoli. To go,” I suggested.

“You do like food,” he said, laughing. I liked the sound, liked his face when he laughed. He just looked like a happy person, especially when he smiled with his eyes. It made me smile back at him.

“We need a treat. For later.” He agreed and placed an order for them when the waiter came to clear the table.  His elbows appeared back on the table. “So uhm. What time do you fly out, tomorrow?”

I perked, and sat up. “Oh. I don’t fly out until Tuesday. I thought you knew that.”

He sat up, mimicking me. “No, I didn’t. I thought you’d be leaving tomorrow.”

“You trying to kick me out of California, Chasez?”

He was playing with his straw, and used it to flick water at me. “No. I just was thinking I had to make tonight last. I mean. Unless you had plans tomorrow.”

“I don’t, but if you don’t stop flicking water at me, we’re going to have problems.” I wiped my face with my napkin, trying to give him a stern look, but it didn’t work. “You want me to call you, when I’m out of my meeting?”

“Yes.”

“Would you say no, if you didn’t really want me to?”

“Yes. But why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“Just asking. Maybe four days in a row is a lot. You don’t have to entertain me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I want to, though. So, let me. Okay? Unless you’d rather be alone.”

I shrugged one shoulder, and blinked slowly. “Eh.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “I have never seen a more convincing vote of confidence. Thanks. Yeah, Call me. If you want. I’ll just leave it up to you. How’s that?”

“I’ll call you.”

The waiter arrived with our box and the check. I reached for it but he smacked my hand away and picked it up, looked at it and then tossed it at me. “Yeah, you can pay that,” he said, then picked up the box and stood up. I shook my head, laughing, and dug my wallet out of my purse, leaving enough bills for the meal and the tip under the ticket and followed him out of the restaurant.

“I can’t believe you just paid that,” he said, after he let me in the car and got in on his side.

“Why? You’ve paid for everything since Friday.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to a certain kind of girl, I guess.”

“Hmmmm,” I mused. “Time to change the company you keep, I think.”

“Maybe. Maybe so.” He pulled out of the lot, into traffic, traveling the opposite direction, the setting sun giving off a glare. I unclipped his shades from the visor and handed them to him. He took them, smiled over at me, and put them on.

“Anything else you want to see? We’re losing sun, so speak now.”

I shook my head no, slouched down in the seat and tapped my foot to the beat of the soft music playing over the speakers, watching the evening lights come on and the cars pass by. I hoped I would be coming back to LA.

JC parked in the same spot he’d parked the night before and we took the same route up to the room. I took the box of Cannoli and set them in the refrigerator to stay cool. He made a bathroom stop and I sat in the corner chair, rolling through the screen on my Blackberry. No important emails, no missed calls. All was right with the world.

The laundry had delivered my suit, nicely pressed, covered in a plastic garment bag. I removed the bag and checked it, again. JC stood next to me as I inspected the work. “That’s a very nice suit, Miss Willis. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead in that.”

“You think so?” I asked, scrunching my nose. “You don’t think it’s too…” What was the word I wanted? I dropped my hands and sighed. “I don’t know. Not like I have a choice, it’s the only suit I brought.” I hung it in the closet, near my newly shined shoes.  I untied the sneakers I wore and lined them up in the closet as well.

JC had already removed his shoes and had commandeered half of the mountain of pillows on the bed. “Should we watch a movie?”

“No,” I said. “We ordered a movie last night we didn’t even watch.”

“I watched half of it,” he said, in a funny, sort of whiny voice that made me giggle. I took my turn in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair, and checked my light makeup. When I came out of the bathroom, JC had the night stand drawer open and was fishing condoms out of the stack I had tossed in there.

“You still didn’t bring any condoms? What if I had thrown all those out?” I kneeled onto the bed, watching him read the back of the package of lubricant.

“I would have gone to the store. What is this stuff?”

“Lube.”

He sneered at me, then said, “I know it’s lube. I mean, why does your friend have so many packages of them?”

“She’s uhm. She’s a freak about safe sex. We call her the ‘Safe Sex Fairy’. Out of condoms? Melissa probably has some. What’s funny is that she’s a lesbian. She’s just… really into safe sex. I think she had a cousin die of AIDS, so…” I shrugged.

“Well,” he said, setting the packages on the nightstand. “I am going to send Melissa some flowers.”  He leaned back, extending his arm, and wiggled his fingers at me. “Come here,” he mumbled.

I laid down next to him, where his arm met his shoulder, facing him. He curled up next to me, sliding an arm around my waist. I reached up to stroke his face, his stubble prickling my fingers. “I should have shaved,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “No, you should be yourself,” I whispered back, stretching up kiss those sweet lips.

“About last night…”

“What about it? And if you apologize, I will knock you out.”

I felt his laugh before I heard it. “No apologies, then. Okay. But you’re… I mean. You don’t feel weird or anything about it, do you?”

I looked up at him, made sure I was looking him in the eye. I wanted no question as to my feelings on the matter.

“No. I feel good. I knew pretty early in the evening that it was going to happen and I’m happy it did and I don’t care if it’s a typical thing for you, or whatever. I enjoyed it and I don’t regret it.”

“That’s not a typical thing, Serena.” He blushed, very slightly.  “I don’t… I haven’t done the groupie thing in a long time. And even when I did the groupie thing, it’s probably not nearly as bad as you think.”

“I don’t really want to lay here and dissect the number of women, besides me, that you’ve slept with. I’d venture a guess that none of them regret it, though, and neither do I.”

“I regret some of them,” he said quietly. “But I don’t regret you.”

“Yet.”

He rolled his eyes and gave me a sarcastic smile. “I’m trying to be sincere, here.”

“Why? Why do you care what I think or if I regret it or if you would regret it? I’m not trying to be a bitch or anything but… why care?”

“Because,” he said, smoothing my hair back, away from my face, and planting a kiss on my neck, whispering into my skin. “Because I don’t want you to regret being with me. And I don’t want to regret being with you. And because I’m planning on seeing you more and regrets just won’t work for us.”

I shuddered, his breath tickling my skin. My goodness, this man did things to me. All I could do was lay there and breathe, eyes closed, feeling the sensation of his lips on me, his breath on me, his body close to me, his hands in my hair. I was drunk off of that feeling. No, I didn’t regret a thing. And wouldn’t.

I ran a hand down his arm, to the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up, pushing him back so he was laying flat. He grabbed the shirt by the hem and pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. “Better be careful,” I teased, bending toward him, lightly kissing his belly along the trail of hair that led from his chest into the band of his jeans. “It took you five minutes to find all your clothes last night.”

“They’ll be somewhere in this room. That’s all I need to know.” He laid back, relaxed, hands under his head, and closed his eyes as I explored him, covering him with kisses from his belly up to his neck across each shoulder and each arm. I sat up, straddling him, his hands in mine, kissed one palm, and then the other, then wrapped his hands around my waist. He tugged my blouse up and I pulled it off, revealing a plain white bra.

“No lace, tonight?”

I shook my head, slowly. “No lace, tonight.”  He reached behind me and unclasped the bra, on the first try. “You’re too good at that,” I said, tossing it away.

“It’s not rocket science,” he said, sitting up to nuzzle each breast, licking a ring of fire around each nipple before closing his mouth on one, and then the other, back and forth, while I slowly went crazy, clutching his head, lightly scratching his scalp. I couldn’t take it anymore, and pulled back, bending my head to kiss him. I’d been too shy, the night before, to really kiss him, like I wanted to. I took the opportunity to make up for that, and thoroughly enjoyed it, as did he, moaning and sinking back onto the bed, reaching down to unbutton and unzip his jeans and kick out of them. When his were gone, he reached for the band of my jeans, unbuttoned them, and shoved them down over my hips and down my legs so that I could push them off.

He brought an arm around my shoulder and rose, rolling us over. I exhaled, feeling him gently lower himself onto me. My legs wrapped around him, instinctively, my arms went under his and around his shoulders, feeling the muscles in his back. His mouth, tongue, teeth, ravaged my lips, pulling at them biting them, gently. His breathing was heavy, rapid, as he tipped his head and made himself comfortable in the crook of my neck, licking and lightly sucking.

“If you give me a hickey, Chasez…”

“I’m not sucking that hard.”

I tapped him on the back. “Don’t suck there, at all. My suit doesn’t cover that. I can’t go to a meeting with a big purple bruise on my neck. I can’t go home with a big purple bruise on my neck.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, bringing his head up. “Getting dark in here. Do we need the lamp?”

“Yes. Can you turn it on?” 

He reached to flip the slider on the lamp, lighting up the room. He noticed the alarm clock, then, and turned the radio on, tuning the station to some easy listening, light rock, jazzy station, then laid down next to me. He was in no hurry. Neither was I. We laid there for the better part of an hour, talking randomly about random things. Music, people, life—the conversation peppered occasionally with kisses and touches and caresses, each one building a tiny step on the foundation we’d been setting all weekend. I already knew I was going to miss him something awful when I got home.

I shivered, despite being wrapped up in him, his arms around me, his legs intertwined with mine. I had nothing on but my panties and the room had cooled considerably. He reached up and yanked the covers and sheets down, climbed inside and then held them open for me. I crawled in and snuggled up against his warm skin. He laid on his side, propped on one elbow.

His hand was heavy. I never realized how big and thick and heavy his hands were, until they were on me. He had stubby fingers but the palms themselves were large, and sometimes the veins bulged, especially if he had been exerting himself. At the moment his hand was busy moving over my skin, setting off little five alarm fires wherever it went. I felt him travel south, saw his head dip to kiss me and my eyes fluttered closed. Gently, he rubbed me through thin fabric. My hips responded and I moaned into his mouth.

The kiss didn’t break as his fingers began a slow rhythm.  My body couldn’t keep up with my brain and was doing things before I told it to. He rubbed faster and harder and my hips moved with him. I finally broke the kiss and took a breath. I couldn’t concentrate on two things at once. Undeterred, a wet trail of kisses journeyed down my neck, across my chest. My nipples stood at attention and he bit at them. Between his fingers and his mouth I was losing control, a mess of moans and shudders. 

Suddenly, his hand left me. I thought he was stopping and I lifted my head, and then saw that he had pulled his briefs off. Before I knew it, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of my panties and did away with the thin cotton material.  He went back his rhythm of stroking and biting, driving me to the brink, so close I could taste it, but I needed more.

Reading my mind, he leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “You want it?”

I could only whimper in response, reaching over to the table and grabbing one of the condoms he’d stacked there, shoving it in his face, hands shaking. He took it, ripped the package open and rolled the condom on and, wasting no time, laid down, wrapped my legs around him and slid into me.

He was just barely controlled from the start, rocking my entire body with the force of each push, the sound of skin slapping sweaty skin mixing with joint sounds of enjoyment. We were both a little louder than we’d been the night before-- his moans were loud in my ear, his breath hot and fast on my neck. I was not normally a loud person during sex, but at the moment I wasn’t at all concerned with who could hear me.

I wanted nothing more than to fall over the edge of a spine tingling, toe curling climax. I got my wish a second later when every cell in my body exploded. I felt myself clench and contract and pulse, unable to control the high pitched squeal that came from deep inside of me. Not long after, a loud groan escaped him; he stiffened, sucked in a breath, and then shuddered in release. He continued stroking until he had no more to give, and then he collapsed, out of breath, a sheen of sweat coating him.

My arms found their way around his neck, again, and I kissed his lips, again chapped and cherry red. He smiled, his eyes closed. “I’ve never heard that sound before. That was sexy.”

I didn’t even have the brain power to be embarrassed. I just laughed at his comment, adding, “I don’t think I’ve ever made that sound before. You made history.” I felt him smile against my skin, the muscles in his stomach ripple as he chuckled.

“JC.”

“Hm. You have to get up?” He started to move, but I held him down.

“No. Stay here. I mean… stay here. Do you have to go, tonight?” One eye opened, looking around. “Or not. Never mind. I know it would be embarrassing for you to be seen leaving here.”

Why did I even ask? Did I actually manage to forget who he was?

“I’ll stay, if you want me to, Serena,” he said, quietly.

I looked at him, eyes closed, mouth open, nearly asleep on top of me. “Are you sure? I mean, do you want to?”

He swallowed and blew a breath out of his nose. “Stop asking questions. You just asked me to stay. I’ll stay. I have to leave at eight. Okay?” He rolled off of me, laying on his back, rubbing his eyes.

“Eight is fine. I’ll be up by then. You know what I want?”

He stretched. I watched his body elongate with his movement, muscles rippling, skin pulling. He was beautiful. “I need about a half hour, sweetie.”

“Not that,” I said, swatting at him. “Cannoli!” I hopped out of bed and retrieved the box from the refrigerator. He pulled the covers up on the bed and sat on top of them. “So we don’t get crumbs in the bed. Can you buy me a Pepsi from in there?”

“First I buy you dinner, now drinks? Chasez, what happened to the gentleman in you?” I handed him the ice cold can, plucking a can for myself and set the box of treats between us. I turned off the radio and turned on the TV. “I wonder if we can get through another movie.”

“Probably not,” he said, winking at me, taking a bite of the Italian pastry. “Oh my God, that is good.” He offered me a bite, and though I could just pick up my own and eat it, I thought it was sweet that he offered it and took a bite.

“Yum,” I said, around pastry and filling. “Ooh, it’s cold. I haven’t had Cannoli in forever.”

“That makes up for the crackers I ate. Now get your own Cannoli.” He popped the rest of it into his mouth and took a swig of Pepsi.

Together we finished the box of six pastries and crawled back under the covers. I liked knowing he wasn’t leaving, so I could sleep without the fear of waking up to find him gone. I wanted those arms around me as I drifted off to sleep. I wanted to wake up with that chest against my back and what I suspected would be a poke against me in the morning. I had every intention of starting the morning off right.

###

My suspicion was correct. The morning got off to a wonderful start somewhere around six thirty and he was almost late getting out of the door at eight. His first appointment wasn’t until later but he had to get home and shower and change, and with morning traffic, if he didn’t leave by eight, there was no point in leaving.

My meeting was at 10am, but just around the corner. I could easily walk there and back, so I lingered in the shower and dressed, perfected my hair and makeup, and packed my presentation and laptop and still had time to spare when I walked into the building for my meeting.

Inside, I was immediately engulfed in corporate elegance. The floors gleamed, the windows were pristine. Green, leafy plants were tastefully arranged around the expansive lobby. The coffee service was percolating and the smell of freshly ground beans hung in the air.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” An attractive young woman with flame-red hair, pale skin and green eyes smiled in my direction.

“Yes, you can. I have a 10am appointment with Jack Hughes. My name is Serena Willis.”

“I’ll let Jack know you’ve arrived, Ms Willis. Take a seat in our visitor lounge, and help yourself to a cup of coffee.”

Thanking her, I stepped over to the plush cream colored sofa and chair set and perched on the edge of one. I pulled out my compact and checked my makeup and hair one last time. I heard her quietly announce my arrival into her headset, nod and then disconnect.

“Someone will be right out in just a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” I said as I felt my phone buzz. I picked it up out of my bag to turn it off. JC had sent a text message: ‘have a great meeting. Call me later. Lunch?’  I smiled at his cryptic message and typed back: ‘waiting in the lobby. Lunch, yes. Call u later, turning phone off.’ I pressed send and then turned the phone off, dropping it back into my bag.

A few minutes later a door swung open and a tall thin dark haired woman stepped into the lobby. The receptionist smiled at me and said, “Tanya will take you to Jack’s office. You can follow her. Thanks, Tanya.”

I stood and followed Tanya down the hall to a bank of elevators. We stood in silence as we waited for the elevator to arrive, then open and we stepped inside. She pressed 4 and offered a weak smile as we climbed. The arrival bell chimed and the doors opened. She held it open and said, “Just hang a right, Jack’s office is right there. Name’s on the door.”

“Thank you,” I called, as the doors closed behind me. ‘Pleasant gal,’ I mused as I walked toward the door marked ‘Jack Hughes’. I knocked on the door and a voice invited me in.

“I am a Rock star,” I told myself, walking out of the building. I nearly broke my arm patting myself on the back as I bounced back to hotel. The meeting went great, they seemed to love the product and the direction that we wanted to take it, and seemed interested in a venture. I was still expecting a final decision to take a few weeks, and in the end we still might not get the project, but it wouldn’t be because of my pitch. I also knew we would have at least one more meeting before a final decision was made—that meant another trip to LA!

I called JC as soon as I made it to my room, but got his voicemail. I left him a message that the meeting went great, and we would talk when he was free. I really hadn’t slept much the night before, so I peeled off my suit, kicked off my shoes, and crawled into the freshly made bed for a well deserved nap.

I awoke to the sound of the phone buzzing against the side table. I squinted, checking the display. Work. Shit.  

Groggy, I sat up. “Hey Gary, sorry I forgot to call you guys.”

“Just checking to see how the meeting went,” said my boss, his voice tinged with concern. “I figured if it was bad you’d be stressed out and calling so it must have gone well.”

I gave him the play-by-play, their reaction, and my guesstimate that we were front runners if not the lead. He was pleased with the results and rooting for us to be chosen. “I’m sure you haven’t slept well all weekend, worrying about today, so get some rest, get out of that room, have some fun. And I don’t want to see you tomorrow. See you Wednesday. Good job, kid.” With that, the line went dead. Oh, if he only knew.

I gave up on more sleep and rolled out of bed, wondering what to do with my afternoon. The first thing I was doing was logging into Delta and getting myself off of that early flight, since I didn’t have to go to work the following day. Yes, I felt guilty for letting my boss think I’d been slaving away all weekend when I hadn’t looked at the pitch between Friday and Sunday—but I’d given up a lot of personal time to put it together, and flew to California even though my fear of flying was a well known fact. So, if I took an extra few hours, I wasn’t going to turn myself in over it. I was in for more long days ahead. I took my breaks when I could get them.

I had another shower and changed into more comfortable clothing, jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt. I was starving but didn’t know if I should eat or not, because I hadn’t heard from JC. I decided to just go to the hotel restaurant and, of course, the phone rang. I rolled my eyes. ‘Great timing, Chasez. Now I have to nearly pass out again while you lollygag over to this part of town.’

Of course, I said no such thing when I picked up the line. A terse “Hey” did the trick.

“I know, I’m sorry. What are you doing?” At least he knew when he was in trouble, and when to apologize.

“Starving to death. I’m just gonna go down to the hotel restaurant and eat if you’re not, like, right outside my door right now.”

I heard an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. That irritated me. He had probably eaten. I hadn’t. “You’re so cranky. The day started so well. And you had a good meeting, even. Open your door.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and bounded across the room to open it. He was leaning against the door jamb, one ankle crossed over the other, a casual, sexy smile on his lips and blue eyes twinkling at me. He leaned in and dropped a kiss on my lips, and my anger melted away.

“You want to just eat here? Downstairs? We can do that, if you want.”

“I want,” I said, stepping out of the room and pulling the door closed behind me. “I’m so hungry. I’m sorry I was a bitch on the phone.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, waving it off. “I suppose I can let you make it up to me, later.”

“I knew this would benefit you, somehow. How was your day?” We stepped into the elevator, thankfully alone.

“It was good. I feel accomplished. I’m not done yet, though. That’s the bad news. But I have an idea. I’ll tell you over lunch.”

We were seated almost immediately and I tore into a package of crackers that sat in the basket on the table. He was amused by my ravenous hunger, shaking his head and talking away about… something. I wasn’t listening, I couldn’t hear over the roar of my stomach.

“Did you eat anything today?” he asked, mid-story. I shook my head no. He gave me a sympathetic look and reached across the table to squeeze a hand. “You probably have low blood sugar. You can’t go that long without eating. Decide what you’re having.” He pointed to the menu.

I glanced it over, but was frustrated when I couldn’t make a decision. “I’ll just have whatever’s on special. I’m too hungry to be picky. Finish your story.”

“I forgot what I was saying. What was I saying?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, I wasn’t really listening.” I smiled sweetly and he pretended to glare at me as the waitress came to our table to take our orders. Two specials, two iced teas.  

I opened another package of crackers and offered him one. He declined, his eyes darting around the full restaurant. “So, you mentioned an idea. Because your day’s not over. What?”

“Oh. Uhm. Well. This is a terrible idea,” he started, and laughed. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Uhm, 1:30. I changed it. My boss said I don’t have to be in tomorrow. Why?”

“Good. That works even better. So.” He cleared his throat, and swallowed. “What do you say… we check you out? You can stay at my house tonight. I can take you to the airport tomorrow.”

His eyes, he look on his face, said ‘please say yes’. I stared at him, chewing the last of the crackers in the package. Was he serious? I waited for the punch line but there was none. ‘What the hell?’ I thought. “Live a little’.

I nodded, agreeing to this harebrained scheme. There was no way he was a serial killer and I had already slept with him, so forget any fear of him forcing himself on me. I could only hope something of a romantic nature would happen on my last night in town.  “Yeah, let’s do that. Then I don’t have to wait for you to show up for dinner.”

He seemed relieved that I’d said yes. As if there was any danger that I’d say no. Of course I wanted to go stay at his house that night. Wasn’t I a fan?  “Whatever, missy. So the meeting went really well, then?”

I gave him the same update I had given to my boss. He seemed to understand the impact that a ‘yes’ would have on me, on my job, and on the company. On top of it all, we could see each other again, and often. We both wanted that.

Lunch went quickly, as the restaurant was packed. Whenever I was in a full restaurant, I felt the urge to eat as quickly as possible and vacate so someone else could sit, even though I’d likely waited a considerable amount of time for my own seat. I was feeling the pressure of people standing in line, waiting to sit. I also knew the longer JC sat there, the more there was a chance someone would recognize him. Neither of us really wanted that.

The drive to the West Hollywood area didn’t seem to take as long as I thought it would. I wondered, then, why it took him so long to get to me, until I realized that, like Atlanta, traffic jammed one way, and then the other. Since we were driving against traffic at that time of day, it wouldn’t take as long to get to his house as it would take him to come back—another reason why he wanted me to check out and come stay with him.

I was getting nervous, really nervous, for some reason about going to his house. His car, his favorite eating spots was one thing. His home was completely his domain and his comfort zone. I almost had second thoughts about the decision, except that I had already checked out of my room. I panicked, chewing on my thumbnail, noting the landmarks that sped by.

“Serena, are you alright?”

Stopped at a red light, he looked over at me, thumbnail in my mouth, stressed. I hid a shy smile. He offered a grin and reached across the seat and rubbed my arm. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be okay. There’s no one there. A couple of people are coming over tonight, it’s no big deal, and they won’t stay late.  And you can kick my ass at Mario Kart. Okay?”

“That, I can handle,” I said, feeling more at ease.

Minutes later he pulled in front of a massive white stone house, the wide garage door sliding open slowly. He pulled into the empty spot and the door slid closed behind us. “We are here, Miss Willis. Make yourself at home,” he said, climbing out and picking up my suitcase from the backseat. I had my shoulder bag and my purse and followed him into the house and up the stairs to a plush, comfortable, well-decorated room.

“Sitting room right here. Nice for reading the paper and stuff in the morning.” He pointed in various directions. “You’ll figure it out but kitchen, dining room, living room, den is over that way, bedrooms are… everywhere. My office and studio are downstairs. I’ll show you that later. So, let’s go upstairs.”

We trudged up three flights of stairs to the Master bedroom. “I would hate to move into this place. Three flights of stairs, you’re kidding me.”

“That’s what movers are for, honey. I mean, not that it’s menial labor or anything. They’re just used to it. Here we are,” he said, swinging the door open and letting me walk in ahead of him.

At first glance, I was in love. The room was gigantic. It took up nearly the entirety of the third floor. Everything was huge… the bed was King size, the flat screen television mounted on the wall was the biggest I had ever seen, the armoire that stood in one corner was twice the size of mine, as were the dressers and the two nightstands. Off to the side was a sliding glass door. Through the sheer curtains I could see he had a great view of the Hollywood Hills off of the spacious patio.

He set my suitcase down near the bed and watched me as I took in the space. “Impressed?”

“Very. This room is lovely.”

“Wait until you see the bathroom,” he said, pointing to a door and pushing it open. I peeked in and nearly fainted. His bathroom was easily two to three times the size of my master bath, which I thought was pretty spacious. Double sinks, gleaming pewter fixtures, tile floor—I could get used to living like that, for sure.

“So, here’s the deal,” he said, sitting on the corner of the bed. “I’ve got someone coming over for a few hours this afternoon to work. So, you can do whatever you want here, or I can drop you somewhere and pick you back up. Your choice, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“I’ll just stay here. I have some work I can do, if I can borrow a wireless connection.”

“No problem. I have a little while, though, before my appointment shows up.” He wiggled his eyebrows and wrapped an arm around me, dragging me toward him on the bed. “Let’s test the bed out, shall we?”

I climbed up on the massive bed, noting the firm mattress. Suddenly I remembered something. The condoms. “Shit. You know what I left in the room?”

His mouth formed a small ‘O’ and then he laughed. “I have some here. But now you have to tell Melissa why you don’t have any condoms.”

“Can I tell her I had sex with seven people?”  

“Or just one person, seven times. Should we go for it?”

“You are crazy. Maybe if I was staying another few days.”

He laid a hand on mine, rubbed the skin there with his thumb. “I wish you were. I really don’t want you to go home tomorrow.”

I patted his cheek, softly. He still hadn’t shaved. I didn’t care. “I know. This has been fun. It’s totally different than I expected my weekend to go. And I met someone really wonderful and had a great time. I’m still having a great time.”

“Me too. I’m glad I was an idiot and asked you out on Friday. I should act dumb more often.”

“Let’s call it ‘taking chances’.”

“Taking chances it is.”  He leaned over, taking possession of my mouth, his hands in my hair. A chime rang through the house. His shoulders sagged and he ripped his mouth from mine. “Fuck. Who shows up early? That’s my appointment. Let me get him comfortable and then I’ll come back and get you set up.”

Minutes later I was connected to his high speed wireless system, and I logged into email. I prepared a written report about the meeting that I would need to edit and send to the department heads on Wednesday, worked my way through 72 new emails and did some work on our other, smaller accounts. By the time JC came back upstairs, I was pretty well caught up and felt good about taking the extra hours off, as my boss suggested.

“Hello, pretty girl on my bed,” he purred, climbing on to the bed and laying down next to me. He laid on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching my fingers fly across the keyboard.

“I’m just about done,” I said, mouthing words as I typed. I finished the last few sentences, hit ‘send’, and logged off, setting the laptop on the end table next to me. “You helped me get caught up, thank you.”

“Happy I could help,” he said, scooting closer, laying his head in my lap. “So, we’re cooking out on the grill tonight and I need to go turn it on and warm it up. Want to come down?”

A small group of people milled around the patio and the pool, with red Silo cups full of punch—some spiked—and paper plates piled with chicken sandwiches or burgers. Tubs of store-bought salads, sandwich fixings, drinks and a cookie sheet stacked with plump chocolate chip cookies sat on a table just outside the door leading from the house. Soft music thumped out of the speakers, a mix I didn’t recognize but tapped my foot to the beat anyway. It was catchy, had a nice melody.

I was being shy, and hiding. Well, not really hiding, just sitting alone at one of the tables that sat around the pool. Most of the group was gathered together at the tables near the grill, laughing and talking, telling jokes and stories. I felt out of place, watching him in the midst of them, talking, tossing his head back in laughter, sipping a bottle of beer. I didn’t know them, of course, and none of them were celebrities (that I knew of anyway), but I just felt like I was invading his space, crossing a line in his life. Besides, it was nice and calm at the other end of the pool, and I was enjoying the warmth of the late evening sun, soaking in as much as I could before heading back to Atlanta, which was cooling rapidly.

I recognized Marcus, the man that had hit on me Friday night, as soon as he stepped out of the house. He waved to various people, poured himself some punch, and started to sit with the group when he noticed me sitting alone and sauntered over. I rolled my eyes—I wasn’t really in the mood to fight him off. I steeled myself as he came closer, a friendly smile on his face, actually far from the ‘mack daddy’ look he was giving me before.

“Hello. Serena, right?” He said, stopping at the table. I nodded. He extended a hand, and I shook it.

“You have quite the grip, there,” he said, releasing my hand. “Uhm. I just wanted to apologize for Friday night. I didn’t know you were with my man JC. I just saw you and… most of the girls at those parties go to all the parties. It was nice to see someone new. I overstepped my bounds and I was rude. I just wanted to say sorry.”

I relaxed a little, after his speech. A little. “I appreciate that, Marcus. I do. Apology accepted.”

He smiled a big, handsome smile full of straight white teeth. “Mind if I sit?” I shrugged. “So how long have you known JC?” He sipped his punch, but his eyes did not move from my face.

“Not long,” I offered. It wasn’t any of his business. “And you?”

“A few years, now. Nice guy. Real laid back. This kind of thing?” He waved his arm around, to indicate the little gathering of people. “Happens a lot. No big raging parties or anything, just people getting together. He likes that. That and… fucking art projects.”

I raised an eyebrow. I knew he was artsy but no one really talked about the extent of it. “Art projects?”

He rolled his light brown eyes, slouching in his chair, balancing his cup on his knee. “Paintings. Crafts. He likes to build stuff, make stuff. His mind is always going. He needs an outlet. My mom wants to teach him how to knit, so bad. I’m like ... fuck., gimme a beer. You can keep that hot glue gun to yourself.”

The thought of JC wielding a hot glue gun and some rhinestones, bedazzling the hell out of something had me laughing hysterically.

“I sensed people making fun of me,” I heard from behind me, then felt hands on my shoulders and lips on my cheek.

“Marcus was. I wasn’t.” I tried to regain my compusure but the mental image was more than I could take. JC simply nodded, as if he was used to a little good-natured teasing. 

“Sure. Sure. How you doin’ man?” Marcus stood to give JC one of those manly handshake-to-hug gestures.

“I wasn’t moving on your girl. I just came over to apologize for my behavior Friday night. I was a bad boy.” He winked at me. I declined to wink back, but gave him a small smile. “I’m heading out. I just stopped by to say hello.”

“Come by again, sometime,” JC called after him as he slowly made his way past the thinning group of people, and back through the house.  “Was he bugging you?” he asked quietly, dropping into a seat next to me, his arm across the back of my chair.

“No. He really did come to apologize. He just creeped me out on Friday, so I wasn’t all that friendly.”

“He’s kind of a player. Unfortunately a lot of girls fall for his moves. I’d rather have no moves than bad ones.”

I leaned over to him, close to his face and whispered, “Your moves are pretty good.” He growled, under his breath, and muttered, “When these people leave, I’ll show you some moves.”

“You better,” I responded, and sat back, smoldering. He made me feel so sexy. Sexier than anyone I’d ever been with had made me feel. I mentally willed everyone to get very tired and start walking out. I wanted him, and I wanted to take my time.

He dipped his head to me, a playful expression on his face. “In the meantime, I think you issued some kind of challenge to me, and I’ll be damned if I let a challenge go unanswered. Mario Kart. Now.”

“Oh, you’re ready for your ass kicking? Lead the way, Chasez.”

Perhaps he did not believe me, that I was really, really good at Mario Kart. He figured it out, though, when I beat him, four games in a row. “You don’t understand, Chasez,” I said moving the controller around. “This is the only game I can play! Of course I play it well!”

He was laughing so hard he couldn’t control his character and he was losing, badly. “Okay, so I need to practice, obviously. I think losing four games in a row proves that.”

“Well, when I get home, I’ll offer you plenty of practice.” The game over, I set the controller down next to his. “That was fun. I actually haven’t played in awhile.”

“Oh, stop showing off. You’re like the pool player who pretends to play really bad and then beats the pants off everyone.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at pool, too. My dad is a Billiards Champ. I’m a chip off the old block.”

“You’re a chip alright.”

“Stop whining. You got beat by a girl. Get used to it.”

“I don’t mind that,” he said, his expression changing from playful to seductive in a second. “I don’t mind that at all.” He glanced around, noting a few people still hanging out, talking and drinking. “What’s a guy gotta do to get rid of a house full of people?”

I was starting to wind down, anyway, and thought a few minutes alone might do me some good. I let him know I was going to go upstairs and he nodded, saying he would join me, soon. Upstairs, I spread out on the bed and picked up one of four remotes, trying to figure out the TV and surround sound system. I watched half of a movie before he walked in, whistling. I flipped the movie off when he came in.

“All clear?”

“All clear. I didn’t mean to interrupt your movie. I’ll just grab a shower.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and I turned the movie back on. I lost interest and turned it back off, undressed and climbed in under the covers. The sheets were some obscenely high thread count and were so silky and smooth. I laid there, waiting, listening to him take a shower, and the water turn off, an electric toothbrush, then gargle, then something noiseless.

JC came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The scent of soap and toothpaste and steam wafted out behind him. He smelled… intoxicating. That’s the only word I could think of that made sense. Just delicious. 

He opened a drawer and took out a pair of boxers. “May as well leave them off. They’ll end up on the floor anyway,” I said, smiling and leaning on one elbow.

He grinned and tossed them back in the drawer, unwrapped the towel and tossed it back in the bathroom, and dove into the bed. We gravitated toward the middle and became a mass of arms and legs. The bed in the hotel was a queen size, so we had a lot more space to work with. I planned on using it.

“I meant to tell you. You? Beating me at Mario Kart? Very sexy.” He bent his head and pressed his lips against mine, gently at first and then with more pressure, opening his mouth against mine and giving me the first of many long, slow, luxurious kisses of the night.

We spent hours together that night, exploring, whispering, touching, emotions ranging on every level from the height of passion and excitement to heart wrenching tenderness to actual tears shed. I could not think of a better way to spend my last night in Los Angeles. Whatever happened beyond that night, it would happen one day at a time, so that’s the only way I could take it, handle it.

When morning came, I groaned. I did not want to get back on an airplane. Not only to leave him behind, and to go back home to my life, my real life, not this fantasy I’d been living for four days—but I really didn’t want to get on the plane. The closer the time to go to the airport came, the more nervous I was.

“You want something, to relax you? You almost passed out, Friday. I think you need something.” He sat across the table from me, coffee in one hand morning paper in the other, my luggage standing near the stairs to the garage.

“I need something, like what? What if I freak out?”

“You’ll make it. I promise. Hang on.” He got up from the table and ran upstairs, taking two at a time. A few minutes later, he came down. “Here,” he said, handing me a pill inside a small plastic baggie. “It’ll help with your anxiety. Take it before you board. And here, this is for you.” From behind his back he pulled out a small teddy bear wearing a t-shirt that said ‘I Heart You’.

“I don’t want your fan throwaways,” I said, eyeing the bear.

“It’s not a fan throwaway. I donate all that stuff to kid’s hospitals. This one is mine. Serious. Here.” He shook it at me, and I took it. It was soft and smelled like him.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’ll hold him in my lap while I’m freaking out.”

The look of sympathy returned, and he bent to kiss me. He pulled back, slightly, and looked me in the eye. “You are going to be okay. We should go, traffic probably sucks.”

I tapped my foot nervously as he took the exit to the airport. He kept up the lighthearted banter to distract me but it didn’t work. We pulled into the terminal for my flight and he put the car in park, popped the trunk and I met him at the back. He retrieved my suitcase and set it on the side walk, where a porter came and grabbed it for check in. I crossed my arms and tried to look calm and casual, but my poor heart was pounding.

“Come here,” he said, unfolding my arms and holding my hands in his. “I had a great time with you. Best weekend ever. Here’s to terrible ideas, huh?” He grinned but was unable to get me to smile. “You’ll be fine. You will. You have your pill?” I nodded.

He reached out and took my face in his hands and I put my hands over his. “I would like to see you more. I plan to see you more. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I didn’t trust myself to say anymore.

“Good. I’ll miss you, but I’ll see you soon.” He leaned down and kissed me. I think time stood still--nothing else in the world existed or mattered but him, right then. He ended the kiss and wrapped me in a strong hug. I hugged him, tight, inhaled a deep breath of his scent- cologne and soap.

He pulled away and let go, smiled at me, turned around and walked around to the driver side of his car.  “Better get in there. I’m not leaving till you go in and I have to move my car.” I smiled and waved, blinking back tears, and turned around to walk into the airport. I missed him already.

The flight home went fine, considering. Considering I was in coach and not first class, and considering that I was deathly afraid of the air craft falling out of the sky and considering I had taken a pill that a celebrity gave to me and said it would ‘calm me’.  I was calm, alright --passed out for damn near all of the flight.  Whatever he gave me, I wanted one of those every time I had to fly.

At baggage claim, I yawned and tried to wake up, because I still had to drive home.  I was tired, but calm. Not shaking, not nervous, not nearly the wreck I normally was. I spotted my suitcase coming around, and easily stepped forward and picked it up off of the belt. ‘See. You’re perfectly capable,’ I told myself, making my way toward my car parked in the lot.

It was good to be home. LA was awesome. Wonderful, even. I loved it, but I also loved home and it was good to be back. I waited in the line to pay for my parking and reached over to my bag to turn on my Blackberry. Messages and voicemail started to roll in and I scrolled the list quickly. A text message from JC: ‘you home yet? Let me know you got there without jumping out of a window’. He was so funny. I returned his text with a simple: ‘Safe and sound, no problem’.  I would answer the rest of the messages and email when I got home. I paid for my parking and drove through the dark toward my normal, regular, not gigantic house, but a place I sure loved to call home.

The house I lived in was a complete surprise find and I was very proud of it. The economic downturn hit hard, and Atlanta was no exception. At one point, we were leading the nation in foreclosures. I fell in love with the three-story home on a spacious, wooded lot the second I saw it.  I felt a bit guilty, like I was stealing someone’s home out from beneath them, but I was buying the home from the bank, and was assured that the family that owned it previously had moved on. One look at the brick front, those gleaming wood floors, large bay windows and bright, open kitchen and I had to have it. My heart leapt as I turned the corner onto the cul-de-sac and my garage door slid open.

After unpacking and running a load of laundry, I ran a hot bath, adding one of the fragrant bath bombs that my sister in law had given me for my birthday. They made the water soft and soothing and provided a lovely scent. I sank into the almost scalding hot water and sighed, resting my head against a pillow, sipping a glass of wine.

What a weekend. I mean, really. I couldn’t have asked for a better time, and it would have been unrealistic for me to wish for what had happened to actually happen. I worried about myself, though. It was too easy to get caught up in his world, his life, the fairy tale he spun. There wasn't any way I could measure up to the kind of women he had to be used to being with, and I wasn't really in the mood to try.

I felt my cheek and neck where stubble had rubbed a little raw red patch. I remembered his touch on my skin and shuddered. No matter what he said, he had to have a routine. A game. A line that he used with women he thought would respond. I felt like a sucker, because I fell for it. All of it. I had no idea if it was real. If I would even hear from him again, ever. I set my empty wine glass on the edge of the tub and pulled the plug with my toe, letting the water escape down the drain, then stood and wrapped myself in a towel and padded through the closet to my bedroom.

I toweled off, tossing the towel into the closet hamper and, picking up my favorite bottle of lotion, sat at the lighted vanity and began to apply the lotion to my feet, and working my way up my body. I stared at my own bed, small in comparison to his, and tried not to remember the night before. Rolling around with him, laughing, talking, playing. Spreading out, and in the middle of the night being pulled closer to him, his breath in my hair, his arms wrapped around my body. I tried not to remember—or miss—how comfortable that felt.

I slipped on a long t-shirt to sleep in, set the alarm and flipped off the lamp next to the bed. The TV was on, just for background sound, and a little light. The flickering images reflected up onto the ceiling, bringing back memories of the first night we were together, in the eerie glow of the TV, discovering each other.

‘Stop it,’ I screamed, inside my head. ‘Just stop it. Don’t romanticize him. Don’t make what happened part of some love story. It was what it was, and you’ll be lucky to hear from him twice before he forgets your name. Don’t do this.’ 

Frustrated, I flipped to my side, turned off the TV and drifted to sleep.

The next few days were busy, but monotonous. The same old work, for the same old clients, answering the same old questions, over and over and over again. Having the same old conflicts between Development and Client services. I didn’t expect any communication from Qwest, and they didn’t let me down. We heard nothing.

I hadn’t had the chance to see Melissa or Jen or any of my friends, or even my parents since I’d come back. I’d talked to them, and they all thought it was odd that I hadn’t checked in over the weekend, asked any questions, done any gushing about LA. I tried to stay calm and casual while I talked about it, leaving out all the really important parts, which was hard because I had pretty much spent my weekend with JC. I had dinner with them—Jen, Melissa, a few other friends—that Friday night, and I brought the trinkets I had bought on the Santa Monica Pier.

Melissa’s living room was sunken, a soft, comfortable place to rest after stuffing yourself with dinner. After everyone else had left, I claimed my usual spot, kicked off my shoes, uncapped a beer and relaxed. She sat a few seats away from me, the TV on but the volume low, some concert on Logo that she’d made a huge deal about not wanting to miss, but wasn’t even watching.

“What’s his name?” I heard, as I stared at the musician writhing on the screen, the guitar a mere extension of his body. My head slowly turned toward her, my forehead creased with my frown.

“What?” I asked.

She lifted the bottle of beer to her lips and tipped it up, swallowing before she answered. “You heard me. You’ve had sex. I can tell. What’s his name?”

My eyes floated to the ceiling, then over to her, then back to the TV. She had to be joking. “You can tell no such thing.”

“Oh, but I can, my dear. I have a sixth sense about these things. Don’t bullshit me. I can see it in your face. His name. Out with it.”

“There’s no name, Melissa,” I said quietly, wondering how long I could keep up the charade.

“You don’t know his name? Because there is definitely a man. You smell like him.”

My mouth dropped open. “I smell like him? I could smell like anyone. I work with men.”

She tapped her chin, thinking. “Nope, it’s different. You smell like him. Different.” She sniffed twice. “Spicy. Pumpkin, or something.”

Oh, shit. I had laundered the shirt I was wearing. There was no way I still smelled like him.  I remembered, then, that I had worn the same jeans over the weekend, and I hadn’t washed those. How I had missed a residual scent was beyond me. Then again, among Melissa’s super powers was the sense of smell. She could smell things no one else could—like the obscure mix of spicy cologne and pumpkin scented shampoo that a certain handsome gentleman used.

I was too quiet. Her grin went from curious to smug and she rested her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the armrest of her chair. One eyebrow rose, as if to ask, “So?”

There was no way I was getting out of that house without telling her. I was caught. “You can’t say anything. To anyone. Ever. EVER.”

“Okay.”

I held my hand out to her, pinky up. “Pinky swear.” She rolled her eyes and held her hand out, linked her pinky with mine and shook it.

“Spill already.”

I tipped my head back, bumped it against the couch cushion. My words rushed out in a jumble—I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say until I had said it.

“So, I met someone. And he’s awesome. So… awesome.”

She blinked. “Okay. And I can’t say anything because…”

“Because he’s a celebrity.” I expected a lot of questions, hoped for a lot of questions, because it would be easier to answer questions than tell the story.

She didn’t ask them. I rolled my head over and glanced at her. She shrugged, blinked, looked bored. “Oh?”

“And. I don’t know what else to say.  I had a good time, though.” A slow smile turned into a wide grin, which turned into a bout of nervous giggles.

“Obviously,” she said, dropping her hand. “So…details. Who is he?”

“Oh, I don’t want to say. He’s wonderful, though. I might never hear from him again, but I had a great time. I met him on the plane, I freaked out, as only you know I can.” I glanced at Melissa, her blond hair spilling over her arms as she laid her head down, laughing.

“Yeah, poor him,” I said, laughing with her.

Melissa’s head rose, her face red from laughter. “And so, what, he felt sorry for you?”

 “I guess. We talked a little, on the plane. I flirted a little. A lot.  He held my hand when I got scared. When we got off the plane, after I had embarrassed myself twice, he asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink later. I said yes, he called me at the hotel, suggested dinner first, and it went from there. He was really very nice to me.”

Mellissa looked confused. She scratched her head, flipped her hair back, twisted her mouth in thought. “And so how do you go from drinks to dinner and drinks to sleeping with him?  And you DID use the condoms I packed, right?”

I brushed my hair out of my face and glared at her. “Yes, I used the condoms you packed. Well, we went out Friday, and then he asked if I wanted a tour of some fun places in LA. So he took me to lunch Saturday. We had a great day, we talked, had fun. Came back to my hotel room, ordered dinner from the restaurant and uhm…” I blushed. “And then we met up Sunday night. And again Monday, after the meeting with Qwest. You know, to celebrate. He took me to the airport Tuesday.”

Her eyes fluttered as she blinked rapidly, then a knowing smile crossed her face as she realized I had been with him at his home. “Well. So you had a good weekend, then.”

“I had a great weekend. I had a fantastic weekend. But really,” I said, sitting up, jabbing a finger at her. “You can’t tell anyone. You and Jen have the biggest mouths, ever. This can’t get around.”

“I promise, I promise, I won’t say a word. But. What now? Do you think you’ll see him again? Because seriously, Serena-- you look really happy.”

“I don’t know, Mel. Before I left, he said he wanted to see me again. But he could have been blowing smoke up my ass, you know? I could totally fall for him. And he could totally hurt me. I can't go through that again. So, I’m just… I’ll just take my time and enjoy him when I can see him and miss him when I can’t.”

Her head bobbed slowly. “I guess that’s the best way to look at it. One day at a time. Have you heard from him since you’ve been home?”

“A text here and there. Nothing deep. No phone calls but he’s been pretty busy this week, I guess. I mean, not making excuses for him, just…” My voice trailed off. I was making excuses. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d certainly find the time. I wasn’t going to do that with him. Make excuses.  Melissa saw it too, but pursed her lips and averted her eyes. 

The screen caught our attention for a few minutes—the concert was nearly over and now she decided she would watch it. At the commercial break, she turned to face me, a devilish smile on her lips.

“So, you aren’t telling me anything else I have to swear to my soul?” She winked.

I burst into laughter. I should have been expecting that question but I wasn’t.  “Nope," I said, hiding my smile behind the bottle I held.

“Oh, come on, you can tell me. I don’t know who he is. I mean… I’m just…should I pack Magnums next time, or do I need to uhm… rotate down a size?”

I tried hard to keep the smile from my lips. I sniffed, stared at the TV as the concert ended, then suddenly blurted out, with a nod, “You might pack a couple of Magnums next time.”

Melissa squealed and jumped over the armrest onto the cushion next to me. “Seriously? Like the ones I packed are way too small, or…?”

“You’re pretty nosy for a lesbian,” I said, draining my bottle of beer.  "They were fine, in a pinch. They saved my ass, actually. He forgot to bring any, the first time. But uhm." I blushed madly. I couldn't even look at her. "HIS fit better.”

She clapped and bounced on the seat, giddy. “I’m just so excited for you. So, then. You know… he was… good?”

I wasn’t going to get out of saying something. Melissa was like a pit bull when she grabbed hold of something. Truthfully, I was bursting at the seams to tell her all about him, about the weekend – I just didn’t want to read about myself on the cover of a magazine.

He was….” I let my eyes roll to the back of my head and wilted against the seat. She giggled like a teenager talking about sex for the first time. “The best I’ve ever had. The best.” I shivered, remembering.

“That good?” One eyebrow shot up.

“That good,” I said quietly. “At everything. Before, during, after, too. We had great talks about… random stuff. I told him about Regina.”

Melissa sobered, then. I knew that would be a surprise. Few people actually knew about her, and she wasn’t someone I talked about with just anyone. She leaned against the couch and crossed her arms.  “Really. This guy must be somethin’ else.”

“He is. He is…” I drew in a shaky breath, and let it out. “Somethin’ else. He’s also adopted. And I’ve always wanted to ask him about that. I’m glad I got the chance to. In fact, our situations are almost identical except he was five when he was adopted, and his birth mom is… not Regina. She turned him over to good folks that she knew, and they raised him. They have a good relationship and she’s turned her life around. Something… something about knowing that’s possible…it just frustrates me. Regina isn’t ever going to be what I want her to be.”

Melissa sighed heavily, scooting closer to me. “Serena,” she said, a sarcastic chuckle escaping her. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re never going be what Regina wanted either?” Her green eyes met my glassy gaze, near tears, as she challenged me.

“Look, the whole situation was fucked up. She won’t ever be the mother she should have been. She won’t ever have the daughter that she gave up to a good home, and good people. Imagine what that’s like for her. I mean… you call her by her first name. You’ve called Donna ‘Mom’ your whole life. Shit, I’d get high everyday if I had to deal with that. I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m saying she can’t deal with it. When she’s high, or drunk, she doesn’t have to. No daughter. No family. No job. No purpose for being. What’s there to be sober for?”

Her brows furrowed so tightly they seemed knit together. I felt my face swell and turn red-hot and a tear leapt out of each eye. Her hands were warm on my skin, through the thin material of my t-shirt as she rubbed my back until my bout of emotion passed. She always had a comforting, soothing touch. “It’s good that you found someone you can talk to about that. Who understands. I’m glad you did. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

I swiped at an errant tear, and shook my head. “No, not at all. You know I prefer the truth.” I sniffled. “I need to head out though, I’m pretty tired.”

I set down my empty beer bottle and started to make my exit. The drive was dark and quiet… lots of time to contemplate Melissa’s words. My phone buzzed inside my bag, and I reached across the seat, pulling it out of its pocket in my purse. My heart hit the bottom of my stomach. It was JC.

“Hi,” I answered, happy. Casual. I hoped.

“Well, hi. How are you?”  Hearing his voice for the first time in days made me miss him so badly. I wanted to be with him. I shook my head to clear it. I needed to get a grip.

“I’m very good. It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“I’m good. I was waiting for you to call me but since you didn’t, I’m calling you. Do you want to talk or do you want me to hang up?”

“Why would I want you to hang up? And why didn’t you just call?”

“I don’t know. Just... thinking maybe you didn’t want to talk to me after the weekend. Which was great, by the way.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling into the phone. “It was. Thank you, for that.”

“I wasn’t fishing. I was complimenting. Thank YOU.”

I chuckled. “Well, you’re welcome.”

“When can we do it again?” His voice, just the tone of his voice, right then and there made me wish he was waiting for me at my house. I would shove the gas pedal to the floor and speed to him, so fast, if he were.   

“Uhm. I don’t really know. I won’t hear from Qwest for awhile, so I don’t know when we’ll be back out there. For business anyway.”

“And for pleasure?”

“I… don’t know, JC.” This was becoming complicated, rather quickly. “We’re coming up on the holidays and this is a busy time of year, for us.”

“Oh.” No, no no. No. Don’t do that disappointed thing with me, Chasez. Don’t. Fuck.

My mind raced. What do I say?  “Uhm. B-B-But maybe… maybe if I planned ahead. Or… well, you could come out here. I know it’s hard for you but it’s just as hard for me.”

"It’s not that hard for me,” he argued, but he perked up a little. “Uhm…I could come out.  In a couple weeks, maybe. I need some time to push some things around, but I could. I want to see Dallas anyway. You uh…have to promise to show me a good time, though.”

“You know I would,” I breathed, hoping I sounded sexy. “You’re really coming?”

“I guess it’s my turn. We’ll take it from there. Or maybe you’ll hear from your client by then.”

“Maybe. Hang on.” I pulled into the garage, got out of the car and entered the house, making my way upstairs to the bedroom. “Okay. Sorry, I had to get in the house. What are you doing? It’s Friday night, you should be at some stuffy, boring lounge, rescuing a girl from drinking too much.”

There was that laugh. I remembered feeling it, my head leaning against his chest. “I did that last week. I’m home. In bed. Thinking about you.” 

I peeled off my clothes as best I could with one hand, and crawled into bed. “What a coincidence. I’m home, crawling into bed, thinking about you.”

“Really. What are you thinking about?” His voice was low. He sounded relaxed, like he could drift off to sleep at any moment. I wished myself there, in the crook of his arm, listening to his heartbeat and the steady in and out of his breathing.

“I miss sharing a bed with you,” I said, my tone matching his. “Waking up at all hours of the night being dragged across the bed, closer to you.” I picked up the tiny teddy bear he’d sent me home with and snuggled it to me, breathing in his scent.

I heard a low rumble. I wished he wouldn’t do that, not when I couldn’t do anything about it. “Mmmmm…yeah, that’s a nice memory. I have this whole bed to myself. It feels lonely.”

He sounded sad, and there was just no reason for it. Didn’t he know who he was? Couldn’t he just step outside of his house and get anyone he wanted?

“Well, you know. Far be it for me to make suggestions but I’d think it would be pretty easy for you to find a date.”

“I got Serena on the brain. I want to be with you. I wish I was with you, right now. I don’t know if I can wait a couple of weeks.”

“Well. I don’t know what to say to that, JC.”

“I know.” There was that disappointed sound again. “I don’t know why I said it.”

“I mean, I miss you too, and it would be nice to be with you right now. Uhm… so, did you really mean what you said? At the airport?”

“I’m coming out there, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but...it just makes no sense-- there are a hundred million girls out there you can have sex with.”

He was quiet, very quiet for a long moment. I thought I’d dropped the call, and then I heard sounds on the other end, like the phone shifting to another ear.

“Why are you making it sound like I picked you up at some seedy bar and like… made you my bitch for the weekend and now I should just move on to a new victim?” His feelings were hurt, which wasn’t my goal at all.  I didn’t know of any other way to put it. It didn’t make sense for him to run after me—what did he want from me that he couldn’t get from anyone? Anywhere?

I rolled to my back, flipped off the light, enveloped in the dark. All I wanted was his voice in my ear.

“I don’t know,” I said, apologetic. “I guess I’m trying to be realistic about you and the weekend and… everything. It was amazing, but so… not real. I’m trying not to get hurt, mostly.”

“But I’m not trying to hurt you. And this is… Serena, this as realistic as it’s gonna get. I’m on one side of the country and you’re all the way over there. This is reality, for us. Unless… " He paused. It was the most painful pause in the history of pauses.

"Maybe I misread something," he continued. "Unless you don’t want an ‘us’. I mean, is there nothing there, for you? After all of that 'don't high five yourself because you fucked a fan, did you just fuck a celebrity and walk away?”

“JC, that is… not fair. You know it wasn’t like that, for me. But you made it clear, over and over, all weekend that I don’t know you. No matter how many interviews I read or watch, or how much I pay attention to you, I have no clue. And you don’t know me, really. Four days and good sex does not equal knowing me.”

“That’s… I know that. Isn’t that the point, though? To get to know each other?”

“We should probably do some of that ‘getting to know each other’ before we start calling us an ‘us’.”

I heard a short, irritated breath on the line, and the scratch of him rubbing his face. “Okay. I… if that’s how you want it, I can deal with that, I guess. But just so you know, Fan Rule number three: the ‘I can have anyone I want’ thing? Isn’t really true. In theory, one would think that. In practice, it doesn’t quite work out that way. I can’t, in fact, have anyone I want, if I want you, and can’t have you.”

“Oh dear,” I said, amused at his logic. “We’re laying it on awfully thick, aren’t we, Chasez?”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Maybe. Maybe I’m trying to pluck your heartstrings, I don’t know. Just… just give me a chance, before you write me off as some kind of celebrity whore who sleeps with anything and everything and also girls he meets on airplanes.”

“I guess I can do that.” I paused, for a heartbeat.  “I’m not perfect, you know. I’m kind of fucked up, actually.”

“Well that’s a shame,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Because I’m perfect in every way. I’m not fucked up at all.”

“Okay, there’s ‘has problems and issues’, and then there’s fucked up.”

“And you’re saying you’re the latter.”

“I’m saying I’m kind of the latter. Just fair warning.”

I heard his chuckle deep in his throat. “Awesome. I love an adventure. So tell me one of the ways you’re fucked up, then.”

“Well, you already know the first one. Regina has driven me stark, raving mad.”

He sniffed. “I kind of promised myself I wouldn’t bring that up, again. I upset you, and I don’t want to do that. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I mean, I understand, of course I’ll listen.”

“Don’t censor yourself, JC. If you have something to say, say it. I like hearing your perspective, even if it doesn’t match mine.”

I heard the muted swish of sheets and his breathing changed—he must have rolled over. “Okay. Well. My perspective is that you should go to therapy. Or back to therapy. What you’ve got going on isn’t fair to you but you feel so obligated and you shouldn’t. You can’t even see how it limits you.”

“And you can?”

“ ‘Course I can.” He gently reminded me that he knew where I was coming from. Maybe he had been there before and could lead the way out.  “So you promise to think about it?”

“I guess,” I muttered.

“Good girl,” he said quietly, sounding very sleepy.

“I think I should let you go,” I said softly. “But I love that you called. You should do it more often.”

“Same to you,” came a sleepy voice, yawning. “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

“Goodnight, JC.”

I set the phone in its charger on the nightstand and sighed, staring at the ceiling. I was doing it again—getting myself wrapped up in something that seemed too good to be true, and probably was. Eventually, something would happen, and I would I know, at that exact moment in time, why I shouldn’t have done or said or felt things, and I would justify, justify, justify, trying to hold onto it. In the end, I would be the one hurting and he would be the one who had moved on and I would swear, swear on my life that I would never do it again. This… whatever it was… with JC had all the markings of something I should stay the hell away from, but I couldn’t.

Not that he would let me. He called, or texted or emailed several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. Sometimes just to say hello, sometimes to really talk. The more we talked, the more I wanted to talk, the more I wanted to know about who he really was, and I wanted him to know who I really was—not the girl he met on a plane and felt sorry for and spent a wild, passionate, tawdry weekend with (as fun as that weekend was). I was a real person with a real life and real feelings, and not hard and seasoned like those actresses and models he was used to dating. I hoped he would figure out that I was fragile, in a way. Fractured. If he broke my heart, it would shatter into millions of pieces. I just wanted to make it through this, as long as it lasted, in one piece.

Regina went missing, again. This time, I didn’t go looking for her. She showed up every six weeks or so, like clockwork for food, money, clothes, whatever she needed and didn’t have enough to buy. I drew the line at giving her money—she would be high before she got to the end of the block—but anything else, if she needed it, she knew where to go. She was weeks overdue for her next handout, and I had no idea where she was. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, I was actually nervous about where she could be. Somehow, I had the strength to try and distance myself from her. A little. ‘Love her from afar,’ JC said often.

“So, what brings you here, Serena? Can I call you Serena?”

I was nervous and twisting Kleenex in my hands. Though I had practiced what I would say the night before, it was much different being in the office, in front of the doctor, and saying it. My therapist was a small woman, mid forties. Short, pixie haircut, stylish pantsuit and wire rimmed frames. Her brown eyes seemed to bore into my soul, but her voice was gentle and prodding.

“Yes, please do,” I said, my voice quivering. I breathed, trying to relax. “Well. I guess I start in the middle and work my way out, huh?”

“Start wherever you like, we’ll put it all together later.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and blew it out, then started to talk. “Well. I… am adopted. I have always known I was adopted. My adoptive parents are great people. We get along, I love them, they are my parents.

“My… birth mother, Regina, has always been in the picture, but not always present. She is a drug addict, she disappeared a lot. It was eight years before my parents could adopt me. Every time they got close she would clean herself up, make herself presentable, like she actually had an interest in being my mother. Eventually my parents had to resort to—I don’t want to say, but it’s not legal—to stop her from interfering. Most of this I wasn’t aware of until I was about 18 or 19, I can’t remember. All I knew as a kid was that this situation was messed up and all I wanted was to not be forced to go with her.”

“Do you feel she used you to get money, then?”

I breathed a sigh of relief that she understood what I was getting at. “Most definitely. And she admits to it. The biggest thing is that… I am her only living blood relative, for all intents and purposes. So... she’s still in my life. And she’s still… the same. It’s not like I could turn 18, and choose to be free of her. I feel like I can’t get away from her. And I can’t keep her clean. And I can’t…I can’t make her my ‘mom’. “

I felt the dam that had built up for so many years start to crack. It was hard, admitting you wanted your mom to go away. I disappointed myself with that feeling, but it was real and I had to turn around and face it and deal with it. JC was very right, though I didn’t want him to be. I was limited by this—it festered and kept me from being completely happy. I would give anything to be rid of it, even bare my soul to a stranger who charged me $150 an hour to listen.

“Do you really want her to be your mom, though? Don’t you have a mom?”

I nodded. “Yes. I have a mom who is great. Donna Willis is a great woman. My dad is great, too, especially with how generous they were with Regina.”

“Okay. Are you saying, then, that you want a relationship with your birth mother that you can’t have, because you’re so much caretaker and not enough daughter?”

Yes. That was exactly it, but I hadn’t found the words. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped. “Here’s what I want. Really and truthfully. I want her to have really wanted the best for me. I wanted her to realize that she was gonna fuck—excuse me—screw me up, and to want a better life for me and to give me up and let me be raised in a normal home. Instead, she couldn’t let go and I felt like I was in this giant tug of war and I felt like she was just being selfish, and in the end, it was about what she could get, and she sold me for it.”

“That’s a serious allegation.”

“It’s also true,” I spit out. “At least, that’s how I feel,” I added, calmer. I looked up at her, expecting her to be angry and react to my outburst. She was seated in her leather wingback chair, one leg crossed over the other, a compassionate expression on her face, waiting for me to continue.

“So. My biggest issue right now is my life revolving around her. If you could see her, you would see me. I mean, she’s ragged, and she looks really bad. But, when I look in the mirror, I see her.” I drew a breath, feeling the tears coming.

“And that makes me rebel. I straighten my hair because she wears hers curly. I hate my nose, because it’s her nose, exactly. I have body issues because we could share clothes, if we really wanted to, and she sells hers for drug money. And she’s… SUCH a failure and I overachieve to compensate. I have a hard time letting people love me and when they do, it’s in all the wrong ways and then I… I make excuses to hide what’s going on and do whatever I can to cover it up, so they’ll stay.”

“Are we talking abuse?”

I nodded slowly, pressing my lips together to keep the tears at bay. She closed her eyes briefly, took in a deep breath, through her nose, her lips clamped shut.  “Let’s deal with that in another session, shall we? I want to dig into that some but I don’t want to cut it off. You’ve done well, today, though. How do you feel?”

How did I feel? Okay. “I feel okay.”  And tired. But okay.

“Okay is okay,” she said with a warm smile. “Not angry, not nervous, not worked up?”

I really felt okay. Which was great. I hadn’t felt okay in a long time.

##

He was coming. He was coming. He was coming!

After more than a month, and two date changes, he was finally, for sure, coming. Already on the plane, heading to Atlanta, coming. I wasn’t crazy about having to share him with Dallas, but I would take him anyway I could get him. I hadn’t seen him in over a month and I missed him like crazy. I just wanted to see him, to feel those arms around me, to lay my head against his chest and listen to his heart beat. The day dragged by unbelievably slowly. By 3:00 I’d had it and told my boss I was checking out early.

The plan was that he would spend most of the day Friday with Dallas, get music out of the way first, and then I could have him to myself. The last thing I wanted to be was needy, or a pest, so I tried hard not to bother him and I avoided texting or calling him. I wanted to be that cool chick that he knew that didn’t ride him about spending time with her. Besides, I wanted him to have all of the studio time he needed because once I got him, I had no intention of letting him go.

But by 7:00, and with no word from him, I was restless. I’d already cleaned, and cleaned again, washed the car, showered and changed, organized a few cabinets, cooked dinner. I wanted to scream—he was in the same state and the same city and I hadn’t seen him yet! In a fit, I picked up the phone and typed out a quick message to him. “How much longer?’  He didn’t answer for a long while, but when he did, the message was good. ‘Come get me.’

I followed Dallas’ convoluted instructions to his home in South Atlanta, where he and JC often worked. I got lost twice, missed the gate entrance and had to back up, and then couldn’t get anyone to answer the buzz when I did find the gate. By the time I made it down the winding driveway toward the massive, specially built, circular home, I was too tired and frazzled to be nervous about meeting one of the city’s, if not the country’s most talented record producers. Dallas was a hit maker, and the fan in me was happy that JC was there working with him.

If, by working, you meant playing Xbox Live on the 52 inch plasma television that hung on the wall. A teenage young man had opened the door to let me in and led me to the playroom where JC was flanked by two other boys cheering him on. I recognized Dallas, in the corner, his long legs hung over the side of a leather recliner, a long finger pointing toward the screen, shouting as loud as the boys were. I caught his attention as I walked in and he swung his legs off of the side of the chair and stood.

“Boys, there’s a lady here,” he said quietly. Somehow he was heard, over the din, and the two younger boys stood and nodded, muttered ‘hello’. JC turned around, then, a black scarf still wrapped around his neck, and flashed that megawatt smile. I could have melted into a puddle right there, had it not been for the others in the room. I resisted the urge to vault over the back of the couch and attack him. Instead I smiled and said ‘hello’, and the boys went back to their game. Dallas came around the chair he’d been lounging in.

“You must be Serena,” he said, his voice smooth as milk chocolate, his wide smile very sweet. He held out a large hand, palm up. I took his hand, his closing over mine, squeezing lightly, and drawing an arm around my shoulder.

“Dallas,” I said, swooning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, really. I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you, thank you,” he said, beaming. He turned to JC, an arm still around me. “So, C, your girl got good taste. You don’t mind if we spend some time together, right?”

“Dallas,” JC said, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. “Don’t make me hurt you.” The boys giggled and fell back against the couch, controllers in hand. I blushed as Dallas let out a hearty laugh, released my hand and guided me to the couch next to JC.

“Move over, Tron. Let the lady sit down here, next to her dude. Can I get you something? A drink, water, a soda, something?”

I sank into the comfortable couch next to JC. I could smell him when I walked into the room, and my mouth went dry. “Water,” I eeked out. “Thank you.”

“Hey sweet girl,” JC said, leaning close to me, dropping a kiss on my cheek. He looked tired, but amazing. I couldn’t wait to get him home, but for the time being, I needed to be social and polite, until I could steal him away. I grinned and returned his kiss as he went back to his game. I recognized the game—my nephews were obsessed with it, their eyes never leaving the screen when I came to visit them.

“I can kick your—butt—at this game, too,” I said, editing my language for the young ears present.

“Oh, man. I think the lady just issued a challenge, C. You gonna let her talk to you like that?” Dallas handed me a bottle of some designer brand of water. I rolled my eyes, inwardly. Water was water. I didn’t need fancy, expensive water. ‘Rich people are so interesting,’ I thought, as I sucked down a few gulps. ‘But that’s really, really good water.’

“You know what? I have learned that when Serena says she’s really good at something, I should believe her. She kicked my ass all over some Mario Kart.”

“Say what?” Dallas fell into his chair, laughing. “You let her win, though right?”

“Nah, I just suck at Mario Kart,” he smirked. The game ended and he handed the controller off to another of the boys. “Can we give her the tour? I think she’d like some of the pictures you have up.” He offered a hand to me so I could stand up, his fingers lacing between mine as he led me through the house, following Dallas around the wide circle that made up his home.

Along the wall hung black and white photos of musicians, singers, songwriters, athletes, legends in one long straight line. He was proud of his collection of art pieces and eclectic design, as well as the additions that made home a fun place to be, like a built in movie theater and bowling alley, a babbling brook out back and the plush, shiny sound studio. It didn’t look like they’d spent a lot of time in there, but I recognized JC’s bag and suitcase in the corner.

“And here is where the tour ends and I tell you to get out of here, spend some time with your girl.” JC and Dallas shook hands, grinned at each other, made plans to see each other in a few months’ time and then JC swung his leather bag onto his shoulder. I grabbed the handle of his suitcase and followed him out of the studio, around the bend to the door.

“Good night, Dallas, thank you for the tour,” I said. He leaned down and touched a warm cheek to mine. “Anytime, sweetheart. You’ll be back, I’m sure. Drive safe. You know how to get out of here? Take a left, then a right, and you’re right there at the Interstate?”

I nodded. I knew the entire area well. I had spent a half hour driving it, trying to find his house.  Now that I knew where I was going, I could take the shortcut back home. JC and I piled into my car, I drove around on the circular drive, through the gate, and out onto the access road. JC reached over and turned up the music I had playing softly. I cringed. I knew he would have something to say about my disco fetish.

“Oh my GOD. KC and the Sunshine Band? And I listen to weird shit?” He turned the knob back down, the sounds of his laughter bouncing around the car.

“I’m glad you’re so amused. Disco is happy music, and I need happy music when I drive.”

“I’m not laughing at the disco. I’m laughing that you said I listen to weird shit, and you’re pushing KC and the Sunshine Band.”

He could pick on my music all he wanted, so long as he was inches from me. The smell of him filled my nostrils and took me back to that long, wonderful weekend. I reached over to his seat, took his hand and brought it to my lips, laying a soft kiss in his palm. In the faint glow of streetlights and the moon, I glanced over at him. He was staring out of the window, up at the Atlanta skyline. His hand came to rest on my thigh, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth against the denim of my jeans.

“So did you get –“ 

“I’m happy to—“

“Go ahead,” he said, with a squeeze to my thigh.

“I was going to ask if you guys got any work done or if you played all day.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “We got some good stuff down. Just writing, sketched out a few songs. Enough to go home and work on. I’ll see him in a few months and smooth it out, some.”

“Great, I can’t wait to hear something new from you. It’s been so long.” He didn’t respond, his thumb shoved in the corner of his mouth chewing on the nail. ‘Okay. Quit asking him about his music,’ I told myself. “So what were you saying? When I interrupted?”

He removed his thumb, resting his chin on his hand. “Just happy to be here,” he said, gazing out of the window. We were nearing my house, a neighborhood I loved because of its tree lined streets and rows and rows of “old Atlanta” architecture- wraparound porches and columns and sprawling lawns and long driveways. Though most homes had renovated interiors, the exteriors still boasted the charm of turn of the century.

“Tomorrow, we can take a walk around a few blocks if you want to look at some of the houses. They’re really neat in this area, every one of them different.”

JC nodded, and simply said, “Cool.”

I turned onto the familiar street and into the driveway, and then into the garage as the door slid open. JC yawned as he popped the latch on the door and stepped out of the car.  He looked around as he stretched, his face contorting and scrunching, noting the meticulously organized shelves around the perimeter.

“Go ahead, pick on my clean garage. I know you want to.”

“Not at all,” he said, yawning again, walking around. He stopped at my rolling, waist high tool box. “You have tools. Do you use these?”

“On occasion, yeah.”

He shook a finger at me, his eyes taking in the rows of tools and shelves stocked with random items. “See. This getting to know each other thing is working out.”

At the rear of the car, I pulled the large suitcase out of the trunk and slung his leather bag onto my shoulder. “Okay, I lied. My dad uses those to fix things when he comes over. Come on in,” I said, and unlocked the door into the house.

I was so nervous about having him at my house. It was so much smaller and less opulent than his home, and certainly could not measure up to Dallas’ spacious mansion. He didn’t seem the type to look down his nose at anyone, but then again, he’d also never say anything if he hated it. I just wanted him to be as comfortable in my home as I was in his.

I led him through the entry way to the stairs, past the kitchen. “Smells good,” he said, breathing deeply, taking in the smells of the Asian inspired meal. “Did you actually cook, or does someone else do that, too?”

He was already picking on me, so I guessed he was comfortable enough. “I actually cooked, you smartass. I’m leaving your suitcase here so you can drag it upstairs. I have something to show you.” I held out hand for him and he took it, allowing himself to be led through the house to a back room down a dimly lit hallway.

He began to hum sad, forlorn music. “Why do I feel like I’m going to the gallows?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” I said, glancing back at him with a silly grin. I stopped at a closed door at the end of the hallway and turned the knob. I could already feel his grimace as he stepped into the small, dark room.  I flipped the switch and the room brightened, revealing my home office, with a few special touches.

“Look familiar?” I pointed toward a group of framed photos and posters that hung on one wall in my office.

He stepped closer to see the photos more clearly, and then I heard a small gasp escape him. His head slowly turned back to me. “Serena Willis. I have met you before.”

Instantly, I was thrown back to the night of my first *Nsync concert. My best friend and I went together—we were so excited we were jumping around in the car, screaming the lyrics to their songs, driving my dad crazy. We piled out of the car, with instructions to stay together, stay safe, and have fun, with our tickets and our backstage passes clutched tightly in our grasp. I remember being in a group of people, a screaming, yappy, giggling gaggle of girls, ushered down a hallway and told to line up. Instructions were given over and over and over. “You may take ONE photo. You may have ONE item autographed. Please do not linger in the line; you are not the only person waiting.”  My best friend, coincidentally Jen, was literally shaking as she set her concert program on the table in front of Lance, then she could barely speak as she made her way down the line.

The second JC’s hand touched mine and he looked me in the eye and said “hi”, I was in love with him. I loved them all, but there was something about him I was drawn to. He wasn’t even my type—I liked football players, linebackers. JC was tall and thin, with sunken cheeks and an angular face and a nose almost too big for it, spiky hair and an odd fashion sense but… there was something about him. Maybe in his eyes. They were all I stared at when I saw pictures of him over the years, and as he grew up and filled out and became a man, my attraction to him grew. That I ended up next to him on a flight to LA was nothing short of a dream turning into reality. It was surreal that he was standing in my office staring at a picture of himself holding my hand and giving a cheesy grin for the camera.

“Yep,” I said. “You have met me before.”

“Wow. I’m sorry I didn’t—“                                                                             

“Oh, JC. Honey,” I interrupted, waving him off. “Are you ever not nice? Don’t even try to apologize. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. And I looked much different back then.” And I did. I wore glasses and my hair was a frizzy, curly mess.

He eyed me up and down, not even pretending he wasn’t sizing me up. “You grew up nice, though,” he said, wiggling eye brow. He turned back to the photo, gawking like he couldn’t believe it was him.  

“Man. Look at my hair!”

“I loved your Caesar cut. It was hot, back then. Very George Clooney.” I reached up to ruffle the hair at the base of his neck, lightly scratching at the skin there, my head on his shoulder. He shuddered at the touch and turned his head to meet my lips. His eye caught a frame hanging above my filing cabinet.

“Oh no, you don’t have that guy up there.” I followed his gaze to the poster of JC in a straitjacket, from the Schizophrenic album cover.

I snickered. “Yeah, I have that guy up there. I got that at your House of Blues show in Chicago, to be exact. I was visiting a customer, and your show was that night. I saw your dad, but he was across the room and I was too shy to say hi.”

He nodded, remembering. “You should have. He’s a nice guy.”

“I’ve heard.” I crossed my arms behind me and leaned up against the door jamb, watching him take one last look.

The room was quiet. So quiet you could have heard a pin drop on the carpet. I stared at his profile from across the room, feeling the heat rise, turning my cheeks pink. He was in my house, standing feet from me, staring slack jawed at photos, my degrees, pictures of my nephews, my parents, my brothers and other items from my past I deemed important enough to display. He had been inching toward the door, making his way around the room, and when I caught his eye I sent him a message. He heard it, loud and clear. He nodded his head toward the door.

I walked out first, then waited for him to come out, and closed the door behind us. He stood in the hallway, the only faint light coming from the kitchen. Before I could take a step down the hall, he closed the space between us, pushing me up against the door, his arms around my waist, his lips on mine, pressing, his tongue pushing my mouth open. I must have heaved the most satisfying sigh as his tongue stroked mine. He laughed, in the middle of the kiss, residual giggles coursing through him. I had that problem, again, where I couldn’t get close enough to him. Closer. I wanted to be closer.

“Please say you’re not hungry,” I pleaded, when I could break free from the iron grasp of his lips.

“I’m starving,” he said, his breath already hot on my neck. ”But if you make me wait, I will be furious with you. Take me… wherever your bed is. Upstairs?”

Without a word, I moved out of the door way and down the hall, dragging him with me. We bypassed his suitcase waiting patiently by the steps and rushed upstairs and down the hall to my bedroom. He was already undressing, panting, tossing clothes left and right. I lifted the hem of my shirt and he held out a hand.

“Stop!” he said, almost yelling. “Serena, wait. Wait. I want to do it. Wait.” He kicked off his jeans, sending them flinging and stood in socks and briefs, a sexy smile on his lips, hair going in several different directions, days of growth on his chin and cheeks. He sauntered toward me, reaching for the hem of my shirt and gently pulled it up. I raised my arms and it slipped over my head and joined a pile of his clothing on the floor.

“Lace.” He seemed to be spellbound by my breasts inside the bra I wore. It was new. Lace, because he seemed to like that. He reached out to touch them, tracing along the edge of the cup, his eyes half open, lashes shading them.

“My panties match,” I hinted, with a small smile. He caught the hint, and nimble fingers unsnapped my jeans, pushing them down off of my hips so I could kick out of them. My stylish boy shorts fit my body perfectly, and I wanted to show them off. He stepped back and rotated his finger in a circle, a silly grin on his face. He wanted me to turn and model for him, so I did, laughing to myself.

“Mmmm.” There was a bit of a growl to his voice, which grated right up against every nerve in my body. “Beautiful,” he mumbled, his lips lightly dancing over my shoulders. “I’m so happy to be here right now. I want you. It’s been too long.”

“I missed you so much.” I pushed him backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat, heavily, onto the bed. I moved between his legs, took his face in my hands and made up for the weeks that I had not been able to take his face in my hands and kiss him, and let his stubble prick my fingers and my nose fill with the smell of him.

He moved back, onto the bed, dragging me with him until I was lying on top of him, across the bed, our limbs tangled together. He moaned and groaned and made sounds that let me know he was very happy. I couldn’t help but join him, of course, because sounds turned me on more than anything else. I needed him, though. Needed more than sounds.

“JC,” I panted. “I think I’ve been very patient, but if you don’t take this stuff off of me—“ I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence. He covered my mouth with his and within seconds I was naked. “Good boy,” I breathed, as he sat up to shimmy out of his briefs, his arousal apparent and bobbing in front of him.

“My condoms are in my suitcase, I’ll be right back.” He dashed for the door, and I heard him pounding down the steps and back up, lugging his suitcase behind him, dumping it onto the floor and hurriedly unzipping it, digging for the small black plastic bag that he found and tossed up onto the bed. He zipped his suitcase closed and then dove back onto the bed, beside me. 

“Do you want to do the honors?” he said, looking up at me, propped up on two elbows. It was an invitation if I ever heard one. I crawled around and as I’d done the first time, enjoyed him a little before ripped open the package and rolled the condom onto him. Giving his thigh a pat, I laid next to him.

“That’s all I get, baby?” He seemed disappointed, pouting a little as he glanced over to me, then his sheathed erection, then me.

“I’ll do you better later, I promise. I just didn’t want to waste a lot of time. Please?” I grabbed an arm and pulled him over, onto me, my legs wrapping around him, my body ready for him.

“You don’t want me to—“

“No! Don’t fucking tease me, you asshole!” I giggled with anticipation as he hovered over me, an angel and a devil at the same time. “I swear to fucking Holy--Oh my God….” I gasped, sucking in all the air I could get as I felt him push into me. I could have fainted, if it would have allowed me to still feel him, still climb the walls, still rock my hips against him.

Moving slowly, he teased me, sucking on any skin he could come into contact with, until he couldn’t hold back anymore and began to thrust with force. We were not in the bed at the hotel, nor were we in his bed at home. I liked to think my bed was sturdy, but it made quite a racket as it banged a rhythm up against the wall. The sheer pleasure of him blocked out the sound, though, and after a while, I didn’t even hear it. All I heard were gasps and yelps and groans in my ear, on my skin as we enjoyed each other. He sat up, slightly, picked up my right leg and moved it over to lay close to my left, turning me over, then picked me up and tucked himself close, thrusting from behind. An arm lifted to wrap around his neck, dig into his hair as he bit at my ear and whispered the dirtiest, naughtiest, sexiest things into one, and then the other.

“You bad, bad boy,” I purred, on the very edge of everything wonderful.

When a hand crawled down my body, while he was driving me to new heights from behind, I thought I really might pass out and fought to stay conscious. I laid a hand over his, helped him with the rhythm and couldn’t physically remain upright anymore. I fell forward, onto my hands and knees, and he landed on top of me but didn’t stop moving.

“Oh. Oh…my…God….fuck yeah,” I panted.

“Yeah? Is it good?” His words were muffled against my back, his chapped lips lightly scraping the skin.

I whimpered. “So good. Fuck. So good!”

“You feel good to me. So good. I’m close. I want to come with you. Are you close?”

“Ye--Yeah! I’m gonna…”

“Come for me. Let it go. Just let it go.”

If it were possible, he moved faster, harder until I felt an intense heat course through me. I watched my skin turn a deep red and beads of sweat drip onto the duvet. I stopped breathing for a few seconds and then the loudest, most guttural, most animalistic groan came from somewhere—I think it was me—and I came so hard my vision dimmed, then brightened, my ears popped, and then spots flashed all around the room. I collapsed onto the bed, JC on top of me, heaving and gasping for air.

“Did you…” I swallowed. My throat was on fire. “Did…” What was I saying? I couldn’t remember. “Fuck.”

“Yes. I fucked you,” he said, laughing, his muscles rippling. That felt different on my back.

“Smartass. Can you move?”

“Oh. Sorry.” He rolled off of me, laying on his back. A hand reached over to smooth my hair away from my face. “You alright over there? Need a doctor? Did I hurt ya?”

One eye opened to glare at him. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t want you to move off of me, “ I rasped. “I was asking if you could. Because I can’t. My throat is so dry. Could you run down and grab a bottle of water for me? I forgot, earlier.”

“Sure, be right back,” he said, hopping up. How the hell did he have so much damn energy? My head was swimming. Moving would take great effort.

“Well, it was a tough trek but I found the kitchen, eventually,” he said, laying the cold bottle of water against my back. I jerked, cursing under my breath. “Fucker.”

“Sit up, here.” Sit up? My arms were rubber. There was no way my back would hold my body weight.

“We’re not done, you better get up.  I’m just waiting for you to regain your strength. Drink up! Come on, mama.” He gave a pat to my ass and then rubbed, down to the backs of my knees and back up again, his heavy hands and calloused thumbs providing an amazing sensation.

I had more work to do. I managed to push myself to a sitting position and turn around, sitting cross-legged on the bed. I felt drunk. Deliciously drunk, but still drunk. I took the bottle of water he held out to me and accepted the kiss he leaned over to give me. I was sure I did not look hot or sexy, with my hair everywhere and dried sweat on my face—it was sweet of him to want to kiss me, really.

I sucked down the entire bottle of water—it felt so good on my throat—and belched. I giggled and covered my mouth. He belched louder, longer, and then planted a kiss on my cheek. “There,” he said. “Now I’m ruder than you.”

“Sweet,” I said, feeling more normal. “I think I over exerted myself.”

He looked proud, his chest swelling up. “I can’t think of a better way to work yourself to exhaustion.”

“Are you hungry? Can I fix you something?”

“Yes and yes. Please.” JC climbed off of the bed and waited to see if I could stand before following me down the stairs to the kitchen.

 “What’d you make?” he asked, sticking his nose into the stock pot as I removed the lid, stirred the contents and turned the burner back on.

“Sweet and sour soup, and a little noodle stir fry. Not exactly Chinese but I’ve made it before and it’s pretty good.”

“Smells good. What can I do?”

"Wash your hands and open a wine, if you want some. If not I have beer.”

“Beer’s fine,” he called from the powder room a few feet away. I heard water running, and then bare feet padding up the steps and then back down to the kitchen. 

“It’ll be a few minutes," I called over my shoulder, giggling inwardly at his deathly pale, hairy legs. 

He shrugged, and opened the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of beer from the various varieties I had stocked. I wasn’t sure what he would be in the mood for, so it might have been overkill, but it wasn’t like it wouldn’t be consumed eventually. I took my turn in the bathroom, and dashed upstairs to throw on a long t-shirt. When I came back down, JC was perched on the couch in my living room, flipping through one of the photo albums that I had stacked under the mounted television.

I checked my soup, just beginning to boil, the aroma rising into the air and giving me a warm, comforting feeling. I turned the burner on under the skillet so that the noodles could warm as well, then popped open a beer.

“This must be Regina,” JC called from the living room. I rolled my eyes. She would have to ruin a perfectly wonderful evening. I slowly made my way to the couch and balanced on the arm next to him, dropping a hand to his head and running my fingers through his hair. He leaned against me, so casual and comfortable it almost took my breath away. It was the little things that mattered to me.

I glanced over his shoulder, noting the picture he’d been talking about. “Yep, that’s her,” I confirmed, taking a long drink of the cold draught. There wasn’t much else to say, except that the photo was ages old, back when she was cleaner—well, less strung out—and we looked more alike.

“The resemblance is amazing. It’s like another Regina.”

“Except not,” I snapped, and stood up, stomping into the kitchen. Everyone always said that, that I was a ‘little Regina.’ I was no such thing. I was clean and sober and I didn’t sell my body for drugs and I was a fucking success, thank you very much!

I stirred the soup, then the noodles. They’d be ready in minutes. I was already sizzling, and needed to relax. I felt hands on me, on my shoulders, kneading softly, working their way down my arms, then back up to my neck, where soft lips left a lingering, sweet kiss. “I’m sorry,” I heard, felt as he whispered in my ear. “I keep bringing her up and upsetting you and I don’t mean to.”

“ ‘ts okay,” I said, tears threatening. “It’s just uhm… everyone always says that and it pisses me off. And since I started going to therapy, it’s bringing everything up—“

He grasped my shoulders roughly and twisted me around. “Therapy? You started therapy?” His eyes were wide. He acted like I’d told him I’d murdered someone. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I…” I shrugged. I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to make sure it was the right thing to do, before I committed to it. “I was just giving it some time, JC. It’s no big deal. I need to turn this stuff off before it burns.”

I turned back around and flipped off each burner, reaching above the stove for serving dishes. He reached above me, grabbed the dishes out of my hands and set them down on the counter. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, drawing me to him, his chest against my back.

“I’m proud of you. You know that? I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, softly, smiling to myself. Okay, maybe I was waiting to tell him in person, so I could get that kind of response. It made me happy, and I felt like he actually cared.

I dumped the noodles onto a serving plate and poured a healthy portion of soup into a serving bowl, set the table, and we sat down to eat. JC was talking endlessly about some documentary he watched on the History Channel about how money was made. I wasn’t really paying attention; I just liked the sound of his voice, so I let him talk as he rambled on and on, telling story after story, switching gears to a different story, all the while eating and sipping soup. He was so…. entertaining. I could listen to him for hours.

He insisted on cleaning up after dinner, pushing me back down into the chair every time I tried to get up. He found the Rubbermaid containers to put the leftovers away, and then rinsed the skillet and stock pot and added them to the collection of dishes in the dishwasher. He even wiped down the stove and countertops before deciding he was done and offering a hand to me, wiggling his fingers, beckoning as if to say, “come on.”

“It’s later. You owe me something.” I took his hand and let him lead me back up the stairs. I guessed he was sufficiently fueled for round two.  

I awoke in the middle of the bed and alone, rays of sunlight streaming in from the windows. One eye cracked open, and then the other, blinking against the brightness of the room. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I had dreamt the night before. Maybe… but it felt too real, too vivid, too… amazing, to use an overused word. But it was really amazing to be with him again, to feel him on me and around me again. It felt like it had been a very long time, and not just over a month since I’d seen him last and yet the minute I saw him it was like time had not passed at all.

I stretched, kicking my legs out, my arms reaching toward the ceiling, my sore limbs protesting against the movement. I yawned, and realized my throat was still a little raw. I sat up and saw his suitcase zipped and standing neatly just outside of the walk-in closet. I could smell him, in the air. I smiled to myself as I sat cross legged on the bed, absentmindedly kneading a knot in the back of my neck. I wasn’t dreaming.

He was here. He was really here and the evening had been perfect, far beyond what I expected—I really hadn’t even expected him to show. He’d twice had to move the date and in my mind I suspected he would keep moving it until he didn’t come and then he would just fade away and he’d be someone I met, once and I’d just go down in history as one of those fans that got to sleep with a celebrity. I didn’t really want to go down in history, that way. I wanted to mean more to him that than. He already meant more to me than that.

The strong scent of coffee propelled me out of the bed, a happy feeling in the pit of my stomach. At least he felt comfortable enough to make himself at home. I made a beeline for the bathroom and made myself presentable. Not that it mattered; he’d seen me at my worst already. I hadn't had a man in my house--in the morning-- in years and I needed a minute to think and wake up and be charming and “The Goddess of Fun and Light”, as one of my self-help ‘Catch Yourself a Man’ books advised. ‘Screw the Goddess,’ I thought to myself, tugging a brush through my tangled hair, brushing my teeth, splashing cool water on my face. ‘If he doesn’t like me by now, there’s no hope for the boy.’

I noticed his toiletry bag sitting on the counter between the double sinks and peeked inside. Colgate Extra Whitening Toothpaste. Scope mouth wash. John Varvatos cologne—that’s what smelled so good. Random one ounce bottles of things like lotion and aftershave and shave cream. Electric razor. Degree deodorant. I wondered if he’d been nosy and looked in my medicine cabinet. I opened the door and checked it. Nothing embarrassing—I kept all the embarrassing things in a cabinet in my bedroom.

I pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and softly padded down the steps, toward the delicious aroma of coffee and the soft crinkle of the newspaper. The dining room light was on and the Saturday morning edition of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution covered the cozy, six person table. I rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of him in glasses, holding a folded page in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other, in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. So simple, so casual, so handsome. I leaned up against the wall that separated the living room from the dining room with an elegant arch, and uttered a shy  “good morning.”

He looked up from the paper, then, his blue eyes bright and clear, looking wise behind the thick, stylish black frames. His face broke into a smile as he answered back, “morning,” and then “come here,” with a wave of his head. I pushed myself off of the wall and walked around the table to him as he scooted his chair back and made room for me, gripping me by my waist and pulling me down, onto his lap. I swung my legs over both of his and threw my arms around his neck, sighed at the feeling of his arms closing around me. He hugged me, tight, for a long moment before pulling back, brushing strands of hair behind my ear, cupping the side of my face and gently pulling me toward him.

His lips brushed across mine, so light I almost didn’t feel it. And again, lingering just a few seconds before moving away. A third time, his lips parted. I opened my mouth against his and ran my tongue along his bottom lip. I tasted coffee. We shared a long, sweet, slow kiss. A moan escaped my throat; he moaned in chorus. The vibration sent lightning bolts down my back and I shuddered. It was way too much for the first kiss of the morning, but I didn’t want it to end.

When it did, he glanced up at me, a sexy half grin on his lips. “You make kissing so much fun,” he said.

“Likewise,” I said, leaning down for another quick moment, a capture of his lips, a span in which time stopped and all that mattered was him. I took a deep breath, when I had finally pulled back. “I see you found the coffee.”

He nodded. “In the freezer. I don’t know what made me look there. My mom keeps her coffee in the freezer. Maybe that.”

I swung my legs back around and stood, stretching. He poked me in my side with one of his stubby fingers and I yelped, jumping away, and then walked around the table again into the kitchen to pour myself a mug and join him.

“Girls don’t want to hear about how they’re like your mom, JC.”

“Why not?” he said, his head bent over the paper again. “She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s a great cook, I love her a lot. Who wouldn’t want to be like her?”

“Just trust me on this.” I rifled through the multiple stacks of paper on the table, looking for the Life section, the only reason I even had the paper delivered. “Did you sleep okay? You’re up early.”

He didn’t even lift his head as he spoke. “Like a rock, once I got to sleep. Someone wouldn’t leave me alone last night.” I nearly choked on my coffee, remembering our sexy little game from the night before. I won.

“That’s what you get. You should remember what you told Dallas.”

“Hm?”

I blew on my coffee, holding the mug gingerly in my hands, and grinned a wicked grin at him over the rim. “When I say I’m really good at something, I’m really good at it.” He lifted his head, wiggled his brows at me and went back to the paper.

“Did you eat? I’m starving.”

He shook his head, plucking his bottom lip out, and then releasing it, and plucking it again. “When aren’t you starving, Serena? I actually haven’t even been awake that long.”

“Long enough to make coffee. What are you reading, over there?”

“Local news. You guys have no water.”

I nodded. The story had been at the top of every broadcast for months. “Oh, yeah. We’re in a drought.”

A hint of a smile started in the corner of his mouth. “I figured that means we need to shower together. Conserve water.” 

I slowly nodded, trying not to smile back. “Of course. We need to do our part, for the environment. Conserve water and all of that.”

“I agree. The environment is important to me. Isn’t it important to you?”

I put on my best serious look. “Oh. Gosh. Really, very important.” I nodded rapidly and he his face finally broke into a smile. “Do you want to eat something, before we save the environment? Together?”

“Uhm, yeah I could eat. Are you cooking? If we’re going out, we should shower first.”

“I’m cooking.”

I made my dad’s version of Egg McMuffins—he called it Eggs McWillis, and it was the same thing as the McDonald’s sandwich except so much better-- stealing glances at him while I cooked and he read the paper.  I didn’t want to get caught up in playing house, in the domesticity of it all, but if I had to imagine my idea of the start of a perfect day, this was it. Quiet, unhurried, happy. I couldn't help but notice how comfortable I was having him there and how much I enjoyed sharing the morning with him.

After breakfast, he helped me clean up and load our dishes into the dishwasher, issuing his theory on placement of dishes in the basket so as to achieve the best benefits of spray. God, he was cute. I indulged him, because he was so into it. And when he went home I would go back to loading the dishwasher however the hell I pleased.

He motioned for the soap. I handed it to him and watched him fill the cup and took the container back. Impressed, for some reason, that he knew what he was doing. He closed the door and started the cycle, the machine rumbling to life. “We never washed the ones from last night.”

I leaned up against the counter, one leg crossed over the other. “I know. I only run it when it’s full. You’re pretty good at that. You want a job? I hate doing the dishes.”

“I only do them when I’m trying to get some,” he said, laughing, grabbing me by the waist and hugging me to him. I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest, searching out his heartbeat. We stood together for a few minutes, talking and laughing, swaying slowly, until I heard a knock at the door. 

He stopped moving, and I felt him tense up. “Expecting company?” he whispered. I walked around him, ducking my head around the corner to peer out of the long windows on either side of the front door. I caught a glimpse of Melissa’s car in my driveway and cursed under my breath.

“It’s Melissa,” I whispered. “Go upstairs.” I pushed him toward the stairs and he climbed them, taking two at a time. “And be quiet up there!” I hissed.

I ran my palm down my hair, sure it was mussed from JC’s arms around my shoulders, and opened the door.

“Took you long enough,” she chirped, whipping her sunglasses off of her face with one hand, hauling a box with another. “I went to the Farmer’s Market. I got way too much fruit and vegetables. I thought you might like some.”

“So you decided to pop by, at—“ I checked the clock. 11:30. It wasn’t really all that early. “Never mind. Come on, you can dump some of that stuff in here.” She followed me to the kitchen and slid the box onto the counter, next to the refrigerator. She opened the door and propped it open with the crisper bin and began dumping handfuls of vegetables into the drawer.

“Whoa, dammit, how many of those do you think I’m eating?” I called from the bar stool I sat in, across the room.

“More than I’m eating,” she quipped over her shoulder. “So how long is he here?”

Fuck her. I hated her nose and super sense of smell. And why couldn’t she just pretend she couldn’t smell him and mind her own damn business? I propped my elbows up on the counter and covered my face with my hands.

“Melissa—“ I groaned.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” she said, pushing the drawer, and then the door closed. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I was just wondering, for entertainment’s sake, in case you’ll be alone tomorrow night, you could come over. Annette will be home.”  Her partner was a consultant, a job that kept her on the road half the month. Melissa claimed that Annette’s heavy travel schedule was the only thing that kept them together. ‘By the time she’s starting to get on my nerves, it’s time for her to leave again,’ she said, often. 

“I’m not going to be alone tomorrow night,” I said, with a blush. “He’s leaving Monday. But thank you for the invite.”

She winked, her eyes lifting to the ceiling, asking if he was upstairs. I nodded. “Gotcha. Tell him the Safe Sex Fairy said hello.”

Amazingly, she didn’t linger, hoping he would come down so she could meet him. Melissa picked up the now half empty box and tucked it under her arm, heading toward the door. “Have a good weekend,” she teased as she pulled the door shut. I watched out of the window as she dumped the box into the backseat of her car, and then pulled away.

I climbed the steps to the bedroom and found JC sitting on the bed, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, his elbows on his knees. He glanced up as soon as I walked in, and raised a brow at me. I sat next to him, close to him, laid my head on his arm and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“All clear. Melissa says hi.” 

He looked back, over his shoulder at me. “You told her I was here?”

“No. She can probably smell you from her house.”

“Hope I smell good,” he said with a chuckle that I felt, and then heard.

“You smell delicious,” I said, sighing. Content. “So, we should shower. There are a couple of places I want to take you.”

I felt him breathe deeply, and then he sat up. “Come here, stand up.” I did so, standing in front of him, his head at chest level. He laid a hand on each hip, his thumbs sneaking under the shirt I wore, rubbing circles into my skin. He had to know how good that felt, how it sent shivers down my spine. I’d had dreams and fantasies based on the sensation of his calluses alone. My eyes closed, all on their own, and I leaned forward, resting my hands on his broad, strong shoulders.

His hands climbed up my side, dragging the t-shirt up with it until I pulled it over my head and dropped it onto the bed. I watched him watching me become aroused by him, by his hands on my skin, by the slow, methodical way he moved, by the serious expression on his face. He stroked my skin, running his hands down my side again and pushing at the band of the soft cotton pants. They fell to the floor easily and I stepped out of them.

“I like your body,” he whispered into my skin as he kissed a spot here, licked a spot there. “Your skin is soft.” His hands roamed softly, freely, down my sides, past my waist, down my thighs and back up, around back where the curve of my waist gave way to the roundness of a cheek. He grasped it, not rough, but not gentle, and growled, bit gently into my skin.

“Your ass is… mmph.” I giggled, more out of anticipation than embarrassment and he chuckled, riding the wave of my stomach muscles as I laughed. He looked up at me, eyes bright and wide and a gorgeous ocean blue, his lips closed but looking very inviting. I leaned forward and dropped a kiss on them, because I could.

“Are we in a hurry?” he asked. I shook my head no.

He patted the bed next to him and scooted back, and turned so his head was laying on a pillow. “I just want to lay with you, for a few minutes. Relax for awhile,” he said, tucking a hand under his head, the other arm extending for me to lay down next to him. I sat on the bed, but didn’t lay down. Instead I reached for the snap on his jeans, pulling them down his hips. “If I have to be naked, so do you.”

“I’m tired of taking my jeans off and putting them back on.”

“Then quit putting them back on,” I said, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He pulled it off as well, and after I laid next to him he pulled the sheets and duvet over us. I felt and heard an unmistakable deep breath and a sigh. Not an angst-filled, worried sigh, but a satisfied, content one.

He rolled his head so he could see me. “So. Therapy. You decided to go. Tell me about it.”

“Yeah. I decided to go,” I said, tipping my head up so I could see him. “Well. I mean, it’s therapy. It’s paying someone to listen to you, who might know what’s wrong with you, except they get to figure it out before you do and have to give you clues to draw your own conclusion.”

“Mmhmmm. And what conclusion have you drawn?”

I sniffed. “That I’m batshit crazy.” We both chuckled. “No, uhm, I think I have a lot to work through, not just about Regina but she’s a big part of it. But, most of it is just that I do a lot of this to myself.  I seem to have driven myself crazy.”

I felt a pull on my hair, a hand loosely raking through a few strands. His voice was soft, and low. “Sometimes we think things, and think everyone thinks that, and then realize no one thinks that but us.”

“Right. Like, I always think people assume I’m going to take the same path Regina took and eventually end out on the street, or whatever. I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m better than that, I’m better than her. But no one thinks that, about me, but me. It’s my WORST fear. They say I look like her, but that’s it.”

JC was quiet, and contemplative. “It’s not an insult, you know.”

“Yeah. I know,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “I don’t need to take it like one, but I do. I’m working on it. That’s all I want to say about that.”

“Okay. Just… I’m here. If you want to.”

“I know. Thank you.” I rolled toward him, cupped his face in my hand and stretched to kiss him. He met me halfway, rolling toward me, one hand behind my head, the other wrapped around me, gripping me, pulling me closer to him, the kiss growing deeper and more passionate until he broke it and reached across me for the black plastic bag.

“This is kind of a mood killer, right here,” he said, opening the foil packet and rolling the condom on.

“No it’s, not,” I argued, a lone finger dragging down the center of his chest and the trail of hair from his belly.  “I think watching you put a condom on is sexy. It’s even sexier putting it on you myself.”

“That’s because you don’t just put it on.” He winked and tossed the bag and the wrapper back onto the night stand. “Now, where was I? Oh. I was not getting enough of you. Come here, girl.” His hands resumed their places and his lips claimed mine again.

I squealed and threw an arm around his neck, squirming closer, feeling the heat building between us. He ran his hand down the back of my leg and hooked behind my knee, bringing my leg up and over his side, creating an opening for him.

 “Can I?”

“Yes,” I almost screamed, my skin ultrasensitive, my breathing shallow. At the moment I thought I would break down into tears if I didn’t feel him soon, I felt him push into me, grabbing me, pulling me close to him, pushing his hips against mine. It wasn’t enough, for me.

I pushed him so he was laying flat on his back and I was on top. There was something about this position, with him, that turned me on. It seemed like work with anyone else. With him it was sensual and erotic and so much fun. 

He smiled that smile up at me, almost laughing. “Well now. Hi, there.”

“Shhhhh,” I whispered, a finger on his lips, then replaced the finger with my lips and muttered against them. “Mama’s workin’.”

I moved my hips slowly against his, taking my time. We were not in a hurry. His eyes slid closed and he moaned and laid his head back on the pillow. I took his hands from my waist and put one on each breast, my hands over his. He flicked the taut nipples in his hands and kneaded gently. Tiny shockwaves shot down my body, into every orifice. I grimaced as my toes curled and he kept teasing. I talked to him, softly, said sexy things, said dirty things, all the while directing my movements to elicit the most pleasure possible. He breathed, heavily, mouth open, eyes half shut, signs of bliss on his face.

His hips rocked, pushing him further into me. My hips met his and rolled faster. I braced myself against his chest and moved against him. He moaned, I moaned, it was a beautiful chorus, leading up to a powerful climax.  I could feel it in my toes, working its way up my body.

“I’m about to come,” I grunted, breathing hard with the effort, staring down at him, in his eyes.

“Take me with you.” He held his breath as he pushed his hips up into me. I watched his skin flush red, his lips curl, then suck in a giant gust of air through clenched teeth. He stiffened, his hips coming up off of the bed, his head jerked back and a loud groan escaped him. His hands fell to my hips and moved them against him, faster, harder, while he groaned.

Watching him writhe and contort right before my eyes, knowing that I took him there, took me there and I followed with a climax of my own.  My cries reached a fever pitch, my voice raspy and hoarse, my throat still raw from the night before as the convulsions wracked my body, leaving me lifeless and limp.

I fell forward, onto his chest, riding the rise and fall of his heavy breathing. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. It seemed to take forever to catch my breath.

“That was… fuck.” He coughed, his throat dry.

“Yes. I fucked you,” I said, laughing. I sat up and reached for the half empty bottle of water on the nightstand. “Is this yours?” He nodded and sat up, took the bottle in one hand and laid a hand on my hip with the other. He sucked down the rest of the bottle, set it back on the nightstand and wrapped both arms around me. My arms fell easily around his neck. I leaned forward, his forehead meeting mine.

“I kinda like you, Serena Willis.”  My eyes rolled up, to see his face. His eyes were closed and his expression was serious.

“I kinda like you, too, JC Chasez.”  His eyes opened, watching me watch him. “I’m happy you came out here. I was convinced you weren’t coming.”

His eyes closed and he breathed deeply. “I’m happy I came out here, too.”

“Let’s go be happy in the shower,” I said, climbing off of him.

###

A few hours later, we were zipping down the interstate, a local pop station playing in the background, weaving in and out of afternoon traffic.

“So, I know you’ve been to Atlanta, before. I just don’t know where you’ve been.”

He slouched in his seat, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaven chin, thinking. “You know, aside from Dallas’ house, the studio, some radio stations and hotels and clubs, I haven’t really been anywhere. Your world is my oyster. Or whatever that saying is. Show me what you want me to see.”

“It’s on, then,” I said as I pointed the car to one of Atlanta’s most eclectic neighborhoods. Little Five Points was one of those places where no matter who you were, as long as you were not in a suit and tie, you fit in. People of all walks of life milled about, going in and out of vintage clothing and furniture shops and live bands on random corners filled the air with a cacophony of sounds. I took him to one my favorite places, a clothing store known for their snarky t-shirts and snappy comebacks. I found a t-shirt that said ‘Damn right, I’m good in bed’, unfolded it and held it up against me.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He looked at the shirt, read it, let out a short, loud ‘HA!’ and then said, “You need two of those,” and walked away, laughing to himself. I giggled and draped it over my arm, digging further through the stack.

We wandered the many shops, lost among the crowd, flitting into one door and then out of another and then another. We stopped at a candy shop, where I was surprised to learn he liked chocolate. “Milk chocolate, not dark chocolate,” he said, “Though dark chocolate is really good for you. It’s rich in anti oxidants.”  

I led him, eventually, toward Junkman’s Daughter, which held anything and everything and was only slightly junky. It was just one of those places where the clerk might be wearing a pair of pink fuzzy wings and striped socks that day and no one would think anything of it. I just knew he would like it in there.

We stepped into the shop and his eyes traveled from one end of the warehouse sized store where vintage, vivid clothing was on display, to the toys and memorabilia one could pick up to add to random collections, to the expansive section of shoes. “We should have come here, first,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “So do you shop here?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” I said, taking his hand from my shoulder and pulling him toward the clothing. “It just depends on what I’m in the mood for, and when I want to be fun and spunky I wear something from here.”

While the staff could be a little standoffish at times, they were helpful and pleasant once they realized that JC wanted to spend more than the average amount of money there. I fell back and followed him around as he had a great time on his tour of the store. It felt like he looked at everything, twice, before he finally brought his pile of t-shirts, jeans, hats and shoes to the checkout counter.

By the time we made it to the car, my fingers ached from dragging around bags of clothes and shoes. JC had bags as well from the vintage record store and an odd little jewelry shop. I locked his finds away in the trunk and we hit the road again.

“So, you like Latin music, right?”

He nodded, then his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Just checking,” I said, glancing over at him, smug.

His head tipped back against the seat as he laughed. “Ah I can see where I’m going to regret being so secretive.”

“Don’t worry, I have good taste.” I reached across the seat to pat him on the thigh. “You’ll be fine.”

Lively and loud Salsa music spilled out of the open doors of Loca Luna, a tapas bar in Midtown, where I spent many a Friday night sitting around the bar with friends, laughing and talking and dancing into the night. The DJ usually played a great mix of salsa, merengue, and mambo, providing a fun, energetic soundtrack for an evening of kicking back with your friends. At nine, a live band took the stage and the dance floor opened. I hoped to get JC out on the floor to dance the Salsa with me.

I requested a seat for us at the covered patio so we could see the sun setting over the Midtown skyline and enjoy a drink or two before moving to the music room. We ordered a few dishes to share and sipped colorful drinks while we waited for them to arrive.

“Am I showing you a good time?” He tore his gaze away from the fiery sunset and turned to me, adjusting his shades. He flashed a smile and nodded.

“Honey, I’m having the best time, ever. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m just, you know, I was just wondering. Making sure.” I leaned an elbow on the table and fidgeted with my earring.  

JC reached across the table, arranging and rearranging the condiments, glancing at me a few times before saying, “You alright? You’re not having a good time?”

My brows shot up, and my hand dropped to his arm. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I’m having a great time. I just don’t want you to be bored. I just… I don’t live that exciting of a life, out here. No, you know, high class celebrity studded events, stuffy lounges and such.”

His eyes rolled and he sat back in his chair, watching the sun disappear below the horizon. “Serena, remember what I said, that first night we were together?” He looked back at me. “Remember? About forgetting my fabulous life and all that? Let’s go back to that.”

My eyes dropped to the painted, wrought iron table. “I remember. Sorry,” was all I could get out. Maybe someday I could sit with him and spend time with him and not do or say something to embarrass myself and then wish I could get away from him and be embarrassed in peace.

He reached out and poked me in the arm. When I didn’t respond, he poked me again. And again and again and again until I was laughing, and he was laughing.  I grabbed his hand and held it, mostly so he couldn’t poke me again but also because I could. I expected him to pull it back. He didn’t though, until our food arrived, and I let go.

The fun thing about tapas is sharing different pieces of a meal. I was annoyed when I went to tapas with people that didn’t understand how to eat tapas style and ordered like, three fish tacos and ate them all. I was relieved to see JC ‘got it’, and picked out several dishes of different variety to accompany the dishes I ordered. All of the plates sat in the middle of the table and then it was one big family style free for all. Tapas were the best when you had a large group of people and a large variety of foods, but it was fun with just the two of us, trying new dishes and new tastes. I found little things to be endearing, like him offering me a forkful of something that he wanted me to taste, or getting the waiter’s attention to refill my glass when I didn’t notice. Little things that other people just wouldn’t do, or notice. I liked it.

The crisp sound of bongos floated through the restaurant, drowning out music and conversation, ricocheting about the room. JC’s shoulders bounced to the beat as he polished off the last of his meal, and sucked down the last of his drink. We followed the crowd into the music room, where the band was warming up. We took a table in the corner where we could see and hear, but still talk.

“So, you know I’m hoping you show me a little something, tonight,” I said, leaning toward him to be heard over the music.

He smiled, and dipped his head, feigning embarrassment. “I figured, I figured. Have you danced Salsa before?”

I nodded. “A little. We come out here pretty often. This band is amazing.”

“So you’re not shy about getting out there, right?”

I shook my head, my shoulders and hips moving to the bouncy beat, the horns making a sweeping sound, filling the room. The band launched into a peppy beat, and the floor started to fill with couples gyrating, hips moving, toes tapping, spinning around, laughing. We sat through the first song, and then the band leader stood to make his introductions. After his speech and a round of applause, the lively music started up again. I felt a poke on my shoulder and looked over at JC. He held a hand out to me and pointed his head toward the dance floor.

I took it, and stood up, letting him lead me to the corner of the small amount of space given for people to dance. He moved easily and fluidly to the beat, gathering me into his arms and leading with his hips. At first subdued, after a few moments he was grinning wide and stepped back, taking both of my hands in his and spinning me around, then dropping his hands to my waist, stepping forward and back, side to side, and then another spin. I laughed hysterically as I landed in his arms again. He held me close, swaying his hips, laughing with me, his cheek next to mine.

“You move pretty well for someone who never took classes.”

“Thank you, I try,” I said, then went into another spin and then I was back in his arms, dancing close to him, my hips matching his.

“Can I tell you something?” His lips were so close to my skin,  I could feel his breath.

I nodded, stepping even closer as he bent to talk directly into my ear.  “If we had danced together, that first night I met you, I’d have followed you up to your room. You are so sexy, right now. The way you move is driving me crazy.” His hands were moving up and down my sides but mainly clung to my hips. I exhaled as I felt his lips on my neck, just below my ear. My head dropped to his shoulder as we moved to the beat, plastered together, through the end of the song. I only lifted my head when the song ended, and turned around and applauded the band, with the crowd.

I turned back to JC, his eyes twinkling in the dim light above the dance floor as a slower, more sensuous song began to play. “You know we have to dance this one,” he said, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer to him, holding my hand in his.

We danced until we were sweaty and tired from laughing and spinning and rocking our hips to the beat. We took our seats at the table again and watched other people dance, listening to the music and talking about the salsa class he still sporadically attended now and again. At some point during the evening he laid a hand on mine and clutched it, and just never let it go, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. So relaxing and yet so electrifying.

I yawned wide. The day, though luxurious, had been long and started to catch up with me. He squeezed my hand in his and said, “You’re tired. Let’s go.” Reluctantly, I nodded and we headed back to the car, hand in hand.

“That was fun. Food was good, drinks were good, company was excellent,” he said, our footsteps crunching in the gravel of the parking lot.

“I like that place a lot. It’s always fun. I had no idea you were so good at salsa. Not like I know, but I had fun.”

I saw my car a few feet away and dug out my keychain to unlock the door, yawning madly. I hadn’t realized I was so tired. “I’ll, drive,” he said, holding out his hand for the keys.  “Just tell me where to go. You’re exhausted.”

Without another thought, I handed the keys over and got in on the passenger side. The car started smoothly and he navigated to the highway, using the GPS system I had installed. After a few minutes I relaxed, leaning back onto the headrest, mesmerized by the entire experience—being close to him, moving with him, his hands on me, his eyes boring deep into mine. This—being with him--could not possibly be real, and yet it was so very real. I had a hard time differentiating between what I knew to be truth and what was probably fantasy.

What was truth was that he was here. What was fantasy was that he would always be here. I didn’t want to get too comfortable with him, too used to him, too accustomed to how he treated me. He kept asking me to disregard, or to ‘put away’ the biggest part of him, and the part that made it so that even dreaming of this night becoming more than a few cross country flights and enjoyable romps was such a ridiculous prospect. I wasn’t counting on anything real or long lasting or terribly meaningful happening with him. While I could, though, I would enjoy the fantasy.

He pulled into the garage and we dumped his bags in the living room. He would have to ship some things home, since they wouldn’t fit in his suitcase.  I stripped as soon as I hit the bedroom, dumping clothes into a hamper in the closet and completing my nightly bathroom ritual. JC took his turn after me and I crawled into the bed, flipping on the TV as I sank back against the pillows. It was hard for me to remember that he was just visiting. He was just a guest. There was nothing uncomfortable about having him there—we fell in an easy, considerate rhythm quite easily and very early.

Minutes later, he slid in next to me and as soon as he laid down, I gravitated toward him. He wrapped both arms around me as I laid my head on his chest and a leg between his, just barely watching the movie I had settled on. My head was already cloudy and my eyelids already heavy. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest put me right to sleep. I briefly remember waking up to a dark room, being turned so my back was to him, then being pulled tightly against him, strong arms around me and the scent of pumpkin and spice in the air.

My eyes flew open at the sound. It was sudden and strange, out of place. Not frightening, just odd. My head shifted slightly toward the source of the sound—something between a snort and snore, then a deep breath and a yawn. 

JC laid on his side, looking like an angel wrapped up in soft sheets and fluffy blanket. He slept with one hand under his head, the other under the blanket, likely shoved under his armpit or wrapped around his midsection, his mouth closed, in a cute little pout. He was starting to wake up, occasionally sucking in a deep breath through his nose, his eye lids threatening to pop open at any second.

I laid next to him, watching him stretch an arm up, toward the ceiling, yawning, and then brought it back down and back under the sheets, snuggling into the bed and the pillow. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked several times before they settled on mine. I laid on my side, hands under my head, a slow smile crawling across my lips, not even slightly embarrassed that I’d been watching him. I wouldn’t get many more opportunities to watch him sleep before he went home.

He cleared his throat, smacked his lips a time or two and mumbled, his voice deep, “Morning.”

I mumbled the same back to him and we stared at each other for a few minutes before he blinked, those long lashes brushing his cheeks, chuckled and said, “I hate getting up. I’m warm and comfortable.”

“Then don’t,” I said, reaching over the small amount of space that separated us, running a hand down a muscular arm and across his chest. “Stay here and be warm and comfortable. There’s nothing you have to do, nowhere you have to go, right? Relax.”

“Yeah,” he said, yawning. “This bed is comfortable.”

“It’s my favorite place to be,” I said with a wink, and then sat up, throwing the sheet and cover back and swinging my legs to the floor.

His head popped up. “Wait, you’re getting up? Where are you going? I had plans for us.”

I laughed to myself. ‘I bet you did.’  “I’ll be right back. Relax. Here,” I said, tossing the TV remote at him. “Find something to watch.”

I hopped down the stairs, wincing as my feet hit the cool ceramic tile of the kitchen floor. I filled the coffee carafe with water and poured it into the reservoir in the back of the coffee pot, then dug the coffee out of the freezer, laughing to myself that I was ‘just like JC’s mom’. I measured the scoops of the fragrant custom blend, closed the cup, and flipped the switch to turn it on. Someday, I was going to buy myself that shiny Cuisinart machine that I kept staring at, the big fancy coffeemaker with the grinder and the steamer so I could have fresh ground coffee with steamed milk. Until then, my Gevalia pot would have to do, and it was doing fine. Within minutes the gurgle of the coffeemaker and the aroma of piping hot coffee filled the kitchen.

I turned on the oven, dug out a baking sheet, and laid out a tube of croissants to bake while the coffee brewed. The Sunday paper, thick with coupons and sale inserts, lay on the porch, encased in plastic because it had rained a little overnight. The air was muggy—warm and full of moisture—but the day was beautiful. The trees along the street had long since taken on bright reds and oranges, and the fallen leaves coated the sidewalks and the street. I needed to rake the lawn. Maybe I could talk JC into doing it.  

I tucked the paper under one arm, placed the basket of buttery croissants, the thermal carafe of coffee, two mugs, and a small container of cream and sugar onto the serving tray and carefully climbed the stairs. JC was sitting up in bed, cross-legged, watching Meet the Press.  His hair was sticking up in the back, an overnight growth of stubble on his chin and cheek. I smiled when I saw him. I liked him that way. His face brightened when I walked into the room with the heaping tray.

“I really miss Tim Russert,” I said, glancing at the TV. “The show just isn’t the same without him.” I set the tray down in the middle of the bed and walked around to my side to climb back onto the bed.

He reached into the basket and picked out a croissant, breaking it apart and watching the steam rise.  “These smell good. You didn’t have to bring them up. I would have come downstairs.”

“Mmmm,” I moaned, biting into one. “This is my Sunday morning ritual. Croissants or English muffins or toast, coffee and the paper and whatever I feel like watching on TV until I’m ready to get up. Welcome to it.” I crossed my legs and beamed happily in his direction.

“Well thank you,” he said, around a large bite of hot bread. He poured two cups of coffee and tapped his mug against mine, offering me a warm smile before taking a sip. We enjoyed a quiet, comfortable breakfast together, watching random Sunday morning programming and reading the paper. Stuffed full, I piled the pillows up behind me and lounged, reading the comics. JC set the tray on the floor next to the bed and laid next to me, flipping from one bad cable movie to another.

We laid there awhile, relaxing, enjoying the quiet morning. A list of things I could be doing started to pile up in my head: take the tray downstairs, put the leftover croissants away, put the baking sheet in the dishwasher, rake the lawn. But the idea of being next to him, his skin warm and smooth and… there… kept me in the bed, being lazy and enjoying myself. None of those things were going anywhere. I could do them later.

Or tomorrow. When he was gone.

“So,” JC said, suddenly, turning off the TV. “I think we need to do some more getting to know each other. Tell me something about you.” He flipped to his stomach and tucked an arm under him, leaning on the other arm, an inquisitive look about him, and a slight smile on his lips.

I folded the comic pages together and laid them on the table next to the bed. “Tell you something about me,” I mused, suddenly very shy. “Hmmm. Uhm. Well, what do you want to know?”

A shoulder shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have a list. Just tell me something I don’t know already. What were you like as a kid? Or in high school?”

“Oh,” I said, waving him off. “I was a nerd. Honor Society, Band Geek. All of that.”

He seemed shocked, an eyebrow shooting up toward his hairline. “Band geek? I don’t see it. What did you play?”

“Clarinet. Then, in high school, I took Marching Band and played the trumpet.”

“I bet you were HOT in your little marching band outfit.”

Embarrassed, I blushed but giggled at the memories. “Hot is not the word for it. Those things never fit well. They purposely make them ugly.”

“Oh, please say you have pictures of you in a hot little marching band outfit.”

“I burned them all,” I said, trying to appear serious but a smile and a devilish laugh escaped.

“I bet your mom has some.”

“She might,” I said, nodding. “She might, actually.”

His eyes lowered slightly, and he hesitated before asking his next question. I knew by his hesitation what it was about and I steeled myself. “So,” he said, ”you don’t have to talk about it, if you’ll get upset, but were you born here? In Atlanta?”

I shook my head. “No. No, I wasn’t. I was actually… I was born in Colorado. Regina lived with my parents for a good part of her pregnancy and for a bit after I was born. My father was transferred to Georgia, with his company, and they couldn’t take me with them unless they took Regina. So. That’s how we ended up here.”

“I thought she split, after you were born?”

“Oh, she did. She always came back. And she could always be found. I think they thought she would clean up, you know? In a new city, but no.” I shook my head and met JC’s concerned gaze. “No. She quickly found ways to get into trouble and was gone again. I mean, she was 16 with a 2 year old.”

“Running from responsibility.”

I nodded. “Pretty much. So, I went to school here, graduated high school, left for college. I wasn’t going to come back but Regina…” I couldn’t find words to explain my sense of allegiance to her, so I didn’t try.  

“Hmmmm,” he said, picking flakes of croissant from the folds of my pajama pants. He was a very meticulous person, I noticed. “So, with all the Regina stuff, did you ever get to be a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” I answered, with a wistful smile, remembering the fun days in between the occasional drama. “Yeah. My parents are really awesome people. I had a great childhood—they were very dedicated to me having a normal life. I had a few dramatic moments but my life was good. I’ve got my dad wrapped around my pinky finger.” 

He grinned, his eyes crinkling up in the corner. “Oh, do you, now? Daddy’s girl?”

“Through and through,” I said, proudly, holding up the pinky finger on one hand. “This one’s for you,” I said, giggling, holding up the same finger on the other hand.

He stared at me, a faint smile on his lips. “Careful what you wish for,” he said quietly.

“I’m very careful what I wish for,” I said, returning his stare. “Anything else you want to know?”

“Oh, I’ve got questions forever, but I’ll stop, now. I just want to get to know you better.”

I scooted down in the bed so that I was eye level with him and sidled up next to him. He laid an arm over me, his wrist curling around my waist. One of my arms snaked around his neck, played with the hair just above his neckline.

“Mmmm… I think I like Sunday mornings with you.” He leaned close to me, lightly brushing his lips across mine. Sighing, he pulled back again. “Last one for right now. How the hell did you meet Melissa?”

I laughed, loudly. “College,” I answered. “I uhm… I met her at the Campus Clinic. She was, imagine this, handing out condoms. We started talking, and we had a few friends in common, hit it off. When I moved back to Atlanta, she followed. Speaking of Melissa… we were invited over there to hang out. Drinks, just casual. We don’t have to go, but the invite is out there.”

“We can do that, if you want,” he said dipping his head to the crook of my neck, nipping at my ear. “I’d love to meet the Safe Sex Fairy.”

I groaned quietly, the sensation sending shivers though my body so fast I was almost shaking. “Well, I mean, she doesn’t know who you are, JC.”

He kept nibbling and I kept trembling. He groaned, the vibration rumbling against my neck, “She’ll find out sooner or later, right? So, uhm, how much time do we have before we have to be there?

I laughed, realizing what he was asking—how much more time we would have in bed before we had to get up.  “Well, I thought we’d go to Luckie for dinner. I promised I’d take you, remember? And we can swing by afterward. Just for a few minutes.”

“That works for me,” he said, swinging a leg over me and pulling himself onto me, dragging his hands down my thighs, hooking his hands behind my knees, and wrapping my legs around him. “I’m cool.”

Our lips met in light, airy kisses, unhurried and not probing and passionate. Those were my favorite kind of kisses. “Might you be cool with raking my lawn?”

He pulled back, and gave me a sideways glance and a smirk. “If you have two rakes, I’ll help.” A light kiss brushed across my lips.  “Later,” he said, the look in his eye suddenly changing, his mouth dropping to mine in forceful, possessive kiss, his hips already moving between mine, a hand grabbing at the hem of my shirt.

We could definitely do the raking later.

###

I sat on the front porch step, a mug of cocoa in my hand, watching JC rake the scattered leaves into small piles, and the small piles into larger ones, and the larger ones into even bigger ones. Methodical. Exacting. I imagined that if he was this much of a perfectionist about my lawn, what he must be annoyingly perfect about in other ways.

“I’m supposed to be helping, you know,” I said when he had worked his way back to the patch of grass near me.

“You only have one rake. And I’m now obsessed with your lawn. You just sit there and look pretty.” He huffed, breathing heavy from exertion, his cheeks red and his breath slightly visible in the cooling air. I ducked my head and smiled. He made me so shy, sometimes.

“You’re trying to work your way into another shower, aren’t you?”

“Caught me,” he said with a wink and walking back to the far end of the yard to rake more. His phone buzzed in my hand. Again. It was Dallas. Again.

“Buzzing again,” I called.

“Ignore it,” he said, stabbing at the lawn with the rake.

“Does he want to work? Do you need to go?”

“I don’t know what he wants. I’m busy. I’ll catch him later. Not the last time I’m coming to Atlanta.”

“JC, if you need to work, I understand.” He stopped raking, holding onto the handle and shifting his weight to one foot, staring at me from across the lawn. “He doesn’t call me to work,” he said, his tone curt. “I call him if I need him and I work around his schedule. Dallas wants to go out. I’m busy.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Okay, but you don’t want to go out with him?”

“And miss Luckie and meeting Melissa? Hell no.” He chuckled and grunted, stretching to reach a leaf and bring it to the pile with the rest of the leaves.

“Seriously, JC. This is your last night, here. You have friends here, too. We could go to dinner and then you could go hang out. What?” I asked, shocked at the redness in his face and fire in his eyes as he glanced up from his task.

“Let it go, Serena. If I wanted to hang out with Dallas I would hang out with Dallas. I said I would go with you tonight, I’m going. Okay? Enough.”

“Okay,” I said, irritation riding the edge of my voice. “It was… just a suggestion.”

“You wouldn’t make that suggestion if I was some random guy,” he said, heaping piles of leaves into large green plastic bags. I set down my mug of cocoa and got up to help, holding the bag open for him.

“What do you mean by that, if you were some random guy?”

“If you were dating some random guy,” he said, blowing a puff of air as he dumped a handful of leaves into the bag I held. “We’ll call him Bill. You and Bill hit it off and you guys have plans and his buddy calls and calls for him to go out and he decides that he’ll just skip whatever he said he’d go do with you, to go hang out with his buddy. You’d be pissed at that. Why are you telling me to go, it’ll be okay? It’s not.”

I rolled my eyes at his analogy. It wasn’t the same thing. “You’re not some random guy though. And the buddy that’s calling is someone—you know what? Never mind, then. Sorry I was trying to be thoughtful and let you to go hang with someone you hardly get to see.”

“Fuck, Serena.” He tossed the rake onto the half-bagged pile and stepped close to me, his jaw set and the vein in the side of his neck throbbing. “You don’t know how often I see or talk to Dallas. You don’t know anything about me. I’m here, giving you an opportunity to spend time with me, but you’re too busy showing off how much you think know and it’s pissing me off. It’s been pissing me off.”

I stared up at him, floored by his comments. I wasn’t quite sure who this guy thought he was, but he definitely wasn’t the guy I thought he was.

“Well, thank you, Mr. JC Chasez, for the opportunity to spend time with you,” I shot back sarcastically. “I just feel very lucky to have been chosen for this opportunity. Maybe you should go out with Dallas so you can give some other young lady the same opportunity. Don’t even bother to wait until the second night. You won’t need to.”

I turned and marched toward the house, throwing the screen door open, tossing his phone onto the table in the entryway and climbing the stairs. I bit my lip to keep the tears from welling as I busied myself in the house, from time to time staring out of the window at him in the yard, angrily shoving leaves into bags.

So that was it, then? Was it already over? Six weeks and great sex and him running after me like a dog in heat and then it falls apart? Was I supposed to be grateful he’d inserted himself into my life and asked for the virtually impossible--- for me to pretend he wasn’t who he was?  I wished, at that moment, I had listened to the small voice that told me not to get involved with him, that he was too good to be true and I should stay the hell away from him.  I really, really liked him, but right now, things did not look good.

Through the patio blinds I watched him, slouched in a patio chair, beer in one hand, his phone in the other.  Three bags of leaves sat in a line outside the gate next to the two large forest green garbage bins. I couldn’t believe he’d actually finished raking the lawn. I sighed and walked downstairs to my office, that photo of him and me staring down at me, reminding me of when I dreamt of knowing him, meeting him. Life was so much easier back then. 

I heard the screen door creak open and he called for me. “In my office,” I yelled, making every effort to appear as if I was paying bills. I heard light footsteps down the hall and a shadow darkened the doorway.

He walked to the desk and leaned on a chair, then pulled the chair out and sat.  “So, I’m gonna hit the shower. Dallas is coming to get me.” I nodded, eyes on the screen, leaning on an elbow. I couldn’t be angry; I was the one who suggested it, except we were apparently skipping dinner. He sat silently, staring at nothing for a few minutes, then sighed and stood up and walked back down the hall. I heard footsteps trudging up the stairs, one at a time, then the high pitched whine of water running through the pipes of the house.

I hid in my office, numb, while he dressed and bounded down the steps at the sound of a honk in the driveway.  “I’m out,” he called, down the hall. “I’ll call you later, I guess.” And then he was gone.

I wanted to cry, but didn’t. Not one tear would help the situation, or solve my problem. I was not going to cry over this. It was a mistake, plain and simple and yet again, I was learning my lesson. He would leave the following day and I’d probably never hear from him again.

I dragged myself from the desk and upstairs to shower, almost in tears over his things so randomly placed everywhere in the bedroom and the bathroom. I wondered how long my bedroom, my sheets, my pillows, the air would smell like him and remind me of him. ‘Knock it off,’ I told myself and finished dressing, picked up my purse and headed out to Melissa’s.

Annette threw the door open, squealing and drawing me into a close hug. She was a small woman with a giant personality, a beautiful smile on her face most of the time and infectious laughter bubbling out of her on most occasions. Her red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she looked rested and relaxed in khakis and a polo shirt, her company logo embossed in the corner. In her right hand she carried and open bottle of beer and offered me one as she stepped aside to let me in. I helped myself to the usual stash in the refrigerator and walked through the house to the deck to find Melissa. She was the Grill Master, always.  Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw me, then her brow wrinkled and she frowned. She was looking for my mystery guest.

“He went out,” I said simply, leaning against the railing of the wooden deck. I had helped Melissa and Annette build the deck the previous summer. Nights like these were the exact reason we built it—cool but not too cold to grill, the sunset painting a rosy glow on the landscape and skyline.

“Out? Like, out with… friends?” I nodded.  “Oh. And he couldn’t take you with him?”  I shrugged, and had a long swallow of my beer, letting it slide down my throat, and hopefully take away that nagging feeling of sadness and impending loneliness.

“Okay, out with it,” she said, closing the lid on the grill and setting down her utensils. “Tell me what’s up. You don’t look all glowing and happy like you looked yesterday.”

“What are we talking about? Why is Serena glowing?” Annette asked, stepping out onto the deck through the sliding door.

Melissa glanced at me, and whispered, “She doesn’t know.” I nodded that it was okay, as Annette stood next to Melissa. “What’s up? Am I interrupting?”

“No, No. I just…” I tucked a hair behind my ear, not knowing where to start. It was embarrassing now, to tell the story. “When I went to L. A. a bit ago I met someone. Spent the weekend with him. Had a great time. But I couldn’t say anything because he’s a celebrity.”

Annette’s eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped at the frank announcement. “It’s probably not anyone you guys know, or follow, but… it’s JC Chasez.”

“I figured,” Melissa said, nodding. “About a year or so ago, you mentioned him being adopted and that you’d love to talk to him about it. Then you said the same thing that night you came over.”

“Yeah, well. We’re pretty much over now, so I don’t care what you know. Just, you know. I’m kind of embarrassed about it so don’t spread it around.”

“Well, okay but... so what happened between yesterday and you were all dreamy and today you’re… well, what happened?”

I replayed the entire story—the great morning we had, the little talk, him raking my leaves for me, being sweet to me and then when it started to break down. What I said and then what he said, and what I said in response and then walked away. And then how he just left and said he’d call me later.  “What for, to say goodbye?” 

The beer was not helping. I tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin, then blew out a short, irritated breath and crossed my arms, staring into the bright orange sunset.

“You realize how silly you sound right now, right?” Annette said, over Melissa’s shoulder.

“Yeah, what she said,” Melissa agreed. “It was just -- not even a fight. It just sounds like you guys need to have a good, honest talk. Have ya’ll talked at all about what’s going on between you? Maybe he thinks one thing and you think another?”

“No, we didn’t even get that far. ‘We want to spend more time together’ is as far as we got. So we did. And now we’re done doing that. I guess.”

Melissa rolled her eyes and huffed in frustration. “Serena. Do you want it to be over?”

“Of course not!” I sputtered. “I like him. In spite of … everything. I like him, a lot. It’s not up to me, though. He made it very clear, a couple times since I met him, that he thought I was too caught up in being a fan to really see him for who he is. And maybe I am.”

“Maybe you are. And maybe he’s not giving you enough of a chance to really get to know him and know who he is. This is what, the second weekend ya’ll have spent together? What kind of miracle is he expecting? Maybe neither of you are giving this a real chance. I mean, do you even know what you are, to him? Somewhere between a fuck buddy and a girl friend, I’m guessing?”

Annette nodded, murmuring. “Mmmhmmm. There’s too much going on to be casual about it. Not enough to be serious. I’d be very confused if I were you.”

“And he needs to know that,” Melissa continued, piling on. ”He’s not dealing with LA girls who are used to seeing celebrities day and night, at Starbucks and the mall and the gym and what have you. You don’t have famous friends to act normal around. He’s dealing with Serena Willis, an awesome, giving, caring, loving woman who needs some time to adjust to him. That doesn’t come easy, and don’t be afraid to tell him what you need, to be able to get where he wants you to be. If he wants you to see him as he is, then he needs to return the favor. Don’t you think?”

Melissa tilted her head toward me, reaching out to rub my arm. I shoved my hands in my pockets and paced the small deck as she went back to the meat on the grill, spearing the breasts of chicken and dumping them onto a serving tray.

“I think you should call him,” Annette said. “Just see if he’s calmed down some. I mean, if you like him, and you want to work it out, that is. Just call him. If he’s made up his mind, then he’s made up his mind, but you need to be sure this isn’t just a bump in the road. Don’t give up so easily.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe I wanted something with him so bad that I was afraid to lose it, but obviously not afraid enough to fight for it when it seemed like it was slipping through my fingers. I could manage to do what he was asking—it would take some time, though. 

“You think I should, Mel?”

“I try to do whatever Annette says. She’s a wise woman.” Melissa closed the lid of the grill again, flipping the knob to ‘off’. “Call him. It can’t hurt. You can be proud, if you want. You’ll be alone. What’s that thing Dr Phil says?”

“How’s that workin’ for ya?”

She flashed a sarcastic grin, narrowing her eyes. “No, the other thing. Do you want to be happy, or do you want to be right?”

“Fine,” I said, pushing myself off of the banister I was leaning against. I went into the house, to a back bedroom for some privacy, took a deep, calming breath and dialed. JC picked up on the second ring.

“Hi,” he said, loud music in the background almost drowning out the sounds of talking and laughing. Wherever he was, people were having a great time. The din around him faded and then the sound of a door swinging opened came over the line, and then it was quiet and I could hear him.  “I was gonna call you, in a minute.”

“Beat you to it,” I answered back, and then didn’t know what else to say. The line was quiet--he didn’t say anything either for a few minutes.

“So,” he prodded. “You’re calling to sit on the phone and not saying anything?”

“No. I uhm. I guess I was calling to see, you know, what…” Form a sentence, Serena! “About earlier. I mean… are we done?”

“I don’t really know what to think, Serena. We both said some things. I don’t really know where to go from here, or even if we should go anywhere. You know?”

“Yeah,” I answered, sure the disappointment showed in my voice. “Me either.”

“I don’t want to leave like this, though. I mean, whether or not things keep happening for us is another story but I don’t want to leave with you mad at me. Or you thinking that I think some way about you, and I don’t.”

I couldn’t trust myself to speak but I couldn’t just not say anything. My voice was barely audible as I managed to eek out, “I don’t want you to leave with it like this, either.”

“Well good, we agree on something,” he said, laughing lightly. “Are you at Melissa’s?”

“Yeah. I told her. Everything. She said I should call you.”

“So that’s why you called?”

“Well… no,” I said, nervously wrapping the cord that was used to pull the shades around my finger. ” I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m not the one that ran off, Serena.”

“I know, JC, I—“ I sighed, frustrated. “Why don’t you keep reminding me of how this is my fault? Just keep turning the knife.”

“Stop. Just, let’s stop,” he said, his tone low, his voice soft. Diffusing. “That isn’t what I was saying, and if I sound like that’s what I’m saying, I apologize.” I didn’t respond, but I was sure he could hear me sniffling.

“I was going to call you because I told Dallas. Everything. And he said I should call you. But I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me. So, now we’re even and we’re talking. How can we move past this because…” he paused, and sighed a deep, long breath.

“I don’t want this to be over. I finally met someone I’m really comfortable with. The stuff I did, with you, in LA--I don’t do that. No matter what you believe. Nothing I said to you was a line or a hook or anything. And I didn’t mean to make it sound like you should feel lucky to be around me or anything like that. That came out wrong, and I’m sorry about that.”

“I want to see you,” I said, through tears. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“Well, come see me, then.  We’re at… some bowling alley. 300?” 

“Okay. I’m on my way, in a couple of minutes.”

“Serena—“

“Yeah,” I said, sniffling, glancing around the room for a box of tissues. I found one and wiped my face.

“Drive safe. I can’t wait to see you.”

I wasn’t going to be able to drive if I couldn’t stop crying. “See you in a little bit.”

I composed myself on the long drive from Melissa’s to one of Atlanta’s fancier hang-out spots. 300 Atlanta was where those who liked to be seen hung out. Sunday night was ‘hip hop’ night. You might be bowling next to one of the members of OutKast or standing in line behind TI at the snack bar. At $22 to bowl a frame, it wasn’t a place that my friends and I frequented often. When we did go, we preferred to bowl on Friday night when they turned the lights out and played old school videos on the massive screens above each lane. There was nothing more fun than dancing to Ice Ice Baby while waiting to bowl.

The women of Atlanta had a reputation—to put it nicely, they had a nose for the finer things in life and sought out those who could provide it. To put it rudely, Atlanta women were unofficially famous for their gold digging, and as I entered the double doors to the upscale bowling alley, I could see they were out in droves. Short skirts and low cut sleeveless tops that were not appropriate for the cool weather, long legs prancing about in open toe stiletto heels and there was so much… hair. It seemed every woman in the place was flipping their blonde or brunette or red mane to and fro, giggling lightly, a perma-grin plastered on red, glossy, artificially plump, shellacked lips. ‘Goddesses of Fun and Light,’ I mused. Now I could see how ridiculous it looked in action.

I texted JC as soon as I pulled up. I was sure I could not get past any kind of security to get to him and didn’t want to have to toss out the ‘I know JC’ card. He sent a message back that they were in Club 300, a private section, closed off from the rest of the lanes. I picked my way to the back of the building toward the club, looking around to see if I recognized anyone. There were easily hundreds of people milling around, every lane full of bowlers, the eating area and sitting lounges full as well. I saw the top of JC’s head bouncing as he laughed at something, his hair curling up a little toward the top. I stopped a few feet away, not knowing if I could just walk in there. Then deciding I could, I did.

He glanced up as soon as he saw movement near the door, and his face broke into a smile. A big, beautiful smile that I had missed for the last few hours. I was so happy to see him I almost jumped into his arms as he held them out. I grabbed both hands and brought them around me, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying a hand in his hair, breathing in the scent of him. My heart sighed at the feeling of his arms tightening around me, his chin on my shoulder, his hands rubbing my back, swaying side to side slowly. Eventually he loosened his grip and I let go. He pulled back and looked me in the eye, so intensely I almost stopped breathing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Me too,” I said, cupping his chin in my hands.

“You still mad at me?”

I shook my head. “No. Are you still mad at me?”

He let out a short breath, glancing around, realizing the room was watching. “I wasn’t—let’s go talk. Come on.” He led me back outside, holding the door open as I walked out and around to the side of the building. Once we were almost concealed in darkness, he stepped close, forcing me against the cold, red brick of the building. In mere seconds his hands were in my hair and his mouth covered mine and a hungry, desperate moan escaped his throat. The sound, the force of the kiss itself made me weak in the knees—the only reason I was still standing was because he was holding me up.

“I thought I lost you,” he mumbled, tipping his head to the left, near my ear.

“I thought you lost me, too,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. He closed his eyes, a brief ‘ha’, escaping. “Seriously. I’m sorry. But, JC we… there’s something going on, here. And I want it, but I need you to cut me a break.”

“I know,” he said, nodding, drawing a corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, nervously chewing on it. “I just--you wouldn’t let it go. I just wanted you to understand that I was willing to keep my plans with you and you were just pushing, pushing, pushing, and I—“

“I know. I know.” I laid a hand on his chest. His heart was beating out of control. “Let’s not rehash it. Let’s move forward. Can we? Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his shoulders sagging, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Okay well… I hate to put conditions on this thing. But can I get a fucking clue as to what’s going on? Either we’re just chill, which is okay, but then don’t freak out when, every once in awhile, I remember you’re a celebrity. It’s gonna happen. Deal with it until I get over it. Or we’re more than just chill, in which case you need to come with some more patience, Mr. Chasez, because I’ve got a lot more irritating habits where that one came from.”

A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. He looked away, and then back at me. “I did say I wanted to get to know you, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. I clutched two handfuls of his shirt and pulled him close to me. “This is me. I didn’t ask for any of this, remember? I didn’t ask you to take me out, I didn’t ask you to spend the weekend with me, to sleep with me, to keep coming back and to want to get to know me and to come out here. Well, I did ask you to come out here. I’ll own up to that.” I bobbed my head side to side and grinned.

“Alright, alright,” he said, giving me a sarcastic eye roll and that mega-watt smile. “I get it. I’m getting what I asked for. I will be patient. Just try, really hard for me, to treat me like a regular guy. Don’t let me get away with shit like breaking plans with you to hang with someone you think is more important. Don’t demean things that you plan for us to do because it’s not star studded, or whatever. If I didn’t want to be here, with you, shopping and raking your damn lawn,” he stopped and chuckled, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I wouldn’t be. I’d be at home. Where I don’t have to rake.”

“You’re right, one hundred percent, there and I will try. Really hard. I promise.”

“You better,” he said, leaning toward me. I tipped my head up to meet his lips in light, sweet kiss. “As far as what’s going on. With us. Uhm. I don’t know. That’s the best answer I have. It’s… this is good. Right?”

I nodded. “Very. I mean, I don’t want to have the ‘what are we’ talk so soon. I really don’t. I just… part of me needs to know that I’m not wasting my time. Or yours.”

“You’re not,” he said, his arms coming around me, around my shoulders, my head pressed against his chest. “I promise. You’re not. And neither am I.”

After a few stolen, desperate kisses, we walked back around the building and inside to the small, private lounge. JC had left his jacket and he wanted to say goodbye to Dallas and the others gathered there.

“Serena, always nice to see you, baby. You don’t want a drink or anything?” Dallas smelled of marijuana and liquor as he hugged me. I shook my head and touched my cheek to his. “No thanks. Zero tolerance in my county. Can’t get pulled over with JC in my car. Thank you, though. I hope to see you again.”

“For sure, for sure. JC, fly safe, we’ll talk when you come back. Or when I come out. Either way, man.” 

Dallas went back to his conversation and we walked back out. Somewhere deep inside, I laughed at the irony of all those--admittedly gorgeous-- women in suggestive attire with suggestive smiles and suggestive hair flips still trying to snag a rich man, watching me walk out, in jeans—well fitting, really flattering, but jeans nonetheless—and a plain t-shirt and a jacket and my regular hair, not teased and sprayed and flat ironed to hell, with one of music’s most eligible bachelors. I never felt more beautiful doing so.

The drive home was long, and quiet. I wasn’t in a mood for disco, and JC had no radio preference, so I just turned it off. He watched the road and the cars around us and the streetlights and the landmarks until we pulled onto my street, my little home nestled in the cul-de-sac, the garage door sliding open and welcoming the car inside and closing behind us.

“Did you eat?” I asked, dropping my keys on the table in the entryway.

“A little. I could eat if you’re cooking, though.” He took a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter that surrounded the kitchen.

“I could warm up the soup from Friday?” He nodded, his hands tapping a beat on the Formica. “Sorry we didn’t get to go to Luckie.”

He lifted his hands, and dropped them, as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’. “Next time,” he said, quietly.

I warmed two bowls of the spicy soup and sat at the counter next to him. He inhaled it, like hadn’t eaten in days. I took it, and asked if he wanted more. He gave me a shy smile and shrugged. “Guess I’m hungry.”

I warmed him a second bowl, still working on my first when he finished it. “More?”

JC shook his head, leaned back and rubbed his stomach. “Nope, I think I’m good. For food.” He tipped his head toward me and wiggled his eyebrows. I nearly choked on the last of my soup, giggling at his gesture. I hoped he never stopped flirting with me. It was cute and it made me like him even more.

I left our bowls on the counter and dragged him the stairs. This would be his last night in Atlanta, with me. I wanted to make it count.

He started to pull clothing off as soon as we entered the bedroom, but I stopped him. “Wait. You wouldn’t open a present meant for me, would you? Leave my present alone,” I said, grinning at him.

He stopped pulling and held up his hands in surrender. I smiled up at him, a glimmer in my eye and an evil smile on my lips.

“Uh oh,” he said, his eyes lighting up, a sexy grin spreading across his face. “What?”

“Wanna play a game?”

“Sure. What game? Sex?”

I laughed. “Well that’s the goal. It’s getting there that’s the fun part.”  I left him standing in the middle of the room and went into the closet. I brought out a box -- well hidden in case my mother got nosy—and opened it, revealing an adult board game. JC sat on the edge of the bed, curious.  

“Okay, what is that? What do we have to do?”

We read through the rules and figured out how to score points-- a combination of Twenty Questions and Truth or Dare. Right or wrong answers were met with an action on yourself or your partner.  I thought we would only play for a few minutes, get in a sexy, playful mood before we abandoned the game and continued on our own.

I had a lot to learn about JC. He did not stop a game in the middle, even when he was winning by many, many points. He did everything to the fullest, even play this simple, stupid little game, and only won because I was naked, aroused, and very ready for him. He delighted in making me wait.

Finally, he decided he’d teased me enough and set the board down on the floor next to the bed. I breathed a contented sigh as I felt his weight settle on me, his lips on me, his hands roaming my body.  I could feel him, erect, rubbing against me, pulsing as if it had a heartbeat of its own. JC busied himself nipping and biting at one nipple, then another, paying an inordinate amount of attention to them—more teasing. I was going out of my mind.

A hand slid down my body, past my waist, and found a spot between my thighs that made me squeal and groan and grind my hips against him.

“You feel so good,” I panted, barely able to speak, I was breathing so hard. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you’re gone. It doesn’t take long to get used to having sex every day.”

He groaned in my ear, the deep growl coming from the bottom of his throat. “Do you know how good you feel to me? So good. So… good. I’m gonna miss being with you. Touching you. Kissing you. I love being with you.” His voice had lowered to a sultry whisper and he gave me a long, hot, wet kiss. “I want to make love to you.”

“I need you to.” His tongue traced from my ear to my collarbone and around to the other side. I nibbled at his shoulder and lightly scratched his back. He shuddered and moaned.  

“Please, please, please, pl--” my voice trailed off as he took me, filling me in a single stroke and began a strong, steady rhythm. “Oh my GOD! Fuck! God, yes…” My back arched and my legs flew around him, drawing him close to me.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “Talk to me. Tell me you want it.”

I smiled slowly, taking his face in my hands and kissing him wildly as he moved above me. He moaned, just barely able to keep up his rhythm. “You want the naughty girl to talk to you? You want her to tell you to fuck her, fuck her hard?”

“Yes. Fuck!”

Sex with JC was like a taste of the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Delicious while you had it, made you think about it when you didn’t and look forward to the next time you could. I craved being with him. I longed for the feeling of his arms around me, being able to run my hands over his strong, broad shoulders, through the hair on his chest, the strength and muscular form of his legs, his sweet, soft lips--my God, his lips-- even the sometimes days worth of growth on his chin and cheek. He knew how to work and worked hard to bring me pleasure, always made sure I had a good time. I wasn’t sure how well I would do when he went home the next day. I wanted to get all I could while I had him with me.

I tightened my legs around him, reaching under his arms and laying my hands on his back. I liked to feel the muscles rippling and twitching with every movement. As he drove me higher I felt myself getting weaker and fought to hang on, my nails digging lightly into his skin. I clutched a tuft of hair and brought his head down to mine, whispering in his ear. “You feel so fucking good! You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

JC whimpered and moved harder, faster. His breathing came in gusts and he was soaked in sweat, as was I. I began to gyrate my hips up and into him. He let out a lustful moan. The headboard bounced against the wall in a loud, steady beat and he moaned loudly along with me. I was so close to the edge I could scream.

And then I did. And clenched and stiffened and writhed beneath him. A sound came from him, somewhere between a scream and a cry.

He rose up onto his knees, grabbed a leg and moved it over so that I could flip onto my stomach. I gladly did so and gasped as he resumed his assault. He held my hips tightly and firmly and moved like a piston, the sounds of wet, sweaty skin smacking against the same.

“Oh my God yeah!” I tossed over my shoulder, pushing back against him.

He dripped sweat on to me. I felt it roll down my back. One hand left my hips to tweak a nipple, which made my hips roll and twitch. “I’m close, mama,” he breathed into my ear, bending over me. “I want you to come for me. I want to hear you. Right now. I’m so close, come with me.”

I grunted something unintelligible, I’m not even sure what I was trying to say. My whole body was tingling, my nerve endings wide open and feeling the rush of my climax washing over me again and again and again. I felt him pulse as he joined me seconds later, blowing out a deep breath, and then a low grunt, eyes closed, one hand clamped onto a breast, the other keeping him from falling over.

Sated, I fell forward, onto the bed and he landed on top of me, sweat dripping everywhere, panting, coughing, laughing, kissing.

“Wow, you’re good.” He rolled over and tried to catch his breath.

“Me? I’m just along for the ride.” My breathing slowly returned to normal.

He rolled his head toward me slowly, as if it took great effort. His smile was wide, his expression peaceful. “It’s a fun ride, huh?”

“The best. My favorite.” He scooted close to me and leaned his head close to mine, close enough to kiss me with a loud smack.

“You want some water? I’m gonna grab some.”

“Please. Thank you. And hit the lights.” He laid in the middle of the bed, sheets twisted, blanket on the floor in a lump, an arm over his face, chest still heaving from the exertion, one leg bent, the other laid out flat, a hand on his taut abdomen. I hated to turn out the lights and not see his beautiful form, but I did as he asked. I guessed it was too dark, because he leaned over and turned one of the bedside lamps on and dimmed it low.

From the kitchen, I brought us cool bottles of water and uncapped one, handing it to him. He sucked it down in seconds, so I gave him my half full bottle and he finished that, too. He laid back down and held out his arm for me to cradle my head on his chest and he could wrap his arms around me.

“JC.”

“Hm,” he grunted.

“Every time we have sex, I think it’s the best I’ve ever had. And then we have even better sex. You can never leave me, ever.”

“Lots more where that came from,” he laughed, his chest rumbling with the sound. “You put me to shame, though. If I let you, I think you could go all night.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be happy to prove you right.”

“You’re on, honey. Definitely on.” I tossed a leg over him, he gave me a few pats on my backside. “Hey, that game was fun, we should play it again.”

“No,” I grumbled, giving his arm a light swat. “I’m never playing that game with you ever again. You’re a tease.”

“That’s the whole point of it, to want it… but you have to wait till the game is over to get it.” He rubbed whatever skin he could get his hands on, the callous on his thumb re-energizing me, adding a log to the fire that was still smoldering. “So sexy. I loved it.”

“It wasn’t fair. I was ready before we started.”

“I know,” he said with a pat. “Impatient little one. You can’t have everything right when you want it.”

I glared up at him, scratching at the hair on his chest. He shivered at the touch. “Oh really now? Somehow, in the near future when I say the same thing to you, I know you will have a problem with it.”

“It would be perfectly fine with me, if you were around to say something like that to me, in the near future.”

“Yeah?” I asked, lifting my head, looking at him, in the eye.  He nodded, slowly. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I’ll try, I really will.”

He cupped my head in his hands and brought my face to him, giving me one of those very, very sweet, beautiful kisses I loved so much. When he pulled back, his eyes found mine and he said, “I’m sorry, too. And I’ll try, too.”

We spent most of the next day lounging around, watching movies, talking, laughing, playing, enjoying the last few moments we had with each other before I would take him to the airport. Before I would  come back to my quiet house to think about the long span of time it would be before I could see him again.

“Moving slow, missy. Come on, I don’t want to miss my flight.”

“I’m coming.” I closed the door to the house and ducked into the car. I hit the button to open the garage door.

“That sounds familiar to me. Where’ve I heard that before? Hmm.” He stuck his tongue out at me. I made a move to bite it and it retreated. I started the car and pulled out of the garage, heading for the airport.

On the drive to the airport, I picked up a call from my boss-- Qwest was ready for another meeting. I was due back in LA two weeks before Christmas for a more in depth presentation. Knowing I’d see him again, definitely, in another few weeks made dropping him at the Delta gate that much easier. I wished him a safe flight, hugged and kissed him and watched him walk past the sliding glass doors toward the security gate.

Atlanta police did not like for cars to linger at the curb, so I hurried back to my car and headed home. I figured I had better start working on perfecting my proposal. It was more important than ever that we land this account—I was falling in love with someone in LA and I wanted to see him as much as possible.

No matter how often I flew, I didn’t think I would ever get used to it—the sensation of the plane leaving the ground as the nose tipped up and gained altitude, the clunk-clunk of the wheels rolling up into their space under the plane, the way the plane shook randomly in the air, the way the wings of the plane sliced through the blanket of clouds, and the scary way I could see land and houses and highways and lakes from so far above them it didn’t seem real. I was a not fan of this flying thing, but if it meant I could get to see JC, I would gladly fly wherever anyone wanted me to go. In my arms, I clutched the small bear that he gave me on the last flight, occasionally sniffing in the light scent of him that lingered. It reminded me that he was waiting for me and that if I could just make it off of the plane and through my meeting, a wonderful weekend lay ahead of me.

Next to me sat a quiet, slim woman with honey-blonde hair and brown eyes. She kept to herself, listening to her mp3 player and reading books and magazines. I wished I could be so calm, enjoying music, reading, eating M&M’s casually, as if I hadn’t a care in the world. I realized, then, that I wasn’t doing all that badly. We were still in the air and I was still alive and we were not going down in a field in Iowa. I started to relax a little.

My deep, calming breaths caught her attention.  She removed her headphones and smiled warmly in my direction. “Are you okay? You seem a little tense.”

I returned her smile and said, “I’m fine, thanks. I’m kind of afraid to fly. I’m doing pretty well on this flight though. The last one I almost passed out.”

Her expression gave away her slight amusement. “Oh,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. This has been smooth so far. I’m Allison. Do you live in LA?”

“No. Business trip.”

“Ah, I see.” She gestured at the stack of magazines in her lap. “You want something to read? They’re old, but I have plenty of magazines.”

I shook my head. “I’m okay. Thank you, though. I’m Serena, by the way. You live in LA or Atlanta?”

“My boyfriend lives--” Her face fell into a frown and her eyelids lowered. “My ex-boyfriend lives in Atlanta. We broke up, this trip. The distance, it’s just too much, I guess.”

“Really, that sucks.” I almost regretted opening my mouth. I didn’t really want to hear about distance breaking up a couple. I wanted to hear good news about how things like that just sort of worked out on their own, if two people seemed right for each other and were meant to be together.  

“It does. He was transferred out to Atlanta and then it was just one thing after another. I kind of expected him to ask me to move with him. When he didn’t, I guess I should have caught a clue.”  She flipped through her magazine, her face slightly pink, eyes glassy with unshed tears. She had to be devastated. I felt for her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure it’s really painful. Were you together long?”

“Thank you. Two years down the drain. This trip was a last ditch effort, and…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

She tilted her head up and toward me. Not knowing what else to say, I shook my head. “Don’t get one,” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “Especially if they don’t live near you. It sucks.” She pouted, returning to her magazine.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said quietly, then returned to gazing out of the window. I didn’t want to look and yet I couldn’t stop looking at the land below us. Every time I looked down, my heart beat out of my chest and I had to force my eyes back up toward the wings just outside the window. It was frightening, but much less frightening than the thought of things not working out with JC. It was not a thought I was even entertaining.

“So what do you do? You said you had a business meeting?”

I blinked out of a daydream, the sound of her voice jarring me. “Uhm. I’m a Product Manager for an internet phone company. Sort of sales, sort of marketing.”

“Oh, wow,” she said, her face brightening again, a pretty smile of pearly white teeth showing. “That sounds fun.”

“It can be. It can also be kind of redundant and monotonous. It pays the bills, though.”

“I bet.”

“And you? What pays the bills for you?”

“Paralegal. I work for a big firm, downtown. It’s like being a lawyer without practicing law.”

“Really,” I said twisting, so I was turned toward her and away from the window, leaning on the arm rest. “Now, that seems interesting. Never a dull moment.”

“Not ever,” she said, flashing a wry grin.

We chatted off and on during the remainder of the flight, about work, LA and Atlanta, friends, music. The conversation was a distraction and helped speed time forward. By the time the plane touched tarmac again, I felt like an old pro at flying—not that I wanted to get too relaxed or cocky about it—and I just wanted to get off of the plane.

A short time after deplaning I was at baggage claim, watching the carousel turn slowly, waiting for the baggage to come around. I retrieved my Blackberry from my shoulder bag and pressed the power button to turn it back on. Within seconds, email and messages began to roll in, filling up the screen. I shook my head at four text messages from JC.  The last one read ‘I know your flight landed. Answer me!’  

Safely tucked into a yellow taxicab navigating its way through downtown traffic, I finally answered JC’s text. ‘I’m here! I made it, I’m fine. On my way to my meeting. Wish me luck.’

Before I turned the phone off, his response came. ‘Don’t need luck. You got this, honey. Call me after. C’

###

I’d spent hours upon hours preparing and rehearsing for this moment—I’d made Melissa listen to the entire pitch twice the night before. If I had to gauge the success of the pitch by the responses of the client as I was walking out of the conference room, I would be surprised if we didn’t have a contract by the beginning of the year. This, by my calculations, would put me in LA to begin the project launch soon after, as early as February. I couldn’t wait!

Finally, I felt some things were starting to fall into place, for me. Good, meaningful things that brought growth and change. I’d been stagnant, holding on to old, comfortable things for far too long. I was ready to spread my wings and I hoped the trend would continue—the new challenges, inspiring achievements, a budding relationship with someone I cared about intensely—I wanted it, all of it, and I would fight to keep it.

As soon as the meeting broke and hands were shaken and business cards exchanged, I took the elevator back to the lobby, retrieved my suitcase from the closet where it had been stashed and made myself comfortable in the visitors lounge.  I expected a message or two from JC, but there were none when I powered up the phone again. Flipping through the screens, I found his number and dialed. The call rang to voicemail, his vague outgoing greeting asking me to leave a message and he would return the call. I left a brief message that my meeting was over and that I was waiting for him.

To make use of the time, I rolled my suitcase into the restroom and changed out of my suit into jeans and a light, long sleeved blouse and a jacket. It wasn’t cold, but I wasn’t repeating my mistake from the last trip—I wanted to be prepared for whatever JC had planned. 

I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing Regina, only younger-- it wasn’t bothering me as much as I thought it would. My therapy sessions were doing me a world of good and I was starting to let go of things that used to bother me, like my curly hair that I’d been straightening for years so that I wouldn’t look like her. I was pretty sure I was going to hear something about the loose curls and waves instead of the sleek, straight hairstyle I usually wore. I sniffed and nodded at myself, winked at my reflection and packed up to roll my luggage back out to the lobby. I was ready to get my weekend started.

If I could get JC to pick up a phone! I resisted calling him over and over- that wasn’t my style and that would annoy him. He was normally so good about calling me back when he could, but when the receptionist asked if she could call me a cab, I was a little irritated. 

I yanked the phone out of its pocket in my bag and had my thumb on the ‘send’ button when a call popped up.  “Where are you?” I whined as I picked up the call. 

There was that familiar voice in my ear, smooth, but tinged with sarcasm. “Well, hello. How was your meeting? How are you?”

Somewhere deep in my heart, there was a sigh. It was so nice to hear him, but I wanted to see him. “I’m great, the meeting went great. Really well. I’ll tell you about it later. Are you on your way?”

He hesitated. My heart sank.

“Tiny snag,” he said, his voice lowered. I could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, worried I would be upset. “I uhm… I’m kind of stuck here, in this session. I thought we would be done by now and I can’t leave. I’m sorry; I know I’m supposed to be there, right now.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to keep disappointment out of my voice. “Well, if you have to work, I’m cool. Just… what should I do? Just go to the house?”

“There’s no one at the house, you can’t get in. Actually, I have a plan.”  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat.  “You always have a plan,” I said, my voice monotone. “Tell me.”

“Okay, so, this is a terrible idea,” he said, with a laugh so cute I couldn’t be angry. “I’m gonna send my brother to come and get you. He’s not that far from you, right now. He’ll take you to lunch, if you want and then home and I’ll meet you guys there.”

I panicked at the thought of meeting Tyler--I hadn’t realized he would be in town. I also wasn’t sure I was ready to meet anyone in his family, yet. Meeting his friends was nerve-wracking enough.  What had he told Tyler about me? What if he didn’t like me? What was I supposed to talk to Tyler about?

I was silent for too long. “Serena… please. I would just feel better if you were with him. I know you’re nervous about meeting him but there’s nothing to it. You’ll be safe with him.” His voice was gentle and pleading, a tone I couldn’t resist if I tried.

 “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “If that’s what you want. I am pretty hungry,” I said, hoping he could hear the smile in my voice.

“Of course you are,” he said, his laugh a low chuckle, relief in his voice. “So, I’ll call him. He’ll come get you. You’ll eat and talk and have fun. I’ll see you at the house in awhile, okay? I need to go.”

“JC,” I said, before he could hang up.

“Yeah.”

I paused for a heartbeat. I wanted to make sure he was listening when I said, “I missed you.”

A few seconds of silence and then, very   quietly, “I missed you too. I can’t wait to see you. Have fun, okay? Tyler’s cool. I really need to go.”

I slid the phone back into its pocket and stood, crossing my arms and pacing in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Side street traffic crossed in front of my view and I wondered which of these cars Tyler was driving and would I know it was him? Maybe he’d changed since the last photo I saw.

A few minutes later a tan Toyota Camry pulled into the visitor parking spot and a blond, stocky man in a black, form fitting t-shirt and khakis stepped out of the car, looked up toward the marquee and then through the glass doors. I knew it was him, right away--I would recognize that ruddy complexion and those dimples anywhere. I waved as he walked through the doors, smiling shyly, his cheeks glowing their usual pink.  

“You must be Serena,” he said, offering a hand to shake. I took it, noticing his warm, strong grip.

“Yes.” Out of nervousness, I swept my hair behind my ears and tried to smile. ”You’re Tyler. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“No problem. Is this yours?” He reached for the handle of my suitcase and rolled it toward the door, stowing it in the trunk while I climbed in on the passenger side. I sat back as the automatic seat belt zipped around me, closing me in.

“Ready?” Hands on the wheel, he shot a grin at me. His face was incredibly friendly, two dimples creating deep punctures in his cheeks. I nodded, and he started the car and pulled away from the curb.  “So, Josh—JC—what do you call him?”

I played with an earring and rested an arm on the arm rest between us. “JC.  Or Chasez. He’s trying to get me to call him ‘C’ and it’s not happening. But whatever, I’ll know who you mean.”

“Yeah. Him. He said to take you to lunch and to be nice. I didn’t promise to be nice.” He winked at me as he took a turn easily and changed lanes. “Neither did I,” I said, winking back. Tyler and I were going to get along just fine.

“So you get the dishwasher lecture, too?” Tyler was beet red, laughing so hard that he wasn’t making noise.  We had a great time talking, the topic bouncing from whether or not he’d sit for the Bar Exam to his brother’s funny ways of doing things. I happened to mention the lecture on loading the dishwasher and he burst into a loud giggle.

Elbows on the table, I leaned my head against a hand. “It’s like, they’re just dishes, JC. It’s a dishwasher. It doesn’t matter. He’s like, ‘no no, really, there’s a science to it’. And the silverware—“ I had to stop and laugh.

“Tines UP! Up, Tyler! And you gotta mix ‘em around—“

“So the spoons don’t nestle together—“

“Or the food will cake and they’ll dry that way! He’s very passionate about that. Yes. You’ve heard the lecture.” Tyler plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiped his eyes.  “Wait until he has to unload the dishwasher. Just watch him do it, his process is so ridiculous.”

I laughed, not only at the idea of being entertained by JC’s kitchen prowess but Tyler’s laugh was a little cute and a lot contagious. I couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I haven’t had that pleasure but I’ll be sure to make him do it sometime this weekend, just to watch.”

“Yeah, it’s entertainment,” he said, residual giggles coursing through him. “So, uh…what do you think of the old man?” He crossed his arms and leaned onto the table, his warm brown eyes focused on mine.

I stirred my tea with my straw, thinking, watching the lemon wedge bob. “Uhm, well… I don’t really know what to say.” I shrugged a shoulder and sipped my tea. “He’s alright.”

“Well, seriously. I mean, Josh told me a little about you. Like, how you guys met. I won’t tell him what you say. I’m just wondering.”  The one thing the Chasez boys had in common was an intense stare. I felt like Tyler could see right through me, and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. If I set off alarms he would surely let JC know his thoughts.

“Uhm. You know, he’s… it’s like someone telling you about a person, so much that you really feel like you know them, kind of, until you meet them and you realize that you have no idea who they really are. It’s unlearning everything you thought you knew, and relearning and digging deeper and getting to know them under the surface. Seeing the person that he doesn’t show to everyone else. Does that make sense? I’m trying not to sound stupid, here.”

He nodded, slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “Makes perfect sense, to me.”

“I like what I know, though,” I added. “And I hope I get to know more and like more. He’s pretty special.”

Tyler snorted, a short laugh escaping. “In more ways than one.”  I laughed along with him, our conversation falling into a comfortable lull.  Our server set the slim folder with the check in it in front of him. He opened it, slid a few bills behind the slip of paper and closed it.

“So, the reason I asked. About Josh—about what you thought.” I lifted my eyes to him, but he was staring down at the table, his dimples prominent in both cheeks. “Uhm. You know, he’s… a very nice guy. To a fault. I’m sure you know that.” He lifted his eyes to look at me, his expression solemn. I nodded, blinking slowly. I knew where this was headed.

“Just be careful, with him. He likes you, and you seem to like him and you’re cool and everything and I don’t want to seem rude, but… don’t play with him. He’s not, you know, some fan’s dream date come true. This is his real life. And he can handle himself, I know. I just don’t want to see him hurt.”

I swallowed, hard, and felt a blush crawl up my neck to my face, my cheeks hot. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I also had a feeling this would not be my only warning about not repeating the past—his friends were no doubt waiting to give me a stern talking to. I reached across the table and laid a hand across Tyler’s arm. “I’m not trying to hurt him, Tyler. I have just as much at stake here as he does. I do understand where you’re coming from, though and I will make my best effort to not hurt him.”

“Good. Then that’s all I can ask for, right?” His face brightened and the smile returned. A loud buzzing came from his hip and he unclipped the phone from its plastic case, flipping the screen up. “HA. It’s Josh,” he said, turning the phone around so I could see the text message. ‘Where the hell are you guys?’

He returned the message, his thumbs punching hard onto the keys, an evil grin on his face.

“What’d you say?”

He slid out of his seat and stood, brushing crumbs from his pants. “I told him I was holding you ransom.”

I giggled as the phone buzzed again and he checked it. I looked over his shoulder and he laughed at the message. ‘I’ll pay your price. Bring the girl to me, NOW.’

“Let’s go, he’s probably pacing, getting restless.”

“I’m a little restless myself. I can’t wait to see him,” I said, following Tyler out of the restaurant and to the car.

Sometime later, after sitting in gridlocked traffic, he pulled into the long drive way and parked in front of the wide, massive garage door, which was sliding open. JC’s car sat in its spot and my heartbeat sped up so rapidly I was lightheaded. I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

“Go ahead. I’ll grab your bags. In that door, there,” he said pointing at the door leading to the house. Excited, I rushed toward the door, had my hand on the knob, when I stopped and turned to look back at Tyler. I gave him a nervous smile. He pointed, again. “I’ll give you guys a few minutes to say hi. Go on in.”

I turned the knob and stepped inside the small foyer. I climbed the first few steps and stopped. The house was so quiet.

“Hello?” I called.

“HELLO???” I heard above me. My face broke into a wide grin and I vaulted up the remaining stairs to the landing, in front of the sitting room. It was empty, the furniture sitting just as stately as it had the last time I was there.

From behind me, I felt two hands grasp my waist and a loud voice shout “HEY!” I yelped and jumped, reached back and grabbed his wrists and turned in his grasp. The laugh that bubbled from him, coupled with the sight of his face and the rich tone of his voice, in person, made me want to cry. Absence must really make the heart grow fonder—my heart was fond to bursting that moment.

He wrestled out of my grip and circled my waist, stepping close to me and lifting me into a tight hug. My arms wrapped around his neck and I held on for dear life, kissing whatever skin my lips could find while he laughed, the sound muffled against my shoulder. He set me down, sliding his hand down my arms until he was holding my hands in his.

“Hi,” I whispered, grinning like a fool staring up at him.

He laughed and stared down at me, handsome as ever. “Hi,” he said. “Where did you guys eat, Mexico?”

It was wonderful to hear his voice mere inches from me, already teasing and sassy. “We were talking about you. Time got away from us, I’m sorry. But I’m here, now.”

“You are. I am happy about that. Come here.” He released one of my hands and cupped my face, gently pulling me up and toward him, bending slightly to meet my lips. The kiss was soft and light but so slow and hypnotic that it made my body tingle, head to toe. As the kiss deepened he turned his head, a groan coming from his throat. He stepped closer, holding my head in both hands, fingers curled up into my hair. I hooked a finger in a loop of his jeans on either side and stood there, enjoying the best kiss I’d had since the last time he’d kissed me.

“Ewww, I thought I gave you guys enough time to get that out of the way!”

The kiss ended abruptly at the sounds of Tyler pounding up the stairs heavily, dragging my luggage and my laptop case, dumping them near the staircase and turning to walk into the dining room. He picked up a stack of mail, flipping through it, and tossed it back onto the counter before he left the kitchen again. JC stared at him, my gaze alternating from Tyler to JC and back.

JC cleared his throat, dropping his arms to rest on my shoulders. Tyler looked up, looked from JC to me and back to JC and blushed, his entire face matching the pink of his cheeks. “Alright, I get the message. I’m gone. See you tomorrow.”

“Hey, you’re not coming back tonight?” JC called, as he bounced back down the stairs.

“Nope, going out, I’ll crash somewhere. I’ll be back in time to eat whatever Serena is making for breakfast.”

“Alright, be safe, man.” Tyler gave one last wave as he closed the door to the garage. Moments later I felt the vibration of the door sliding down.

Suddenly alone, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. We stared at each other for almost a full minute before I burst into nervous giggles and leaned against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He laughed with me, hugging me to him, dropping a kiss on my temple as he pulled back.

“So, your flight was okay, looks like. You made it in one piece.” He took a hand and led me into the comfortable, sprawling living room, where we had played Mario Kart the last time I was at his house. A quick glance around told me JC was very much into his electronics and entertainment—if it played a movie or a song or a game, he probably had it in this room.

He dropped onto the couch, tucking a leg under him and patted the cushion next to him. I sat, assuming the same position, leaning comfortably against the plush furniture.

“My flight was great. I’m proud of myself. I didn’t even need one of those pills.” I reached for a hand resting casually on his thigh, wound my fingers between his, enjoying the feeling of just being able to hold his hand, and look into his face and have those eyes focused intently on me. It was one of the best feelings ever.

“And your meeting? You said it went well.”

I nodded, my head bobbing. “It did, really well. If we don’t have a contract by the beginning of the year, I will be very surprised. That would be really good news, for me.”

“Me too,” he said, wiggling his brows. 

I dipped my head, blushing lightly. “Yeah, you too. So, we’ll see. I’m excited. But that meeting is over and I am yours for the next three days. I know I don’t dare ask what we’re doing.”

He rubbed his face, scratching at the faint layer of stubble there. “Uhm, I didn’t make a whole lot of plans, really. I thought we would just play it by ear. You’ve already kind of done the tourist thing. Unless you want to go a bunch of places—we can do that if you want.”

“You know what I want, JC?” I rose onto my knees and leaned over, close to his face, inches from his lips where a hint of a smile was forming. “I want to be here, with you. That’s all. Outside of that,” I said, lowering my lips to his, brushing across them in the softest way possible. “I don’t really care what we do.”

His smile grew, until it was wide and sexy and megawatt bright. “I can work with that. I can definitely work with that.” With both hands he cupped my face and brought me to him, his lips meeting mine, taking his time, drawing it out. I wanted, needed to be closer to him.

I climbed over his legs and he turned so I could sit on his lap, straddling him. My arms circled his neck; his hands crept under my blouse to stroke warm skin. I shivered at the sensation, the calluses on his thumbs doing things to my toes and the small of my back. We kissed for what felt like forever, skin touching and caressing skin. I exhaled a long breath as I pulled back to look at him. He looked peaceful and happy. I couldn’t stop smiling.

“So what did you and my brother talk about? I just knew I would be a topic of conversation.”

I laughed and leaned toward him again, pecking the corner of his mouth. “I’ll never teeellll…”

He laughed, tossing his head back a little. “That means you guys were picking on me. I couldn’t even defend myself. So not fair.”

“Aw, I know. Not fair,” I said, kissing his tiny pout. “Actually, he told me that I should have you show me how to unload the dishwasher the right way. And uhm… I got my warning, which I was expecting.”

A brow lowered. “What do you mean? What warning?”

“Well, you know,” I said, with a shrug, my hands traveling across his shoulders, down his arms to his soft, strong hands and held them in mine. “Your friends and your family love you. They don’t want to see you hurt or taken advantage of by some girl who claims to be a big huge fan. I could be very opportunistic. I could take advantage of your good heart. I understand that. And I totally expected it.”

He gave me that look, from our first weekend together, the mix between ‘oh please’ and ‘that’s ridiculous’. “And Tyler warned you?”

“He asked, actually, is a better word. Asked me to be careful and to, I guess, be real with you. I think the fan thing creeps him out.” I sought out his eyes, staring into them. “I think it creeps you out, too.”

He lowered his gaze, rubbing the backs of my hands as I held his. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t creep me out. It’s not something I can change. Or would even want to. The fan thing made you cute, to me. And I don’t really want to take that away from you.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming…”

He chuckled, and scratched an itch behind his ear, smoothed down his hair, rubbed his neck a little. “It’s not like I’ve never… hung with a fan before. It’s just. She’s usually gone by now, so….” He glanced up at me, only slightly embarrassed. “I just wanted to see where things went with you. I don’t mean to say you should feel special, or anything. It’s just… the more I talked to you, the less I thought of you as a fan. There’s more to me than what you see in interviews and pictures. You seem to know that. And there’s more that you should see, so you can know me. I want you to know me.”

A finger traced his square jaw line as I softly spoke. “I’m ready to see it, I want to see it. You. I’ve been ready to see you. Show me.”

“I will,” he said, his tone matching mine. “I plan to, this weekend. Starting now. Ask me, anything. ‘Nsync amnesty- ask me anything.”

“I think I know enough about ‘Nsync. I want to know you. And I don’t want to interview you. If I think of a question this weekend, I’ll ask you. And you have to answer it. Okay?”

“It’s a deal,” he said, nodding, resting his forehead on mine. He gave a soft pat to my thigh and rubbed the length of it, and then around to my backside and back down. He drew a shaky breath and lifted his head.

“So. What do you want do? You can’t be hungry.” I had an idea of a few things I wanted to do, but they could wait until later, when we were more relaxed and ready to end our day. Once I got started I had no intention of getting back up.

I climbed off of his lap and offered a hand to help him up. “I want to take my bags upstairs and maybe go for a drive, since we have daylight?”

JC had a few errands to run, and I rode along for company and the scenery. It was warm, so he let the top down and talked incessantly as he pointed out historical landmarks and passed along bits of information he thought I would find interesting. I listened and laughed and occasionally rolled my eyes, but inwardly I was so happy to be there with him, listening to some long drawn out story about one thing or another.  My mind drifted to the thoughts and daydreams I had of being in LA on a regular basis and being able to see him more often, and take rides with him on the spur of the moment, instead of having to plan those moments in advance. That would be nice.

Some of JC’s friends had accumulated at a local club and we stopped in to say hi. He introduced me to so many people that I would never remember their names so I didn’t try. We took up most of a corner of the club, laughing, drinking and talking. I got caught up in a conversation with two of his friends who had been to Atlanta several times, but hadn’t been back in awhile. We talked about how the city was growing and changing, what was new, what was closed and torn down. I realized a few hours into the night that I was comfortable and welcomed with open arms.  JC had funny and warm friends that welcomed me and everyone had a story of how they met and knew him.

Somehow I was separated from him, and almost in a panic, I looked around to find him. I spotted him across the room and fought the urge to run to him and attach myself to his hip. I admired him, though, having a conversation with a friend, so animated and passionate.

Everything in me was starting to love everything about him. From his casual stance when he was relaxed—his weight on one leg, the other kicked out, a hand in his pocket-- to the way he talked with his hands when he got excited, to his penchant for jewelry. More often, he was wearing the ornate crosses strung on sterling silver chains, the ones he used to wear on a daily basis. He was wearing one that night that looked like black lacquer set in pewter, the low lights in the club reflecting in the glossy shine. His hair, which was growing longer and starting to curl up, fell perfectly into place, even after a full day. Eyes piercing blue, rugged good looks, a nose almost too big for his face but so Adonis-like that if it were any different he would look strange, a day’s growth of hair on his face, his muscular build but modest attitude about it—all parts of him I found irresistible.

I felt drawn to the whole of him, though. More than what he looked like and his eclectic sense of fashion and individuality, I felt close to who he was, deep down. The ‘Him’ that he wanted me to know so badly. The sweetheart that sent me a text message every evening to say goodnight; that heard it would be raining in Atlanta so he called to remind me to take an umbrella to work the next day, or just to see how I was doing any random day of the week; that sent me emails of poems and song lyrics, some sweet, some silly, some I had to close my office door to read because I couldn’t stop laughing. I remembered meeting him and wondering if he was ever not so intense, if he ever eased up, after the wonder and awe of meeting someone new wore off. I hadn’t known him but a few months but I hoped I had my answer. He was slowly becoming part of my life and my world and I didn’t mind a bit.

His conversation ended and he turned his head, I assume looking for me. He caught me staring at him and instead of looking away and pretending I wasn’t, I held my gaze and gave him a slight smile. He looked around, and seeing no one else I could be staring at, pointed to himself as if to say ‘me?’ I nodded. He smiled, blushed a little and slowly walked across the room and stood in front of me.

He cleared his throat. I stared up at him, the same small smile on my lips.

“Hi,” he finally said.

“Hi yourself,” I answered.

“What, uhm, what were you looking at?”

I blinked slowly, and shrugged a shoulder. Nonchalant. “Just looking at you.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth, trying not to smile. “Okay. Why?”

“I just…. saw you. Across the room. I was admiring you. Do I need a reason to look at you?”

“Ogling, honey,” he said, with a know-it-all, rapid nod. “Mmhmm. You were ogling me.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and back down, smirking at him. “Okay, if we want to pull out our fancy words. Ogling. What, like you’re offended?”

He stepped closer, touched a cheek to mine, his lips near my ear. The scent of him was heady and mouth watering. “Quite the opposite, actually,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “I’m flattered. Are you ready to go?”

I had never left a bar so quickly in my life. In minutes we were in the valet line waiting for the car to arrive, discreetly holding hands, every few minutes squeezing gently and glancing over at me. His eyes were smoky, his slight smile sexy, his body language telling me I would enjoy the evening. The car arrived and he made sure I was in before walking around to his side and pulling away.

I snuggled back into my seat and enjoyed the drive, the night air cool, the city lights burning against the dark sky. His hand found a home on my knee and we rode in silence, listening to The Best of Sting. In a little over 20 minutes, JC was pulling into his spot in the empty garage. The door slid closed behind us and he turned off the engine. I stretched and breathed in, moving to get out of the car. His hand gripped my thigh, and I stopped, looking back at him.

He was leaning onto the armrest, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the dull glow of the overhead lamp lighting the car. “Where you going?”

I sat back against the seat, again. “In. We’re not going in?”

“Not just yet. Bring your sexy self over here.” He grabbed me by the back of the head and brought me to him. His lips were wet, his breath hot and ragged, his tongue insistent, the kiss passionate. He moaned and leaned further toward me. I leaned into him, taking over the kiss and playing with his tongue, nibbling his bottom lip. I loved that lip.  

“Mmmmm… you drive me crazy,” he mumbled.

“Good,” I said, taking his lips once again. “My evil plan is working. Can we go in now? I can’t get close to you.”

“Oh, hell yes. We can definitely go in, now.”

We stepped out of the car and he let me into the house and up the stairs first. As we hit the landing, I felt hands around my waist and him behind me, pushing me toward the wall. I turned around, giggling, and he stepped close, close enough to feel him, already rigid against me.

“Is this close enough for you?” He breathed hot air down my neck, licking and sucking my skin, making happy noises that made me laugh again.

“Yes,” I sighed. “I’d say this is close enough.” I was lightheaded as I felt lips on my cheek, neck, shoulders. My blouse was being undone and pushed aside and hands were wildly roaming, roughly kneading.

“Let’s go up, or it’s gonna happen right here.” He pushed me toward the stairs and was right on my heels as I climbed all three flights, breathing heavy. The second we entered the bedroom, my blouse was being removed, my bra, jeans and shoes followed, dumped into a pile in the middle of the room. I reached to lift JC’s t-shirt over his head and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them and his briefs off and then rolled my panties down my hips, finally wrapping arms around me and hugging me close to him.

I felt him against me, between us looking for relief. He kissed me, hard, ran his hands down my sides and pushed until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. I broke the kiss, tearing my mouth away from him. He moaned in protest, then let out a low, seductive laugh as I climbed up onto the bed and lay back against the pillows. He followed and landed on me. I wrapped my legs around his, my arms under his, my hand stroking his back as his muscles moved and rippled.  

“I missed you so much,” I heard, just before his lips crushed mine. And then, “I missed this… I’ve wanted this all day,” mumbled against the skin of my shoulder, his stubble prickling me with every movement.  “I need you. Now. I promise, I’ll go slower, later.” He lifted himself slightly, ready. I pressed a hand to his chest.

“Ah-ah,” I said, shaking my head. “You know better.”

“Serena--“

“Not up for debate. Get one. If you don’t, I will, but you will not be touching me without it.” He growled in frustration, but leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Don’t. Move.”

He was back in seconds, dropping a few small square packages on the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed, ripping one open and rolling the thin film onto himself. “This is so much more fun when you do it,” he said, smoothing it down.

I smirked. “I would have, if you asked me, but you’re in such a hurry.”

“Later,” he said, tossing the wrapper onto the stand and turning the lamp on, then dimming it low. “Do you mind the light? I want to watch you.”

I shook my head and held my arms out to him. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he rolled over on to me and found a nipple, closing his mouth over it and teasing it erect. I gasped and moaned, feeling shockwaves coursing through me already. He made his way to the other one and repeated his actions.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” I said, sighing and writhing under him.

“Mmmmph,” was all I heard, the vibration sending more waves. His tongue flicked faster. I was already on fire, had been since the club.

“Okay, yeah. Please, just…please.”

Obliging, JC moved up on the bed and hovered over me, his eyes watching my face. Clasping his hands in mine, he positioned himself and slid in easily. His eyes slammed shut for moment, his expression so erotic that it made me want him more.

“You feel good,” he whispered, watching me, moving slowly. I fought to keep my eyes open, moving my hips to meet him, pulling him deeper inside me. He found a comfortable rhythm, my body adjusting to him, his lustful sounds in concert with mine. His breathing grew heavier as he moved faster, pushed harder, a sheen of sweat covering both of us.

He gave up trying to watch me, and lowered his head as he concentrated on our movements. I dug my fingers into his hair, brought him near me and whispered into his ear, whispered all the things I thought about when I wasn’t with him, and wanted to be; when I wasn’t near him but longed to be. His breath caught in his throat and the guttural sounds that came from him were incredibly seductive. I wanted him to have what he was working so hard for. 

I wrapped my arms around him, lightly scratching his back and worked my hips to meet his speed. I felt a wave rising, coming up from my toes. He sucked in a breath. “Are you coming?” I breathed into his ear.

He grunted, reaching under me with one hand, pulling and pushing me closer to him as he moved above me.

“I’m… oh my God!” I felt my body thrust upward as a powerful wave washing over me again and again.

“Come with me, let go, just let go.”

I let the sensation roll over me, at first just moaning, then groaning, and as I hit a peak, an involuntary scream that startled him. He laughed, even as he stiffened and convulsed, his skin glowing red, squeezing every drop of his climax. After a final thrust, he groaned, loudly, in satisfaction and lay down on me, out of breath and glistening with sweat.

“Shit,” he heaved, rolling to his side, still laughing. “Almost killed me, there.”

“Again? That’s a nasty habit I have.” I giggled and rolled my head so I could see him, but my eyes slid closed. Tired. So tired. But happy.

“Serena.”

“Hm.” I blinked a few times, forcing my eyelids open again.

“You can’t scream like that, tomorrow. Tyler will be home.” He flinched and rolled out of the way as I grabbed a pillow and aimed at his head.

“Fucker.”

“Yes, but I’m not the one making all the noise.” He rolled toward me again, lying on his stomach, brushing my hair away from my face. “I figured it out.”

“You figured what out?”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“What? What have you figured out? The secret to how Twinkies last so long? How to soak the tarnish off of a penny? What?”

“No, I know all that stuff,” he said, bobbing his head sarcastically. “I couldn’t figure out what was different about you, until right now.” He picked up a lock of hair, stretched it out and let it go, watching it spring back. “Your hair is curly.”

“Yeah,” I said, shyly. I rolled so my face was buried in the mattress.

He buried a hand in the mass and pulled gently. “What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s just… different,” I said, my voice muffled. I rolled my head again, so I could breathe. “I never wear it curly, ‘cause… you know.”

“Yeah, I know. So, I’m surprised. Therapy is going really well for you, then. Come on, get up, let’s get under the sheets. You can tell me all about how awesome I am for making you go.”

My body protested the movement, but I sat up and moved back while he folded the comforter back and pulled the sheet down. I climbed in and he followed, pulling the sheets around us, then pulling me close to him. I laid half halfway on him, my head on his shoulder, an arm across his mid-section, a leg between his and a foot tucked under one of his legs. He crossed his legs at the ankles, trapping me there. I felt a hand in my hair, playing with my curls-- sensual but also comforting and relaxing to feel his fingers on my scalp, the other hand gently rubbing the skin on my thigh.

“So, tell me about therapy. How’s it going?” He sounded relaxed, a little sleepy, and a lot satisfied.

I sighed against him, curling my hand over the side of his body, around his waist. “Therapy is good. It’s going really well actually.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. Tell me about it.”

“I—JC, I don’t want to tell you about it. Therapy is for me. It’s between me and my therapist. But it is going well. I’m not angry. I’m letting go of a lot and not feeling controlled by anything or anyone. It’s working.”

“That’s good, that’s all I wanted to know. I’m so proud of you.” He stretched to brush his lips across my forehead. I smiled against his chest. I could not remember feeling so happy. “Are you enjoying your trip so far?”

“Yes! I’m so excited to be here. I missed you.”

“Missed you, too.”  He hit a snag in a curl. I winced and he let go, whispering that he was sorry.  I gave him a soft pat. “What do you want to do tomorrow? Got anything in mind?”

“Well… was Tyler serious about breakfast? Because I can cook.”

He laughed, long and loud. “There’s nothing here to cook.”

“You know how to make some stuff, don’t you?” I lifted my head, leaning on an elbow so I could see him.

“Uhm. Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I would cook it. So, I don’t buy it.”

I nodded slowly. “So, tomorrow. Could you take me to Malibu? I’ve always wanted to go.”

He stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers, his eyelids heavy and half closed. “Yes, I can take you to Malibu. And wherever else you want to go.”

“Okay, then we have to go to the grocery store because I am cooking dinner tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to cook, sweet girl,” he said quietly. “Tyler was joking,”

“I know. I just…” I glanced up at him, my smile wide. “I’m dying to cook in that giant kitchen.”

He laughed that deep chesty laugh I liked so much. “Crazy. Alright, if you want.”

“Mkay.” I sniffed, smoothing down the hair on his chest. “Question you have to answer.”

“Ahhh, shit,” he said, throwing an arm over his head. ”I should have never offered that. Okay, what.”

“Well…what’s going on with your career? I mean, are you trying to sign a label deal or going independent or are you done, or what? And don’t give me any of that vague shit.”

He struggled with what to say for a few seconds, hands flailing and stuttering. “Well. I mean. There’s not much I really can say—seriously—because there’s not much happening. I’m… talking to some labels. Uhm… I think the fans know that, though. We’ll see what happens.”

I glared at him. He blinked and stared back then rolled his eyes. “Really. I mean… okay, this is confidential, alright, but-- I have a meeting. In New York. With some people. Can’t tell you who, and it’s not a huge deal, I just want to try to push some things forward. That’s all I can say because that’s all that’s happening. I’m not trying to be vague, I’m not.”

I patted his chest softly. “Okay. Okay, I get you. Thank you for letting me drag that out of you. I won’t say anything to anyone.” I made a zipping motion across my lips. “Are you excited though?”

“No,” he said plainly. “Stressed out, kind of. It’s just a long process. They move slowly. And music is so… they’re just skittish, right now. So, it will probably be stressful.”

 “Aw. Well. I want it to go well, for you. Because I’m selfish,” I said with a light laugh. “But also because I really care about you and I want you to have everything you want and not have to fight so hard for it.”

He blew out a long, slow breath. “It’s the fight that makes it worth it. So, Malibu and the grocery store. That’s all you want to see tomorrow? You’re easy.”

“I’m not easy. Maybe a movie. I told you, I don’t care.”

“Then you asked me to drive you an hour out of town.”

“Oh, I can’t take the whining, Chasez. New question.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, grinning. “What?”

“You started this. You said anything.”

“What?”

“Your birth mom. You know her? Have met her? Have a relationship with her?”

He nodded. “I do. I know her. I don’t see her much but we talk. And, I can’t say we’re close but you know, she’s family, so…” He shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, I understand how you feel obligated to Regina and I guess if things were different I might, too. But yeah, she’s good. She’s a great woman, she had kids after me. I’ve met them. I know them.”

I recognized how hard it must have been to talk about her, and I wanted to tread lightly. My curiosity about his birth family was full to overflowing, and though I didn’t want to alienate him I had more questions.

“Are you close to them? You must look just like them.”

“Uhm,” he said, scratching an ear. “Not close, but I know them. I look like my mom. I guess. We all kind of look alike, yeah. And I sound like her.”

“Can she sing?”

Again, he nodded, his eyes downcast. “I get my voice from her. I’ve sang with her, a couple times. It was… it was pretty cool. I enjoyed it.”

My head sank back down to his chest in awe. “Wow. I can’t even imagine.”

“Mmhmm.”  

“So, I mean. What’s her reaction to… you know... everything you’re doing?”

“She uhm, you know, like any parent she’s proud. We talk, here and there, about things. I don’t share too much, like I share with my mom and dad. My… step brothers and sisters, they’re nosy as shit.” He laughed, but it was short and bitter.  They ask about everything, anything. All the time.”

I grinned and laughed into his chest. “Truth? I’d probably be the same way if I found out I had a famous sibling.”

“Maybe. I doubt it, though. You’ve handled knowing me pretty well.” He cupped my chin and pulled me toward him. I pressed my lips to his in a soft kiss, then pulled back. ‘Baby steps,’ I told myself. ‘Let him rest.’

“I won’t ask any more questions tonight. Thank you.”

“I really don’t mind, Serena. I want you to know anything you’re wondering about. Ask away.”

I shook my head, kissed him lightly. “I’m done. Thank you. You’re sweet to answer them.”

“You know what?” His eyes brightened and a slow smile started to spread across his lips.

My eyes narrowed and I gave him a sideways glance. “Uhm. You look like you’re cooking something up. What?”

“It’s later,” he said with a wink. “I’m gonna get us some water. When I get back, it’s on.”

“You’re bossy,” I said, rolling off of him and sitting up, combing my hair back with my fingers. He’d made it more tangled by playing with it.

“You’re sexy,” he answered with a low growl, scrunching his nose, then dropping a kiss on my lips and rolling off of the bed. “Be right back. Don’t move.”

I awoke early, still on east coast time, almost forgetting where I was until I felt the gentle rise of JC’s chest against my back and an arm thrown heavily over me. Slowly, I separated myself from him, dug my toiletry bag out of my suitcase and headed for the bathroom. I rummaged around his master bath until I found the closet with towels in it, turned on the faucet in the spacious shower and stepped under the spray.

The previous day, and our conversation the night before, rolled through my mind. I felt close to him—close enough to consider him someone I could tell my secrets to. I hoped I was working my way toward being someone he felt like he could share things with. I hadn’t breathed a word of anything we’d talked about to anyone—not Melissa or Jen, or my parents, who knew I met someone in LA but didn’t really know the extent. I supposed they would find out, if they needed to, eventually. I was really still trying to figure it out myself.

The night before, after collapsing against each other again, we laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, talking until we fell asleep. Easily, randomly. Those were the times I liked him the most. Sex was certainly a highlight and a great benefit but after, when he was relaxed and calm and open, sometimes he said things to me that made my heart hurt with want for him. Sometimes a selfish want, as in I wanted him, forever. Sometimes a not-so-selfish want, as in I wanted him to have his heart’s desire, everything he ever dreamed of having but didn’t have and was slowly plotting to accomplish. I guessed, at least I told myself, that this must be what falling in love felt like. Not so much a falling, but a growing, a sinking, gentle and soft lowering into something warm and comforting.

Of course, the demons circled. The thoughts that asked me why I thought I was special. Why would he choose me to be with, and he had to have a reason, and maybe the reason was because I was willing. I was a rock star’s dream come true—quiet, not demanding, and willing to give him what he wanted, whenever he asked. I knew enough to not give in to them. Time would either prove them right or prove them wrong.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself and another around my hair,  plugged in my various hair tools to warm up and opened the door to walk out of the steamy room--- into a chest of hair.

I jumped in surprise and hopped backward. He blinked against the bright light of the bathroom. “Oh! Hey! Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

“Nope, have to pee,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep as he walked past me. I heard the toilet flush, and the water run as his washed his hands and brushed his teeth.

I unwrapped my towel and sat on the side of the bed, a bottle of lotion in my hands when he stepped out and laid across the bed, pulling the sheet back around him. He watched me apply lotion to every inch of skin from my feet up.

“You’re all showered and smelling pretty. How do you know I didn’t want to have sex again this morning?”

I snickered and glanced back at him. “California doesn’t have a water shortage. There is such a thing as taking another shower. You game?”

An eyebrow lifted and I watched his eyes travel down and back up my body. He shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. We’ll build up to later.”

“Never say I didn’t offer.” I went back to smoothing the heavy cream lotion into my skin as he watched, then removed the towel from my hair, running my fingers through it, detangling as I went.

“I like your curly hair. I don’t remember if I said so, last night.”

I glanced back at him. “Would you tell me, if you didn’t?”

“I just wouldn’t say anything, if I didn’t. If I mention it, I pretty much like it.”

“Well thank you. I kind of thought you wouldn’t. I’ve been challenging myself to let go of certain things, like trying to be the exact opposite of Regina.”

He nodded, his head leaning on a loosely closed fist. “What do your parents think of all of this? Regina, and the therapy and you taking care of her. I mean, do they know you resent her and having to watch over her?”

I nodded, over my shoulder. “Yeah. We’re wide open. They know everything. And you’re not the first person to tell me I needed therapy. They’ve been harping on it for years.”

“I’m just the first complete stranger to tell you that you need therapy.”

“Exactly,” I said, standing up, picking up my suitcase, sliding it onto the bed and zipping it open. I picked out a modest pair of underwear and held them up. He shook his head. I rolled my eyes and pulled out another pair. He chuckled, tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, crawled over to the suitcase and picked out a frilly pink lacy pair and handed them to me.

“You scare me,” I said, tossing them to the center of the bed.

“I’m a man”, he said, with a smile, a hand spread across his chest. “I enjoy the female form and all its pleasures. If you ask me what I think about lingerie I am going to tell you. Otherwise,” he flipped his hand at me. ”Wear what you want.” He crawled back to his warm spot and laid back against the pillows, smiling as he watched me pull on the dainty, thin pieces of fabric. “I love your body. Have I told you that?”

“Once or twice,” I said winking at him and bending over the suitcase.

“Pick out something sexy now,” he said, teasing, an arm under his head, a silly grin on his lips.

I gave him a look as I dug through the piles of clothing. I always over packed—I liked to have options. “I always look sexy, Chasez. Always.”

“Damn right. I like that,” he said, pointing to the sheer pink blouse I pulled out.

“Good, because this is what I’m wearing.” I tossed it to the center of the bed, picked out a pair of comfortable shoes, jeans, and a few other items I would need and zipped the suitcase closed.  I padded into the bathroom, blew my hair dry, put on a little makeup and came back out, expecting him to be up and moving around. He was still lying in the bed, the room quiet.

“Are you getting up? I’m hungry.”

He groaned, and pulled the sheet further, up over his shoulder. “Of course you are. There’s pop tarts in the kitchen.”

My breathing was stuttered as I yanked my jeans up and over my hips, zipping them closed. “Get your ass up and take me to breakfast.”

“No.”

My eyes narrowed, I glared at the lump in the bed. “Did you just say no to me?”

“Yes.” He snuggled deeper under the sheet, eyes closed, long lashes laying against his skin.

“I’m going to eat every pop tart you have down there.”

“’Kay,” he yawned. “We’ll get more at the store.” He scratched at his face and burrowed deeper under the sheet.

“JC, get up!” I reached for the sheet and yanked it down. He moaned and stretched, pouting, his eyes blinking open, then laid there. “Do I get some if I take you to breakfast?”

I buttoned my blouse and smoothed it against my body. He watched me, his eyes following my hands as I adjusted the deep v-neck so my bra didn’t show. I chuckled at his question. “I don’t use sex as a reward. You’ll get some anyway. Come on. Please get up.”

“You said please, so. I guess. Gotta shower. Give me a few.” He rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on and a loud yawn. Before he could close the door, I barged in and swept my collection of brushes and makeup tools off of the counter. He stood, holding the door, watching me. He looked amused.

I lifted my face to him as I passed him on my way out. He leaned to press his lips against mine, then swatted at me. “Get out, woman.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” I called as he closed the door.

To my surprise, Tyler was home, awake and seated at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and poring over a textbook. I noticed that it was a study guide for the Bar Exam and I smiled, giving his shoulder a pat as I walked by. I stood in front of the coffeemaker, wondering if I could figure out how to work the thing. It was a big shiny silver contraption that, I guessed, was a grinder and also an espresso maker.

Tyler got up, chewing a mouthful of cereal, and pulled out the tray where the grounds should go, then opened a cabinet and set out a bag of beans. He measured them, poured them into the grinder, grabbed my hand and set it on top, flipping the switch. He swallowed, then said, “They fly everywhere, if you don’t hold it down.”

Once the beans were ground, he handed me the small cup and I poured them into the tray he’d opened, then closed it. “It gets the water from the water line, so you don’t have to fill it. Just flip that,” he said, pointing to a switch. I did, and a light came on and steam started to rise from the vents in the back. “About six minutes, you’ll have yourself a cup of coffee.”  He nodded once, and then went back to the textbook and the cereal where he sat at the breakfast nook.

“Thank you, Tyler.” I sucked in the scent of delicious aroma and my mouth watered. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning. Did you not drink enough to still be passed out?”

“Guess not. I felt like a wimp but I was pretty much sober at closing time. I slept over at my buddy’s but he had to work at 8 so I got up when he did. I figured the coast would be clear.” He looked up at me and winked. I blushed and turned around, watching the glass carafe fill with rich, dark brown coffee.

“Josh up? Where’s my breakfast?”

“He is up, and you’re eating it. But I’ll make dinner if you plan on hanging around tonight.”

“I’ll be here for a little bit, probably. Can you make him unload the dishwasher? You gotta see him do it.” He pointed at the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator, where I found the mugs.  I snorted, reaching for one and filling it. “That’s an idea. A good one.”   

“I sensed myself being picked on,” said a voice from around the corner, and then all of a sudden Tyler was in a headlock.  

“Ow! Serena started it. Let go, man. I just ate.” JC released him and punched him in the arm. “Where you guys taking me for breakfast?”

“Nowhere. I’m taking Serena to breakfast and then to Malibu. She wants to see the pretty people. Pour me a cup of that,” he said nodding toward my mug of coffee. He sat in the seat next to Tyler, landing heavily, unfolding the paper that laid untouched on the table.

I poured him a mug and set it next to him, his head buried in the paper. I leaned against the counter, enjoying my own mug, listening to the brothers talk and argue. They reminded me of my brothers, who fought a lot growing up but were now the best of friends. Their sons were close in age so their families often intertwined, vacationing and entertaining together. Once a year, the entire family gathered at my grandparent’s home in Colorado. That trip was coming up quickly and I was excited.

JC tipped his mug back, sucking down the last drop of coffee and then folded the paper, swatting at Tyler with it.

He looked up at me, waiting patiently, still leaning against the counter. “You ready to go?”

I nodded, standing up. “Yes. Bye, Tyler.” I ruffled his hair on the way out.

“Bring me back a present!”

I found the perfect present for Tyler in a Malibu gift shop, a bobble head with blonde hair, a hat and dimples. It looked so much like him it was creepy. I tucked it away in my purse and I couldn’t wait to give it to him.

Malibu was gorgeous and full of very pretty people. JC and I stood at the beach on Topanga Canyon, watching the waves crash, feeling the cool breeze off of the spray of the water. If it were warmer, according JC, we would be watching lithe bodies fall off of and continuously climb back onto surfboards and ride the incoming tide.  I made a note to come back to that spot when it was warmer so I could watch.

I love houses, and happened to mention it, so we went on a tour through a few neighborhoods of very nice, very new homes. I wasn’t even listening as he crawled past home after beautiful home while I dreamt of beach front property. The day was pleasant, nice weather, not hot but not very cold. The top was down and JC was in a silly mood. He’d kept me laughing all day with story after story and odd observations. I liked walking around with him, standing with him, listening to him, getting an insight on how his mind worked and what he thought about the world around him.  

It was late in the afternoon when he pulled into the parking lot at Ralph’s. We wandered the store while I tried to remember everything I wanted to buy.  

“I don’t understand how you can be as old as you are and you can’t cook. Tyler can’t either? “

“I could probably follow directions. I just don’t want to. And I don’t know what stuff is supposed to look like when it’s done so… I just don’t try. He shrugged and looked over at me as I stared up at him, in the middle of the canned soup aisle. “It’s not like we’ll starve. I can make, you know, Easy Mac. And pancakes.”

“Pancakes,” I said, shaking my head and walking on. “Well. You could survive off pancakes if you had to. You know, in a pinch.”

“Right, that’s what I think.”

“So… but you have food in your fridge. Do people just bring you food? Or just bust in and cook something?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, flashing a cocky grin at me. “Tyler’s friends who realize we can’t cook and wouldn’t if we could. And Autumn. She uhm… does my laundry and stuff.” He laughed, embarrassed. “But really, it helps because sometimes I just don’t have time to do stuff like wash my clothes. And other times I have plenty of free time but… I’m just so used to someone else doing it.”

“So, what you’re saying is… you’re spoiled.”

He tipped his head down toward me, his eyes darting around, then finally settling on mine. “Yeah.”

“Just so I know. Grab one of those for me?” I pointed at an onion.

He picked one up, tossed it into a plastic bag and set it into the cart among the other things I had picked up. “I’m serious though. You really don’t have to cook.”

“I know. I don’t mind. I like it. It relaxes me.” I rubbed his back as took over pushing the cart for me.

We slowly made our way up and down the grocery aisles. I picked up miscellaneous items and set them in the basket. “So. Your meeting. In New York?”  

“Yeah. I’ll probably fly up one day and out the next. I hope, anyway.”

“Do you want me to come up? Just to be with you?”

He stopped pushing and grinned. “Look at you, trying to get a trip to New York out of me.”

I blushed, a deep crimson red and my cheeks were on fire. Not exactly what I meant. “I’m not. JC, I swear, I will pay for myself if you want me to. If it would help to have a friendly face there, I’ll come up. I know it’s not a vacation. I just want to support you.” I looked up at him, chewing his bottom lip, lost in thought, staring into the cart.

I wrapped both hands around a muscular arm. “It’s okay if the answer is no. I just was offering.”

My touch brought him out of his trance and he glanced at me, his blue eyes blinking. “I know. I appreciate it. Let me think about it, okay? I’m not sure it would be worth it for you to come up.”

“Okay,” I said, rubbing his arm. ”I think I’m ready to check out.”

He looked down into the full cart and laughed. “Uhm. What is all this?”

“Dinner. Breakfast. You guys need food to eat. Ready?”

 ##

“Tyler, I found something for you.”

Dinner was over, the kitchen was clean and we lounged in the living room, deciding what we would do with our evening. JC picked up a call and moved to a room downstairs to take it. Tyler lay on the couch, rubbing his full stomach, laughing at the random comedy program he was watching. His dimples reminded me of the toy I picked up for him in Malibu.

“If it’s not a million dollars, I don’t want it.”

“How about a bobble head that looks freakishly like you?” I pulled the toy out of my purse and handed it to him. He sat up and took it, moving it so the head wiggled and shook. He looked at me, with one brow raised.

“This is freaky. I’m totally creeped out by it. But I love it, because it’s from you. Thanks!”  JC came back just in time to see Tyler drop a sweet kiss on my cheek.

“Hey.” JC punched him lightly on the arm. ”How come every time I leave the room you’re flirting with my girlfriend?”  

Tyler shrugged, his shoulders meeting his ears. “I can’t help it. Quit leaving me alone with her.”

“Aren’t you leaving?”

He yawned and stretched, turning around to check the clock on the wall. “Yeah, I’m gonna head out. You guys have a good night. Thanks for dinner, Serena. And for the really creepy bobble head. I love it.” Tyler made his way down the stairs and out the door.

JC took the spot Tyler vacated and I sat next to him. He raised an arm and let me snuggle up against him, dropping it around my shoulders.

“Girlfriend?” I glanced up at him, just barely smiling. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it but… girlfriend. Without asking, he’d slapped a label on my back.

He looked down at me, shrugged a shoulder, and dropped a feather-light kiss on my lips. “Are you okay with that?”

“I’m alright. You could have asked me, though.”  

“I didn’t figure you would say no. Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

“Didn’t say that,” I said, moving over him to straddle him. Intertwining my fingers in his, I leaned down to kiss him, my tongue lazily exploring his mouth. I let go of his hands and let him wrap his arms around me. Mine found their way into his hair and I ran my fingers through it, tugging lightly. He moaned into my mouth and his hands roamed my body.

“Mmmmm,” his voice rumbled, the sound coming from deep in his throat. “If calling you my girlfriend gets me this kind of treatment I’ll be happy to do it more often.”

I giggled. “I think I’m just… surprised.”

“Why? And you like sitting on me, don’t you?”

“Very much,” I said, moving my hips against him. “I guess I figured it would be awhile before we decided to go there. I’m not… I mean I’m happy. I’m gonna shut up.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. His responded, his hands roaming up and down my waist. I broke the kiss and rested my arms around his shoulders, pressing my cheek to his. It was something I wanted. I was not going to complain. I just wished I’d had the chance to say ‘yes’ when he asked.

I felt his arms around me, rubbing my back. “Talk to me. You still think I’m playing with you, don’t you?”

I pulled back so I could see him, look him in the eye. No matter what thoughts and doubts came to me, I didn’t think that. “I don’t. I just… I thought we were just hanging out. I would have been cool with that.”

“Mmhmm.” He looked like he didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him. I was clearly falling for him, and I wasn’t even trying to keep it from him.

I laughed, caught. “It’s just. It’s fast. Don’t you think?”

He gave me that look that said ‘whatever’. “If we were 22, yeah. I don’t need to wait forever to know if I like a girl or not, or if I want to date her or not, or if I want her to be someone I’m spending a lot of time with.”

“True,” I said, nodding. “I’m happy. I’m not complaining. I also don’t want to screw it up by rushing it. Or accept it and lose it because you change your mind about what you want. I wasn’t expecting to label it. That’s all.”

“I’m not changing my mind. Look, here’s the thing.” He swallowed, pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and opened it again. “I… I’m selfish. Okay? I’ll admit that. All I can think about is that I don’t want to lose you to someone who can be there on Friday night to go to a movie with you, or wake up with you on Saturday morning, or who doesn’t have to plan three weeks in advance to have two days with you, or who can come over on Sunday morning for coffee and croissants and bad movies on cable.” His hands moved to my face, cupping my cheeks, bringing me closer to him.

“I liked you the minute I met you, Serena. I know you know that. So, that means I can’t be the only man interested in you. I can’t leave that to chance. I want to be that guy, no matter where I live. Or you live.”

I laid my hands over his. “I want you to be that guy, too. Just know that it’s not a competition. No one was going to snatch me up, if you didn’t, first.”

He closed his eyes, a shy smile on his lips, then opened them again. “In my mind, I know that. Sometimes I have these thoughts, though. And I can’t turn them off. You know?”

“I have those, too. I call them my demons. I’ve had them since I was little.”

“Me too. They used to tell me things about my mom. Like, she didn’t want me. Or like… you know that Tyler and Heather didn’t like me or I wasn’t their real brother. And now they tell me things like I’m a failure and everyone I love leaves me…”

I nodded, slowly. “Mine tell me things like I’m one step away from being Regina. That I won’t ever find someone that accepts me for who I really am. And that I have no business messing with you because I’m not good enough or glamorous enough or Hollywood enough for you.”

“I bet they’re irritated right now.” He wiggled his brows and burst into quiet laughter.  

“I bet they are.” I laughed with him, sliding my hands down his arm and around his shoulders. “I hope they’ll go away, now.”

He breathed deeply, his chest expanding. “They’ll just bug us about something different. Whatever I’m unsure of or insecure about—there they are.”

There was that want, again. For him. “Like?”

“Like.” He breathed in, and out, leaned his forehead on mine. “Like, if I’ll ever have the kind of career I want to have.” His voice was so soft I barely heard him over the TV. I reached for the remote and muted the sound, the room falling silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Do the fans know I want it? That I’m fighting to get it back?”

“The fans don’t know what you want, sweetheart,” I said, softly. “You say one thing and do another. You say you love music and love performing, but you haven’t been on a stage in years. And that was for ONE song. There are artists who don’t have a fourth of your talent who do shows all the time. We don’t ever get to see you.”

“It’s not like I can. My hands are so tied in so many ways, no one would even understand--” Frustrated, he turned his head and stared at the wall of electronics, blankly watching the images flip on the large flat screen, chewing on his bottom lip. “Fuck.”

“You asked me, JC. And I’m not the fan spokesperson. Why not ask me what I think?”

His eyes found mine, deep pools of blue searching my face. “Because it’s not fair to ask you. Because you know more than the average fan does and what you know taints what you think. And because you’ll be nice. I don’t need nice. I need truth.”

“Have I lied to you, yet?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Don’t let me find out though.” He winked. Very quickly, but it was a wink. I took the hint that he was done talking.

“So what are we doing? You wanted to see a movie?”

“Yeah, there’s a film out, I’ve wanted to see. Get off me.” He smacked my thigh, loudly.

I didn’t move, instead I pressed myself against him, wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a sweet smile. “I think I’ll like being your girlfriend. But you better quit smacking me around.”

 “Or what?” he said with a toss of his head. “Really. I have to pee.”

I leaned in for one last kiss and moved to the side so he could stand up. I watched him walk away, down the hall and duck into the bathroom. I fell back against the couch, watching the muted TV, thinking.  Breathing a long sigh of relief. If this didn’t work, at least for a good, long while, I was in trouble. 

We never really made it to the movie—we got as far as the car, in the garage, looked at each other, and decided we wanted to enjoy having the house to ourselves. So we did.

“You have…” JC panted, “A ridiculously high sex drive. Ouch!” JC rolled over and stretched out in the giant King sized bed.

“I know you’re not complaining. I’m just making up for lost time. And stockpiling some for a few weeks.”

His head rolled so he could see me, one eye open. “How much time are we making up for? Can I get a rundown? I need to start working out.”

I laughed and inched over to him. “No! Nope. You stay there. When you get near me, I get going and I can’t…. I... I need a minute.” He tucked both hands behind his head and closed his eyes while his rapid breathing slowed to normal.

I rolled to my side, leaned on an arm and watched him. “Did you know the more you have sex the more you want sex? It’s a scientific fact.”

He groaned at me and moved further away. “That can’t be true. I won’t be in the clear until we haven’t had sex for like…six months.”

“Let’s not do that.” I scooted over to him on his side of the bed. “You do not listen well. I told you to stay over there.”

“I won’t do anything. I’ll just lay here. Okay?” I laid down next to him and didn’t move.

After a few minutes, he extended his arm in invitation for me to come closer. I accepted, snuggling up next to him. My eyes slid closed, my body exhausted from exertion.

“Serena.” JC tapped my shoulder. “You awake?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I mumbled against his chest.

“So, I was thinking. About New York.”

I lifted my head. “What say you?”

“I say,” he hesitated, tucking hair behind my ear. “Sorry, honey. I think it’s a bad idea. I won’t be in a mood to have to you there and it will probably be stressful. And I’m really hoping to be in and out. It won’t be fun for you.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. “I was just offering.”

“I know. You’re sweet to offer. And we’ll go, later in the year. It’ll be fun. I have a plan, though.” My head dropped to his chest and I laughed. He always had a plan.

“Okay. Tell me your plan. It’s a terrible idea, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said. “I was thinking I would come out to see you. On my way home from Miami. Does that idea suck?”

I lifted my head, a smile growing into a wide, surprised grin. “That idea does not suck, Chasez. It does not suck at all.”

“You have to call me something besides Chasez.”

“I call you JC sometimes.”

“That’s my stage name.”

“I’m not calling you ‘C’. That’s even worse than JC.”

He huffed, mocking frustration. “Alright, alright. So. Now we have plans to see each other before you even leave town. Look at that.”

I dropped a kiss on his chest. “I like that.”

“I knew you would. I still need to meet Melissa.”

“She is dying to meet you. Like, out of her mind. She can’t wait.” I laid my head back down on his chest, listening to his heart beat. His breathing slowed, his breaths deeper, and even.  I was not asleep, but was getting there.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question hung in the air as I laid there, blinking. I had no idea he was still awake. I lifted my head and moved so I was laying next to him, on my side. He turned to his side to face me and laid an arm over my waist.

“Really, truly in love? I don’t think so. Have you?”

He nodded, his face brushing against the pillow, making a swishing sound. “I liked it. Loved it. It was scary, but I loved it. Then… it kind of fell apart. And now…”

I reached across the pillow and cupped his face, scratched the back of his neck. “Now are you scared to let yourself go there, again?” He nodded, again.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, with you. I don’t want to hurt you. So badly, I don’t want to hurt you. I want a lot with you. I think we could have a lot together.”

“Did you think that calling me your girlfriend would push us closer to that?”

“I should have asked you, instead of assuming you would just say yes. Because, you know, how could you say no?” He chuckled, bitterly.

“I wouldn’t have. But I would have appreciated you asking.”

“I could ask right now.”

I giggled, softly. “If it would make you feel better, go ahead.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Hmmmm,” I mused, teasing him, scooting closer, tucking an arm under his. “Do I want to only date you, who lives on a completely different coast, in a different time zone, in a whole different world than I do? Do I want to possibly have my private life on the front page of some blog while people tear me apart on the internet? Do I? Really?”

His laugh vibrated up from his belly and through him to me. “Sounds like a killer deal, honey. So what do you say?”

“Yes. In spite of all of that, yes. Let’s just not… you know, rush through a lot of steps. I want to enjoy this.”

His arm around my waist tightened and he leaned into me, pushing me back against the pillows. “I don’t rush through anything,” he said, covering my mouth with his, gently, softly playing with my lips and my tongue. My nails scratched his scalp and I sighed into his mouth.

He pulled back, pushing hair off of my forehead. “Thank you, for saying yes. I’m sorry for assuming you would. You okay?”

I nodded. “I… have to ask you something. It’s about something you said in an interview and I’m sorry to bring an interview into what’s going on here, but…”

“What is it?”

I debated in my mind, quickly, if I should even bring it up, but it was sitting so heavily there. “Okay. You said, once, that you cheated on a girlfriend, out on the road. Actually, you said you made some mistakes, which… whatever, we don’t accidentally fall into people’s beds—“

“No, no. Wait. I didn’t say it was an accident. I said it was a mistake. I made the wrong choice. And I owned up to that, on the air.”

“Yes, and it was very big of you. I’m just asking. What’s changed? Why should I trust you won’t make the same mistake?”

“Because I’m not the same person, Serena. I don’t have the same raging hormones and I’m not cooped up in a bus with three other guys working 20 hours a day, not being able to even see a girl unless she was screaming or crying or shoving a piece of paper in my face and making demands. I haven’t—I’m not expecting a parade or anything but I haven’t cheated on a girl in a long time. And when it happened to me, I…” His voice trailed off and he wagged his head. “I don’t think I could do that to someone else. You don’t have to believe me. We’ll just wait and see but I hope you’ll trust me. I trust you.”

“I trust you, I do. I don’t want to regret trusting you, though.”

He moved down in the bed, laying his head on my shoulder. I laid an arm over his back, curling my hand around his side, the other hand cradling his head, my fingers playing in his hair. He rolled his head slightly, kissed the skin that was under his cheek and whispered, so lightly I could barely hear him. “You won’t.”

A breeze blew through the room, snaking up my bare back and stirring my hair. I stretched, and instead of feeling warm skin and a thick head of hair I felt cool sheets and an empty pillow. I sat up, confused. And cold. I glanced around, realizing JC was out on the patio with the doors open, an early morning wind blowing through the room. The curtains, sheer and light, flapped around the sides of either door. JC stood out near the railing, in sweat pants and a t-shirt, leaning on to the railing, on the phone.

I crawled out of bed, wrapped myself in a blanket from the bed and stepped outside, grimacing against the cold stone of the patio. The wind whipped his hair around, making it stand up in the back. He ended his call and straightened, starting a luxurious stretch. I reached up and smoothed the hair at the back of his head. My touch startled him and he whirled around, a look of relief on his face when he found it was me.

“You scared me.” He bent to kiss my lips once, twice, three times. Something I could get used to. “Good morning. Why are you wearing a blanket?”

“I’m cold,” I said, shivering. “You have the doors open. You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep, and I got a phone call.” He turned me around and pushed me toward the doors. “Come on, it’s chilly out here. And you don’t have any shoes on.”

I stumbled back indoors, wrapped in the blanket. He closed the doors behind us and latched them shut. “It’s cold today! I can’t believe it.”

“It gets cold here. People don’t think it does, but it does.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come here, let me warm you up. Take that off.”

I sat next to him, leaning up against him. “Warm me up, first. Then I’ll take it off.”

“I could warm you up by taking it off.”

“I knew you would offer that. I’m actually tired. Later, though?” I tipped my face up to his and he dipped his head to brush his lips against mine.

“It’ll have to be much later. I have a session today.”

I sighed. “Such is the life of a record producer. Working on Sundays and everything. When do you have to leave?”

“Not for awhile. I have time for breakfast,” he said with a wink.

“Hint. Hint.” I stood and removed the blanket from around me, stretching.

“Oh, but if you’re gonna tease me—“ He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me toward him, laying back on the bed so I fell on him. He bit at whatever skin he could get his teeth on, while I giggled hysterically. He rolled me over, grabbed my face and planted a hard kiss on my lips. “Get up, put some clothes on. I want to show you something.”

“What, the kitchen? I’ve seen it.”

“No, smartass. Get up, come on. Come downstairs.”

I threw on a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt and hopped down the stairs, looking for him. The scent of coffee, a fragrant blend, wafted through the air. I found him in the living room, leather bound book in his lap, sipping on coffee, his eyes glued to the flat screen TV, watching a cable news show.

“What’s up?” I sat next to him, a leg curled under me. He set his coffee down on a coaster and picked up the book in his lap. It was a photo album.

“I wanted to show you some stuff.”

He flipped through the book slowly, giving background behind each photo. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, his parents when they were younger, childhood photos of him, Tyler, and Heather were all painstakingly fastened in the book and well taken care of. Some photos, like the now famous one of him with a bright smile despite missing teeth and sparkling blue eyes, I had seen time and time again but still made me swoon. I had seen a few forbidden pictures of Heather but none of her with her brothers. She and Tyler looked exactly like and with JC between them and towering over them, his hair and features dark, their hair and features light, it was obvious that he didn’t match the rest of them. From experience, I knew that matching had nothing to do with the love of a sibling-- my brothers had blonde and light brown hair and brown eyes but meant the world to me and they would defend me to the ends of the earth if they had to.

He flipped a page slowly, and a woman that looked like a young, female version of JC was on the following page. He had to know that a few photos of what people suspected was his birth mother had surfaced, so I’d seen her before but never that close.

“I saw pictures of Regina so I figured it was only fair that you saw pictures of my mom.”

“Yeah. Uhm. I’ve seen a couple of very small photos of you with her. From… a long time ago, I guess. But this is recent.” I couldn’t help but stare at her and note all the ways JC looked like her. It had to be like staring into a mirror—much like looking at Regina, and photos of her, was like seeing myself.

“Do you call her ‘mom’?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t want me to. I have a mom. She knows my mom, so. No.”

I nodded, flipping the pages through photos of her with her other children, and JC with them through the years. They did all look alike, but the sibling connection was missing. The loving arms around each other and knowing smiles and close hugs. He looked uncomfortable and stiff in some of them.

“Does Regina want you to call her ‘mom’?”

“When she’s drunk, that’s all she talks about. How I don’t call her mom and she’s not my mother and I’m not her daughter and…” I sighed. “I’m glad your situation turned out better.”

“Me too. But you got lucky, like I did, ending up with a great family that loved you and raised you. And you turned out okay. I think.”

“I think, too.” I closed the book and slid it over to his lap. “Thank you for sharing that. It means a lot to me that you did.”

“It’s right here, if you ever want to look at it again,” he said, sliding it between other books in the bookcase and came back to the couch. “Do you want to go to my session with me? See me work?”

I wanted to say yes, screamed to say yes at the opportunity to sit in a studio with him. “Oh. Well. I don’t want to be a distraction. I mean, I’d love to, but—“

“But nothing. You can come. I don’t mind. This kid is an unknown and I’m just a guy that writes songs. No big deal. You wanna? You can be my lovely assistant.”

I grinned, knowing my smile was annoyingly wide. I didn’t care. “I wanna.”

“Good. I think you’ll like it. But we have to leave in a bit. You making breakfast, or what?”

“Oh! I forgot, I was going to.” I pushed myself off of the couch and felt an appreciative pat on the back of my thigh as I walked past.  

###

“Okay, so take verse two again, from the top and try that breathing thing I told you.” JC watched for signs that the tall, lanky young man with the big voice was ready. When he gave the signal, JC pressed a button and sat back, watching and listening, then sitting forward, making a note, an adjustment, nodding his head to the beat while a beautiful, melodious voice poured out of the speakers.

I curled up in the corner of the couch, trying hard to be invisible, not to move, not to speak, in awe of him at work. He had such an ear for the tiniest change in a line, a crackle in a voice, anything that was off. He was encouraging but pushed hard for a performance the artist would be happy with.

“Okay, come on out. We can work on the next part,” he said. He turned to check a setting and his eye caught me in the corner. He winked at me and then turned back to work with his artist, going over the bridge of the song and working out how it would end. The song was a last minute addition to a debut album that would be out in a few months. I was curious to hear what the finished product would sound like.

Watching JC work was like watching a painter paint, a sculptor sculpt. He took this timid, too thin, insecure young man in his hands and worked him into a forceful, confident crooner belting out notes left and right. I crouched in my corner and hid my grin, listening to the final playback. The kid turned around to look at me, a wide, proud grin on his face. “This guy’s amazing, huh?” I smiled and nodded, agreeing with him. “He sure is.”

JC zipped the Master CD away so it could be mixed, shook hands with the young man and walked him out of the studio. I felt free, then to stand up and look around the small room full of expensive electronics, flashing bulbs and computer screens.

“Don’t touch anything,” I heard behind me, and then arms around my waist. I leaned back against him, enjoying the feeling of him close to me, warm lips on my neck. For the first time I thought about leaving the next day and my heart sank. I could stand in that spot forever with him. I put all thoughts of leaving out of my mind. I could deal with it later. Or in the morning.

“I wasn’t going to touch anything. I’m keeping my hands to myself.”

“Good girl. But as my lovely assistant I need you to help me shut down. So, flip that switch right there. The red one.” I reached and flipped the switch he indicated and a few lights stopped blinking on the board. His chin on my shoulder, he pointed at buttons and switches and I turned them all off, until the board was dark and the screens were off and the only light was the dim overhead fluorescent lamp.

He turned me in his arms, then and brought me close, saying nothing but brushing his lips randomly against my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, swaying slightly. We both took deep breaths and let them out slowly, enjoying the silence of the small, closed in room.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, stepping back, gliding his hands along my jacket until he held both hands in his. He released one, wound his fingers between mine and led me out of the room into the bright hallway. “Hit that light right there, sweet girl.” I flipped the switch and the room behind us was dark. The door swung closed silently and we walked down the hall, back toward the car.

We stopped for dinner at a neighborhood diner, nondescript and quiet, but they recognized JC as a regular and sat us near the back, in a booth in a quiet corner.

“Hungry?” He smiled that gorgeous smile that made his eyes crinkle up in the corners.

“Of course I am,” I joked, browsing the menu. “I had fun, today. Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“No problem, glad you enjoyed it. It’s not always that easy. The newer artists are fun to work with. They kind of don’t know what they’re capable of, so…” He shrugged and unwrapped a straw, dipping it into his iced tea, sucking down a mouthful.

“He sounded great, I thought. I want to hear the final version, though. So you take it now and… do what?”

“Has to be mixed. The voice and the track.”

“And do you get to pick who mixes it?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time, if you’re a debut artist, the label will pick. So I need to check and see who I’m supposed to send the Master to.”

“The process is fascinating. So, does it change when it’s you behind the microphone?”

“Drastically,” he said, laughing, throwing up his hands. “I don’t like being controlled. Being told who I can work with and who I can’t. The label sends their ‘notes’ or whatever. If you’re a good little artist you obey.” He shook his head, took another swallow of tea. “I’m not a good little artist.”

“I heard you were a little pissy over Schizophrenic.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Heard that, did you?”

I blanched and closed my eyes. It had been such a nice day; I did not want to end the trip by having to apologize. “I’m sorry, JC, just… rewind. I’m sorry. Tell me about recording Schizophrenic.”

He stared for a few seconds, his eyes intensely focused on mine. Then a smile broke. “Scared ya, didn’t I?”’

I wilted against the seat, wishing I could laugh but I couldn’t, quite yet. “Don’t do that. That was assholish. You know I’m sensitive to that, I always think I’m going to say the wrong thing and make you mad. Don’t play with me, about that.”

He reached across the table, covered my hands in his, laughing harder. “I’m sorry,” he said, between giggles. “Okay, I’ll stop. I won’t do that again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He regained control and I started to smile. “Fucker.”

“Whatever. So, Schizophrenic.” He pinched his nose and sniffed, staring at the faux wood grain of the small table. “Looking back, I guess I was a little difficult, but… all I wanted to do was record an album. For fun. And I felt like they were sucking all of the fun out of it. I wanted to put it out because it was something I wanted to express, a part of me that people hadn’t heard before. I don’t know, what was the reaction to it?”

“Well,” I said, my expression pained. “You saw record sales. I know a lot of people who never knew it was out. And then those that got it and—I’m not going to lie—didn’t like it. I was one of them. It was a big, big step away from ‘Nsync and I wasn’t ready. No one was. It grew on me, though. It grew on a lot of people.”

“Kind of like a mole,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

“No. Not like a… you’re silly.” I tapped his hand and sat back as the waitress came to take our orders.

When she left I asked, “What about Kate?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands. “Kate was me being a good little artist and doing every fucking thing Jive said do. Just to get it out there. Everyone was like ‘JC you gotta play the game a little’. So I played the game a little.” He shrugged and held up his hands. “I got nothing out of it. Same as Schizophrenic. Absolutely no label support. I was done, way before I left. And I hated to leave, you know? My label was shitty, but I had one.”

“And now?”

He blew out a breath, flapping his lips and rolled his eyes. “Now? I just want to make tunes. I don’t care how. I don’t care with who. Label? No label? Whatever, man. Just let me record and release, however I need to get it done. You know?”

I nodded, eyeing him. Proud of him. Hoping for him.

###

I wheeled my suitcase to the steps and set it there, setting my laptop case next to it. It was just about time to go and while I really hated to, I was anxious to get home and try to push the Qwest deal along. I had to know if LA was going to become my second home, soon.

“You need me to drag that down for you?” Tyler stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at me, hands on his hips.

I smiled sweetly. “Please.” He trudged up all three flights, grabbed the luggage by its carry handle and swung the laptop over his shoulder, thumping back down the stairs.

I walked back to the bedroom where JC was slowly lacing up his shoes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take a cab?”

“I’m sure. I just don’t want you to go at all, is the thing.”

“Aww. We’ll see each other in a few weeks, though.”

“I know. That still involves you leaving.” I followed him down the stairs, gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder and walked out to the car where he was already sitting in the driver seat. “Did you get everything?”

“I don’t care,” I said, swinging the door shut, snapping my seatbelt into place. ”If I left something, bring it with you. Let’s go, I’ll miss my flight.”

He turned the key in the ignition, pressed the button for the door to slide open and turned to me, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. “You’re getting bossy.”

I leaned over and kissed him, then pulled back and winked. “Learning it from you, sweetheart.”

“Good girl,” he said, laughing, pulling out of the garage and down the street, toward the highway.  

Spending Christmas in Colorado was a tradition that had been in our family for as long as I could remember.  Every year, my brothers and I (and later, their wives and children) would pack up and head to my parents home just outside of Atlanta, stay the night, and get up early for the airport shuttle the next morning.  We landed in picturesque Vail hours later, bright sun reflecting off of a fresh dusting of snow, a world away from the urban metropolis.  

It was so much fun to see my nephews run around in the snow in their winter coats, little arms flapping, little voices screaming and laughing, cheeks red from the cold. They marveled at the snow, since we didn’t get snow in Atlanta, and made snow angels and footprints and snowmen.  I watched them and smiled to myself—someday I’d have little ones of my own, maybe, and I’d make sure they got to see snow and play in it and run around and have fun and be a kid and not have to worry about the strange woman that came around and called herself their mother, but wasn’t.

Dad’s parents passed when he was quite a bit younger. In fact, I never met them. We had always spent Christmas with Mom’s side of the family. They were, to say the least, conservative, but doted on their grandchildren and great grandchildren without restraint, showering hugs and kisses on us as soon as we crossed the threshold of the rustic cabin-like mountainside home. I always considered it a home away from home- in the summer, a golf course and sprawling shopping center were a short ride away; in the winter, the ski slope was an elegant backdrop to the view out of the windows that spanned the living room, dining room, and den.

Christmas was a noisy affair with three boys, my brothers, their wives, me, my parents and my grandparents. Add neighboring families and their children and I was relieved when the day was over and the turkey had been deboned and sliced and put away, the sides were tucked into containers for lunch the next day, after-dinner drinks and dessert had been consumed and everyone wearily ambled off to homes and to bed. The boys, spoiled and exhausted and wearing the pajamas the grandparents gave them for Christmas every year, fell into their bed without argument.  I whispered wishes of sweet dreams as I pulled the covers up to their chins, all lined up in a row, already slack with sleep.

I had my own personal tradition, and that was to sit with a mug of my grandmother’s decadent cocoa and a trashy, smutty novel on the couch in the den, in front of the fire, letting it die down to glowing embers and enjoying the quiet, the scene outside the window as pretty as a postcard.

I had a feeling that JC would call—well, it was Christmas, of course he would call—but I just had a feeling I would get a phone call, pretty late, and I waited up for it. JC was pretty predictable, and like clockwork the Blackberry vibrated against the ceramic mug as I held them both in my lap, deeply engrossed in a romantic story of unrequited love.

‘You awake?’  his text read. I quickly tapped out a message in return. ‘Yes. Are you calling?’

Seconds later, a call popped up, the phone vibrating in my hands. “Hey,” I answered, my voice hushed, even though the bedrooms were on different floors and no one was up. It just seemed to fit the mood.

“Hi, there. Merry Christmas.” I closed my eyes and sighed, inwardly. I had just seen him a short two weeks ago but the sound of his voice made me miss him like I hadn’t seen him in months.

“Merry Christmas to you. How was yours?”

He seemed to be shifting. I wasn’t sure if he was in bed or just somewhere comfortable. “It was pretty nice. Had a good time,” he said after a moment. “You get anything good?”

I snickered and rolled my eyes. “Yes. Money to buy what I want. After 30 years of buying me gifts, my family doesn’t know what to get me anymore. You?”

“Uhm. Yeah. Socks and underwear,” he said with a laugh. “And some music stuff. You know. Guitar picks and audio… stuff. And some games for the Wii. Couple books, from my sister. Stuff like that. Nerdy stuff.”

“Mmmhmmm,” I mused, staring out of the window at the enormous mountain in the distance.  “You know, I find nerds kind of sexy.”

“Do you?” I could almost hear the smile creep across his face.

“Uh huh. All that brain power. That genius. Genius is sexy.”

He made a funny sound and a quick ‘heh’ came over the line. “You’re… you’re mean.”

“What?” I scoffed.  “How am I mean?”

“I can’t… do anything about the things you’re talking about, is why. You’re just building up to when I get to Atlanta, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I admitted, unashamed. “So I’m screwed, and not literally, if you’re not really coming.” I giggled like a schoolgirl. “To Atlanta,” I added.

“Oh, I am most certainly coming. To Atlanta,” he said, his voice hushed. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You? Let’s talk about something else. You’re killing me here.”

I chuckled, blushing and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Mkay. So what are you doing the rest of the week?”

“Uhm. I am hanging with the family, you know. I don’t see them all that often, so. Hanging out. I’ve got some friends I want to see.” He yawned, lightly. “And some going out, to do. Which I’m sure you know about, since pictures always seem to show up.”

A mild irritant was popping up, as it did every so often.  “JC… don’t.”

There was silence on the line as he hesitated for a heartbeat. “Don’t what?”

“There is a reason I asked you what you were doing, instead of saying ‘I know you usually go out with your friends and you always go to this club and you always drink this beer because I see the pictures every year’.  You want to know what you do for New Year’s every single year, too?”

After a strained moment of silence, he said, “You’re right. You’re right, I’ll stop. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet as the tension dissipated, and then I felt silly for making such a big deal out of his comments. “Sorry. I’m still, you know… adjusting.”

“ ‘ts alright. Don’t apologize. Just letting me know what you need. I appreciate it. So you have plans with your family, the next few days?”

We talked a few minutes more about how we would fill the days until we could see each other, until he was yawning heavily and I was yawning in response. We ended the call on a flirty note, with promises to miss each other until we could be together again. I sighed, staring at the phone long after the call disconnected.

“That sounded pretty heavy,” I heard from behind me. I sat up and twisted around, startled. My mom stood, leaning up against the wall, hands in the pocket of her pink terrycloth robe—a gift from me. Her blonde hair, graying in streaks, fell across her face as she tilted her head, a sheepish grin on her face.  “I came down for some cocoa and heard you. I… didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

I stared at her, not sure how much she heard or how I would explain it or if I even really needed to. My parents weren’t the prying type and we had a great, open relationship because of it. She pushed off of the wall and walked into the softly lit room. “Want to talk? I’ll grab a mug of cocoa and join you.” 

No matter how old I got, I would always need my mom. I dreaded any thought that she would be more than a phone call or a short drive away. Just as when I was a little girl, we sat on the couch together, and I snuggled up against her, sipping hot cocoa and talking. She always had precious pearls of wisdom for me, if I wanted them. I survived many an overdramatic teenage tragedy with those pearls, and I liked to think I was a better woman because of them.

“So,” she said, an arm around my shoulder, her hand resting on top of my head. “This guy. Tell me about him.”

I shared the story, leaving out the parts she didn’t really need (or want, really) to know. She had no idea who he was, though she admitted she’d probably know him if she saw him.  She listened and nodded, chuckling at the story of me on the plane, remarking that I seemed calmer on this trip than the last, when I gripped my Dad’s arm and buried my face in his shoulder through the takeoff and the landing. I would never live down my fear of flying, ever.

I told her more, about him coming to Atlanta to see me, and then the more recent trip to LA and how he shared so much of himself and his past with me, more than I ever dreamed of knowing about him. And how I thought I might be falling hard for him, and how I was afraid of it but didn’t want to be. I couldn’t help falling anyway, despite my fear of what might happen and how it could possibly all be snatched away from me, as soon as he realized I was a person with a lot of issues to work out.

“Well, so… do you think this is something you can sustain, sweetheart? LA is pretty far, from Atlanta.”

I shrugged, not answering. I didn’t know what I knew or thought, anymore. I was following my heart, and the heart wants what it wants. There was something about him that drew me to him, compelled me to him. There was so much sincerity and intense passion and sheer… like. I LIKED him. Beyond anything sexual, we had great friendship, which made the sex that much better. I hadn’t ever had that before and I wanted to keep it as long as I could.

“Just be careful. I mean, I know you are, just…”  Her voice trailed off and she sighed, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I’m going back up. Are you staying up for awhile?”

She sat up, swinging her arm from around me. I sat up with her, sleepy and foggy. “No, I’ll follow you up. The boys will be up early tomorrow, I’m sure, making noise. I’d better sleep while they’re asleep.”

“They’ll want their annual ski with Aunt Serena. You’ll need your rest.”

The days between Christmas and the trip home just before New Year’s Eve were fun and packed with family events, yet they seemed to drag on and on. The clock ticked slowly, hour by hour until the days had passed and I was packing to go home. I had a party at Melissa’s to attend the next night, no real, concrete plans for New Year’s Day except cleaning and preparing my house for my guest. JC was flying from Miami to Atlanta the following day, and I didn’t even have to share him with Dallas, this trip.

I prepped until the very last minute, rushing out of the house and into the car, the engine whining as I peeled out of the garage and into the street, then the Interstate, then the airport exit. I pulled into the parking lot just as his flight was scheduled to land. I flipped the visor down, checking my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bright but my cheeks were flushed and my face was pink.  I willed myself to calm down, breathe, relax. I smoothed a palm down my hair, checked my lip gloss and stepped out of the car.

My eyes combed baggage claim for the carousel where his flight would unload. Hartsfield-Jackson was touted as one of the largest and busiest airports in the country. He would have to take the tram from the concourse to baggage claim so it could be as long as a half hour until he made it to that area. I paced, walking down the long aisle in front of doors sliding open and closed and then back again, until the LED screens lit up and an overhead announcement all but screamed that baggage from his flight was beginning to be unloaded at a carousel on the other end of the building.

I started walking, still 13 carousels away, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. ‘I’m here,’ his message read.  ‘I see you.’

My head popped up and I looked around, and ahead of me. I saw a hand wave and I fought the huge smile that wanted to plaster itself onto my face. Rushing toward the carousel, toward him, closer and closer still, I felt like my heart might beat out of my chest. Was it always going to feel like this? It hadn’t really been that long since I last saw him, but I couldn’t wait to see his face, in person.

And then, there he was. Long wool coat, black scarf with fringes, long sleeved white thermal shirt, faded black jeans and white sneakers, messy hair starting to curl up and more than a few days of growth on his chin and cheek—he was beautiful, to me. He was talking to someone and laughing, chattering animatedly, hands flying while he tried to describe something. As I came into his field of vision, he stopped midsentence. His eyes locked with mine and he smiled, wide and with his eyes and held out a hand to me, wiggling his fingers, beckoning me forward.

I was sure my cheeks were red and inflamed and my grin annoyingly wide, but I didn’t care. I stepped alongside him, under his arm, while he finished his conversation. They shook hands and the man he was talking to stepped aside to catch his suitcase coming around, and waved as he rolled his luggage out of the sliding door.

“Hey there,” he said, looking down at me, still smiling with his eyes, holding me close to him while the multi-colored piles of luggage made their way around.

“Hi,” I said shyly, glancing up at him and then back to the merry-go-round in front of us.

“What’s wrong?” He squeezed my shoulder, jiggling a little. “You shy, today?”

“A little,” I said, pushing away, grabbing his arm, sliding down his sleeve until I held his hand. His fingers wound around mine and we watched the luggage crawl past us until he saw his large black suitcase. He let go to step forward and lift it off the belt, extended the handle and nodded at me to lead the way. Out of the doors, across the street to the parking lot, and up the elevator to the parking garage, then down a few spots to where my freshly washed, waxed, and vacuumed car stood. Keys in hand, I pressed the button to pop the trunk and it slowly opened. He set his carryon case and luggage into the trunk and stepped back to push it closed.

“You alright?” He tilted his head, concern clouding his face. I nodded, and pressed the button to unlock the car doors. “Yep. Let’s go, babe.”

“You don’t seem alright,” he said, ducking into the car, swinging the door closed. “Talk to me. Wait,” he said, swatting my hand away from the ignition. “What’s wrong?”

I was a mess of hand flurries and blushing and giggling. “Nothing’s wrong, JC. I just… I want to get you home where I can hug you and kiss you. I’m in a hurry to do that, so can we go?”

“You can kiss me right now.” He leaned on the armrest between us, over to my seat and close to my face. “Really,” he said, his breath smelling of spearmint.

I closed the small amount of space between us and our lips met, softly. He hummed happy sounds as he moved in the seat and pressed his lips to mine, breathing in deeply through his nose. He turned his head and opened his mouth, his breath hot as his tongue teased my bottom lip. I opened my mouth and sighed into his, groaned as our tongues intertwined and rolled with one another. He cupped the side of my face and stroked my cheek with his thumb. A sharp shock of lightning streaked down my back and I pulled away.

“We have to go,” I said, breathless. 

“Yep, let’s go,” he said, snapping the seatbelt closed. Laughing, he reached for the volume control and turned the music up, probably expecting disco but shocked when Come to Me came blaring out of the speakers.

I laughed, pulling out of the spot and toward the cashier to pay for parking. “That’s a complete coincidence, I swear. It’s just connected to my iPod.”

“At least you have good taste,” he said, his gaze drifting to the view outside the window. It was sunny and clear, but cold, near freezing. The Interstate was packed with cars as I made my way across Atlanta, to my exit, my subdivision, my street, and cozy cul-de-sac. The garage door lifted slowly. I pulled in and the door closed behind me. I opened the door to the house, leaving it open for him to drag his luggage inside.

“You want to follow me up? I have something for you,” he said, huffing as he dragged the heavy suitcase in.

“You do? Oh.”

When we talked about Christmas presents, we decided not to get each other anything, just a card, which I’d sent out with the rest of my cards before I left for Christmas. I would feel like a heel if he had something nice for me and I didn’t have anything to give him in return. Apprehensive, I climbed up behind him as he stomped up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom, where he dropped his carryon case and laid his luggage down on the floor.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what he could possibly have for me, praying it wasn’t something big or expensive. He dug through piles of neatly folded clothes until his hand found a small plastic bag, which he tossed at me while he righted his piles again and zipped the case closed. I held it in my hand, feeling its contents through the plastic. There was a box inside.

“So,” he said, sitting heavily next to me, clasping his hands. Anticipating. He was cute. “Open it.”

I turned the bag over, dumping out a small white box with a flap. I slipped open the flap and turned the box over in my hand. Something heavy plopped out and landed in my lap. I picked it up and sucked in a breath.

In my hands I held a small, rectangular stone. I guessed it was Onyx, the prettiest, deepest blue I had ever seen. Woven through the stone were streaks and swirls of white. It looked like a flat marble, was cast in a setting of sterling silver and strung on a double chain of silver as well.

He was sheepish, holding up his hands in defense when I looked up at him in obvious protest of the gift we said we weren’t getting each other. “I know. I know we said no Christmas gifts. It’s not for Christmas. I saw it, last weekend, and I know your favorite color is blue, and you have a pendant sort of strung like that so I thought you would like it.”

“Look at you, knowing a lot about me,” I said, relenting, impressed. I couldn’t help but smile. He must have predicted my protest and had an argument ready. “I love it, it’s beautiful, and I do love blue. Thank you.” I leaned into him and gave him a loud, wet smooch. He seemed proud of himself as he picked up the box and the bag and tossed them near his luggage. 

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, holding the small stone in my hand. ”I just. I really don’t have anything for you, and I feel badly about that. I should have picked something up for you, I just didn’t know you would bring me something—“ He cut me off with a kiss, and then a finger to my lips when I tried to keep talking. 

“Let me be nice to you,” he chided, gently. “This doesn’t have to fair. I saw something I thought you would like and I got it for you. Enjoy it. Okay?” I nodded, my eyes closed, and then open and fixed on him.

“Now, then. You mentioned something about a hug and a kiss, in the car?” 

I squealed, grabbed him by the lapel of his coat and pulled him toward me, leaning back on the bed. He laughed as he rolled over me, a leg between mine and bent his head to press his lips against mine, softly at first. Then, with a groan, the kiss grew to something passionate and wanting, as if we couldn’t kiss enough, couldn’t touch enough. Couldn’t get close enough—I wanted to be closer to him.

“JC,” I said, gasping for air as he tipped his head and his lips traveled down my neck to the collar of my t-shirt. “Your coat. Take off your—fuck. JC, stop for a second.”

He sat up, on his knees and shrugged out of his coat, dumping it onto the floor, then unwrapping the scarf, folding it up and tossing it on top of his coat.

“We ready?” he asked, flicking an eyebrow at me. I answered by gripping his shirt and pulling him down on top of me, my arms flying around his neck, my legs around his legs, closing tight, pulling him closer to me. I whimpered as his lips found mine again and he kissed me, aggressive and powerful. I felt him, growing, pressed into my thigh. It was a heady turn-on to me and my body responded in kind.

A warm hand crawl under my t-shirt, slowly making its way up my side, poking under the band of my bra. His lips left mine and he shifted to one side, leaning on one arm, the other I could see under my shirt, exploring. His hands were warm, so warm, and soft. I loved that feeling. I closed my eyes and sighed, in bliss.

“I like when you touch me,” I said, my voice not much louder than a whisper.

“Yeah?”  He pulled my shirt up, over my breasts. “Lace,” he mumbled, bending down to kiss both rounded, overflowing cups, biting at the thin, opaque material and the nipple straining against it. My hips jerked, the sensation driving me wild, making me want him more. I sat up, pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor, over the side of the bed. He reached behind me and unhooked the clasp and I shrugged the bra off. It landed somewhere near my t-shirt, on the floor.

“Your turn,” I said, grabbing at him, almost shaking. He pulled his shirt and t-shirt under it up and over his head and dropped it near the growing pile of clothing. I drew a shaky breath as I held my hands out to him and as he came closer to me, grabbed him by the waist and pulled him down to me. He laughed and huffed ‘oof’, as he landed on me.

“I don’t think you know your own strength, once you get going.” He adjusted so he was comfortable, then stared down at me, stroking my face, smoothing my hair back. “I missed this face,” he said, bending to peck my lips, softly.

“I missed this one,” I responded, rubbing his cheek. “I know I said you should be yourself, but…”  I scratched at his facial hair, giggling.

He hung his head, laughing. “I know, I know. I got real lazy this trip. I’ll shave tomorrow. Is that gonna be okay?”

“I was kidding, JC. It’s your face. Do what you want. Wow.” He growled and tipped his head, bit at my neck. I squealed, feeling his teeth actually close on a fold of skin.  “Oh my God, please don’t leave a mark,” I managed to get out, laughing hysterically.

“Mmmmmmm,” he hummed, giving up on the biting, moving down to lay his head on my chest. “I like your laugh. It’s so… happy.”

I laid an arm across his back, occasionally scratching lightly, rubbing his warm skin, sneaking a hand under the band of his jeans. He snickered, the muscles in his back and stomach rippling. I felt him smile into my skin, then lift his head a lick a fiery circle around an erect nipple before closing his mouth on it, humming and sucking, then letting it go with a pop, staring up at me, taking in my reaction. He did the same with the other nipple, then began a cycle of back and forth that ignited an already burning need for him.

“I want you,” I mumbled, grabbing him by the arms, trying to pull him up, to my face. “Mmmmph,” he responded, covering my mouth with his, lips hot and wet against mine. He reached down to the band of his jeans and undid them, pushing them down his hips, kicking them off, then reaching for mine. I lifted my body off of the bed so he could pull them down and I kicked them off.

For a few minutes we enjoyed the feeling of skin on skin, intertwined. Head to toe, we pressed together, legs wrapped around each other, chest pressed against breast, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, his at my side, gliding up and down my thighs, his head lying next to mine, our cheeks touching. JC panted like he had just run a mile. I wasn’t far behind him.

“Do you want to use yours, or mine?” I whispered. “I bought the same kind you use.”

He let out a short breath, through his nose. Then, “Yours,” he said, rolling over, onto his back. “Will you-- I mean. The way you do it?”

I glanced over at him as I sat up, his arms spread out on either side of him, a peaceful but expectant expression on his face, eyes closed. I was already looking forward to taking my time, enjoying the few days I would have with him. From the bottom drawer of my nightstand I plucked a small, square package from the box I had just bought the day before and unwrapped.

“What else you got in that drawer down there?” I heard from behind me. I snickered and turned over, straddling him. “I’ll never tell, nosy,” I whispered, just before I leaned down and met his lips in a passionate, breathless kiss. His hands slid up and down my body, lightly, so light it tickled. He moaned and his hips arched up toward me, his arousal demanding attention.

I broke the kiss and made a trail down his neck to his collar bone and his chest, taking a second to admire it. It was exactly how I liked it-- enough hair to look manly but not so he looked like a beast. Perfection. Slow, wet kisses past his chest and down to his stomach until I reached his waist, then even slower as I crawled past, lower. I stopped and looked up at him. His eyes were half closed, his mouth slack, watching me.

I planted tiny, light kisses around him, watching him grow more erect before my eyes, the more I rubbed and kissed and nipped at him. His breathing had quickened and when he reached the point where he couldn’t take it anymore, he quietly pleaded, “please?”

My eyes shot up to him, then back down as I gripped him gently, bathing up one side and down the other and back again. His hips started to roll and a gasp escaped him. I opened my mouth and closed it over him, then started a slow rhythm.  He moaned and grunted, his head thrown back, hips moving in rhythm with me. “Faster. Please. Faster,” he whispered.

Before JC, that wasn’t something I really enjoyed or felt I even did very well. It was always pretty much a duty that I did because I should-- he had changed all of that, for me. He seemed to enjoy it, which made me enjoy it more. From the sounds and movements he was making, I guessed I was doing a pretty good job.

“Yeah,” he said, very suddenly, tipping his head up to watch. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” His breath caught and he twitched in my hand, grunted that he was close.

I looked up at him, a look I hoped was seductive and told him he was safe to let go. I kept moving, and he got the message. He let out a gut level groan, arching up into me as I sucked him in and back to the back of my throat. He shuddered, then I felt a hot splash, and then he relaxed against the bed, heaving, out of breath, his skin a deep red, and covered in a mist of sweat.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, gasping, swallowing panting, wiping his brow. “So good. So really good. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” I said, smug as I ripped open the foil packet and rolled the thin film down, the solid column beginning to rise again, at my touch.

“You look like you know you’re getting it back.”

“I know I am,” I said with a wink. “Ten-fold. Check it.” I climbed off of him and lay next to him while he checked and adjusted the condom, then rolled toward me. Then sat up.

“What’s good for the goose,” he said, the sexiest look I have ever seen on his face. He made his way between my legs and wrapped his arms around me. I held his face in my hands, brought him toward me and kissed him, playing with his tongue, swirling and pulling at his bottom lip.  

Warm hands slid down the sides of my thighs, his fingertips tickling my skin, goose bumps popping up in waves. Then his lips followed the same trail. Up one leg, over my stomach, down the opposite leg then back up to lick at a nipple and then a wet path from my ribcage down my body.  Random, soft kisses were planted here and there, up the inside of my thigh until he found the spot he was looking for.

I sucked in a breath, loudly, as soon as I felt him, anticipating what was coming. He licked and nibbled and my hips could not stop rocking. I grabbed a handful of hair with one hand and propped myself halfway sitting up with the other, watching. His tongue lightly brushed across me, very sensitive, almost painfully so. I shook and moaned and thrashed and then he stiffened his tongue and licked harder. I moaned louder and pulled him closer to me. “Oh my—Fuck,” I moaned, almost unintelligibly.

“Mmmmmmm,“ he responded, the vibration making me almost cry, and moved his hands under me to pull me closer to him and hold me where he wanted me, flicking and sucking and around and around and up and down, relentlessly. I ground my hips into him, moaning loudly, every nerve ending about to explode.

“Shit, I’m--you’re—oh my God.” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I gave up watching, fell back and writhed in his grasp until—sweet, painful, wonderful release. I heaved a giant, loud sigh, my body arching up off of the bed. JC didn’t stop until my hips stopped moving and I pushed him back, almost in tears. Spots and flashes flew around the room, and I tried hard to blink them away. I couldn’t breathe, and I was trying so very hard to catch a breath. He crept up my body, flush and pink and sweaty, dropping light kisses here and there until he was hovering over me.

I knew he was watching me and I couldn’t handle the pressure. My cheeks were on fire, and I felt the blush crawl up my body and my eyes water and the swell of emotion coming, so fast I couldn’t stop it. I covered my face with my hands and pressed my lips together, but that didn’t mask the high pitched wail that came, followed by sobs that wracked my body. I rolled over, away from him, grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it.

I was sure he had no idea what was happening or why and maybe he was a little afraid but he didn’t show it. I let my tears flow until they subsided, all the while feeling a warm hand rubbing my back, down the side of my body, down my thighs and back up, across my shoulder, pushing my hair back from my face.

I laid there, my face still buried in the pillow, no longer crying but gravely embarrassed. I sniffled as the last few hiccups escaped. A wad of tissues was pushed into my hand and I wiped my face under cover of the pillow. Then I started to laugh.

It was just a chuckle, at first, out of embarrassment. It grew to a giggle and then for no reason at all, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t get a breath. I finally found the courage to turn over, but not to look at JC, lying on his side, leaning on one elbow.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

I nodded and sniffled, then laughed for a few seconds more. “Uhm. Yeah. I’m okay. Just… that was just… so fucking good,” I said, and burst into laughter again. I glanced up at him, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark, his face contorted in confusion. I laughed harder, then regained control.

He cupped my face, turning my head so he could see me, and stare into my eyes. He still looked concerned, but now seemed slightly amused. “You know, they say people who laugh a lot for no reason are crazy.”

“I’m in therapy, remember?”

“You okay?” he asked again, softly, dropping a kiss on my temple. I nodded, again.

“Yes, I am… I am fucking fantastic,” I sighed, then giggled. I couldn’t help my grin. “I am wonderful. That was just—it was just really good. Like right on the cusp of ‘so fucking good I could cry’ and, I don’t know, I guess maybe I had a lot of pent up emotion, and I really missed you, a lot, and I was really looking forward to right now, this moment, right here, and…” my voice trailed off as I glanced up at him, bent over me, so concerned and caring that it made my heart hurt.

“Okay,” he said, understanding, nodding slowly. “So uhm. Is that… will that happen a lot? Just. I kind of need to be ready for that.”

“No,” I said, reaching up to scratch at the hair at the back of his neck. “No, it won’t happen a lot. It might never happen again. I don’t really know. I don’t exactly plan it.”

“Okay,” he said again. “Uhm. So. Can we…?” He was incredibly cute, at that moment, wanting to move on but not wanting to seem insensitive.

“Yes, we can,” I purred, pulling him down toward me, lifting my head to meet his lips halfway. He moved so he was laying half on, half off of me, looking down on me.

He wiggled his brows, starting to laugh a little, himself. “By the way,” he said, chuckling, gliding a hand down my thigh. “That was the best blow job I’ve had all year.”

My jaw dropped and I laughed with him. “Let’s see if we can improve on that as the year goes on, shall we?”

“Gladly,” he said, before dipping his head into another kiss. A hand brushed across an erect nipple and he flicked at it. The desired response came from my hips underneath him. He moaned into my mouth and moved all the way on top of me. I wrapped my legs around him and arched up toward him.

“Mmmmm…” He hummed. “God, you’re so sexy. You drive me crazy, woman.”

I moaned and moved against him. “Likewise. Please,” I whispered.  

“Help me,” he whispered back. His lips found mine again. I reached between us and guided him to me and he slid in. I sighed, loudly, smiling. He felt like home- comfortable and right. 

“Fucking shit, you feel good!”

JC laughed at my response. I didn’t care. I had missed him. This. I wound my legs around him tight, my arms around him tighter. As our bodies moved together, I talked to him, how he liked it. He moaned quietly, sighing, groaning, slowly speeding up. The headboard started a low tapping against the wall, mimicking his rhythm. I hardly heard it as I enjoyed being with him, close to him, one with him. His steady movements were driving me out of my mind, again, and I felt another climax building.

“Son of a…. motherfucking…. FUCK!” My hands unwrapped themselves from his neck and flailed, grabbing onto anything they came into contact with. I squealed as a wave washed over me, crashing and washing over and over again.  “Don’t stop!” I called out, as if there was a chance he was going to. He didn’t—in fact he sped up, pushing harder, his breaths coming in gusts, grunting with effort, shaking himself.

“Are you coming?” I breathed in his ear, gripping his shoulders, feeling the muscles working overtime. “Come for me, JC.”

“Ye—yeah. Yeah!” He thrust hard, grunting loudly, shaking and sweaty and red in the face and out of breath and so, so, so sexy to me. After he stopped moving, heaving on top of me, I grabbed the sides of his face and brought him to me, ravaging those cherry red lips, kissing him with as much passion as I could stir up. He tore his lips from me so he could catch his breath, his head lying next to mine, his lips on my neck.

“I swear, you’re gonna kill me, one day,” he said, swallowing, gulping air, his hot breath on my neck. I smiled and turned my head toward his.

“It’s such sweet pain, though, isn’t it?”

“Unnnggghhh,” he groaned, then rolled to the side, laying on his back, arms outstretched, a satisfied smile on his face.  “I am definitely happy I came to Atlanta,” he panted.

“I am definitely happy that you did, too.” I rolled toward him, onto my stomach, propped up on my elbows. “Hey, uhm…”

“Hmmm.” he grunted, his eyes closed.

“Are you freaked out? About the… the crying thing?”

His head rolled toward me, and his eyes opened, just barely. He shook his head, slightly. “You cried, once before,” he said. “The first trip. At my house. Remember?” I did remember. I also remembered we didn’t really talk about it and the crying wasn’t to nearly the same extent. “I just needed to know I didn’t hurt you. Everything else is just…well, it’s just Serena.”

Sheepish, I bowed my head, then brought it up again. “Thanks. For understanding. Or… just not letting it freak you out. It would have been okay. I expected it.”

He shook his head, again, seconds away from sleep. “I’m okay, sweet girl.” I reached up, under the pillows and pulled the duvet and sheet down. He woke up long enough to climb inside the cool sheets, and curl up on his side. He extended an arm in invitation for me to find my spot, an invitation I could not refuse. I snuggled close to him, my back against his chest. He moved closer still, his thighs against the backs of mine, an arm across my waist. A few minutes later, the even, heavy breathing and steady rise and fall of his chest told me he was asleep. I was right behind him.

*

Unable to sleep for very long, I slipped out from under JC’s arm, leaving him in the warm bed, still curled up on his side, an arm tucked under his head, his lips closed in that cute pout. I liked to watch him sleep, but I had things to do.

After stepping into the bathroom for a minute and slipping on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, I crept down the stairs and through the living room, flipping on the satellite radio and turning it down so it played softly, and walking through to the kitchen. I hummed and sang along to the late 90’s hits, prepping dinner. Soon, the scent of chicken rose from the vents in the countertop rotisserie and roasted potatoes from the oven and crisp, steamed vegetables from the steamer, cooking to a perfect texture. If I timed it right, everything would finish perfectly and at the same time, piping hot, and then I would wake up JC so he wouldn’t sleep all day and be awake all night. Unless he wanted that.

“All we need is something to drink,” I said, to myself, headed for the pantry. The stairs were right above the long, closed in room, and I heard footsteps coming down and bare feet pitter-patter on the tile of the kitchen floor.

“There better not be a giant mouse in my kitchen,” I called out.

I heard a low chuckle, then bare feet coming toward the doorway. I smiled as I caught sight of him, in fleece pants and dark t-shirt. He reached up toward the doorjamb, hooking his fingers around it, his weight shifting to one leg. He had the sexiest ways of just standing there. I shivered, just looking at him.

“I was on the Mickey Mouse Club, you know.” His voice was still deep and a little gruff from sleep.

“So, you’re saying I have a—“

“Giant Mouseketeer. In your kitchen,” he finished, laughing at his joke.

I shook my head.  “That was awful, honey. Just… terrible. Really bad.”

He shrugged, almost swinging from the doorjamb into the room. “I didn’t think it was that bad. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to pick a juice,” I said, finally picking up a bottle of fruit juice and a 2 liter of Sprite. “Dinner is just about ready. Do you want to make punch?”

He stepped aside, watching me walk out of the room. “Sure,” he said, dropping his arms and coming to stand next to me. “What do I do?”

Over dinner, JC demanded a simple run down of my family, because when I tried to tell stories, he had to keep stopping me to ask who was who. “Just tell me the basics,” he said, shoving a forkful of potatoes in his mouth.

“Okay. So my dad, Terry, is an Accountant. Married to Donna, a Nurse. My dad has his own practice, now; my mom is head of Nursing at Atlanta Women’s Medical Center. I have two brothers, both younger. Garrett is Operations Manager at a warehouse. Married to Kim. They have two sons, 7 and 5, Matthew and Devon.  Chris is married to Andrea, they have one son, he’s 4, named after his dad, and we call him CJ. Garrett and Chris both live in Atlanta, like five minutes from each other but way the hell across the Interstate, almost in Alabama. You clear, so far?”

“Yeah, just the… people past your immediate family, I get confused.”

“Okay, then. My dad has a brother, named Walter. Married to Esla, she’s from Trinidad.  They live in Tampa. They don’t have any kids. My mom has one sister, Grace, married to Edward. They live overseas, as Edward is British. They have two children, Elizabeth-- Not Becky, not Beth, not Liz, but ELIZABETH-- and William. We haven’t seen Grace in… probably, I don’t know, 7 years or so. Not estranged, just… Edward really likes England and acts so put out whenever he has to come to the U.S. “

“So how did Grace meet Edward, if he hates the U.S.?”

I shrugged. “In England, of course. She went over there for some trip one summer. She met him, fell in love, never came home. The Grandparents were NOT happy about that all. Not just because she ran off, but because she was living with him. And that meant they were having sex, and oh, dear.” I rolled my eyes and got up from the table, serving myself more potatoes and sat back down again.

“Anyway. Grace and Edward got married about three years after she was supposed to have come home. The Grandparents have come around to him, slowly but he’s so… snobbish… sometimes. And you know, my grandparents aren’t very uhm...” I pondered the right word. “How should I say this? They’re kind of snobby themselves. I mean, they live in fucking Vail, for heaven’s sake. They’re from Denver. They have money and they like to make sure people know it.”

“Really,” he said, chewing, nodding, contemplating. “Do I seem like that?”

A laugh shot out before I could stop it. “No, sweetie, you don’t.”

“Why not? I mean. I have money. I don’t seem like I do?”

I shook my head, slowly, incredulous. “JC. You wear the same shit over and over again, and not really, terribly expensive stuff. I mean it’s not JC Penney but it’s not like, gold plated sun glasses, either. You drive a nice car and you take good care of it, but again, you’ve driven the same car for years. Your house is very nice but it’s far from the mansion you could have. And you’re very quiet and unassuming and you don’t, like... I don’t know. You don’t step into a room and scream, “I’m rich, bitch!”

He laughed, a hearty chesty laugh, one where his eyes disappeared, laughed so hard that he had to set his fork down and lean his head against a hand. “Wow,” he said, coughing and sputtering, still laughing. “I just got a mental image of myself doing that and it looked stupid.”

“You okay? You want—here let me get you some more juice.” I grabbed his empty glass, refilled it and set it next to him. He sucked down half of the glass, before he set it back down again.

He wiped the side of the glass, condensation already dripping onto the wood of the table. “You think I should start acting more rich?”

“Hell no,” I said, smacking at his hand. “That’s what I like most, about you. You don’t seem to take yourself too seriously. You don’t seem all caught up in who you are and what you’ve done and who your friends are. I could say mean things about people you know who do that.”

He lifted his hands and brows at the same time, glancing up at me. “Don’t say it,” he said, quietly.

“I’m not. I’m not. Just, I could. I’m just saying, don’t become that. I don’t like that.”

He sniffed, and then cleared his throat, sitting forward, pulling at a fringe on the placemat. “Then, I better not, huh? I need you to like me. I need you to like me, a lot.”

I tipped my head, trying to see his eyes, but couldn’t. “I do. I like you a lot, JC.”

“I like you, too. A lot.” He winced as he pulled a thread out of the placemat. I shrugged at it.

“So do you ever see Elizabeth—Not Becky or Liz – and William? They live in England?”

“Yes. They live in England. I talk to them more than I see them but I do see them, when they come to visit. They usually come in the summer. To Vail. They hate winters in the U.S. England is cold enough, they say.”

“Have you been?” I stared at him, and blinked, waiting for him to remember that I nearly broke down into tears during a simple five hour flight. Realization hit, and a slow smile crossed his face. He pointed, shaking a finger at me. “Forgot. Yeah. So you haven’t. You should. You know, if you can manage the flight. There’s tons of places you’ve never been that you’d love.”

“Like?” I picked up his plate, completely clear of food. He drained his glass of juice and got up, following me into the kitchen.

“Like Brazil. Like, Rome. I mean, you’re Greek, right? You should go, to Greece. Greek islands are nice.”

“Baby steps, honey. I’m freaking out just thinking about flying to Greece.”

He rinsed plates and glasses and silverware and dishes and I loaded them in the dishwasher. Not the Chasez Way, but he shook his head and stood back and didn’t argue, though I could see that he wanted to say something. I laughed, to myself, and continued to load it my way, in which the dishes came out perfectly fine.

“Is that it?” He stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, surveying. The dishwasher rumbled behind him, the table was clear and wiped down, the counters clear, the sink empty. I dumped the small amount of dirt into the dustpan from sweeping, put the broom away and washed my hands.

“That is it. Thanks for your help.” I hooked my hand in his elbow and pulled him toward the living room. “Let’s watch a movie, or something.” 

There was something so… domestic about making him dinner, talking about my family, and later his, him helping me clean up and then lounging against each other on the couch, watching stupid movies and talking through them. JC had a story for everything, and I let him tell every one of them, relishing in the fact that I was laying in his arms, resting on my long sofa, his breath on my neck as he talked, laughing at the silly things he said.

Between movies, I got up to make a batch of cookies—he seemed to be hinting that he would like some, and finally, with a roll of my eyes, I offered to get up and make them. As I slid the cookie tray into the oven, he flipped from channel to channel, stopping on a commercial.

“Hey, Serena,” he called, from the living room. “You think I need veneers?”

“Don’t you dare,” I yelled, from the kitchen.

“Why not?” he yelled back. He wasn’t that far away, he was just being ridiculous. I poked my head around the corner to watch the commercial with him. I glanced over at him and shook my head.

“Don’t you remember when Hilary Duff got hers? She looked like a horse. She couldn’t even speak. No.”  I ducked back into the kitchen to clean up.

Suddenly he was behind me, right up against me, arms around my shoulders so I couldn’t move my arms. “You don’t think my teeth look weird?”

“No, I don’t think your teeth look weird. I think your teeth look normal. You have character.”

“What if I don’t want character? What if I want to be able to smile without the gap showing?”

I turned my head so I could see him, and give him a disapproving look. “Would you rather have a gap, or would you rather look like Gary Busey?”

He flared his nostrils, actually thinking about it. Then, tucking his bottom lip over his bottom teeth, he reared his head back and made horse sounds. “This isn’t sexy?”

“Not at all, sweetheart,” I said, laughing, leaning against him. “Can you let me go? I need to pull the cookies out, in a minute.”

He stepped back, running his tongue along his teeth. “So, no veneers, honey?”

“No veneers. You really think you need them?”

He shrugged, climbing up on a bar stool, leaning onto the counter. “It’s been suggested. Multiple times. Enough that… I’m kind of thinking about it.” His gaze lowered to the Formica countertop, his lashes shading his eyes.

“JC, sweetie.” I stood next to him, a hand on his back, and dipped my head so I could see his eyes. “Do you want them?” He shook his head, then shrugged. “So, why are you thinking about it?”

“I don’t know. I guess if people say something enough times, I start thinking something is wrong.”

I leaned my head on his bicep, my hand sliding around his waist. “There is nothing wrong with the way you look. Nothing. And if you like what you see in the mirror, then let people talk and suggest all they want. I know you know this, JC.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath, sitting up, lifting his arm up and around me. “You’re right, I know. Sometimes I just need someone to tell me I’m being stupid. Thanks.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, lightly, just as the oven timer went off. I felt him smile against my forehead, then push me toward the oven.

“Cookies!”

“So, you never told me. How was Miami?�

“I was too busy to tell you about Miami.�

In the middle of the aisle at Kroger, I stopped pushing the cart and turned around. JC bounced to the music crackling from the speakers overhead-- Steppenwolf’s Magic Carpet Ride-- bobbing his head and playing air guitar. “Did you know the album version of this song is twice as long as the single? Like, over 4 minutes. That was epic, in the 70’s, man!�

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. He was just so serious and earnest. “Yes, honey. I, too, can read Wikipedia.�  I returned his glare and went back to pushing the cart. “So? Miami. Was it warm?�

“It was warm. Not hot. I had a good time, always do,� he answered, walking behind me.    I reached for a large can of pineapple chunks, but he beat me to it and set the can in the cart. “You’re so independent. All you have to do is ask.�

Blushing, I moved further down the aisle. “I know. I’m not used to having someone with me, when I shop. I have to manage on my own. And I can.� I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Thank you, though.�

“Here, take the list. I’ll push,� he offered, taking over the cart. “Let me know what you need. I will lift it for you.�

I gave him a pat on the back that turned into an appreciative slide up to his shoulders and down his arms. “Okay, big, strong man. So, that’s all you have to say, about Miami?�

“What do you want to hear, about Miami, Serena? What are you getting at?�

“Nothing,� I said, poking him in the side. “I’m just asking. I’m interested in how you spent your New Year’s Eve. That’s all.�

“It was cool. Same thing every year, usually. Low key party, some drinks, whatever. Had a good time.   It was just… It was kind of different, though.�

I walked ahead of the cart and turned the corner, down another aisle. He followed diligently. “Different, how?�

“Like…well.� He shrugged, blushed a little, and hesitated for a beat, then decided to just say it. “I’m used to being able to like, hook up.  I mean, I usually have the freedom to. This year, I didn’t. And not like I wanted to. I just haven’t had a girlfriend in awhile. It was different.�

I turned halfway around and smiled sweetly, batting my eyelashes. “Sorry to cramp your style, sweetheart.  I’m glad you could have fun anyway.�

“Of course, the one year I can’t hook up the girls were unbelievably hot.� I caught half a smile out of the corner of my eye. Walking ahead of him, I bit the inside of my cheek and continued picking out miscellaneous items and setting them in the cart.

 “Yeah, the guys in Vail were hot, too. Handsome and rich. And not famous. You want to play this game? Seriously?�

“Well—I mean-- I just—I was gonna say,� he sputtered, hands flailing while leaning over the handle of the cart. �You know. I’m having more fun right now, though.�

“Uh huh,� I said, checking the list, unable to fight the laughter that wanted to bubble up.

“It was worth a shot.�

“Stop while you’re ahead,� I said, with a slow shake of my head and a sideways glare. “I think we’re about done. I need to make one more stop for libations and then we’ll be done shopping. How good are you at picking out alcohol?�

He gave me that look, the one that said ‘whatever’, and pushed the cart, following me to the check out aisle, where we began emptying the cart onto the conveyor belt.  I watched him as the clerk ran each item over the scanner and the dollar amount popped up on the screen.  He seemed to be trying to stand behind me, facing the less busy, less full part of the store. The clerk didn’t seem to be much younger or older than either of us, which made the possibility that she would recognize him that much greater.  I didn’t really know to think of things like that. It would never occur to me, to think about it—I wasn’t a celebrity.

The clerk bagged our items, setting them in the cart and sending us on our way. When JC turned around to push the cart out, she looked up, into his face, and ever so subtly, winked. He smiled at her, said ‘thank you’, and pushed the cart out of the automatic doors and to the car.

“That was weird,� I remarked as we loaded the bags into the trunk. He shrugged, and responded, “wasn’t that bad.� I let him get in while I pushed the cart to the collection corral, then slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car, pulling out of the space. I was startled by a sharp knock at the window and slammed on the brakes, lurching JC and I forward. A short woman in sweats and sneakers stood just outside my window, gesturing at me to roll it down.

“No, this is weird. Here we go.� I looked at him, questioning, and pressed the button. He sat forward as the window slid down slowly.

“Hi,� she said, and smiled, bending over so she could see into the car, her head practically inside my window. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought I recognized the guy you were with and I wanted to ask for an autograph?�

I looked over at JC. He gave her a tight smile, and said, “Sure, one second, ok?� and motioned for me to roll up the window. She stepped away from the car and I pulled back into my spot. “I’m just gonna get out, she’ll probably want a picture, or something. Be right back.�

I watched out of the side view mirror as JC worked his magic with a fan. She was grinning ear to ear as he signed an autograph for her and he posed with her for her camera phone picture. She said something that made him laugh, and then he said “uhm, we gotta get going. Take care, honey.� She thanked him as she backed away, then turned and bounced to her car. I was sure she was walking on air. I know I would be. Hell. I was.

JC slid back into the seat, snapping his seatbelt closed and slipping on a pair of shades. Finally, he turned to me and grinned.  “Let’s roll.�

*

JC kept asking me if I was nervous. I didn’t have anything to be nervous about. It was just a little gathering of friends, so people could meet him. I’d been talking about him long enough and everyone was eager to meet him—especially Melissa. Actually, I was a little nervous about Melissa. She tended to make comments on the irreverent side and I had to do a rundown of anything embarrassing I might have revealed about JC. She would surely bring it up.

“Hey, JC, can I ask you something?� I stirred punch, in the last few minutes before people were scheduled to arrive. JC played with the satellite radio tuner, trying to pick a station.

Absentmindedly, he shot over his shoulder, “What’s that, honey?�

“Do your friends know about me?�

“Define ‘know’. What’s with this remote?� I glanced at him, pointing and pressing buttons, face stern with concentration.

“That’s the wrong remote, sweetheart. The other one. I mean ‘know’ as in if you say ‘my girlfriend’ they’ll know who you’re talking about?�

“They’ve been calling you that longer than I have.� Finally deciding on an eclectic adult alternative station, he turned the volume down to a manageable decibel and put the remote back where I kept them, lining them up in order of size. I shook my head at him. He was hilarious to watch.  “Why do you want to know?�

“Well, I’m just asking, because… well I want to know if you’ve told them anything about, like, US.�

“Us, like dating, like… our sex life? No. Well…no. Not really.�

“What does no, not really mean?�

He took a seat on the couch, rested an ankle on a knee, and spread his arms along the back of the cushions. He watched me from across the room, mindlessly stirring. “Uhm. Well. I mean. They don’t know specifics. I wouldn’t do that to you. Again I ask, what are you getting at, Serena?�

I stared into the pink fizzy swirl, not daring to look up. “I might have said something to Melissa and I’m afraid it’s going to come up. And I don’t want you to be mad.�

“You might have said something like what? I’m the best you’ve ever had? Something like that? I don’t mind that.� He was being cocky, but he had no idea how close he was to the truth.

“I might have said that. But. I mean. Shit.� I dropped the ladle on the edge of the punch bowl and walked to the living room, plopping down on the ottoman in front of him.

“Here’s the deal,� I started, tucking a hair behind my ear, defensive. “And, I’m sorry because you seem to be a very private person, but… when I first came back to Atlanta, after the first weekend, I never, in a million years, thought this would turn into what it’s turned into and I’m happy with it.� I took a breath, my voice shaking. “But… before Melissa knew who you were, I might have mentioned something about condom size… and I might have said you were really, very good in bed.�

JC lowered his leg and sat forward, bringing his arms in front of him, clasping his hands. I cringed, expecting an angry response, or even worse, disappointed. I hated the disappointed tone.

“You told Melissa…“ His eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “And that I’m really, very good? In bed?�

“JC, I never thought I would ever have to tell her who you were, let alone that you would be meeting her, and if I thought that, I never would have said anything. I wasn’t even going to tell her, but she cornered me.�

He bowed his head, lowering it slowly until his chin rested on his chest, then turned his face away from me. Then he turned back to me, his face slightly pink, but he was smiling. “I swear,� he said quietly, “if she brings that up tonight, I’m taking it out of your ass.� He raised and lowered his brows and softly tapped my thigh. “Be careful, sweetie. I don’t want my love life all over everywhere. My techniques getting out.�

My mouth dropped open, and then closed, and then I laughed, giddy with relief. He wasn’t upset. Or disappointed. “You can take the most tender moment and turn it into something that… I just… whatever, Chasez.�

“Oh, Chasez is back!� The doorbell chimed and I stood to answer it. 

“Be good, JC. Serious.�

Annette swept in first, looking svelte and elegant in black. Melissa, a few steps behind her carried a crock pot and a plastic bag on her arm. “Take this, it’s so damn heavy. It’s hot, watch out.�

“Listen to her, like she had to walk it over here. She picked it up, out of the car, and walked ten feet to the door.�

“Annette, hush up. I just want my hands free to hug this hunk of man, over here.� I took the hot, heavy, ceramic pot from Melissa and set it on the kitchen counter. A quick peek under the lid confirmed she had brought her famous cheesy, gooey queso dip and tortilla chips. I plugged the pot in and replaced the lid, hurrying back out to the living room before anyone in the room embarrassed me.

“You must be Annette,� JC was saying, an arm around her shoulder, smiling down at her. She beamed and blushed a pretty pink against her red hair as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

“I am,� she said, gushing. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Ooh, Serena he does smell good!�

I leaned against an overstuffed chair and pointed at Melissa. “Why are you telling me? Melissa is the one who can smell him from down the block.�

“And I agree,� she quipped from across the room, serving herself a glass of punch. �You letting go, anytime soon? I’m totally responsible for them even getting together.� Reluctantly, Annette let go and headed toward the punch bowl.

“Come here, you,� JC said, grinning madly, arms open. Melissa blushed and stepped into them, hugging him tight, patting him on the back. She pulled back and he plopped a noisy, wet kiss on her cheek. She giggled like a teenager—you’d never know her girlfriend was in the next room, loading up on punch and queso dip.

“It’s so, so good to finally meet the man who put a perma-grin on this face,� she said, grabbing my chin. I rolled my eyes and twisted out of her grip, standing next to JC. “Now what is it that you use, because oh my God, don’t you just smell delicious?  I’m hungry, smelling your hair.�

“Uhm… yeah, I can’t remember the name of it. I’ll look, next time.� JC slung an arm over my shoulder and bumped me with his hip. He was enjoying this. 

“Well, it smells great.� Then, as if she remembered something very important, she snapped her fingers and pointed. “Hey,� she said, her eyes wild and excited. “I just got in this big box of all these different lubricants. Did you want to try some? I have some in the car…�

I stepped out from under his arm and pushed Melissa into the kitchen. “Okay! And that’s where I cut off this really weird conversation!� 

“They’re just samples,� she protested, as I pushed. “They’re in these cute little blister packets…�

A short time later my cozy, eclectic, plush furniture pieces were covered with people clutching small plastic cups full of punch, bottles of beer or glasses of whatever they found in the bar to mix, balancing paper plates of mixed nuts and mini sandwiches and chips and dip. Heads bobbed to the rhythm of the music thumping from the surround sound and JC was being a social butterfly, making his way around the room as people introduced themselves to him. Jen’s husband was a musician—he played bass guitar and dabbled in song-writing, so before long the two were deeply involved in a philosophical conversation of music genres.

“Birds of a feather,� said Jen, sliding onto the couch next to me, her plastic cup full. “He is… man, he’s cute. Like, way cuter in person.�

I snickered, leaning close to her. “Okay, you’ve seen him in person, Jen. Remember?�

She blushed, and giggled into her plastic cup, taking a sip. “All I remember is almost passing out, trying to get Lance’s autograph. After he said ‘hi’, in that voice, I’m kind of fuzzy. He sure grew up nice, though.�

“Mmmhmm,� I mumbled, wiggling my fingers at him in the corner with Brian.

“You know Brian is gonna talk his ear off, right?�

I shook my head, giving Jen my sympathetic look. “JC could talk for days. He’s met his match.�

Melissa sauntered to the couch and sat on the other side of me, crossing one leg over the other. She had that look on her face, that look that said she was about to say something that would make me pinch my nose and hang my head and blush in shock and embarrassment.

“He. Is. So. Cute.�

I gave her a wide smile. “Isn’t he? I just adore him.�

“So. You know... Things still going great?�

“Mmhmm,� I said, bobbing my head.

“He looks like he uh, you know, takes care of things. Pretty Well.�

My head cocked back and my eyes shot to the ceiling while Jen shrieked and doubled over in laughter.

“Melissa. Shut up.�

“I’m just saying. You look happy.� She took a swig of beer and nodded once, eyeing me. “And well taken care of. WHAT?�

I got up, leaving the two of them to giggle together. “I’m telling Annette,� I shot over my shoulder.

“She won’t care. She agrees!�

A gust of cool air blew through the room, and loud, male voices could be heard in the hallway. I swung my head around the corner and grinned at the familiar faces of my brothers, already shedding their jackets, smelling of cold air and fried food.

I was quite a bit shorter than my brothers, a fact they found amusing and used to their advantage. Both were tall, over six feet, but Garrett was thin and lanky, and had been balding since his mid 20’s. Chris was built like a linebacker, with a thick neck and wide shoulders and a full head of blonde curls.

“Hey!� I yelled, defending myself with a hand as Garrett came close, arms extended. “I have guests. You guys be good.�

“Nope,� said Garrett, rushing toward me and wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me easily over his shoulder.

“Asshole!� I shrieked, through giggles. Chris slapped my rear end and said, “Put her down. You’re embarrassing her.�

Gently, he bent and set back me back on my feet. “’Cause you weren’t thinking about doing it.�

“Would have, but you beat me to it. What’s up, kid?� Chris dug his fingers into my curls and tugged, then let go and wandered into the living room, waving at a few friends we had in common. Garrett slung an arm over my shoulder, dragging me along as he followed Chris.

“We’re driving by, right, and see all of these cars sitting outside of your house and we’re wondering why you’re having a party and you didn’t invite us. So we invited ourselves. Why are you having a party?�

“I’m just having a few friends over to meet JC. I thought you guys were at the Thrasher’s game.� Atlanta Hockey was a winter pastime for Garrett and Chris. They almost never missed a game.

“We were. Dropped our buddy off, he lives around the corner, so we drove by, just to see if you were awake. You’re awake, alright. Gimme a beer and show me this guy.�

Cold beers in hand, Chris and Garrett followed me to the corner where JC and Brian were still engrossed in conversation. “Be nice,� I muttered over my shoulder. I heard snickering behind me and sighed, more than a little anxious. I wasn’t really ready to introduce him to members of my family, and I wasn’t sure he was ready to meet them. But, well, they were there and wanted to meet him, and meeting them would be a lot easier than meeting my parents. ‘May as well get it over with,’ I thought.

I sidled up to JC, catching his attention with an arm around his back and a gentle squeeze. He stopped talking and lifted an arm to drop around my shoulders, glancing down at me. I nodded my head to indicate the two men standing behind me. “My brothers want to say hi,� I said, stretching up to speak into his ear. “Sorry, Brian, this will just take a second.�

JC turned, then, and as if in slow motion, raised his head to look each of them in the eye. “Garrett, Chris—this is JC. JC, these are my brothers. Don’t let them scare you. If they’re mean, my mom will get on a chair to slap them if she has to.�

Garrett was the first to speak, extending a hand, letting a warm smile spread across his face. “Good to meet you, finally. If you hurt our sister, you better be able to run fast. That’s all.�

JC didn’t know if he should laugh, but he shook Garrett’s hand and nodded to Chris. “I’ll do my best, I guess,� he stammered. I reached across JC to tap Garrett on the chest. “Knock it off. Seriously. This is why you guys weren’t invited.�

Chris extended a hand to JC, and said, “My wife is a huge fan. She’s gonna hate me when I get home.�

JC shrugged and shook Chris’ hand vigorously. “I… well, hey. Feel free to bring her by. I don’t mind.�

“Really? She’d lose her mind. Every once in awhile one of your songs comes up and I ask who it is and I get a lecture about not knowing who you are. Sorry it just... it doesn’t stick.�

“It’s okay, really,� JC said, holding up both hands. “I haven’t had anything out in awhile, so.� He shrugged, again, and glanced at me. I noticed a few beads of sweat on his forehead—then recognized the glance as a plea for help.

“Okay, you guys have gawked enough. Go say hi to some other people.� I shoo’d them away with a flick of my wrist and they turned to go back to the party.

“I’ll be in touch with Serena, about my wife, if that’s okay,� said Chris. JC nodded, tightlipped, and rubbed his hands together nervously, turning to me.

I winced as I reached out to rub his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Sorry. I didn’t invite them, and they insisted on meeting you.�

“I managed,� he said, relaxing. �Thank you for rescuing me, though. I just wasn’t ready.�

“Yeah, now you know how I feel, Mister ‘Go have lunch with my brother’. You’re talking up a storm, over here. Can I get you some water, a beer, a drink?�

“Uhm. I think I’ll take a drink. Surprise me with something.� He winked, briefly, and a hint of a smile crossed his lips. He always waited until we were in a room full of people to do something incredibly sexy, leaving me to think and smolder, and contemplate all night.

“Okay,� I said, winking back.� I’ll be right back, then.�

I made my way through the miscellaneous gatherings of people, saying hello’s and how are you’s and finally made it to the bar, where I tried my hand at mixing a drink. I heard the doorbell ring, and from across the room, heard Annette yell that she would answer it. A few minutes later, she weaved through the crowd and came around the bar, a solemn, concerned look on her face.

“Serena,� she said, turning me so I could hear her without her having to yell. “Regina is outside. She looks, you know, fine… but I didn’t let her in. What do you want me to do?�

My mind went blank, completely. I stared into the random grouping of people , just barely hearing Annette call my name a few times and just didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t seen or heard or spoken to her in months, and tonight, of all nights, when friends and family and my boyfriend were all in the same room, she chose to show up. This could, potentially, be trouble.  Chris stepped into my line of sight, and recognizing the look on my face, tapped Garrett and wove a path through the crowd of people to the bar.

“What’s up? Serena,� Chris demanded, snapping his fingers in my face. “What?�

“Regina is at the door,� Annette volunteered.

Both men gasped and stood up straight. “You want us to get rid of her?�

“What are you gonna do, kick her ass?� I snapped. “Fuck, I do not need this, right now.� I ran my fingers through my hair, shaking, and paced behind the bar. Melissa showed up next to Chris, saw that I was upset and waved JC over to all of us.

“I guess I’ll just go talk to her,� I said, making my way around the bar.

JC grabbed my arm as I passed him, cupping my chin and forcing my head up. His eyes were dark, his brows knit together and his forehead creased with concern.  “You want me to go with you?� 

“Uh. JC. Man.� Chris walked behind him, gave him a pat on the back and left an arm around his shoulder.  “Appreciate it, really but... we know kind of… how to handle Regina.�

“Oh. Oh, sorry, yeah, of course,� JC said, backing off.

“I mean, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I know you just want to help, just. Sometimes she gets a little out of control…�

“No, man. It’s… it’s fine. Just… whatever you have to do.�

I backed away from the group, my brothers behind me, catching JC’s eye as I went. He looked like he felt out of place and useless, wanting to be there for me but pushed out. And he looked like he didn’t like that feeling. Melissa hooked an arm in his elbow and led him back to the bar, where she finished his drink.

Chris, Garrett and I walked to the front door and stepped outside, the air cool, but blessedly not cold. On the porch stood a thin, frail woman, shorter than I was. She was turned around, her back to us, and I recognized her long curly hair, which looked like it had been taken care of.  Normally it was a rat’s next and unkempt. She turned, hearing the door open, and I was surprised at her appearance. I was used to seeing Regina look like she’d slept on the sidewalk all night—dirty and rough and looking for a fix. Tonight she was clean, her eyes clear and bright, from what I could see. Dressed well, not in tattered and stained clothing.

“Sweetheart,� she gushed, her face-- a face that was pretty much my own face-- breaking into a smile that was not unlike my own. It was uncanny how much I looked like her—everyone remarked on it.

“Hey, Regina,� I said, cautious. She’d played the ‘I Got Clean’ card before and ended up scratching Chris when she lashed out. I didn’t trust this act. “Where have you been?�

“Getting clean,� she squeaked, her grin bright as daylight. “In Rehab. Don’t I look good?�

Suspicious, my eyes narrowed. “How did you get into rehab, Regina? Who paid for it?�

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Don’t worry about how I got in or who paid. It wasn’t you. That’s all I care about,� she said.

I crossed my arms, reminding myself that I’d been down this trail before. “So what are you doing here?�

“I came to see you. To say hi. I didn’t realize you would be having a party. You didn’t say anything about the way I look. Don’t I look good?� She turned, seeming so proud of herself. “I’m not alone. I have a chaperone.�

She nodded to someone behind her and smiled slightly. I glanced around her to see a hardy woman in jeans and a t-shirt with some sort of logo on the breast pocket and a white hat with a logo that matched.  Regina’s chaperone nodded and waved, her expression making it apparent that she was bored.

“Yeah,� I said, nodding. “Yeah, honey I’m real proud of you. I need you to stay this way, okay?�

“I’ll try. I’m trying…� Her chin trembled, and she got the same dimple under her bottom lip that I got when I was trying not to cry. “I want you to be proud of me. I want you to be proud to know me and… I want you to think of me as your mom. I am your mother, Serena. You can’t run away from that.�

“I’m not trying to, Regina. You adopted me out. I was raised by a regular family while you were out running around shooting up and snorting things.�

“I didn’t want to,� she insisted, bewildered, arms flailing. I stepped back, my brothers inched forward. “I wanted to keep my baby girl. I just, I couldn’t. I couldn’t take care of you. I wanted you taken care of, but I didn’t want to give you up. I wanted to be your mother. Don’t you understand, why I never went away, and I always showed up at the school? You played in the band. I was at your high school graduation. Bet you didn’t know that.�

I huffed, and tossed up my hands. Unbelievable. Of course I knew that!  “You were the one who wouldn’t stop yelling ‘that’s my daughter, up there’. You had to be removed from the auditorium!� Regina paused, deflated, and shoved her hands in the pockets of what looked like new jeans. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, if it’s just to show off the clean and new and improved you, that’s wonderful. I’m very proud of you. If you’re looking for money or a place to stay, I can’t help you. I’m tapped out.�

“I don’t want anything from you. I don’t blame you for thinking I do, though. I just wanted to see your face.�  She sniffled, and then squared her shoulders again, standing strong.

“I won’t keep you, I… just wanted to see my baby girl and tell you I’m working on being someone you can be proud of.� A solitary tear slid down her cheek. I was used to her crying, but I was used to tears carving a clean path down a dirty cheek and being disgusted that she could walk around that filthy. This time, I was more impressed that she was actually clean, her skin clear.

“I’m working on fixing me, all by myself, without your money and without you taking care of me. I’m gonna get clean and get a job and pay you back and make you proud to call me your mom. That’s all I want.�

This woman was slowly breaking my heart. Wearing me down. I had done so well, over the past few months, distancing myself from her, and yet when I got ten feet from her, I wanted to break down and take care of her and make her okay. Except I couldn’t. All I could do was stand on that step, a cool breeze gently blowing between us, a friendly standoff of sorts, and try to figure out if this was real, or if this was another of her tricks.

“Regina, you should do those things for you,� I said softly, leaning in to her. “But I’m proud of you for taking this step, however you got to it. I want you to do well. I do. But if you relapse—“  I hesitated.  I hated to bring down the hammer on her, after enabling her for so long. I just didn’t know how long I could keep being a soft place to land, for her. Maybe she just really needed to hit rock bottom.

I started again, steel in my resolve. “If you relapse, don’t come here again. Don’t call me again, don’t contact me again. You know as well as I do, we have been down this path before. I can’t keep having hope for you and feeling like I’m wasting my time.�

She was nodding, in full agreement. “I know. I understand, I’ve burnt this bridge before, and I can’t keep rebuilding it. But Serena I’m doing good work. I’m doing really good right now. I just wanted you to know.�

Sometimes I looked at this frail fragile shell of a woman and couldn’t believe I was related to her. Other times I looked at her and saw myself—and those times often made me angry and try to be the opposite of her. I saw so much of myself, standing in front of me.

“Thanks for letting me know,� I said, unfolding my arms. I hadn’t hugged her in years, but for some reason I wanted to. I didn’t know if she would accept one, or be too nervous, but the worst she could do was push me away, which I wasn’t afraid of. I opened my arms and stepped to her. Her eyes brightened, and opened wide, and she gasped and closed the space between us, throwing her arms around me. In a few seconds she was openly sobbing and I had my arms around her shoulders. I gave her an occasional pat on the back as she cried. I could imagine she had a lot to get out.

She sniffled, wiped at her face with her hands and stepped back. “Serena,� she said, hiccupping. We even cried the same. “You don’t have to say yes, but… would you meet me, Tuesday night? There are some things I need to tell you. Could we meet and talk? It’s been a long time since we could talk.�

My mind raced, quickly, trying to decide if I could come up with something very important to take care of. I felt bad, though, and of course as was my nature, I nodded. Yes, I would meet her. Briefly. I wished, at that moment, that JC could stay.

“Where are you staying?� I asked, weary, not sure this was a good idea, but how could I refuse her? I should have. I just… couldn’t. “I’ll come to you.�

Regina turned to her chaperone, who was digging a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Econo-suites, I think,� she offered, handing me the piece of paper. I checked the address and confirmed.

“Seven. I’ll meet you in front of the hotel. Can we meet without your chaperone?�

Again, Regina deferred to her. That was getting annoying. Her chaperone shrugged.  “I’m just here to make sure she don’t get high or nothing,� she said chewing gum and looking bored.

“I’ll pick her up at seven and drop her back around nine or so.� I rubbed Regina’s shoulder, told her I’d see her in a few days and turned to walk back into the house.  It worked best for me if I could do the walking away. Chris and Garrett always made sure she didn’t come after me.

The door closed heavily behind me, and in my tunnel vision, I headed for my office. I just wanted to be alone. A hand snaked around my waist and I felt the familiar tickle of stubble brush across my cheek.

“Hey?� JC pulled me toward him as he made his way down the hall, to my office, kicking the door open and shoving me in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “You alright?�

“No,� I answered simply, plainly. “I’m not. She just… you know… this is a Regina thing.� I paced the small room, arms crossed when my hands weren’t running through my hair.

“Showing up, out of the blue?�

I nodded, stopping at the window and peeking through the blinds into the backyard. I watched JC’s reflection in the window cross the room and come behind me, enveloping me in strong arms and a spicy scent and the feeling of comfort. I sank against him, leaning my head back.

“I wish I could quit her,� I quipped. He chuckled, lightly, the sound coming through his chest to my ears. “She looked good, though. She said she’s been in rehab. We’ll see how long this stint lasts.�

Warm hands slid down each arm until he was holding my hands, winding his fingers around mine. He tipped his head until his lips touched my cheek. “Do you have to do that? Do you have to be negative about it? Maybe it’ll work out this time.�

“I’m just so tired of being hopeful, JC. You just… you don’t know.�

“I don’t. You’re right. Just. She needs your support, if she really is getting clean. Don’t you think? I’m not trying to be pushy—“

“Sure you are. You always are.� I turned around, burying my head in the small concave in his chest, sliding my hands around his waist. “I know what you’re saying, though. I’ll try.�

“Good girl,� he mumbled, brushing his lips against my forehead. “We should maybe get back to the party?�

I breathed in, deeply, and blew a breath out, enjoying being close to him to the very last second. “I guess,� I said, then, pulling back, tipping my head up. He bent slightly to peck my lips softly and stepped back, heading for the door.

“I think I’d like a drink,� I said, tired, suddenly wishing everyone would go home.

He pointed toward an overstuffed chair and gently directed me toward it. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something.�

Somehow, over the span of the next few hours, exactly how many drinks I had became unclear. I felt warm and loose and fuzzy. I was aware that I was loud, but I kind of thought everyone was. I was having fun. I was going to forget Regina and the inevitable guilt and the lingering thoughts and the whole situation. It was a party, and I was going to have a good time.

The party had dwindled to just a few—Melissa and Annette, my brothers, JC and I, and Jen and Brian. I paced the room, restless and ranting to Garrett and Chris, about the very thing I was trying to forget.

“She keeps calling herself my mother. That’s not true. She’s not.�

“Well she is but she isn’t…�

“She isn’t,� I seethed. “Is. Not. My mom is YOUR mom.� I pointed at Garrett, almost stabbing him with my fingernail, poking his chest. He grabbed my finger and bent it back, gently, pushing me away.

“Quit poking me. You know what I mean.�

“My mom’s name is DONNA WILLIS. Your mom is my mom. She was my mom before she was your mom. SO. There.� I weaved, lightheaded. “What was I saying?�

“Your mom is my mom. Yeah. Come sit down.�

“I don’t want to sit down.�

Melissa and JC whispered to each other, strange looks on their faces. “What? What secrets are you telling him? Are you telling him how scared I am that this shit is just too much for him? He doesn’t even know the half of it, does he?� I giggled, not even knowing what I was trying to say, or what was coming out of my mouth.

Everyone was standing, stretching, gathering jackets and dropping cans and bottles and glasses in the kitchen. I was relieved, actually, to see the last of the guests file out of the door, waving goodbyes. Melissa whispered something to JC as she hugged him goodbye. In return he said, “I got it. I’ll take care of her.� The front door closed and the house was quiet except for the music still thumping from the speakers.

“Let’s go have drunk sex,� I said, stumbling toward the stairs, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind me.

He stepped into the living room to pick up the remote and turn the music off, returning the remote to where he found it, lined up neatly with the others. “No drunk sex, honey.�

“No?� I climbed, slowly, feeling every pound of my body weight, the higher I climbed.

“No. Go on up. I’m gonna grab you some water, or you’ll feel like shit tomorrow.� I slowly climbed the rest of the stairs and weaved to the bedroom, falling into the chair in the corner, suddenly very, very tired. I didn’t move until JC came up, wielding several bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“You need to drink one of these,� he said, handing a bottle to me.  I glared at him, as best I could. “Take it, drink it.�

I took the bottle from him and twisted the cap off, tossing it over my shoulder. “You’re so bossy.�

“You like it.� He bent to unfasten the buckles on my shoes, slipping them off of my feet and setting them in their spot in the closet.

“Fucking love it. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re bossy.� I sucked down a few long swallows of ice cold water, savoring how good it felt on my throat. “I love you, you know that? That’s why I’m scared. Because it always happens.�

He held out a hand to me, helped me out of the chair and to the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed and began peeling off clothes and handing them to him until I was naked, then flopped back onto the bed. The duvet cover was cool to the touch. It felt good. I was so hot—beads of sweat were popping up on my forehead, soaking my hairline. JC dumped my pile of clothing into the hamper in the closet and pulled his t-shirt off, dropping it onto his open suitcase. Next went his jeans and socks, until he was in his black boxer-briefs. He tossed my night shirt at me and pulled the covers back, waiting for me to roll out of the way so we could get into the bed.

“What always happens, sweetie?�

I slipped the shirt over my head, pulling my arms through and the shirt down, and then sitting up so I could crawl between the cool sheets behind JC. “I love someone and they go away and leave me and I try to make them stay and they don’t. It always happens.�

I settled between the sheets in the crook of JC’s arm, facing him, his stubble prickling my forehead as he leaned down to kiss it before reaching over to snap off the lamp. I felt myself fading pretty quickly, my head fuzzy, words coming out of my mouth that I wasn’t aware of.

“What are you talking about, Serena?�

“Regina. I used to love her. When I was little. And I would try to make her stay. But she always had to go and then she would stay gone for a long time. And then I stopped loving her.�

“You didn’t stop loving her. You still love her. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be all messed up, right now.�

I shrugged in response and snuggled closer, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing, my eyes sliding closed. “She wants to meet, Tuesday. I wish you could stay till Wednesday.�

“I would try but I already put some stuff off until Wednesday so I could come.� A hand slid down my arm, then under it to wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “But maybe Melissa or Annette or your brothers could go with you.�

 “They didn’t mean to cut you out, JC.�

“I know. Sleep, honey. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day for you.�

Choking. I was choking on a ball of cotton. Or maybe not. I couldn’t breathe or swallow and my head hurt so bad. Everything hurt. The sunlight hurt. I groaned and slid down in the bed and covered my head with the sheet and duvet cover.

“I thought I heard you moaning up here.� I felt the cover lift and JC’s head appeared in the opening. “Morning, sweetheart. How do you feel?�

“Ohhh my God.� I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“Sounds like you feel like shit,� he said, having the courtesy to speak softly.

“Working my way up to shit,� I moaned and crawled out from under the covers, blinking against the brightness of the room, my voice still thick and low and gravelly.

“Here,� JC said, handing me a mug of coffee and two tablets.  Against the vehement protest of my head, I sat up and took the pills and sipped on hot, fresh coffee. The TV was on, the usual Sunday airing of Meet the Press. I tried but failed to focus on the images on the screen. They just looked like blurry, nonsensical images and the screen seemed to pulse in rhythm to the throbbing in my head.

I felt sick, and for good measure stopped drinking the coffee and reached for the half empty bottle of water from the night before, sucking down the rest of it. That helped the cotton-mouth feeling a little. Didn’t help with the creeping embarrassment as the night started to come back to memory.

“What was I drinking? I don’t remember…� 

“Uhm. Something with vodka. I don’t know what else you had but I know whatever you had like, five or six of had vodka in it.�

“Five or six? God, I never drink that much. I’m not a drinker.� I laid back down so the pain in my head could subside. “New rule,� I grumbled. “I’m not allowed to have anymore of whatever that was.�

“M’kay, honey.�

“Did I embarrass you, last night? I’m feeling like I did. I can’t really remember but I feel like I did.�

“Me? No. Rest up. Have some more water.� A heavy hand rubbed my back, up and down, then around and around and then up and down again. So soothing.

“Sleep. More sleep,� I mumbled, drifting off again. Somewhere between painful awake and blissful sleep I remembered that I’d told him I loved him.

Some time much later I sat up, and looked around. The room was dark and cool and I was alone. I felt like I had been run over by a truck, but the headache was gone. I pulled the covers back and slipped out of bed, walking in the dark to the bathroom, peeled off my nightshirt and jumped into a shower, letting the strong spray beat on my back and soothe away the minor aches and pains.

So this was twice I had let my drinking get out of control, around him. It wasn’t that I felt safe enough to do that around him—it would be one thing if that’s what it was. But it wasn’t. I always found a reason or a need to hide something from someone and one of the traits I picked up from Regina was to hide by drinking. That was why it bothered me so much when people compared me to her and said I was just like her. I was more like her than I really wanted to be.

I remembered, again, my drunken declaration of love and I wilted against the cool tile wall, tears welling up. Why was I trying to kill this before it even got good? I had been trying, so hard, to not say it, not freak him out, let it be easy and casual and fun and the second I get some alcohol and let my inhibitions down, I let it spill out. Not even sober, not even in the loving, romantic way I’d sort of planned in my head. All drunken and slurring, sprawled in a chair while he was taking my shoes off. 

Maybe he didn’t hear it. Or didn’t take it seriously, because I was drunk. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t say it, he wouldn’t bring it up. Yeah, and maybe I was crazy. Nothing got past him. He would bring it up, eventually.

“Serena?� His voice startled me and I jumped. I poked my head around the shower door to find JC’s head peeking around the bathroom door. “You alright in here? Drowning? Need saving?�

Amused, I smiled. “No, I’m just fine. I’ll be out in a little bit, okay?�

“Alright. Just yell if you need help.� I heard the door close and sighed, finished my shower and stepped out, toweled off and ambled into the bedroom, naked.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.� JC lounged on the bed, in a simple t-shirt and track pants, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded under his head. The remote rested on his chest and he was propped against a mountain of pillows.

I smirked at him and took my usual seat at the vanity to apply lotion. “Hi, how are you? I’m sorry I slept all day.�

“It’s okay, as long as you feel better. Do you?� I nodded slowly, squeezing some lotion into my hands and spreading it between them before starting at my feet and rubbing it in.  “Can I do that for you?�

I blinked, all bent over my body to reach my feet and lower legs. My eyes lifted to him. “Put lotion on?�

“Yeah. Why not. Come over here.� He sat up and scooted over, patting the mattress next to him.

‘Why not, indeed,’ I thought, then picked up the bottle of lotion and joined him on the bed. “Just not too much. I don’t want to be an oil slick.�  I turned onto my stomach and laid my head down, closing my eyes. I felt my hair being brushed aside and out of the way.

Slowly, methodically, body part by precious body part, he rubbed the lotion into my skin, massaging as he went, his large, heavy hands on my neck and shoulders, his thumbs digging into the small of my back, sliding over the rise of each cheek, down the backs of my thighs and calves. He turned me over and his hands rubbed away tension from my limbs, my chest, my stomach, thighs, legs and feet. I was so relaxed by the time he was done I could have rolled over and gone back to sleep.

When he was done, I thanked him with a kiss, took the bottle and set it back on my dresser.

“What’s your favorite color?� I pulled a drawer open and a multicolored pile almost popped out of the opening, the drawer overstuffed with clothing.

“Grey,� he shot out, without even thinking.

“Ok…What’s your other favorite color?�

“Uhm. I dunno. Pink.�

“Pink it is.� I found a slinky pink nightgown that came to mid thigh, put it on, and then and crawled back up on the bed, laying down next to him, smelling of my lotion, now.

“You feeling okay?�

“Mmmhmmm,� I said, nodding, getting comfortable. “Why?�

His head rolled to the side, his eyes fixed on my face, though I chose not to look at him. “You seem different. Talk to me.�

“I’m okay. I’m just, you know. I’m embarrassed about last night.�

“Well, you got a little loose, yeah. But around friends and family, so not that bad.�

“I guess. I don’t think I would have done that if Regina hadn’t come by. She just throws me off, so bad. And I try to forget her, and can’t, and…� I paused, with a shrug. “I feel so weak, where she’s concerned. I was so strong, for so long and then one look at her and I feel like I just crumbled. In front of you. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to be whiny, crying girlfriend full of weakness.�

He rolled to his side, propped onto an arm. I still wasn’t looking at him. “You’re not whiny, crying girlfriend full of weakness. You’re plenty strong. You’re just human. Look, last night was… weird. It totally threw me for a loop but I understand. I keep saying it-- I don’t know how I’d handle it if it were me, in your situation.�

My eyes caught the ceiling fan, spinning around and around. “You’d just handle it. Because you have to. You just do what you have to do and then later either congratulate yourself or yell at yourself. Or both.�

JC reached over to cup my face, turning my head so I could see him, then tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. I knew by the look in his eye that he heard me, and he must have seen that I remembered saying it. I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him.

“It didn’t come out like I wanted it to. Like I planned on saying it.�

“I figured that,� he said, leaning to brush his lip against my shoulder. “It was nice to hear, anyway. I want you to wait, though. Before you say it again. Make sure you mean it and that you say it like you want to say it.�

In a way, I felt relieved to clear it up—he heard it, he knew I knew he heard it, he didn’t want to hear it again until I wasn’t drunk or in deep remorse over letting it slip. Another part of me was kind of sad he didn’t take any opportunity to say ‘I love you, too’. Did that mean he didn’t? I mean, was I letting myself get close to him, and he wasn’t even going to let himself feel anything real for me? Maybe he wanted to say it but couldn’t. And maybe he just didn’t. But maybe he wanted to.

“JC.� I mumbled his name, so quietly even I could barely hear myself. He caught it, though, and his eyes moved from the TV to my face, eyebrows raised in question. “Make love to me? Slow. Not… like usual. I need it slow. Please?�

In moments the TV was off, the lights were dimmed, and he was so close to me and coming closer, and closer. I breathed in the scent of him, reveled in the touch and the feel of him, the very careful and gentle and sensual way he took care of me, clasped his hands with mine and slowly, very slowly, moved me to a place I wanted to be. Needed to be. I felt comfortable and at home and safe, with him.  I needed that.

We didn’t go to sleep, after. Not right away. We had a little to eat, watched a little TV, laughed a little, talked a little, but I felt a shift between us. The difference was unexplainable, but it was there. Not in a bad way. It was good, very good. But it was there.

 

"Earth to Serena. You in there, somewhere?"  

From far away the rapid snap-snap of Melissa's fingers and a hand waving in my face broke my reverie, a long day dreamy stare out of the window of her SUV. This would make the third trip to the hardware store that weekend-Annette had a strong inclination to paint the den, and when Annette inclined strongly, there was really no argument. More tape and other items were needed, so Melissa reluctantly climbed into the truck again, dragging me along for the ride, ranting the whole way until she realized I wasn't responding.

"Sorry," I said, sheepish, breaking my gaze at nothing and giving her a thin smile. "What were you saying? Aliens taking over the world, or something?"

"No. Annette taking over my weekends with these ‘honey-do' lists. Sometimes I want to actually be lazy and lay around all weekend after working all week. I don't know when she became such a weekend warrior."

Distracted, I played with the small hoop earrings I wore and smiled weakly. Melissa glanced at me, then back to the road, then back to me. "What's with you?" she demanded. "You're awfully quiet lately."

The truck lumbered through an intersection and as the familiar orange sign loomed, I blurted, without really thinking, "I told JC I loved him."

I'd never seen Melissa's head move as fast as when it whipped around so she could stare at me, wide eyed. She veered into the lot and parked messily in a spot, slamming the gearshift into park and turned in her seat. I cringed at the lecture that I knew was coming.

"You didn't. You did not. You didn't," she ranted. "What did I say to you? I said take it slow!"

"I had already told him by then!" I shot back. "And don't yell at me. I've been yelling at myself for weeks. I know. It was too early. I shouldn't have, but it's out there, now. I'm just trying to deal with it."  I pressed myself against the cloth seat, tugged at a string of curls, resuming my stare out of the window in an attempt to escape her glare.

"So what happened? You get caught up in some good sex and it fell out? What?"

"I-" I did a double take and laughed. "You need to not watch so many movies. No. It didn't happen like that. It happened the night of my party." I slowly turned my head back to her, waiting for her to catch my meaning.

Her eyes narrowed, and then closed. She sighed, then opened them, a perfectly plucked eyebrow arching toward her hairline. "Before or after you got drunk off your ass?"

"You said I wasn't that bad!"

"That was before I found out you committed relationship suicide!" She reached over and tapped my bare arm. Hard. "Before or after?"

"After," I mumbled, rubbing my arm, in a huff. "And it wasn't relationship suicide."

Melissa shook her head, her mouth set in a tight line. "See. This is-I mean--come on. You met this guy on a flight to LA, he charmed you and ya'll had some good romps and built up some Sky Miles. Do you really think this will go past that?"

My lip curled in anger and I opened my mouth to let out an expletive laced stream, but she put up a hand in apology and defense.  "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, alright? It's just-- I mean, don't get me wrong. JC is a great guy and he really likes you a lot, and this is something I would be happy to hear about six months from now. But now? Right now?" She shook her head, her frustration apparent by the lines across her forehead.  "Do you really want to go through this, again?"

I seethed at her comments, her glib characterization of the past few months of my life but deep down I asked myself the same question. This was the closest I'd come to something serious in more than a year. My last relationship ended badly and after a few false starts, I gave up and decided to take a break from dating. I called it my ‘Man Sabbatical' and according to the ‘rules' I set for myself, I wasn't even supposed to be meeting him for drinks or going to dinner or hanging out with him or sleeping with him. Or even really liking him or falling in love with him. I could have stopped it, I supposed. But it felt good. And I didn't want to. And I didn't think JC wanted it to stop, either.

"I think you're being unfair," I said quietly. "Comparing apples to oranges. Robert isn't JC."

"No, he's not but it's the same thing, all over again. Throwing yourself into something and admitting feelings way too early and getting all wrapped up in someone and then trying to hang onto him and a relationship that's dying. This is why I said to take it slow."

"Look, I know. Lord knows, I know, and I have already lectured myself and beat myself up. I'm already past that point and I'm trying not to make the same mistake. You don't see that?"

"No. I don't. I see you doing the same thing and hoping for a different result." She ran a shaking hand through her hair, bunching it up at the top of her head, blowing out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't-I'm acting like what I say matters and in the grand scheme of things it doesn't."

She dropped her elbow on the window ledge and gave me a sideways glance, speaking calmly in a softer voice. "I'm just concerned because this is the happiest I have seen you in a long time. And I want you to stay that way, and I'm worried you won't be able to, because the circumstances..." her voice trailed off and she shook head, releasing her hair and another breath.

"He's so good for you, Serena. How long has everyone been harping that you needed to go to therapy? Years, right?" I nodded, chewing the inside of my lip. "One weekend with him and you made the appointment. And you've turned a corner with Regina, and you have the chance to meet family you never knew you had. And I don't know him but he seems pretty damn happy with you."

"So what are you saying? It's doomed, or it's blessed? I'm confused."

"Me too. I guess what I'm saying is... slow down." She turned to me, her eyes pleading, wide. "Please, just let him take the lead-there's so much potential for him to hurt you and I'm not saying that to be mean, it's just a reality. He lives in a whole different world than you do and of course you love him-he's a wonderful man. I almost love him."

I couldn't help the giggles that burst out of my mouth in such a serious moment, but they helped to ease the tension in the cab of the truck. Melissa laughed with me for a minute, and then reached across the seat to untangle my clasped hands, holding a hand in hers.

"Look, I know I preach a lot about being a strong woman and owning your feelings and being completely open and all that. So if it's working, okay. Let it work. But so help me God, if you do something to make him break up with you I will hurt you. Please slow down."

My heart overflowed with how much she was truly invested in my personal happiness. Melissa and I had been through nearly every iteration of relationship drama in our long friendship, and I knew she was right. I also knew about this feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything was going to be fine. I would take her advice-it was good advice, after all-- but I couldn't take on her fear of things that might not come to fruition. There wasn't any way I could remain in this relationship if I couldn't stay positive. Besides, JC valued optimism. Doom and gloom weren't really his style and it definitely wasn't mine. 

After a few minutes of silence, Melissa reached for the latch and popped her door open, climbing out of the truck. I followed and wandered the store with her as she picked up the items on Annette's list.

"Speaking of JC," she said, which was odd because we hadn't spoken of him in at least a half hour. "What's up with him, lately? Didn't you say he had a meeting in New York?"

I nodded, scanning up and down the aisle. "He's flying out tomorrow."

"Did you ask him what it was about?"

I nodded, with what I hoped was a blank expression. "I can't say. We'll see. It's not what I thought it was. That's all I can say."

"Not music?"  I shook my head, slowly. "Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes.

"What?" My mouth dropped open and I gasped. "Melissa Wren. Are you a fan, now?"

She shrugged, nonchalant, but slightly pink. "Well, you know, when your best girlfriend starts dating a musician, you get nosy. You might search YouTube and watch all the videos and you might pick up his album on iTunes and you might start paying attention to his career." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and glared at me. "I'm just saying--it's time for something new."

"From your lips to his ears," I muttered, again inwardly groaning at the new project on his plate. If he wasn't so excited about it, I'd be more upset over it. I was quickly learning that JC did nothing anyone expected him to do, so to keep pressuring him and pushing him toward music would work against me. Patience was the name of this game.

"You could have asked me, you know, for videos and music. I have the collection to end all collections."

"I would have, if I wanted you to know." She pursed her lips and pranced down the aisle, basket on her arm. I laughed and followed her.

"You are what JC would say is ridiculous."

After a long, warm day of watching Melissa and Annette attempt to paint a wall and playfully argue with each other, I begged off of staying for dinner and headed home. I was expecting a phone call-a few phone calls-- and I wanted to be home and ready.

At 7pm on the dot, my cell phone buzzed. I was expecting it to, but when it actually happened, vibrating against the Formica counter, it startled me. I picked up the phone and fumbled it, almost dropping it before I pressed the button to accept the call.

"Hel-"  My mouth was dry but I was somehow still choking. I swallowed and tried again. "Hello?"

"Hi. Hello," said a deep, smooth, friendly male voice with a twinge of an accent. Texas, if I knew my accents. I was instantly put at ease a little, hearing the tone of his voice for the first time, following a few weeks of short introductory emails. "This is Serena, right?"

I had no idea what I was supposed to say to him. I didn't even know what to call him-I supposed I would call him Charles. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Hi."

"Hi there. It's nice to put a voice to words, I guess. You uh, you sound like-- well, like your mom."

"I hear that a lot," I said with a smile. A genuine smile. "We look alike, too. Well, you know that. You saw the pictures." I climbed down from the bar stool where I was sitting and paced the house, starting in the kitchen and walking through the living room, dining room, my office and back around.

"Yes, I saw the pictures. Thank you for emailing them. You're beautiful. Hope that didn't sound weird." He chuckled a little, his nervousness coming across the line clearly. He seemed just as scared and tentative as I was.

"No, that didn't sound weird. Thank you. So, uhm. I guess... tell me about yourself. I don't know anything about you, really."

I settled in the corner of the overstuffed chair in the living room, listening to the soothing, gentle voice tell his life story. How he grew up in Texas-that explained the slight accent-parents moved to Denver, suddenly. He rebelled by acting out, running with a bad crowd, partying a lot. Dropped out of high school, got into trouble, and decided to try to turn it around before he got into deeper trouble.

He talked about meeting Regina, late at a party one night and how they were inseparable and how he kind of hated to throw her out when he found out she was really very young, but he just couldn't get into more trouble. And how he swore, he swore, he swore he didn't know she was pregnant. And if he'd known he'd have taken care of her, and me, so she wouldn't have had to give me up.

He said he wished he'd known he had a daughter. Another one, since he had three already. I had stepsisters. And that he loved me the minute he found out about me and was almost desperate to meet me.

I filled in the cracks, telling him about my adoptive parents and family and my everyday life. I couldn't confess to loving him the minute I found out that he existed, but I admitted that if I'd known that Regina knew who he was, I'd have found him. And, well... I had a Dad. I was loved and I wanted for nothing. That seemed to make him happy.

We talked long past sunset about random things, things we loved and hated.  We found we had a lot in common, and some things we didn't but I thought they were funny. He was big into music, loved it, especially Jazz and Blues and Classic Rock. He loved Mexican food, hated Chinese food, was an avid runner and owned a small chain of auto supply stores-he got his start at the auto repair center where he was working when he met Regina.  He happened to run into her outside of one of his stores and couldn't believe his eyes. "That's a face you never forget, no matter how it changes. She was a beautiful girl," he said.

I was impressed with what I knew so far of Charles Goodreau. And I was ready to learn more.

Our call ended a few hours later, finally. I surprised myself-months ago I'd never have been brave enough to suggest that he call. I sat in the dark, thinking, smiling, when the phone vibrated in my hands again and the other call that I was expecting came through.

"You never let me call you," I said, as I picked up. "Hi."

"Hi, sweet girl. Am I interrupting?"

I sighed, happily, and got up from the chair to climb the stairs. "No, we finished up a few minutes ago."

"Okay, well, get to it. Tell me everything, how was it?"

I chuckled at the sweet man on the other end of the line, undressing as best I could while holding the phone and detailing the entire conversation, start to finish. By the time I had finished my story I was lying in bed, in darkness except for the bedside lamp casting a soft glow across the room.

"So, what was it like to talk him, finally? Did he sound like you thought he would?"

"Mmmm..." I thought back to my expectation, and realized I didn't really have any. I was just curious how he would sound. "I didn't expect the accent, but other than that he sounded fine. I didn't really think about it.  Some of the pressure was already off, because I didn't have to go looking for him."

"Well, yeah, I guess that would be easier."  Something in his tone alerted to me. Not sadness or even a jealousy, but something was there. Whatever it was, it made me want to clam up and stop talking about it.

"Your parents are okay with all of this? Talking and meeting and going out there and everything?"

"JC, sweetie...are you okay to talk about this? I don't want be insensitive..."

"You don't want to talk about it??"                                                                

"It's not that. I just didn't want to seem like a braggart. I mean, we had the whole ‘I don't know who my dad is' in common, and now that's changed and I don't want you to feel like I'm rubbing it in."

"Good thing we have other things in common." He laughed softly, as if to say ‘silly girl'. "You think too much about that stuff. I'm okay. I'm excited for you, this is big. So, you don't know when you're going out there? I mean, you're going out there, right?"

"Sometime after I finish with Qwest, I guess. I want to be able to enjoy myself and take my time out there." I yawned and stretched, tired from so much talking and a long, eventful day. I still thought he was being supportive and thoughtful but not really truthful about being okay with me talking nonstop about my birthfather, when he still had no idea who his was.

"Your turn," I said, my voice worn. "Talk my ear off, honey."

He launched into the long, hilarious story of his day, trying to get his last minute errands run before he flew to New York. It never failed that when he had a flawless plan, something happened to throw him off and then he had to hurry around and he hated to hurry around. 

"So, first the flat tire, then my haircut... sucks. I mean, when you see me, don't laugh. I almost have the Caesar thing going again." I tried not to, imagining him rolling his eyes and grimacing as he ran his hands through shorter hair.

"I liked the Caesar cut on you. I'm sure it's fine, handsome. Your hair grows pretty fast. And uh..." I lowered my voice, in a mood. "As long as there's enough to grab onto, I'm okay with it."

I heard a low growl, and chuckled at it. "Don't tease me. I have another week or so before I can see you. And I have to complain, again, that you're not even staying here."

"JC," I sighed. This was the third time he'd brought it up since I told him. "I didn't think it would bother you this much. I need to take this project seriously and I need to be able to work early and late and every hour in between. I'm under a microscope and I'm not on vacation."

"I know, I know," he soothed. "Just whining." And then, "I miss you."

"Aw, I miss you too, sweetheart," I sighed. "We will see each other very soon, one more week. You ready for your meeting tomorrow?"

"Mmm...yeah," he answered, after a few seconds. "Kind of nervous. I've never done this-well, I've done weekly TV before but not like this. I'm just on edge. I could use someone to hold onto." He chuckled-a sultry, seductive light laugh. "And uhm... have sex with. I'm horny."

"Oh, really," I responded, grinning into the phone. "Wish I could help you out with that."

"I bet you do," he teased, his voice low. "I've started working out, you know. My stamina has improved. I'm ready."

I loved a challenge, and that sounded like a good one to take on. I couldn't wait. "Yeah, well, I'll be the judge of that. So, I was thinking about something..."

"Talk to me."

"I uhm... well." I paused, for dramatic effect-or more that I was a little nervous to bring it up. "So, I bought a webcam."

A soft gasp came over the line and I almost heard him smile, I'm sure of it. "Naughty girl. Is it on, right now?"

"No, it's downstairs, in my office."

"Go get it. Turn it on, light it up. You know I want to see you. I have my notebook right here."

I considered stalling but it would just be prolonging something that was going to happen anyway. He wouldn't rest until I turned it on.  "Alright," I said, feigning irritation. "I have to go get my laptop and the camera. Hang on ok?"

"Holding."

The camera was still connected in my office, where I had been testing it earlier in the day. I disconnected it and the computer and brought them back to the bed with me. After a few minutes of fiddling with the connection, I sent him an invitation to view the stream.

"Helllooo..." he said, as soon as the connection opened for him.

"Hi," I said, bending over into the camera, pressing the ear bud for the Bluetooth receiver into my ear. "Am I echoing?"

"I think your mic on the computer is on."

I pressed the mute button on the keyboard and tried again, lying down on my side, facing the camera so he could see me. "Better?"

"Yes. Hi," he said as I waved to the camera, and then growled "Lace," noting the lingerie that I was wearing when I crawled into bed. I grinned and blew a kiss at him, reminding myself to focus on the camera and not stare at myself on screen.

"Pretty cool, huh? It's one sided, though, so you have to get one so I can see you, too."

"I don't know about that, honey. I'll be all over YouTube before I know it. You're probably safe but I don't want to take my chances." Of course. How could I forget? Even if I got him to relax enough to be on camera, he'd never do anything that could be spread around.

"You have to worry about the strangest things, JC."

"We'll see. This is helping. Sort of. I want to touch you, now."

"I know. I want that, too. And I want you to rub my skin with your thumbs, like you do. And kiss me over and over again." I stared into that camera like I was staring into his soul.

He sighed, deeply, on the other end. "Soon, sweet girl. It's amazing what I notice when I can't touch you. You have a beautiful smile."

"Thank you." I dipped my head, shy for some reason, a light blush turning my skin pink. "I'm rather vain about my smile. So, talk to me. Other than a bad tire and a bad haircut, was your day good?"

"It was fine. Just busy. I'd rather you talked to me so I can watch your lips move."

I rolled my eyes at him, still blushing, a smile spreading from the corner of my mouth. "I saw that. You're racking up the points, Miss Willis."

"Oh? What kind of points?"

"The good kind. Just wait till I see you. Talk to me. Tell me about your day. What else did you do?" He sounded like he was getting comfortable, so I did the same, pushing the computer back, revealing my body lying across the bed.  

"Oh, shit, you look good," he whispered, then sucked in a breath through his teeth. "I wish I was with you, right now."

Teasing, I reached toward the camera. "Do you want me to put it back where it was?"

"No," he answered, quickly, then laughed. "No, leave it there. Just stay there. Talk to me. I just want to see you."

I brushed over the high points of my day, watching Melissa and Annette stumble through the beginnings of their den remodel. I was tempted to tell him about our conversation but decided against it. It had been a long, emotional day and I yawned several times while I talked.

"I'm being selfish, keeping you up. We can talk more tomorrow, go to sleep." He sounded tired, his words slurring, as if he was about to drift off to sleep.

"We both sound like we could pass out," I said, yawning and stretching, which created another groan on the line. "So are you feeling better? I hate to hang up if you're still feeling lonely."

"I said I was horny, not lonely. Seeing you helped a lot. I'm still horny but I'm just-I'll just masturbate and go to sleep." His frank admission made me laugh. And imagine.

"Well, maybe when you get your camera, we can revisit that." I lowered my voice and tried to send him a sultry look.

"Maybe. But uh..." he shifted. "You have one right now so... I think you should show me something."

I raised an eyebrow and looked around, as if someone was close enough to catch me doing something. "On...on camera?"

"Yeah, on camera.  Show me," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Uhm. Okay." I moved the laptop and camera so he could get a full view and lay back down. "Can you see me?"

He swallowed hard, then answered, "Every inch."

Nervous wasn't the word, for this. We spent a lot of time apart, so I'd had my share of fantasies on the lonely nights when I needed him, but he wasn't there. I didn't picture myself to be prudish but I'd never done this for anyone, in front of anyone. JC was, apparently, breaking all kinds of barriers in my life. The idea was an incredible turn on to me--I hoped I knew how to do it that would be a turn on to him. Then again, the very act was likely enough. I doubted I needed a special technique for him.

I wasn't sure where to start, so I closed my eyes and lay there, trying to get into the mood, a giggle bubbling up every now and then. JC whispered a few words of inspiration and a request. Obliging I dug into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, retrieved a small bottle of perfumed body oil and laid back down so he could watch. My hands, lightly lubricated, seemed to move on their own, gliding over my skin, stopping at his favorite junctures-the side of my neck, the dip of my shoulder between my neck and shoulder blade, my collar bone-before moving over each breast, freeing it from the lacy cup.  I teased each nipple, imagining it was him doing so, until they stood at attention and, like clockwork, my hips began to roll.

"Yeah, I love that hip action."

His commentary did nothing for my nerves so I shut him out, closed my eyes and smiled and continued rolling and flicking before letting one hand slowly travel south. A long, low moan escaped my throat as nimble fingers rubbed through thin fabric. On the outskirts of my self induced fog, I heard his breath, heavy and almost panting on the line. I would bet any amount of money he was stroking himself watching me. The thought propelled me forward.

My breathing and my hips sped up to match the pace of my movements and try as I might, I couldn't stop moaning, groaning, crying out. Soon it wasn't enough-I needed a release, and soon. I lifted my hips and slipped my panties off, tossing them to the side. Electric currents raced through me and my moans grew louder, more forceful, filling the room with the sound. I was close, so close as my hips rolled and bucked and I felt my climax approaching, from the curl of my toes to the tensing of my calf muscles and higher, through my pelvic region and the pit of my stomach, out through the small of my back.

A sound on the other end, a whimpering, panting, groaning sigh reminded me that I wasn't alone-I was so caught up that I forgot that this was for him. For us.  I rolled my head toward the camera, bringing him in.

"JC..." I moaned, staring into the camera like I was staring into those blue eyes.

I heard him in the background, his breath coming in rapid gasps. "Don't get shy on me now," he panted. "I want to hear it. I want to see you."

In a wild flurry of thrashing and moans I brought myself to the very edge, hoping he wasn't that far behind because I couldn't hold back much longer.

"Oh my GOD. Don't stop. I'm-FUCK."  He didn't finish his sentence and I heard nothing for a few seconds but frantic rubbing, and then a long grunt that I took to mean he had gone over the edge. I longed to join him and let myself follow.

I breathed in, deeply, allowing the wave to hit and then relentlessly batter my body, arching up onto my toes. I reached above my head and grasped a rung of the headboard, squealing and making sounds I'd ever heard come out of my mouth, my hips bucking over and over and over in painfully sweet convulsions. In my ear I heard JC enjoying his own climax, his groans loud but sort of muffled and far away as if he'd dropped the phone.

We took our time coming down, nothing on either end but pants and gulps of air and rapid breaths and light, satisfied laughter on the line.

JC broke the silence with a deep breath in, then out and then, "That was... amazing. I liked that. We should do that more."

I rolled onto my side, my face covered with both hands, laughing more out of nerves than embarrassment, but there was a fair amount of ‘I don't believe I just did that' running through my head.  "I've never done that before," I groaned, muffled behind my hands. "I mean, in front of someone."

"You can do that in front of me anytime you want," he said, laughing, then soothing. "Show me your face. I love your face with your hair all stuck to it and glowing and shit. Show me."

I removed my hands to reveal a satisfied expression, tired, droopy eyes, very relaxed. Stretching, lounging, I wiped at the sweat on my skin, pushing my hair back from my face, then propped myself up on one arm.

"So, not that I'm a daredevil now, or anything," I said, my breathing still a little fast, my head still a little light. "But I can think of a lot of things I've never done in front of you that I want to try, if it turns out like that."

A deep, evil, maniacal laughter was building on the other end of the line. "That's my girl. I was wondering when we might get to something a little out of the box."

I shot him a grin that matched his laughter. "Oh really? You could have asked. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, nothing really in mind. I didn't want to offend you by asking about anything wild. But, like--well like tonight, you're... hot..." He paused, laughing a little, then continued. "I like that you brought it up. You didn't wait for me to ask."

I nodded at his compliment, then teased, "Well, now you don't have to pretend you're not a freak."

"I-see... why do people say that?" he argued.  "I like to be adventurous, you know, sure. Sex should be exciting or sensuous or comforting-- but never boring. When I'm comfortable with someone, yeah, I let walls down, and I lose inhibitions, and I like to have fun. Sue me. But it's not like I want to hang you from the ceiling or anything." He paused. "Unless you're into that-"

"No, no," I said, quickly shaking my head. "Not so much."

"Okay, well you know. If you want to do that, I'm game. But uhm, I'll tell you what I don't have, and that is adult board games. Freak."

"It was a gag gift, JC. You're calling me a freak?"

"Hey, man. If the sex swing fits-"

"I don't have one of those," I interrupted. Then paused. "Wait. Do you have one?"

A long, pregnant pause hung on the line as I imagined him slowly grinning, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, conjuring an innocent expression. "Maybe," he said, so quietly I barely heard him.

My jaw dropped and I blinked, several times, speechless as images and visuals flew through my head. I moved in close to the camera, so my face filled the screen. "Oh. My God, you freak. You have to show it to me."

"In time, sweetie," he teased, chuckling that sexy, low laughter from deep in his chest that rode my nerve endings and made me shudder. "In time. So, uh, listen. I need to go clean myself up, thank you very much. And I have to tell you... I can't wait to see you do that in person."

I shook my head, grinning and blushing and bursting, so proud of myself. "You are a bad influence, Mr. Chasez. Goodnight, handsome."  I blew a kiss at the camera and added, "Call me after your meeting."

"I will. Goodnight, Serena. Thank you."

I pressed end, turned the camera off, and snapped off the lamp on the bedside table, lying in total darkness, giggling to myself every now and then. "Relationship suicide," I said aloud, to no one. For the first time in... well... ever, Melissa appeared to be wrong about something. "We're just heating up."

###

The following week flew much too quickly. My to-do list was long and the short span of time I had to complete the list made life stressful and the days very, very long.  By the time my flight landed in LA and I wrestled two large suitcases and my carryon to my rental car and then to the hotel, I was too tired to be excited or nervous or scared. I longed to get to a spot where I could sit and relax. And maybe see JC face to face for a change.

Much to my chagrin, he signed on for the MTV project and it was all he had talked about since his trip to New York. It was inspiring seeing him excited about being a part of something that was so close to his heart, and I liked seeing him that way-he seemed happier when he had something to look forward to and work for. I just wished he was as excited and inspired about his music. 

The show was still in planning stages but with a late spring launch there was prep work to do and meetings to attend. On top of his regular schedule of writing and producing projects, it was a lucky break that we landed Qwest. I'd never see him, otherwise. More than ever, things were falling into place around us and working in our favor.

My first full week in LA tried my patience and pushed my sanity to the edge. Any bit of confidence that I was fully ready for this launch was crushed the first day, when I was bombarded with questions I couldn't answer. After feeling like a battering ram for an hour, I arranged a conference call for late morning and ironed out the details. I had a feeling that the next few months would involve many more conference calls and meetings and quiet pep talks from a corner of the ladies room.

After a few days of working nearly sunrise to sunset, the wheels were starting to turn on this giant machine. I fell into a rhythm with their team and we had an easy day, breaking early. I was relieved to be leaving the office before 10pm and wanted to escape before someone asked me a question that would take an hour to answer.

I waved to the night watchman, heaved my laptop bag over my shoulder and stumbled out of the glass doors toward the hotel. The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the city block as I stared ahead, my mind already adding to my long list of tasks for the following day. I heard the low rumble of a car engine and the honk behind me, but I wasn't really paying attention-I knew two people in the city, and they were related, and neither would regularly be downtown. It wasn't until I heard a familiar voice and a wolf whistle that I stopped and turned around.

JC was behind me, pulling over at the curb, wearing his signature pair of shades and flashing that megawatt grin at me from behind the steering wheel. The top was down, since the day had been warm, but as the sun set it was starting to cool down.

"Fancy meeting you here," he called from the car, an arm hanging outside the door, the other hand on the steering wheel, the car rumbling and idling happily alongside me.

"I'm not in the mood for your cornyness," I said, walking to the car, leaning over the passenger side door, trying to stop the smile from crossing my lips.

He winked and nodded his head toward the passenger seat.  "Want a ride? Hungry?"

I sighed, thankful he'd come to find me. "Yes and hell yes," I said, dumping my bags in the backseat and popping the latch to the passenger side door and sliding onto the smooth, cool leather seats. I was relaxed in an instant and breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to trudge the whole way to the hotel, eat alone, play phone tag with JC and collapse into bed.

He didn't ask where I wanted to eat, and I didn't insist on a place, I just enjoyed the ride to wherever we were going, watching the scenery pass by until we pulled into the parking lot of an out of the way little restaurant.

"You like French, right?" He leaned over on the armrest, close to my face. I took in the sight of him, for a millisecond, admiring the light layer of hair on his face and how bright his eyes were, and the shape of his lips and the sound of his voice. In person. Next to me. I sighed, then leaned into him and kissed his lips quickly, softly, and pulled away.

"I like food. And I'm hungry. Are we going in?" I stepped out of the car and realized how tired I really was. I couldn't wait to just sit across from him and enjoy a nice meal and relax and catch up for a few hours.

"So, after the third time of explaining the sequence, how it has to be installed and programmed, the techs are finally starting to understand." My dinner sat half eaten in front of me, but I was too tired to finish. JC had made the mistake of simply asking how the project was going and I'd been talking for most of the meal. I felt bad about unloading on him, but he asked and I had plenty to tell.

He had finished his dinner while he listened and picked at the fries on my plate as I talked, but didn't miss a beat. "Doesn't that put you behind?"

I flailed my arms in frustration. "So men do understand the concept of time?  This project is slated for 96 days. At the rate we're going, we're pushing over 100 days, which means more money. Qwest will only pay for 5 days over the project deadline, so you can imagine my boss isn't happy. It's week one and I'm already stressed out." I planted my elbows on the table and rubbed my index fingers on my temple, circling and adding pressure. I felt a headache building behind my eyes as I glanced across the table.

"I'm just sitting here complaining. I sound like such a bitch right now, I'm sorry. I'll shut up." I removed my elbows from the table and sat up, picking at the French dip sandwich that had grown cold and unappetizing. "So what's up in your world? How was your session today?"

"Was good," he said, pushing his plate to the side of the table. The server came by and swiftly picked it up, so I handed her my plate as well.

"Good, that's it? You usually have a lot to say about a session."

"Well, you know," he said, shrugging, nonchalant. "It was just the usual-some writing, that went great, we sketched the melody out a little, got on the piano. It ought to come together by tomorrow and then we can record." He gave me a look, the one that said ‘whatever' and went back to sucking the last of the water out of his glass.

"What's up? You don't seem... JC tonight." He shook his head, and shrugged again, but I saw something in his face and pressed harder. "Talk to me, please," I said quietly, folding my arms over one another and leaning forward.

"It's not a big deal, I don't want to really throw anything on your shoulders-"

"Ehh!" I interrupted. "Wrong answer. I've done nothing but dump shit on you since we met and you haven't complained. I can take it. Especially if it'll help to talk about it. So?"

He stared at the table for a few seconds, his eyes downcast, those thick lashes shading his eyes his mouth closed in a tight line. It wasn't until I reached across the table and laid a hand over his, clasped together tightly, that he lifted his face to me.

"Do you think this TV show thing is stupid? I mean do you just hate the idea?"

Surprised at his blunt question, I blinked and sat back. "Do I seem like I hate it?"

"Sort of. You're kind of quiet about it. I'm just wondering."

"Well-I-I mean..." I stopped talking and started thinking, unsure how to phrase my feelings. "It's not like I don't support you, and things you want to do. I kind of just don't get it. I mean I get it, I just... I don't know."

"You do know," he said, focused intensely. "You can say it."

"Haven't you learned your lesson, asking me questions? I don't want to start anything, JC."

He shrugged, calm. "You're not. Just tell me how you feel about it."

"I'm... disappointed," I said, nodding slowly, sadly. "Yeah. I am. I feel like you're bored doing these sessions for people when you'd rather be working on your own music, so why you're not working on your own music, I don't know. I feel like you'd rather be on a stage than watching kids dance around on one and judging how well they move, so I don't know why you're doing that, either. Do you?"

"Sort of. I mean, I like to help people if I can. That's why I do the sessions. And I believe in the show, that's why I'm doing it."

"Is your heart there? Are you passionate about it? Or are you just there for exposure?"

"Honestly, a little of both." I glared at him, and really did mean to cut my eyes at him.
"Okay a lot of both. But do you hate that I'm doing it? That's my question."

"You know what, JC?" I sat forward and leaned close to him, hands clasped together on the table, looked him in the eye. "I'm not... I can't blow smoke up your ass. I don't hate it but it's a weird place for you to be, when you have music you've been trying to get out. Are you releasing music? Ever? Because that is where your passion is. That is where you thrive, sweetheart." I punctuated my sentence with a finger, poking his arm.

He glanced down at his arm where I'd poked him and looked back to me. "I want to. I want to release music, I'm always working on-"

I tossed my hands up in the air, wiggling my fingers around. "Blah, blah, always working on tunes, always got something going, might release something soon, when the stars align!" I dropped my hands heavily, loudly on the table and glared. "Bullshit. Bull fucking shit. What's stopping you? What's in the way?"

"I don't know." He grew quiet, contemplating, rubbing his chin with the pad of his thumb. I was worried I had offended him-but he asked. And I wasn't in the mood to play sweet supportive girlfriend.

"Inspiration," he blurted, suddenly, then nodded, staring into the table.  "I'm bored, and not into myself and my own ideas right now. I don't feel like dealing with the hype and the pressure, and bending to labels and fighting over concepts..."

"So it's easier to shit out some words and a catchy melody and throw them on a track for some unknown artist instead of pushing through and doing what you want to be doing?"

"Not easier. Just less pressure. Less headache."

I reached across the table again and laid a hand on his. He sandwiched my hand, laying his other hand on top of mine. I laid my other hand on top of the stack and stole a glance at his face. "I'm not trying to be pushy-"

"Sure you are," he said, winking. "But I hear you. And I appreciate your honesty. Means a lot to me. Thank you."  I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't ruin the moment, so I just nodded. We sat in silence, our stacked hands in the middle of the table, until the waitress slid the tab onto the corner of the table and slipped away.

He seemed to come to life, then, breathing in a deep breath, his chest puffing up, squeezing my hands before he pulled out his wallet. "You ready to go? You look beat."

I nodded and stood, stretching. "I need to visit the ladies room. I'll meet you at the car."

"You'll meet me at the door, young lady. It's dark out." I rolled my eyes and turned to find the restroom.

I made use of the facilities and stood at the sink, washing my hands, staring at the tired, bloodshot eyes in the mirror. The door to the restroom swung open and a woman walked in and made a beeline for the first open stall. She came back out as I was drying my hands and heading for the door. That head of honey blonde hair looked familiar to me and I glanced back, a smile breaking across my face.

"Uhm, this is will sound really strange, but do you remember me? Flight from Atlanta to LA a few months ago?"

She looked at me, and then looked again and a sign of recognition sparked in her eye. "Serena! Right?"

"Yes! Allison! I can't believe I'm running into you in a bathroom in a random restaurant."

"So you're back for another meeting, or what? You're sure here, a lot."

"Well, we landed the client, so yeah. I'm here training and launching for the next few months." I grinned, annoyingly wide, I'm sure. "Exciting."

"Well great," she said, grinning back, genuinely excited. "Well, so if you want I'll give you my card, you don't know anyone out here, right?" She reached into the small purse she carried and pulled out a business card holder, sliding one off and handing it to me. "My cell is on there and my office number. Call me if you want to go to a movie or anything, if you get time."

"Sure, yeah I'll give you a call." I took the card and noted the professional logo, adding a task to my mental to-do list-business cards. I didn't have any. "They have me working like hell right now, but I will definitely give you a call."

I bounced out of the restroom and headed for the door, where JC was patiently, slowly pacing the small vestibule, the phone at his ear and in the midst of what sounded like a business conversation. He pushed the door open and held it, walking out after me and grabbing my arm with his free hand.

"Walk with me," he mouthed, then, "mmhmmm'd" into the phone. He let me in on my side and slid into the driver's seat and we sat there while he talked. It was hard not to eavesdrop, but it sounded like he had plans, later. I was too tired to be jealous.

JC parked in what was quickly becoming ‘his spot', at the rear of the hotel and we took the usual route-stairs to the first floor and elevator up to my floor. I managed to get a larger room for this trip, which was nice. More space to move around, more space to work in, and a larger bed. Not that I needed the room, but after having a king sized bed to stretch out in, a queen felt small and cramped, especially when sharing it with a man that liked to sprawl.

As soon as I stepped foot inside the room, he caught me by the waist and pulled me toward him.  "Hey. I just wanted to walk you up. I need to go, I have work to do."

"Work or a party?" I raised an eyebrow and leaned against him, very very close to him. "You have to go right now? I haven't even seen you all week. I haven't seen you in weeks. Weeks, JC."

"It's not a party, it's a... an event thing for a producer friend of mine." His arms around me tightened, my arms circled his waist, his chin balanced on top of my head. "You'd hate me if I took you. Trust me."

"I'd never hate you," I mumbled against him, the fog of sleep rapidly approaching. "I'd be a cranky bitch, though, and that wouldn't be good for you." I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent for posterity, rubbed his back a few times and pushed away from him, taking a step back.

In moments his hands were in my hair, around my head, pulling me up to meet his lips. My eyes slammed shut as his lips pressed against mine, then relented and sweetly, softly stroked. I felt myself being dragged forward as he stepped back to lean against the door. He groaned as his back bumped against the sturdy wood, then turned his head and deepened the kiss. I sighed, mid-kiss, and I stepped closer, sank against him again.

"Are you sure you have to go?" I mumbled between toe tingling brushes of lips against mine, feather soft.

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I think you should stay, for a little while."

"Hmm-mmm," he mumbled while I pulled on his bottom lip. I loved that lip. "I'm supposed to be there at 10." One last kiss and he pulled away, reaching behind him for the door handle. "I have to go, but we'll catch up this weekend, okay?"

I nodded, and stole another kiss as he edged out of the door, laughing. "I'll call you tomorrow when I'm out of work. You said you'd been working out, right?"

"Oh. Don't start, with that. If you didn't work tomorrow I'd come back tonight."

"You can come back, if you want. Really. I want you to."

"We'll see. I have to go." He pecked my cheek and escaped, backing down the hall, his keys jingling as they dangled from one hand. "Talk to you tomorrow. Sleep tight."

Not long, an hour or two later, a taptaptap sounded at the door. How I heard it, I don't know-maybe I expected it and subconsciously I was listening for it, but the second I heard it, I threw the covers back and bounded to the door. He slipped inside as soon as I opened it, and without a word undressed to his briefs and crawled into bed beside me, extending his arm in invitation for me to snuggle into my spot.

I fell, then, into the most restful sleep I'd had in weeks.

"I see now, why you can't stay with me. You'd never leave work. You'd just live under your desk."

I yawned and snuggled closer to JC, under his arm, trying to keep my eyes open. We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, and on his insistence I drove out to spend a Saturday with him. I couldn't get used to the fact that he was so close. I was used to waiting weeks to see him, talking to him everyday, wanting and waiting and being denied until that precious moment went I saw his face and could touch him and kiss him and hug him. Maybe, subconsciously, I kept myself busy so I could miss him.

"Can we watch something besides Top Chef reruns?"

With a flick of his wrist he punched up the DVR menu and scrolled through the list of recorded TV shows and specials. "Intervention?"  

I elbowed him and attempted to take the remote, but he held it out of my reach. "Okay, okay. Sorry. No Intervention. What do you want to watch?"

"Anything but fucking Top Chef."

"Wow, you're grumpy." He scrolled further down the list and chose an HBO concert special. "This okay?"

I shrugged a shoulder, then tipped my head up so I could see him. "I told you I was grumpy. You said come over anyway."

He looked down at me, a twinkle in his eye. "I didn't think you'd be this bitchy."

"Keep calling me bitchy, JC. Just keep going, see what happens."

"Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy, bitch....OW!"  He yelped and leaped up from the couch, laughing as he lifted his shirt to investigate the red welt growing on his hip from where I had grabbed a fold of skin and twisted. Hard.

"Told you. Now come sit down over here and be nice to me."

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head, backing away. "I think I'll sit over here where people don't pinch." 

He plopped himself down on the sofa and turned the volume up on the TV. We watched, from our respective places, in silence through the first few songs. When the artist stopped to chat with the crowd and make introductions, he turned the volume down and glanced over at me, still curled up in the same place on the couch, under a hand- knitted afghan.

"Hi," he said, from across the room.

"Hello," I said, coolly.

"Are you mad at me?"

 I shook my head. "Not at all. I'm not the one that moved all the way over there."

"You pinched me."

"You called me bitchy."

A friendly standoff of sorts went on for the better part of a minute before he said, "So how are you, all the way over there?"

"Tired. Lonely." I sighed, dramatically, and slouched into the couch.

"Really." He moved to the large overstuffed chair opposite the couch. "Better?"

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He was so damn cute when he tried to be. "If it's possible, you're even further away."

"I don't think so. Measure it."

"I'm not measuring shit. You're further away."

"Honey, you are so grumpy."  He moved again, and sat at the end of the couch. "Is this better?"

"Slightly." I sniffed and found something to stare at on the wall. He inched closer and closer still.

"Better?"

I looked him up and down, in a pair of flannel lounge pants and a t-shirt and socks. Comfortable and casual and sexy.  For a fleeting moment I was so thankful I took the leap with him. He made me laugh, everyday.  

"Yeah. Better." The music had started up again and caught my attention, a soulful, bluesy mix from the guitar to the saxophone-even the drums were mellow and haunting.  He somehow ended up next to me, an arm behind me and curling around my waist, tucking me close to his chest while he kept the beat with a sock clad foot on the ottoman in front of us.

After a few minutes, I felt soft lips on my temple and a whisper tickled my ear. "Better?"

"Much," I answered lifting my face to meet his lips. He cupped my face, covered my mouth with his, and turned toward me. I guessed I was in for more than a sweet kiss. 

"One of these days we'll actually have a real fight and have real makeup sex."  I sat up, wrapping the afghan around myself.

JC growled and bit at my neck as he sat up and reached for the pile of soft flannel and cotton on the floor. "Don't wish for things you don't want to happen. Our makeup sex was just fine."

I ducked into the powder room with my pile of clothes and my purse, redressed and ran a brush through the wild tangle of curls that sat on top of my head. He always had his hands in it, which didn't really help. Hell if I would tell him to stop doing that, though. If a few strokes of a brush were all it took to fix it, he could do it all day.

The couch was empty when I made my way back to it, so I moved to the corner and wrapped myself in the afghan again. The concert had long since ended and the TV was playing some random channel as I picked up the remote and flipped through the hundreds of selections in the guide menu. JC emerged from the kitchen with two bottles of water and a giant bowl of popcorn.

"Scoot. Let me sit in the corner."

I moved and let him sit, then leaned against him. He set the bowl in my lap and dug into it, crunching popcorn in my ear and taking the remote, again.

"Still grumpy?"

"Not anymore," I said, wiggling my brows at him. He grinned, and puffed his chest out.

"You're working a lot, though. You should take some time off. Just take a day or something."

"What?" I sat up and twisted around. ‘Mister Stay Focused' wants me to take a day off?"

He dug into the mass of curls at my neck and pulled me toward him, planting a kiss on my lips. He tasted like salt. "You're so tired all the time. When I talk to you it's like you're seconds away from passing out. You look beat."

I settled back against him, bringing an arm up to circle his neck and play with the tiny hairs at his nape. "My workload has never been this heavy before. I kind of wish they'd have let me bring someone to help but we can't spare the manpower in Atlanta."

He rubbed at my hip, lightly back and forth, this thumb against the band of skin under my t-shirt. The warmth and weight of his hands comforted me. "And you're out of town, working on two coasts at the same time, weekends, too. Take a day off."

An idea sparked. I tipped my head back toward him and rolled my eyes up. "I will, if you will."

He paused, blinked, glanced at the TV and then back to me. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. I've been here over a month and I have yet to leave LA County. Show me something."

"I'll show you something, alright." He chuckled at his joke and grabbed at the popcorn bowl in my lap. "Maybe in a couple of weeks we can take off. Go somewhere close."

I pulled his head down, close to mine, and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek which he promptly wiped off. He always did. "Deal. That sounds fun. Something to look forward to."

"I'll give you something to-"

"STOP JC," I giggled. "You're such a dork."

Two weeks later on a sunny Friday, my ruby red weekender bag was tucked next to JC's large black duffel bag in the trunk of my rental car and we were headed two blissful peaceful hours east to Palm Springs.  It was nice to be getting away, to not have to worry about work. I turned off the Blackberry and buried it in the bottom of my bag, vowing to not even turn the thing on until we were on our way back.

Morning traffic was thick on I-10 until we hit the highway, and then it was smooth sailing. JC reclined his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, staring out of the window at the endless span of desert. I stole a glance or two at him and brought my eyes back to the road, smiling to myself.

"What?"

I shook my head, laughing lightly. "Nothing."

He sat up, fiddled with the iPod, and reclined again. "What are you smiling at?"

"You'll think it's ridiculous."

"Probably. Tell me anyway."

The sound of the road under the tires was loud, even over the music. Aside from those sounds, the car was silent. I felt JC staring at me, and a light pink crawled up my neck and face toward my hairline.

"Stop it, JC."

"Tell me."

"It's dumb. Just..." I glanced over at him and couldn't help my grin. "This is our first like... trip together.  I'm just excited about it."

"Oh. Well. Yeah. I guess it is." He shoved the edge of his thumb in his mouth and chewed at the nail, his gaze returning to the bland scenery speeding by.

"Now what? You're all pensive. What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, removing his thumb. "Nothing. It's cool.  This is cool."

Sundance Villas was not far off the highway as soon as we hit city limits. Relaxing and luxurious, each private villa boasted two bedrooms, a pool and all the comforts of home away from home-TV, Stereo, CD/DVD Player, full kitchen, and a patio with a gas barbecue. I was the picky one when it came to where we would stay, so JC had long since thrown up his hands, declaring he didn't care and put me in charge.  I was on the phone with the front desk staff nearly every day with endless requests for grocery shopping, and tickets to a few sights I thought we could enjoy together. 

"Serena?" A tall, athletic woman stepped from behind the front desk and extended a hand as I entered the front door of the main building. I slipped off my sunglasses and tucked them into my t-shirt as I admired the rustic elegance and calm atmosphere.

"Yes, I'm Serena." I blushed shaking her hand. I had called so often, the staff started to recognize my voice. "We just pulled in. It's beautiful out here!"

"Thank you! You're going to have a great weekend. Let me get your key and show you to your villa."

She retrieved the key from a slot on the wall while I signed the check-in roster and she prattled off details about the brunch basket in the room, the community rules and where our event tickets and information could be found.  I handed her the forms with a smile, and after checking us in, she tucked a thick folder in her arms, picked up the keys and came around the counter.

"Did you have someone with you?"

"He's... in the car. He's shy," I said, pointing toward the compact silver rental. JC was in the front seat, head down. Probably just playing with the iPod.

"Cute," she said, her smile wide. "Well, I'll hop in the golf cart, and you'll follow me around this bend here, a few villas down the block."

I followed her around the bend as she'd indicated, past several enclosed villas. I loved the idea of having a place to stretch out and lounge around without being in full view of a crowded hotel. I was starting to like this idea more and more.

She guided her cart to a unit and waited for me to pull into the driveway. The single car garage door began to slide open and I eased the car into its spot. As we stepped out, she came through the garage and unlocked the interior door.

"I'll spare you the tour, I'm sure you can figure it out, but it was just cleaned this morning so it should be nice and fresh for you. Now...oh!"

She stopped in her tracks, a short gasp escaping as soon as JC followed me inside the spacious, brightly lit unit. A hand flew to her mouth but failed to mask her wide smile.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, I'm not usually... It's just... I'm a huge fan. I'm sorry, this must be so annoying." Her skin flushed pink and then red and she closed her eyes and turned around, composed herself and turned around again. "I apologize for that. Welcome to Sundance."

JC laughed, charming and friendly, and extended a hand to her. "Thank you. Hey, don't worry about it. I do the same thing when I meet famous people."

She pumped his hand vigorously, and laughed, staring into his eyes. "Well... I just... wow. I uhm..." She glanced at me, then back to him, and a look of understanding crossed her face. She released his hand and wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans, blushing again. She handed me the thick folder and pressed the keys to the doors into my hand. 

"So, there's a fob for the garage door," she continued, back to business. "Keys are for the kitchen door and the front door and the little silver keys are for the patio doors. Bedrooms, bathrooms I'm sure you can find."

She stepped into the kitchen, detailing the groceries that had been purchased and stored and special instructions, and then politely excused herself out of the front door.

"Well."  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. "That was fun. How long till it hits some trashy magazine that JC Chasez is holed up at some resort Villa with a chick?"

He shrugged, expressionless. His swung his arms in front of him, his hands meeting together with a soft clap. "Let's not worry about that. So, I'll go get the bags?"

"Okay, Artist Guy. Interpret this for me." 

A bigger-than-life canvas loomed in front of me, most of it covered in blood red paint with swatches of tan and a big, black '4' painted into it, sort of off center. JC stood beside me, the other patrons of the Palm Springs Art Museum fading away as he crossed his arms and brought a hand up to stroke his chin. He paced left, then right, then back again, never taking his eyes off of the piece.

"Well," he said finally, stopping, pointing at the canvas on the wall. "It's a four. The number four represents completion, fulfillment. Stability." He nodded and glanced back at me, his eyebrows raised, those lashes waving at me as he blinked.

"You are so full of shit, Chasez." 

JC scoffed, hands on his hips. "I'm serious. The number four has a lot of meaning."

"Okay. I'll play. What does it mean?"

He returned to his pacing. "One is yang, or raw energy, original. Where things are created. Male." He pointed to himself. "Two is yin, where the seed of what was created grows. Female." He pointed to me. "Right?"

I nodded. "And three?"

"Three is the idea of what comes of the combo of one and two.  The dream, the hope that comes when you let it grow. It's like when I'm trying to write songs or whatever, I create, and then it has to like... develop. Grow. Breathe. And four is the actual, physical product. The song. The piece of art. The... marketing plan," he said, chuckling. "You get it?"

"Yeah. But..." I pointed at the canvas again.

"I don't know what the hell that means." He waved his hand at the painting and turned toward me, his delivery completely deadpan. I bit my lip to keep from laughing too loudly in the austere building. "It's a big ass four. I don't know. But do you get what I was saying?"

"Yes," I said, still laughing quietly. "I do. Thank you. I learn something new every day." 

"Actually, you learn something old every day. It wasn't new, you just learned it."

"Whatever, smart-ass."

JC couldn't help himself, following me from one exhibit to another, sharing theory and expounding on the meanings of pieces, even when I didn't ask, drawing out especially long explanations that made me roll my eyes internally. By the time we left the museum I had a slight headache from thinking. He bounced out of the quiet stone building next to me, jovial and rejuvenated.

"I thought we could go to the Air Museum, maybe Sunday. Take a helicopter ride."

"That sounds fun. Are we doing anything you want to do all weekend?"

"Yes." I ducked into the car and unlocked his side.

JC slid into the passenger side and snapped his seat belt on. "And what would that be?" 

"Cooking, eating, having sex, sleeping." I inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, the car sputtering to life. "Best weekend ever."

His eyes rolled toward the roof of the car, his laugh bouncing around the interior, making me laugh with him. "God, where have you been all my life?"

We took a scenic drive around town, got a little lost, and then, bored, headed back to the cool and welcoming Villa. Our conversation centered mostly on pop culture-- movies to classic rock to TV shows as I seasoned ground beef and hand- formed large, thick patties and made JC slice potatoes for fries.

"So, I don't get it. Can they understand the baby? Or is it just babble? And how can the dog understand him but no one else can?"

"Well, there's a lot of theory on that, but Seth doesn't ever say if they can or can't." JC waved the knife around, animated and expressive while he talked. "Sometimes they can understand him but it probably sounds like babbling. It's more fun to think they can't." 

"Hmm..." I mused, sipping on a glass of iced tea, watching JC chop and slice. "How many armies are you feeding, Chasez?" I nodded at the growing stack of potato wedges in the bowl next to the cutting board.

"Hey, now. I can eat some fries. I know what I'm doing. You just stand there and look pretty." He went back to slicing while I smirked from behind my glass.

"I'll check the burgers, actually," I said, pushing myself off of the counter and moving to the screened in porch. A peek under the lid revealed four burgers cooking, looking delicious, the scent making my mouth water. I turned them and replaced the lid. As I stepped back into the house, I could hear JC hacking at a potato. The bluesy, jazzy playlist that he'd chosen was entirely too mellow for me. With a wry grin I flipped through the selections until I found what I was looking for and turned the volume up.

"Ohhhh, geez, honey," I heard from the kitchen as the sound of horns pumped from the tiny speakers. I laughed as I danced into the kitchen, clapping to the beat of 'Blowin' Me Up'.

"How did you clap that fast? I can't clap that fast."

He dipped his head and laughed, a wide grin plastered across his face. "It's layered. Like an echo. Oh my God, I haven't listened to this in forever."

"And I say, I, I, IIIIIIIIIIIIIII..."

"IIIII can't loooose you babe," he sang, rearing his head back. I squealed and gyrated to the beat as he laughed so hard he had to put the knife down and just watch. "Is this what you do when you're at home alone?"

"Yes, when I'm bored," I answered, dancing around him while he watched, amused. His eyes tracked my figure, lingering at the curve of my hip and the slip of skin between my t-shirt and the waistband of my jeans. "'She was disco lights, on a Friday night. She moves across the floor'..."

" "Sugaaaaahhh'..." 

" 'Oh so tight, like dynamite, blowin' me up with her love'..."

JC turned back to his potatoes, shaking his head, laughing harder as I turned around and bumped my hip against him, singing, "girl, it's just the sexy way you back yourself into me. You're more than just pretty face, you're better than a fantasy." I circled him, taunting, rubbing his arms and back, bending around to see his face, which was beet red and getting redder.

"I am impressed, honey. You have managed to completely embarrass me."

"Oh, I'm not done," I said, panting, my moves exaggerated. "Dancebreak!" I grabbed him by the forearms and pulled him away from the counter. He was suddenly all arms and cute faces, wilding out in the middle of the mid size kitchen.

"You're doing choreography!" I pouted, a hand on a hip. "That's not fair."

"Come here, I'll show you something," he said, moving me by the waist to stand next to him. He spent the next ten minutes trying to teach me the first few moves from the video, until I was laughing too hard to keep going and he was laughing too hard at my bad dancing. "Go check the grill, silly girl."

"Oh my God, the burgers!" I ran out to the porch and threw the lid open, rescuing the 4 patties from certain death inside the grill. JC came out of the kitchen and changed the playlist again.

"Before you hurt your damn self, fall on your ass or something," he said with a grin. I laughed as I passed him on my way to the kitchen. "We just need to cook the fries and then we can eat." 

JC flipped through the selection of current magazines on the coffee table and slouched into the sofa with a few of them, dropping his feet onto the coffee table in front of him, ankles crossed and casual. "I'll let you take care of that, in there. I'm tired from watching you dance. That wore me out."

"It wasn't that bad," I called from the kitchen.

"It was pretty bad, sweetie," he said from behind a copy of People magazine. "You need work."

"So I wouldn't make it onto your show, is what you're saying. Not even if I'm sleeping with a judge?"

"Sleep with me first. We'll work something out."

The setting sun cast a rose-colored glow over the desert, the sun a fiery ball lowering itself below the horizon. We enjoyed the cooling evening air after dinner out on the patio next to the calm, blue pool, the filter emitting a low, satisfying hum. Dinner dishes aside, we sat on either side of the table, warily eying each other.

"You are losing so badly. Just give up." He plunked a card down on the growing stack on the table, sat back and laid an ankle over a knee, glancing at me over the cards in his hand, his eyes twinkling in the evening light.

I scanned my cards- a paltry selection--determined to not give to not give away my losing hand. "Nope. It's not over till the fat lady sings." I slapped a card down on top of his. He scoffed.

"Honey, the fat lady has sang and gone home."

"Whatever. I'm still in the game."

He tossed a card onto the stack and glared at me.  "What did you ask me?"

"I said, tell me something about you that would surprise me." I chose a card and laid it on top of his. He raised an eyebrow at me, then tossed a card down on top of it.

"Uhm. I don't know. I don't know what might surprise you."

"Tell me something interesting in your music collection. Something I'd be surprised that you listen to."

"I listen to weird shit. Remember?"

I chuckled, remembering the day we met. If only I could have had a glimpse of what my life would be like, mere months later. "Yeah, and I bought that CD, after hearing it in your car. So tell me more."

"Play," he said, nodding to the stack. After I laid a card down, he rolled his eyes and laid a card on top of mine. "I knew you were going there. Predictable."

He sat back in his chair, holding his cards close to his chest. "Uhm, okay. Well, you know I have my Prince and Michael Jackson and Sting and Lenny Kravitz and stuff. David Bowie is always good for a kick. Moby. Panic. When I want something hard I might to with some AC/DC. If I want something softer, like jazzy, you know-Sade is nice, but that shouldn't surprise you. I like smooth styles and the instrumental stuff too.  Wynton Marsalis and Duke Ellington and Billie Holiday--"

"Etta James?"

He nodded. "I like Etta, like her a lot."

I smiled, wistful. "My dad is a big jazz and blues fan. Etta is one of his favorites, of all time. Heard a lot of that growing up."

"Really. I didn't know that."

"Yeah, it's partly why I don't listen to a lot of jazz, now. I'm all jazzed out."

"You should give it another chance. Maybe find a second love for it. You playing?"

I browsed the cards in my hand and frowned. There wasn't any way I could beat his last play. I sneered at him and laid my cards down on the table. "I bet if we were playing strip poker you'd let me win."

"No, I'd win that, too," he said with a toss of his head. "Let's go inside, you can try me."

"Eh." I shrugged a shoulder and started gathering dishes and glasses and silver wear. "I'm gonna get naked anyway, why make it hard?"

"And that's why I'm dating you, honey," I heard from behind me as I carted everything into the kitchen. "So you tell me something, now. Something I don't already know."

I paused, the plate I was holding hovering over the garbage can. "You already know all of my secrets, Chasez." I continued raking the remnants of dinner into the can.

"Do I?" He glanced up from loading the plates and silverware into the dishwasher. "You don't have anymore things I need to know?"

"Not... you know. Not really." I suddenly had a lump in my throat, and cleared it while I handed him the plate, which he set into the open dishwasher, arranging it among the other plates.

"What does, 'not, you know, not really' mean?"

"Nothing. I'll go check around the grill." He blocked me as I tried to get around him, snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him.

"No, no," he said softly, murmuring in my ear, his arms growing tighter around me. "No running away. Tell me."

I tried to step back but his grip was too tight. "I should finish."

"The dishes will wait." He turned and kicked at the door of the dishwasher, slamming it closed, then turned us around and pushed me backward until the small of my back leaned against the counter. He stepped closer still, until there was not a speck of light between our bodies. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and rapid, pressed up against my chest. "Talk to me."

Relenting, I slid my hands up his chest, around his shoulders, clasped my hands at the back of his neck. "There's nothing to talk about," I said, smiling up at him. "We're having a great weekend. Let's not turn it into ‘all about me'."

"It's not. It's ‘all about us'."

"Okay, then-"

"Okay, then you need to talk to me." He raised his eyebrows at me. Expectant, pressing.

"You're bossy."

"You like it."

"I do," I said softly, lifting my face to him. My eyes slid closed and soft lips brushed against mine, lightly at first and then slowly, adding pressure and passion, the kiss deepened. Soft moans and deep breaths and light groans added to the low flame that seemed to always be burning when it came to him.

"Serena," he mumbled against my lips. "Are you ever gonna say it again?"

I pulled back, shocked. I figured he'd never bring it up again and that whole incident could fade away and I could pretend I never said I loved him in a haze of drunkenness, and we could go back to being sweet and easy and having fun. Not falling in love and starting to hope that there was more to this... whatever it was... than it being... whatever it was.

"Uhm. Yeah," I sputtered, wrenching myself away. I busied myself around the kitchen, feeling his eyes on me, watching me. "Eventually. I just-you were right. I should mean it, fully. And mean to say it when I say it and..."

I shrugged and stared at the Tupperware container full of cold, soggy fries. "I wanted to be happy to say it and I wanted you to be happy to hear it."

He tilted his head and his mouth dropped. He leaned, palms against the counter for support, as if he was blown away by my statement. "When did I say I wasn't happy to hear it?"

I dumped the fries-it wasn't like we were going to eat them. I added the bowl to the collection of dishes in the dishwasher and closed the door again. Finding nothing else to help me stall for time, I leaned against the counter opposite him, arms crossed.

"You didn't say you were."

"I said I liked hearing it. I just wanted you to be sure you felt that before you said it again. It's a serious statement to make."

Silence fell between us. I chewed my lip and he chewed his and we stared at each other and said nothing. I felt stupid, just standing there. I pushed off of the counter and headed past him to the living room, but he shot out an arm and caught me, dragging me toward him, trying to unfold my arms. I fought him but lost, finally collapsing into laughter and falling against his chest. My arms circled his waist and he laid an arm over my shoulder, a hand raking through curls.

"I didn't mean don't ever say it again. I can't tell you how to feel or what you can say."

"Well, maybe I will say it again. Sometime."

"When? Now?"

"No. When you do."

"Wait, what?" He reared back so he could see my face, eyebrows furrowed so tightly they seemed knit together. "I can't hear it because I haven't said it?"

"I'm not saying-don't do that," I said, shaking my head, my face angled up at him. "This is not about you, it's about me. I want-I need-to slow down. When we agreed that we were going to date each other, I made a big deal about not skipping steps and enjoying this. And then I got drunk and said things I shouldn't have, and frankly, we could just forget that even happened."

"I don't want to. What if I like hearing it?"

"I like hearing it, too. I don't want to shove it down your throat and once I start saying it, I'll want to always say it and maybe it's not the right time for it." I pulled away from him, twisted out of his arms and grabbed a hand, pulling him toward the living room.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's do something fun. Or something else. Anything else."

Two movies, a dozen cookies and a make out session reminiscent of my teenage years later, we fell into bed, fresh from a hot, luxurious shower under double shower heads-- an experience so enjoyable that I considered having a second installed in my house.

"You want to do the honors?" I shook the bottle of lotion at him, laying back on the bed.

He took the bottle, glanced at it, and tossed it back into my toiletry kit. "No. That stuff tastes funny and I plan to do some licking."

"Oh. Well. By all means, let's skip the lotion then. Lights?"

He looked around the room, then back at me, his smile bright but mischievous. "Let's be daring and leave them on."

"I don't care." I held my arms open and wiggled my fingers at him. "Come here."

In seconds, my arms were full of him. I sighed, eyes closed, as I felt his body weight sink onto mine, his lips and his breath dance along my skin, the deep groans coming from the pit of his stomach. My legs wrapped around his before I my brain could tell them to do it and my body arched up toward him.

Something about spending a day out of town, even a mere two hours away, was relaxing and calming. I felt all the stresses of the past few weeks-the past few months, really-melt away during the day, and even more so in that moment. My world was him. His eyes and his smile and his sexy laugh while teased and flirted and drew staggering breaths and created a firestorm from my head to my toes. Unable to control myself, I rolled him over and attacked him, was filled with him, consumed by him over and over, loud and long and with reckless abandon.

When I'd finally finished with him, he was limp and weak. He coughed, breathing hard, clearing his throat, falling back onto the firm mattress and mountain of pillows.

"You've got..." he gulped, panting. "You got 20, maybe 30 years to knock that off."

Giddy, enjoying the post sex haze and the sounds of heavy breathing in the air, I laughed. "It was fun though, huh?"

"Heh." He chuckled, with a grin. "I'm gonna hurt tomorrow."

"You said you wanted to try-"

His head popped up as he interrupted. "I know what I said!" A deep laugh came from his chest as he laid back down, his breathing returning to normal.

"You want a massage? I can give you one."

He swallowed. "Is massage code for more sex?"

"No. Really. I brought my oil. Turn over." I hopped out of bed and dug through my bag, retrieving the bottle of oil. He laid on his stomach, arms spread out on either side, eyes closed, lashes laying against his skin.

"I want to turn the lights down."

"Mmph," was all I heard in response. The light glow of the bedside lamp was more fitting to the relaxed mood. I perched on his back, dripping a few drops of oil, spreading it into his skin, applying pressure and rubbing at the muscles underneath.

A pleasured sigh came from the motionless figure that seemed to turn to putty in my hands. I rubbed the fragrant oil into his neck and shoulders, slid my hands along his arms and back to his shoulders, then down to his legs and feet. I worked my way back up, concentrating on the small of his back, and the juncture where his shoulders met his neck, and where I guessed most of his tension sat. He hadn't moved an inch and didn't utter a word the entire time.

I crawled up his body and bent over him, whispered in his ear. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," he mumbled. "Just very relaxed." He slid an arm to his side and one eye opened. "Come down here."

I laid next to him, and he scooted closer to me, laying an arm across my body, a hand curling around my waist. That familiar feeling of his thumb rubbing back and forth against my skin lulled me toward sleep.

"Serena."

"Hmmm."

"When I asked if there was anything I needed to know... Is there?"

A frustrated breath blew out before I could stop it from coming. "JC-"

"Serena, please just tell me. Whatever it is, we'll just deal with it, okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad," he said, patting my hip lightly. I swallowed, hard, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, both of his were open and focused on me, staring at me. Boring into me. I couldn't escape, and I couldn't ignore him and for the first time I didn't really want to. There were things he didn't know, but he needed to know them. And I needed to say them.

"What if it changes things?"

"Not likely. Start. At the beginning."

I rolled to my side and he rolled to his, until we faced each other, and skin touched skin, and arms and legs were tangled together in a mess of limbs.

"So..." My voice wavered, and that annoyed me, so I took a breath, to get a grip. "Regina wasn't the only reason I needed to be in therapy." I glanced up at him, searching for a flinch or a glint of fear or even the slightest lift of a brow, but it didn't come, so I kept talking.

"My relationship with her spilled over into so much of my life. She left me. Several times. So, I cling to people. I meet them and I love them and I never want them to go away and I do whatever I have to do to keep them close to me.

"A couple of years ago I was dating a man. Robert. He was awesome and "we" were awesome and everyone loved him and had us married off, practically. I thought, you know, this could be the real thing, so I threw myself into him, into our relationship. Full throttle, the way I do everything." I stopped, laughing a little. He smiled a small, thin smile and waited for me to keep going.

"I think Robert just tolerated me, really." I continued with a shrug of a shoulder. "He kept me at arm's length, and I never knew where I stood with him, so I was insecure and possessive, and I needed to know where he was and what he was doing and be with him all the time. The more unsure I was, the more he pulled away, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get us back to where we were when we started, you know? When everything was awesome."

He at tapped my hip, interrupting. "It wasn't just up to you, though, to get everything back to awesome. You know that, right? I mean, there were two of you."

"Yeah, yes I know that," I said, nodding. "Anyway, I found out why I could have bought him the moon and it wouldn't have been enough."

His head lifted, slowly. He had that look that people get, when something dawns on them. "He cheated. Didn't he? That's why you asked me about it?"

I didn't even really answer, just shrugged and stared just past him. I always asked. They always said no, no. Of course not. And then they always cheated. That's how I always lost them.

"I'm not cheating on you, Serena." He said it like he was reading my mind, like I had that worry written across my face. My eyes snapped back to meet his and I smacked his bicep, put a smile on my face, erasing whatever was written there.

"I didn't say you were. Can I finish?" When he didn't answer, I moved on, rolling over onto my stomach, gathering the sheets around me. "So, anyway, I went over to his place one night-- I'd been calling and calling and texting and emailing. I was kind of crazy, like manic, because I couldn't reach him, so I decided to just, you know, drive across town and see if he was home. Well, he was." I rolled my eyes toward JC.

"And he was with someone else," he finished. I nodded, once. "And then?"

"And then..." I hesitated, laughing a little out of nervousness. "Okay, now, this part is kind of embarrassing, because that was like, the moment I really went crazy." JC laughed-- he just really didn't even know.

"I mean it," I protested, laughing with him. "I... was out of my mind. Screaming and crying, and throwing things-- throwing everything. I lost it on Robert and Robert lost it on me. And there was one big knock down drag out fight in his living room. It was... it was bad. I ended up on the floor, just... you know that thing where you're crying but you're screaming?" I glanced over at him but his expression was blank. Of course-- he was more the type to stand there, hands in his pockets, looking around and waiting for it to end, and then ask, brilliantly, "so are you okay?"

"She-- whoever she was-- was long gone and he went after her, I guess and I... I passed out in his living room. When I woke up, I was in a lot of pain and bloody and he was nowhere to be found. I called Melissa and then everything was kind of a blur of flashing lights and people."

"Wow." I searched his eyes for any kind of shock or rearing back. I didn't find it, and that didn't surprise me. He was the least judgmental person I'd ever met-- but that didn't mean that he wanted to get involved with someone who seemed to have so much turmoil on the inside. I could only hide what I was really going through for so long.

"Well." He reached over me and grabbed me by the waist, sliding me closer to him. "Did you kick his ass?"

I gave him a cheeky grin, adjusting so I could see him. "I got in a few good punches, I think. I was drunk, though so my aim was off. They found him weaving through I-285. Booked him, he pled out, paid a fine, was ordered to stay away from me. I haven't seen him since that hearing."

A string was unraveling from the cheesy floral print pillowcase and I pulled at it, waiting. For his reaction, for questions, for him to review the whole nearly six months of our entire relationship in his mind, measuring my behavior. Maybe measuring my strength, to see if I could take him.

"A fine. That's it?"

"That's it," I said, solemn, nodding slowly, pulling at the string that just kept coming and coming until the seam was undone. 'So much a metaphor,' I thought to myself. "That just pushed me further into... fucked up-ness, I guess. I had a lot going on with Regina back then too. She was in and out of a rehab place and I couldn't handle anymore. I checked out. I took a giant step back from life and tried to set myself straight, threw myself into work, because that was the one thing I could do right."

I refused to stop the wet trail that was starting to cascade down my face. If JC wanted to know the real me, he was getting her, emotion and all. In the corner of my mind I noted that his arm, resting comfortably across my back, and his hand, curled over my waist, hadn't moved. Where I expected him to recoil, he didn't. He just listened, his gaze as intense as ever, his face expressionless. Just listening.

"I was getting used to being alone, getting set in my ways, you know. Until I met you. The time alone actually did me a lot of good. I surprised myself with how I reacted to meeting you and going out with you the first couple of times, and...well, sleeping with you. I didn't want to get attached to you, really. I knew I wasn't getting more than a good lay out of it, so I went for broke. If you wanted it, I wanted it too. If not, cool, but I wasn't walking away with regrets."

I sniffled and dared a glance at him, moved by the compassion in his expression. He turned over, for only a second, to pluck a few pieces of Kleenex from the box next to the bed, and then rolled over again, pressing the soft cotton into my hands. I took them with a weak smile, wiped my nose and eyes, cleared my throat.

"You... you woke something up, in me. I started to remember what it was like to be someone special to someone special, to like someone who liked me back. I have never had to wonder if you care about me. And I wasn't going to therapy, not at first. But the more we talked, the more I really wanted something with you, but I didn't want a repeat of every other relationship I have been in. I cannot make the same mistakes I always make, with you. What we had... have... is amazing. It's good for me, and I think it's good for you, too. I don't want to jinx it."

He sat up, raked fingers through his hair, then scratched at his scalp. I sat up and gathered the sheets around me, trying to gauge from the vibes in the room if he was freaked out, or just being JC. The room was completely silent, not even the ticking of a clock in the background.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with you," I said to his back, the muscles rippling as he stretched his arms out and then up and over his head. "I wasn't trying to, but it was happening, and we both knew it and neither of us was stopping it. At any rate, I didn't plan on saying it, at least not when I said it, and definitely not how I said it. It was so sloppy and unromantic and just wrong, and I haven't said it again, because..."

He lifted his hands in surrender, then. "Okay. Okay, I get it." After an interminable amount of time staring at his back, I said, only half joking, "I told you I was fucked up."

He chuckled, his laugh short and bitter. "If you're fucked up then I am, too." He paused for a second, his head down. "I'm just thinking."

"Turn around and talk to me," I said softly, reaching out and running a hand down his back. He hesitated, and then scooted back so he was sitting next to me, crawling up under the sheets that he then gathered around him.

"I saw her a lot," he lobbed out softly, suddenly. I was confused, but surprised so I clamped my mouth shut and let him start in the middle and work his way out. It worked best that way for me, too.

"Things were friendly and open. They-my parents and her-tried hard to keep my life normal. They would fly her down to see me every few months or whatever, after I was living in Florida and working on the Mickey Mouse Club. Things were great, and I love my parents. Just something inside me, like... always felt like I was dropped on the side of the road. And thank God these great people picked me up and gave me a home, but..."

He shrugged. "I know she couldn't help it and she did what was best for me and I'm really thankful she did. I mean, my parents are great, aren't yours?" I nodded, vigorously. I couldn't imagine not growing up with them, and not having my brothers. A life spent with Regina would have been painful and miserable.

"But still, I feel like there's nothing I can do, to make that feeling go away. I haven't met one," he shoved a finger in my face, "adopted kid who doesn't feel that. Who doesn't act out in some way because they feel that way. I wasn't abandoned, and my life turned out great, but...it's kind of torturous, isn't it?" His eyes lifted to mine and it touched me to see the shine coating the bright blue of them.

"You remind me of me. You always have. Like, how I felt and never told anyone-- not exact, but the same family of feelings. Like, you know, how long until this person just walks away from me? I kind of just expect it, now, so I pretty much enjoy what people give me, of themselves until they stop. I don't push people away from me. I don't like anything might make someone not want to be around me. I don't think I'm a people pleaser but I won't be the one making waves, you know?"

I had been nodding, as he talked. It all sounded so familiar. Some days you forgot you were different. Some days you couldn't stand how different you felt from everyone else, and no matter how hard you willed it to go away, it wouldn't. Even when you had no reason to feel that way, when everyone around you was working overtime to make you feel like you were the same, and included, and... not different. It just really wasn't the same, and never would be. The Catch-22 was that neither of us would really want it to be different than it was.

"So, I pushed so hard for you to go back to therapy, because I always think I'm okay until I meet someone who's... like me... and then I realize I'm not and it's hard to see someone else going through the same thing." He bumped me with his elbow. "I had no right to butt in and tell you what to do, but it's what I do, apparently."

I reached for a hand, squeezing as it closed around mine. "Apparently, I like it. And thank you, because it's helping."

"Good." He nodded, proud. "I'm happy about that. It takes a big person to admit that they need help." He averted his eyes, maybe hinting he wasn't that big of a person. Or maybe he thought he couldn't be helped.

"Anyway," he was saying, his thumb stroking the back of my hand, the way it always did. "You don't have to invent a Serena for me. Be yourself. Full force, let me have it," he said, laughing. "Someone says they love you, that should be good news. Running away from such a great person loving me is a terrible idea."

"I'm dying to believe that." I watched his thumb slowly massaging my skin and tightened my grasp on him. "You don't even know how freeing it would be, to believe that, but you could be wrong. We can't predict the future, but I know my past and it hasn't worked out for me, before."

He gripped my chin in the palm of his other hand-strong but not rough, and lifted my face so he could see my eyes. "You weren't with me, before. I don't know what was with Robert, but that was him. I've seen flashes of the real Serena and I like her. I want more of her. She could use some dance lessons. Other than that, I don't have a problem with her loving me. I don't have a problem with her saying she does, either."

I couldn't help the smile that was tugging at the corners of my mouth. I slowly tipped forward, until my forehead met his. "JC," I whispered into the eerily silent room.

He whispered back, a row of pearly white teeth appearing through his grin. "Yeah?"

I smiled, because he knew what was coming, and because I was nervous to say it without the fuzz of alcohol pushing me forward. "Well, so...you probably aren't there yet, or maybe you are but you're not saying it, in which case that's okay. I'm not expecting it back-- and I'm not saying I'm making mix tapes for you or anything... " It was hard enough to say it, to make the words come out after holding them in for so long, but his expectation seemed so high, like he was holding his breath waiting for me to say it. In a rush of air and jumbled words, I just tossed it out there. "I love you. Very much. For real."

His eyes closed, his shoulders seemed to sag a little, and he inhaled a deep breath through his nose. "So, I'm just checking," he said then, with a lopsided smile. "You're sober, right?"

My eyes rolled as he laughed, that deep chesty laugh that I loved. "See... only you can take a precious, tender moment..." I reached for a fold of skin and twisted, but he curled away, then pushed me back onto the bed, hooked his hands behind my knees and wrapped my legs around him, lowering himself onto me. The weight of him, his skin on mine, the scent of him, jasmine oil mixed with his natural, manly scent was heady. There were things about him, I was learning, that I had loved about him from Day One.

My hands slid up his arms and around his back, so I could feel the muscles ripple beneath his skin, still a little slippery from the oil. I closed my eyes when I felt lips on mine- feather soft, gentle, stroking. My favorite kind of kisses from him, so intoxicating they made me shiver.

"Thank you," he whispered, between kisses. "I want to hear it. I like hearing you say it. Maybe, one day soon, I'll be brave and say it back."

I tightened my limbs around him, suddenly wanting to be very very close to him. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"Soon," was the last word he said before he rolled to his side, tangling his limbs between and around mine and falling asleep. I laid awake a little while longer, quietly breathing an enormous sigh of relief. That was the last of the secrets.

I watched JC make his mark on the world of TV-- from the middle of his bed, surrounded by books and manuals, my laptop open next to me and a pile of paperwork to plow through before the following Monday. He was so funny when he was in the spotlight, kind of stiff, a little preachy, but as he started to relax, parts of the man I knew and loved came out. I laughed with him at his jokes and snorted at his nerdy comments. On the surface he appeared to be having fun, but he was taking it really, very seriously. There was a lot at stake, and a lot of connected people-- and networks-- involved. He couldn't afford to be flippant about his role.

His schedule otherwise was erratic. I was getting a crash course in ‘rock hours'. This meant sleeping until late morning usually, putting in time in the studio between meetings and other distractions, working into the early morning and falling into bed just before dawn. He tried to be around if I could stay, though often I would wake up to find myself alone in the huge bed. He would mysteriously reappear later, curling up next to me before it was time for me to make the trip back downtown.

As the task list shortened and time wound down, I was making the best of my stay on the West Coast, trying to work less, relax more, explore the city before I would have to leave it. It wasn't like I wouldn't be back, but I longed to enjoy it fully while I had the chance, while I was there 24x7. I was sure there was more to LA than every bar, nightclub, or museum between JC's house and the state line. I missed Melissa and Jen and Annette and my sisters in law-- my girlfriends. I missed having women to talk to and hang out with and be girly with. JC's female friends were nice enough but there was a strange undercurrent, like they were waiting for me to grow a second head or something. One night, while cleaning out my purse, I came across Allison's worn business card, sort of folded in half and frayed at the corners and that familiar head of blond hair ran through my head.

JC was still sleeping when I crept out of the house at 11:00 and climbed into the compact rental. I almost choked from the heat--the car had been sitting in the driveway, baking in the sun since sunrise. I missed my own car, in its spot in my garage, while I fiddled with the air vents and drove toward the restaurant where I was meeting Allison. It was a nice, clean place with great food and a friendly atmosphere-- it reminded me of the down home places my parents liked to eat when I drove out to visit them.

The air started to cool the car just as I pulled into the parking lot. I saw Allison right away, on a bench in the entryway, on the phone. "Just a second, my mom," she mouthed, and pointed at the tiny phone at her ear. I nodded and tried not to listen as I waited, peering into the half full restaurant, happy that we'd apparently beat the weekend rush.

"Sorry about that. My mom had a lot to say, I guess." She snapped the flip phone shut and tucked it inside her bag, which coincidentally matched her outfit. I remembered vaguely, at some point before meeting JC when I was all about matching accessories. Lately I was lucky if I remembered to brush my hair.

I pulled open the interior door, the scent of fresh baked breads and waffles greeting us. "Not a problem. Were you waiting long?"

"Not at all, I swear I just got here and sat down. Right on time." The hostess showed us to an open table and we chatted while looking over the menu.

"I don't know why I bother reading through this thing. I get the same thing every time I come here. But I like to look."

She browsed the menu and then closed hers, sliding it to the edge of the table. "Me, too. I'm a creature of habit. A waffle and 2 eggs, it's all I ever have."

We made small talk, waiting for the waitress to bring tall glasses of ice water, silverware, and take our orders. As soon as she walked away, Allison tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and leaned in.

"So. I don't want to be nosy. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand--"

I held up a hand. "But you want to ask about..." I looked around, found we had a wide berth of tables around us. "You want to ask about JC, right?"

She scrunched her face and a pink glow appeared on each cheek. "I sound weird. I'll shut up."

"No, no. It's fine." I waived her off. "If I met someone that knew him I'd totally find the most respectful way to go 'oh my GOD, tell me everything!"

"Right?" She seemed relieved that I understood. "I feel voyeuristic even wondering."

"I'd feel that way, too. I mean, I was a fan when I met him, so... I get it. I can't say a whole lot, of course. I'd feel like a heel if something got out and it came from me."

"Oh. I totally understand," she said, apologetic and stumbling over her words. "Forget I asked, really. I was just wondering where a girl from Atlanta meets... you know... him."

She didn't mean it the way I wanted to take it, but I knew as soon as people caught wind of JC having a girlfriend, tongues would wag and they would mean it that way-- how does a random girl meet someone like him and become a part of his life? People would assume I slept my way in-and I did. I still had no regrets but I wished I had a different story to tell.

"I met him on a flight, actually. Atlanta to LA." I stopped to laugh at myself, thinking back to how even a short flight would send me into a frantic haze. Not that I was cool and collected now, but I was more just tired and nervous than terrified and hyperventilating. "Remember how weird I was, when we met? Multiply that by about ten, and that's how I was on the flight with him. He sat next to me, and talked to me and held my hand when I freaked out. We started talking and hit it off and... here we are."

"Aw, how sweet. He seems nice."

"He is." I couldn't help but smile. Annoyingly wide, I was sure, but I didn't care. "Very."

"So... things... are going good?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "Things... are great. I'm happy, he's happy--" I stopped as I looked up and thought I saw someone in a familiar windbreaker step to the empty hostess stand, yawning, looking around. I tipped my head out of the booth and sure enough, Tyler was leaning over the wooden stand, practically sprawling over it. I waived at him and caught his eye. He did a double-take, then stood up straight and waived back, making his way through the restaurant to our table.

His cheek bumped mine as he bent to greet me. "What are you doing on this side of town?"

I pointed at my companion. "Having lunch with my friend, here. Allison this is--"

"Tyler," he interrupted, pulling a hand out of his pocket and sticking it out at her. His lopsided, shy grin was met with the same bright smile she'd been wearing all day. He shook her hand, then seemed to not want to let go. She seemed to not mind, all that much.

"So, are you meeting someone, Ty?" He was staring. Obviously so. I poked at him, and he jumped a little.

"Huh?"

I slid over in the booth, patting the smooth, faux leather seat next to me. "Sit down, unless you're meeting someone. Come on."

Tyler looked from me, to Allison, and back to me. "Uhm. I don't want to interrupt."

"Sure you do. It's what you boys do best. Sit down." He gave me a long look and finally slid into the booth next to me. "I'm sorry Allison, I didn't even ask if you minded--"

"Oh, I'm fine," she answered quickly. "I'm fine. Nice to meet you, Tyler. I'm Allison."

"Mmhmm, you too," he mumbled, then gulped down half of the glass of water that the waitress set in front of him as she passed by. "Uhm, so how do you know Serena?"

"We met on an airplane," she quipped. I laughed, choking on the water I had just sucked down, entertained by watching them flirt with each other.

Incredulous, Tyler stared at me. "What airline do y'all fly? I never meet awesome chicks on airplanes."

I tossed up my hands in an 'I don't know' gesture. "Hey, right place, right time. You just have to be lucky, I guess."

"Did she freak out on you, too? You should hear the story of how she almost passed out, when she met my brother..." I elbowed him and blushed.

"Easy, easy. We don't want to scare her. Tell Tyler what you do, Allison."

"Oh. I'm a paralegal," she volunteered, with a flourish. I knew that would interest him and he perked, sitting up straight. "You're... in law school, right? Southwestern?"

"Well, I'm done, but..." He shrugged. "I haven't taken the Bar. Serena has decided that I am going to, though." He sent me a glare that turned into a smile. "So I've been studying. Sort of."

"Oh. Well. I know a little, about the law. And the exam--I've helped tons of friends study, and they've all passed. If you want help, or ... anything."

"I might take you up on that. What firm are you working for?"

"Peterman and Sell, downtown. You know it?"

"Good firm," he said, nodding as if he actually knew it. Maybe he did, but I doubted it. "I'm uh, supposed to start clerking at Paulsen, Adams, & Leighton."

"Excellent firm," she said. She seemed impressed. Maybe I had no idea. "Right around the corner. We could do lunch or... something, maybe." Her eyes sparkled and the pink returned to her cheeks. She played with the silverware, tightly wrapped inside a napkin and banded.

"That'd be cool." Tyler nodded and glanced over at me. I was entertained, watching the volley of their conversation back and forth. I caught the very slightest wink from him and a warm fuzzy feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.

We talked easily and lightly through lunch. Tyler told hilarious stories about his first few years in LA, peppered with experiences and comments about living on the fringes of celebrity, where millions of people knew his name and everyone thought they were his friend, and he often felt the need to defend his family and his brother, though JC wished Tyler wouldn't try to fight his battles for him.

"It's just... it sucks," he said finally, pushing his empty plate away, "what people will say to try to get a rise, get that reactionary photo, get you to say something they can print, you know? I wish I could count the number of assholes I've wanted to just knock the fuck out. If JC could have it his way, he wouldn't be famous at all."

Allison ran a well manicured finger around the rim of her glass. "I work with a lot of... connected people. He isn't the only one. It's too bad that celebrities can't pick and choose the level that they're assigned, you know? Some people eat attention right up. So, if they want it, they can have it. Some people would rather live in obscurity, but they don't get to. It drives them crazy, after awhile."

Tyler nodded and crunched on ice from his empty glass of water, exchanging a knowing glance across the table. Allison excused herself and rushed toward the restroom. I nudged Tyler and but he refused to look at me, dimples deep and cheeks cherry red.

"She's cute," he said simply, after watching her round the corner.

"Mmhhmm," I mused, folding my arms on the table. "And friendly. And she seems kind of... interested."

An eyebrow lifted as he glanced over at me. "Does she?"

"Oh stop, you know she is."

He tapped a beat on the table with his knuckles and stared across the room and out of the window. "So... what should I do?"

"What do you normally do?"

He sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling. "Let's see. Ask a girl out, she takes one look at me, says no, I slink back to the corner."

I sucked my teeth and smacked his thigh under the table. "Tyler."

Shy, he hung his head. "I'm serious. I look nothing like your boyfriend," he mumbled into his chest.

"Well, okay, there's that. But... still. She seems interested. Which kind of almost guarantees a 'yes'. The worst she can say is ‘no', right?"

"I've heard worse than 'no'. But 'no' still hurts a lot," he said, lifting his head. "And I'm not asking your friend out in front of you."

The corner of my eye caught her figure walking back to the table, toting the small purse in the crook of her elbow. I had to work fast. "Okay," I muttered under my breath, "I'll give you guys a minute alone. I'll go to the restroom in a couple of minutes."

"What? No! Ser--"

"Shhh!"

Allison slid back into her seat. "Sorry. It's not a meal if I don't get up at least once."

"I've never seen an entire movie-- I always have to get up in the middle. He hates pausing anything." I pointed at Tyler and he nodded.

"Don't go to movies with Serena. She talks through them. It's annoying."

"No, no. I'm nowhere near as bad as your brother."

"We agree there." He lifted his fist and I bumped it. "Can't watch anything without a story about it. Sometimes I just don't care."

Allison giggled behind a closed fist covering her mouth. "Does he know you guys rip on him when he's not around?"

"He's used to it. If I'm around, he's getting picked on, but he's just decided we don't appreciate him appropriately. He knows we love him." A pause, then his head whipped around dramatically. "He does know we love him right? We told him?"

"Once or twice." Tyler shrugged as if to say ‘whatever' while Allison laughed harder.

"Let me out, now I need to go." I looked at him and he looked at me, his eyes wide, begging me not to leave the table. I stared him down, and he finally stood to let me out. I winked at him as I slid out of the booth, sending him good luck vibes and wondering how long I should stay in the restroom.

I passed the cleaning crew in the hallway, which explained the light, clean lemon scent. The mirrors were clean of smudges, the floor still slightly wet from the mop and all three stalls were empty and open. I leaned against the counter, and pulled my phone from it's pocket in my purse. Nestled between a few random work emails was a text message from JC: ' Hey, where are you?'

The message was a half hour old but he was never without his phone, so I brought up the text messaging menu and tapped out a reply: 'Brunch, remember? Ty is here, scoring a date, I think.'

Not even a minute a later, the phone buzzed and a reply came: 'Go Ty. Are you coming back here?'

'Maybe. Do you want me to?'

'Yes, but not for the reason you're thinking.'

'Oh? Oh. You want me to run an errand, don't you? I'm not your errand girl.'

'You will do it and like it. Really. Can you?'

'I guess. Calling you.'

Minutes later, I headed back to the table, marching orders in hand. I had been gone a suspiciously long time, but from the easy smiles and relaxed atmosphere between them, I guessed he'd had enough time to ask her out and got the answer he wanted.

"I have to go, in a couple of minutes. Don't get up." Tyler moved down and let me sit on the outside seat while we waited for our bill. "I get to run errands. How do you guys go through two gallons of juice a week?"

"Growing boys, Serena. Growing boys. He wants you to check the P.O. Box?"

"Yeah, he said you had a key." Tyler dug an overfull keyring out of his pocket, the keys jingling and clanging as he removed the small silver key and handed it to me.

"May as well keep it. Something tells me you'll be doing it more often."

"Doubt it." I worked the small key onto my keyring, anyway. "Project is almost over and then I won't be here as much."

He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip, then sucked it back in. "Keep it anyway. Then I don't have to do it." He stretched his arms along the back of the seat and tapped his fingers to the beat of the Muzak playing overhead, trying to hide a smug smile in Allison's direction.

"So?" I asked, grinning at them both. "You two have that 'cat that ate the canary' look about you. Are you going out, or what?"

"I didn't ask yet," he answered, then glanced across the table. "You wanna?"

"I don't think so," she giggled. "Thanks, though."

"Too bad you already said 'yes' ten minutes ago."

"Well, I guess I'm stuck then."

"Guess you are."

"Oy, I am getting a toothache." I pulled out my wallet and laid a few bills on the table. "This is for lunch, on me. You guys have fun, I have an assignment."

I probably could have said I was on my way to rob a bank, and neither of them would have heard me. They were already making eyes and grinning at each other, chatting back and forth in that cute way that couples do. That sometimes JC and I did. Young love. It was kind of sickening.

*

At some point, JC had rolled so he was lying mostly on top of me and we slept that way most of the night. I spent a considerable amount of time working my way out from underneath him, despite his best efforts to keep me buried under sheets and blankets and man. He grabbed at me when I finally broke free, but I twisted away from him and slid to the other edge of the bed.

"Where you going in such a hurry?"

"I'm not in a hurry, I just like breathing," I grumbled. "Why, do you need me to run more errands?"

He stretched, the sheet dropping to his waist. I could see his rib cage as he moved, his skin pulling, muscles rippling as he settled back against the pillow. "I need you to make me some pancakes."

I glared at him, rolling to my side. "You know, I don't mind cooking but you can cook pancakes, JC."

"Not like you do. They don't turn out as good as yours. Think of it as a perfect expression of your love for me."

I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I was going to end up doing it, anyway. "You can't use that for everything, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'll stop using it when it stops working. Chop chop." He reached for the remote that he kept in it's spot on the nightstand. I crawled over him and got to it before he did and snatched it away, holding it out of reach.

"Nuh uh," I teased, laughing hysterically. "Get your ass up. You're helping."

"You're bossy," he muttered, sitting up.

I chuckled and leaned over him, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. "Learning it from the Master, honey. See you downstairs."

A few hours later, two sticky, syrupy plates and two empty mugs were on the coffee table. Warm and full and sleepy again, hair sticking up in various places and a few days of growth on his chin and cheek, JC leaned against me and kicked his feet up on the ottoman, watching me flip through too many cable channels. "There's nothing on. What do you want to watch?"

"Football," he answered.

"There's no football, sweetheart. Superbowl is over."

"Then I don't care." He snuggled closer and I dropped an arm around him, my hand resting on his chest, just above his heart. I left it there, feeling it beat through the thin cotton t-shirt he wore. "Thank you for cooking. You must love me a lot."

"You can tell just by pancakes?" He nodded, and I felt him smile against me. "Then I guess I do."

I settled on Food Network and we mindlessly watched a few segments in silence. He shifted against me, drawing an arm across my waist.

"Qwest is almost over," he mumbled into my chest. "Don't want it to be."

"I do. I don't want to leave but I'm so ready for it to be over."

"Not ready to go back to not seeing you every weekend. It's been nice."

"Yeah, it has." I scratched at his scalp, digging my fingers into soft, silky hair. "We'll make it, though. We made it this far."

He nodded, again. "You're still going out to Denver, when it's over?"

"I'm planning on it, yeah." We stared at the screen awhile longer, and then I added, "I'm nervous about it."

I had been in sporadic contact with Charles and even less contact with Regina. They were all still eager to meet me, and though they seemed to be trying hard not to apply pressure, I felt it anyway. I was curious about them, and gung-ho to meet them at first. Now that I was closer to the day of actually making it happen, I was more nervous than anything and tempted to put it off.

"You'll be okay. They already love you. They just want to meet you. It'll go better than you think it will."

"I hope so. I'm really nervous that Regina has built me up to something I can't live up to."

His thumb worked at the hem of my t-shirt and his hand slipped underneath, the callus on his thumb rubbing against my skin. His arm tightened around my waist. "Do you want company? Do you want me to come with you?"

I tapped his shoulder and teased him. "Look at you, trying to get a trip to Denver out of me."

"Heh," he laughed, the sound vibrating though my t-shirt, my skin my body. "Funny. Really. I'll go with you, if you want."

"Are you serious? I mean, if you are, that would be awesome but you don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to. But I want to, if you want me there." He sat up, kissed me, then pulled back. "Do you? Want me there?"

My eyes narrowed as they met his. "Why do you kiss me and then ask me something?"

"Because it works? So... "

"So...yes." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I felt relieved. Comforted, that he wanted to be with me for such a big moment. A vague memory of Robert curling his lip and wrinkling his nose at Regina floated to the top of my mind. He would have just said well, have fun, and left me to go it alone. Not this sweet man next me, the one I was falling more in love with everyday. He wanted to be there for me. This is what love felt like. "I would love for you to go with me."

He nodded, a tight grin across his face. I laughed, because I loved that face-- it reminded me of Alfred E. Newman.

Bare feet pounded down a hallway and the stairs, into the kitchen. Tyler stuck his head out of the kitchen and called out, "Can I eat this?"

"Yeah, I left some for you," I called back.

"Good, cause I already ate one," he answered, around the pancake he had shoved into his mouth, leaning against the archway that led into the den.

"How was the movie? Did you and Allison have fun?"

He nodded, then swallowed. "Movie was great. Allison is cute." He stopped, and smiled a crooked, impish smile. "We talked for a long time. She's fun. And, uhm... she's still sleeping in my room." Sheepish, he ambled back to the kitchen and came back with a glass of juice and resumed his spot against the wall, smug and grinning into his glass.

I glanced at JC and he glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. "I didn't tell him to sleep with her, JC."

"Nothing happened, you guys." He drained his glass and shrugged at us. "We talked after lunch, hung out some. Saw a late movie, got some food, came back here. It was just late, so I told her she could stay."

"Well, at least you were considerate," said JC, offering up his first comment on the situation. "Even if it worked in your favor."

Tyler let out a long belch in response, just as a red faced, sleep worn Allison came out of Tyler's room and down the stairs. Southwestern Law School was emblazoned across the large t-shirt she was wearing and Tyler's shorts were cinched tightly around her waist. The seat of them were baggy, since she had entirely less to work with back there. He blushed and bowed his head, trying not to laugh.

"Hi there," I said, waving her into the room, noting her crimson face, a blush too deep for 'nothing' to have happened. "There's food if you're hungry."

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I think I'm still full from last night."

Tyler came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist, softly kissing her cheek. "Sleep good?"

"Like a rock," she answered, smiling back at him. "Thanks for the clothes."

I cleared my throat, hating to interrupt the lovefest, but hinting that maybe they could move their flirty stares and soft conversation to a more private area of the sprawling house. "Tyler can get you some coffee or juice, or whatever you want... "

"Yeah, no problem," he said, springing into action and taking over, leading her by the hand to the kitchen. "What can I get you?"

I was trying not to eavesdrop, but they were standing outside the kitchen, still too close. I couldn't help but overhear them.

"Uhm, if you still want to go to that show tonight, it's sort of closer to my side of town. I could meet you there."

"No, no. I'll come get you. If that's okay."

The rest of their conversation was hushed, as they moved into the kitchen. I strained, but all I could hear was whispers and what I thought were light kisses. JC realized I was trying to listen and elbowed me. I giggled, silently, and gave up, scooting closer to him on the couch. He grabbed the remote and found a random Bowl game on ESPN, throwing up victory arms as I rolled my eyes.

Allison finished her coffee and gathered her clothes and bag and started to make her way to the door. Tyler walked her out to her car and I looked at JC, hiding a surprised smile. He pushed at me until I slid off of the couch. "Go, you know you want to look."

I circled the rooms until I found one with a view of the driveway, and squealed when I could finally see them, not a speck of light between them. He bent slightly to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers before he let her go and she got in. He leaned into the open window and kissed her again, and then stepped back as she pulled away.

"What?" JC called. "Serena. What?"

"Smooches in the drive way," I said, giggling as I came back to the couch. "He's so cute! He's coming in."

Tyler went straight to his room and closed the door. A few minutes later, he came back out and down the stairs, landing heavily in the chair opposite us, staring blankly at the screen. JC had nodded off and was stretched out in the corner of the couch, pout in place. I moved to the opposite end of the couch, near the chair.

"So."

"So."

"You like her?"

He was trying not to smile. It wasn't working. "She's pretty cool. We talked a lot about law school. She's thinking about going."

"Really. Makes sense." I waited for more details, but they didn't come. He watched the screen as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever watched. "Uhm. So, there was an awful lot of blushing and grinning for nothing happening."

"Nothing happened. Seriously. We just... you know." His eyes darted over to me and back to the TV. His cheeks were taking on a ruddy texture again, and he shifted in his seat.

"Listen, Tyler. I just want you to know-- I don't know Allison all that well. Just be careful. I can't guarantee that she's, you know, safe"

"I know. She told me. I'm being careful. I know you don't think I am, but I am. And I know you don't believe nothing happened, but nothing happened, last night. She's sweet, but I'm not an idiot."

"She is sweet, isn't she?"

He reached across the space between the couch and the chair and patted my hand and then got up. "Thanks for the intro. I better hit the showers. I got some stuff to do before I go pick her up."

"Have a good time tonight."

"Oh, I will. Hoping what didn't happen last night will happen tonight." He walked away with a wink and an evil grin.

My jaw dropped to my chest as I watched him jog away and up the stairs. I hadn't ever heard him be so forward before. "See, and I was having such good thoughts about you, Tyler."

*

The old nervousness was back. That heavy, lead feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me almost sick. The shaky, light-headed, spacy feeling that I hated and wouldn't go away. I crossed and uncrossed my legs in the airport terminal, a foot shaking mindlessly back and forth as I chewed a fingernail-- a nervous habit I picked up from JC and needed to get rid of.

"Okay, sweetie, here you go." A steaming cup of coffee was handed to me-- vanilla spice, from the scent that rose to my nose. I took it, trying to cool it by blowing through the small hole in the top of the lid.

"Did you put sugar in it?"

"Yes, I put sugar in it. I know how you like your coffee." He sipped gingerly, smacked his lips and set the cup down on the table next to his seat. "Still pretty hot. Good, though. Taste it."

I sipped, and closed my eyes the hot liquid slipped down my throat. Soothing. Warm. So good. I started to relax. "Yum. That is really good. And perfect on the sugar. Thank you." I sat back, blowing out a breath, uncrossing my legs, then crossing them again.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah."

JC reached over and grabbed a hand, enclosing it in his grasp, rubbing and soothing it. "This should be a short flight. You'll be okay."

"I don't think I'm nervous about the flight," I said, just as the speakers announced the boarding call. "Oh my God. Here we go."

"You'll be fine. Here," he said, holding out the handle of my carry on case. I took it, my boarding pass and coffee cup in the other hand, and stepped into the line, breathing deeply, nervous as hell.

Once the plane reached altitude, I was relatively fine. I was never so grateful to have JC next to me as I was on that flight. He took my hand, winding his fingers between mine and didn't let go until we landed in Denver. It was early March, sunny and crisp and green. The first thing I noted as we headed toward the rental car was how clean the air was. I could take a deep breath in, and blow it out. The air smelled like trees. Evergreen. I loved Colorado.

"So, I think it's best if I go meet them alone, don't you?"

"Probably. Wouldn't look good with me hovering. But I'll go, if you want."

We had checked into the hotel and were situating ourselves in the suite, setting out necessary things like toiletry bags and shoes, hanging our clothes for later. I sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing on the mattress.

"Nice and firm," I commented.

"And doesn't make noise," he said, watching me from the closet. "I like that in a bed."

I laid back, sighing. "I bet it's high on your list of favorite features."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He moved over to the bed, kneeling from the other side, bending over me.

"Just, you know. You... you know."

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me."

"Well. You're just uhm. Forceful." He tilted his head, and raised an eyebrow. "But in a good way," I added.

"Oh. Do you like that?"

"I love that."

"Good, then I won't change that."

"Don't you dare."

"I don't dare. Ever." He leaned down to kiss me, but bent over me upside down, he missed my lips and got my chin, and laughed. "Oops. Lemme try that again." He made his mark that time, gently pecking at my lips, lightly biting them.

"Come here," I whispered, sitting up and turning around, tucking my hand behind his head and pulling him toward me. "Mmmph," I heard as I pressed my mouth to his, then pushed so he laid back against the mattress, climbing on top of him, devouring him.

"Hellooooo," he said, drawing out the last syllable, grinning up at me when I finally released his bottom lip.

"Hi, I said, grinning down at him.

"So. You wanna finish what you started or...?"

"Later. Let's go see some stuff." I climbed off of him and stood at the mirror, raking my fingers through my hair.

"You are..."

"A cock tease? Yeah. Get up, let's go, I'm hungry."

"Of course you are." He grumbled, rolling off of the bed, adjusting himself. I watched him run his eyes down the length of my body. "You owe me, young lady."

I turned and wiggled my brows at him. "I know. My mouth totally just wrote a check that my ass is gonna cash later. And it will like it." I reached for my handbag-- which coincidentally matched my blouse-- and put on my best innocent look. "I'm ready."

"So am I. But we have go look at stuff." He wagged his head and that cute way I loved and mumbled as he checked his pocket for his wallet and his phone. "You have a keycard, right? I already lost mine, I think."

"Have you ever been to Denver, JC?" We were 15 miles from Mt Evans, one of the most scenic spots and highest paved roads in Denver. I hadn't been there since I was a little girl, but the view had stuck in my memory and I wanted to see it again-- and share it with him.

"I'm sure I have." He was reclining comfortably in the passenger seat, enthralled in the red rocks and green grass and clear blue skies. He looked over at me, a smirky grin on his lips. "I used to tour you know. In this band. Called *Nsync. Maybe you heard of us?"

"Huh uh," I said, shaking my head. "Not ringing a bell."

"Mmmm. Wow. You need to get out more." He turned back to the scenic view from his window, but after a few seconds his head turned back to me. "How about my debut album Schizophrenic? I toured on that album. Sound familiar?"

"Nope."

He shook his head, trying to keep himself from bursting into a laugh. "Man, I feel sorry for you. That was a great album."

"It was? What was great about it?"

"Well, I mean. I don't want to toot my own horn or anything--"

"Toot away, sweetheart. Tell me all about it."

"I just, you know. I just heard that it was edgy, really varied, experimental, even. Versatile, was a good word." He nodded at me, then went back to staring out of the window.

"Hm. Sounds like someone would really miss out, if it wasn't say, the highest on their 25 most played albums on iTunes."

"Definitely."

"So... debut tends to make me think follow up."

"Does it? Hmmm. Will have to consider one. I wonder if we'll see any wildlife."

"Maybe a mountain goat or two," I mused, remembering seeing one long ago. "So you don't want to talk about music?"

"I don't mind talking about music."

"Says the man who just changed the subject to wildlife."

"I can talk about more than one thing at a time. For example, there's a deer over there," he said, pointing up into the hills. "And, I think I'm close to deciding to go after another deal. I think. I don't know. I'm pretty comfortable."

"Pretty deer. And, is comfortable where you want to be?"

"Rabbit. I don't mean complacent. I just kind of like my life how it is, right now. I come and go as I please. People know me but for a really large part, I can kind of do what I want. I know where I can go and where I shouldn't go. I don't want that to change. It will, if I blow up again."

"Right. Damned if you do..."

"And if I don't, people will never stop asking for more music." He turned his head, giving me a sarcastic glare.

"Well, pardon me for wanting to hear that sexy voice sing something new."

"I don't blame you. It's pretty awesome."

We passed the welcome sign, the first clue that we were ascending toward the summit. It would be a slow drive to the top of the mountain, from the sunny, dry land at the foot, getting colder and slightly gray, with patches of snow the higher we climbed. We passed a lake, a crystal clear reflection of the mountain in it. JC was like a child, pointing out out every sign of life he could find.

"We used to take a lot of trips. You know, go see stuff like the biggest ball of twine. Stuff like that. I miss sightseeing."

"It's nice, isn't it? Really pretty, up here."

I felt the warmth and weight of his hand on the inside of my thigh, gripping gently, squeezing. "The company is nice, too."

"I have to agree with that," I said, nodding, smiling over at him. "Definitely."

Unfortunately, the top of the hill did not mean the summit. We were tempted to climb the extra few hundred feet to the top, but I was wearing completely the wrong shoes for mountain climbing. I also forgot how cold it was that at that altitude. I stood next JC, who was admiring the view from every angle, shivering and trying to keep my teeth from chattering. By the time he noticed I was cold, I was nearly blue and shaking uncontrollably.

"Geez, why didn't you say something? Let's go." He pushed me toward the car and held his hand out for the key. "I'll drive." He started the car and blasted the heat, then headed down the hill.

"Cold aside, this was a nice little trip. It's peaceful. A good place to come and think."

I shivered, the last of my shakes rippling through me. "Yeah let's come think in the summer."

He laughed at my dramatics and turned the vents toward me. "Good idea."

We spent the day tooling around downtown Denver, walking the streets, taking in the sights, holding hands, talking, laughing, stealing a kiss or two. He'd never kissed me in public before and I wasn't really big on PDA's but it meant a lot to me that he felt comfortable enough to just kiss me, without looking around first, or looking at me like he'd like to kiss me but he was concerned about pictures. It was unnerving at first, that he didn't touch me in public, but just as I started to get used to it, he would hold my hand if we were inside, drop an arm around my shoulder at the movie theater, walk behind me with his chin on my shoulder at the grocery store. As soon as we hit the hotel room or the house though, he was all over me, more than making up for what he didn't do in the public eye.

We had reservations at a restaurant that the concierge suggested, a few blocks from the hotel. As we settled into our table, the waiter prattled off the specials and filled our water glasses. Leaving us with two menus, he slipped away quietly. The restaurant was nearly full, low-lit, very romantic.

"What's the plan, tomorrow? Where do you have to be, and when?"

The schedule ran through my head, as it had been running for days, now. "I need to be at... uhm... my grandparents for lunch around noon. And I am meeting my dad for dinner at 6."

"Cool," he said, dropping his eyes back to the menu.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop talking about him."

His head popped up, eyes wide with surprise. "Why? No, what? Why?"

"You just... get this... look or have this reaction when I bring him up. Are you jealous?"

"No, I'm not jealous." I stared at the top of his head when he bent it back down to browse the menu. "Not really."

"Explain."

Slowly, he closed the oversize menu and tucked in his lap, leaning forward. "I'm not jealous. I'm happy for you that you get this chance. And it's not that I don't want to meet my dad-- my biological one-- it's that I don't want to have to go looking for him. I don't want to dig him up and force myself into his life." He paused. "I kind of wish my dad was like 'Oh my God, I've been looking for you, I wanted to meet you.' "

"Do you think maybe he thinks the same way? Like, maybe he knows who you are and--"

"That used to be one of my fantasies," he said, wistful, staring into space, his eyes glassy. "I mean, Roy, my dad is... awesome. My parents are supercool, but you know, the transition, after they adopted me was rough. I didn't rebel, I kind of withdrew, into myself. I would daydream about him coming to find me. After I started doing MMC, I would think, you know, 'I'm on TV now, there's no way he doesn't see himself staring back'. And then you know with *Nsync, I was too busy to even really dream but sometimes I'd look at like, Lance and his dad and be like 'that's his actual dad', and Lance looks more like James everyday. Joey and Joe Sr, they look so much alike. Chris knew his dad, Justin knows his dad. And I'm so not down on Roy, he's my dad but..."

"But not." I smiled a knowing smile, leaning to catch his line of sight. "Terry Willis and Serena Karides had some screaming matches, back in the day." He laughed, thankfully, the tension easing. "I love him, but there was a lot of 'you're not my dad' tossed around. Like you said to me, I've never read of an adoptee not having an adjustment period."

"Should I still be adjusting at 32?"

"I think it's a lifetime thing, handsome. Every once in awhile, I still have an old pang or two. It happens."

"Good to know I'm normal."

"Wait, I thought we were both fucked up."

"Nope, I think we just crossed into normal. Congrats, honey." He raised his water glass and took a sip. "So, enough about me. It's all about you, this weekend. You're okay, about tomorrow?"

I shook my head, correcting him. "It's all about us, JC. Always. Okay?"

He nodded, giving me the tight lipped grin again, and opened his menu. "I'm hungry."

"Of course you are. You're going to need some strength. For later."

"See, don't start. That's how people get hurt."

After dinner we strolled the few blocks to the hotel-- slowly, leisurely, holding hands, tossing movie trivia back and forth. I felt closer to him than I had ever felt before, closer even than on our last trip. I liked being 'away' with him, where he could relax and almost fade into the crowd, where people didn't seem to be watching his every step, and he got nothing more than few smiles and waves. I felt like he was more 'him' when we were out of town. I loved 'him', wished I could see more of 'him', and him being himself meant I was more myself, too. Flirty and playful and open and not scared of feeling something real for him. I didn't figure, anymore, that he was in this for some kind of extended groupie experience. I didn't feel like I was 'someone to do', for him. The feeling, the incredibly free feeling of not being wary and afraid was something I had never felt before, and I never wanted to not feel it ever again.

There was still the matter of his celebrity, something he tried hard to keep me out of, and I appreciated it. There was a moderate amount of drama in my family and my past. The very last thing I wanted was for it all to be highlighted in some cheap TMZ expose`, so people could pass judgment and wonder 'what's he doing with her? Couldn't he find someone that wasn't so messed up?' and then finally decide 'he could do so much better.' I knew from experience that sometimes those words just fell out, and you didn't really mean them, it was just that you wanted your crush to have the best of the best. The fairy tale, if you could help it. The only problem was that there was no such thing as the fairy tale. Even our seemingly happy relationship had its issues. So far, nothing insurmountable, but it was still early.

My feet ached, by the time we reached the hotel room. I took my shoes off in the elevator and followed JC to the room, strappy sandals and a cute evening bag dangling from one hand, the other up under his shirt, lightly scratching his back.

"You're just digging yourself into a hole, missy," he commented over his shoulder.

I stepped close behind him and slid my arm around to his stomach, relishing in the feeling of his abdominals. "Good. The deeper the better."

He chuckled and ran his keycard down the strip. The door beeped and he pushed it open, walking inside with me on his heels.

"I don't even want any foreplay," I declared, sprawling onto the bed, dumping the shoes and bag over the side, then spreading my hair out like a fan around my head. "Just come over here."

"Nope. That's not how I work."

"I beg to differ," I said, lifting up onto my elbows, watching him pull his clothing off, slowly. "Several times you've been ...... in a hurry."

"That doesn't mean there wasn't foreplay. It just wasn't in the bed. Be right back," he said, slipping into the bathroom. Frustrated, I laid back down, staring at the ceiling. The door opened and he stepped out in his briefs, tossing his jeans into the open suitcase in the closet. He extended his hand to me and nodded his head back toward the bathroom. "Let's take a shower."

"You are going to make this torture, aren't you?"

A slow, evil grin spread across his lips. "Every minute. Come on, cutie. Get up, get naked, let's go."

The shower was torture. Sheer pleasureful, wonderful torture as he squeezed some of my sweet smelling shower gel onto a towel and lathered my body, neck to feet, then dropped the towel and used his hands to rinse away the soapy, creamy texture. He scrubbed himself the same way, forbidding me to touch him, paying particular attention to his genitals. I was ready, nipples taut and skin flushed red with desire; He was ready, erect, pulsing, but wouldn't let me take care of him-- it was driving me out of my mind to see a need and not satisfy it, to have a need and not have it satisfied. He pulled me close to him finally and I heaved a sigh of relief, almost climaxing from the feel of lips on mine, his tongue forcing my mouth open, stroking, playing. The walls echoed our moans and whimpers and heavy breathing and when he reached around to turn off the stream of cooling water, my entire body rejoiced.

He picked up two large, fluffy towels and handed me one. "For your hair," he said, nodding to the mass of dripping wet waves. I wrapped my hair and stood there while he rubbed the water from my skin with the other towel, then watched him grab another towel and wipe himself down. Both were left in a pile in the corner of the bathroom as he took my hand and led me back to the bed that seemed to take up the majority of the room.

I unwrapped my hair, made a lame effort at detangling it, then just left it. I could do that later. "Lotion or no?" He shook his head, reaching under the pillows to grab at the sheets, yanking them down the bed.

He patted the mattress twice. "Lay yourself right here, sweetheart."

"And hang on for the ride?"

"That'll come later," he said, with a sarcastic toss of his head and a wide smile. I squealed and hopped into the bed, laying back, my hands reaching out to him as he laid next to me. I moaned, deep and low, when I finally got to touch him, run my fingers along the stubble on his cheek, glide my hands along his shoulders, wrap my arms around him and lay my palms on his back and feel the dance of his muscles under his skin. His groans matched mine as he lowered himself to me, then unexpectedly planted the softest, most tender kiss on my lips once, twice, three times.

He pulled back, found my eyes, hesitated for just a second, and then whispered, so very softly that I just barely heard it. "I love you."

I swallowed, and tears instantly sprang to my eyes and I tried to say 'I love you, too', but I couldn't hold back the sob-- or the giggle-- so I'm sure I sounded like I was strangling. He laughed, I thought more out of nerves than anything, and to lighten the mood. "You okay?"

I nodded, grasped his face between my hands, stroked his cheeks with my thumbs. His thumbs were working, rubbing against the skin of my thighs as his hands slid along the length of them, up and down, around to the curve of my bottom and back again. "That's the world's most beautiful sound, you know that?"

"What, you choking?"

"Be serious, JC. You, saying you love me. I love you, too."

"See, to me, that is a beautiful sound, right there." He leaned in and kissed me again, feather soft, light. "You have been very patient with me. I appreciate not being pressured to say it."

"Well, you know... we didn't need two of us acting crazy." I lifted my lips to his and brushed them against him. "You're welcome. Say it as often as you like."

"You, too. I like hearing it."

"Can we make love, now?"

He chuckled, bent to kiss me and mumbled against my lips, "Yes, impatient girl in the bed. We can make love now."

I think I expected to wake up the day after hearing it-- the I love you-and feel differently or act differently, or for JC to be different. Not in a bad way, just like we had crossed some kind of bridge or road or taken some fork along a well traveled highway, but we'd done it together. My eyes popped open and I blinked at the ceiling and listened to him sleep, then turned my head just as he awoke, and it felt the same as always. Watching him smile a little and stretch and yawn and then scoot closer, grunting happy sounds like he did just about every morning was comforting to me, a warm glow in my heart. I needed a lot of things to stay the same, because a lot of things were about to change, and in a very dramatic way.

I was surprised he was even awake-- it was still early. My nervousness kept me from sleeping well, even after an eventful evening. Long after JC heaved a sigh and rolled over and laid until his breathing slowed and he was slumbering heavily, I was awake, my heart pounding out of my chest, just not from exertion. I was scared to pieces of my maternal grandparents. Of my father. And his family, of what they must think of me, and in my mind, they resented me. A lot. Charles had three girls, the oldest of which was a young woman, now. 19. If I put myself in her shoes, wouldn't I feel like my life had just been toppled, a deck of cards strewn everywhere, and everyone stepping all over the pieces, like I didn't even matter anymore? What if I was now the middle child, instead of the oldest? Thoughts ran through my head, one right after the other until nearly sunrise, until I wanted to scream.

"You look scared," he whispered into the quiet.

"I am," I whispered back. A muted swish of crisp sheets sounded under the thin blanket as he moved his arm to lay across my belly and dropped his head to my shoulder.

"What are you scared of? Talk to me."

I hesitated, knowing what his reaction would be. "It's not ridiculous, okay? I'm scared that they won't like me. Or, maybe that they'll blame me for not helping Regina more. I mean, look at how long she hung around and didn't get clean and it took one trip to Denver, to see her folks and she went to rehab and stayed in rehab. Maybe they don't think I was very good for her."

Despite my mood, I chuckled a little at his teeth nipping the skin on my shoulder. "I don't think it's ridiculous," he mumbled against my skin, then lifted his head and balanced his chin on my shoulder. "I think that's normal. I also don't think you have anything to worry about."

"You don't? How?" I sat up halfway, leaning on one elbow, the other hand tugging through knots in my hair. I regretted not properly detangling the night before. "How do you say it's normal to feel that way, and then in the next breath say I have nothing to worry about? Be real with me, JC. You know where I'm coming from. Help me."

"Baby, sweetheart," he soothed, rubbing my arm, my belly, any skin he could reach, suppressing a smile. He was laughing at me! "Please, honey, just relax--"

"Don't. Don't call me honey and tell me to just relax! Don't placate me-"

"Serena." He grabbed my chin and turned my head so I could see him and he could see me and look into my eyes. "Stop. Breathe. You will be fine. I meant that the... situation or whatever... will be what it will be. Worry, don't worry, it doesn't matter. It's still going to end up the same. You can't predict the outcome of today by worrying, so stop." He released my chin and gave me a solitary nod. "We should eat something. Hungry?"

"Easier said, than done." I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Give me a second, I'll grab the room service menu."

"Well, let's go down to the little café downstairs. Have some coffee, read the paper?"

I shifted on the bed, turning to look back at him. "Are you sure you want to do that? You wouldn't be happier up here in the room, in privacy?"

"Nah. Who knows I'm here?"

"I don't want to hear it," he said an hour later, tossing his keycard onto the desk, grabbing the remote and punching the power button before falling back onto the rumpled sheets and comforter.

"You don't want to hear what?" Smug, I reached into the closet for conservative outfit that I'd chosen for that day-black slacks, button-down white cotton blouse that flared a little as it hit the waist, a bright pink ribbed tank to wear underneath. I hoped it said successful, self assured, confident, but casual and not worried about making a good impression. Breezy. I sure wasn't feeling any of those things.

"You know what I mean." He flipped through channels, rapidly. "I guess we should have ordered in, huh?"

If my mind wasn't so preoccupied, I would have laughed, but since we were just looking for a quick meal and some time to kick back, the throng of people that surrounded him as soon as we entered the café, followed by the endless parade of one person after another stopping at our table wore thin pretty early on. He didn't get to read his paper, we hardly had any conversation, and he was now irritable and wanting to hide. Great fucking idea, Chasez. Who knows you're here? 183 people, now.

"You're saying I told you so, in your head. Stop it."

"Or what?"

"Or... uhm..." He giggled, rocking his foot back and forth, mindlessly staring at the TV screen. "Don't start. You don't have time for me to teach you a lesson." A glance at the tiny clock radio on the bed stand sent me into a panic.

"Shit," I whispered under my breath, and ducked into the bathroom.

###

Neat little suburban homes flanked by well manicured lawns sat close to each other, all in a row along the tree lined street. I counted the numbers as JC drove slowly down the block.

"Uhm, honey," he said as he drove even slower, practically coming to a stop in the middle of the street. "Could it be that big house up there that looks like the freaking Parthenon?"

I glanced up the street and my jaw dropped to my chest. A large, white, stately pillared home sat at the top of the small hill ahead. The hedges were trimmed, shaped perfectly. The steps were red brick, leading up to the front door, through six columns that climbed from the foundation to the roof of the house. A familiar figure stood in the middle of the porch, hands in pockets, watching us approach. When she was sure it was us, she pulled a hand out of her pocket and waved it vigorously in the air.

"That's Regina. I guess this is it." JC pulled up to the curb and put the gearshift in park. Regina bounded down the steps toward us and I steeled myself, out of habit. "Okay, so before she freaks out, I'm just gonna get out of the car."

"Hang on. I have something to tell you." He tugged at my arm, holding me in the car. "Take it easy, okay? Take everything they say and do at face value, don't read into anything. Expect it to be weird for a little bit. Remember that they're just as nervous to meet you, as you are to meet them. And have a good time. And I love you."

Those three words still made me giddy and almost want to cry, especially when he said them unexpectedly, out of the blue. I was already a mess of emotion and feeling and my brain was fully engaged with being terrified. I couldn't deal with much more on top of that, but instead of adding more stress, I felt my tight chest loosen up a little and my mind wasn't racing as fast as before.

"Thank you. That helped." A hand found mine, warm fingers intertwining with my cold, shaky ones, and brought them both to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat through the sweatshirt he wore.

"I can't take credit for it" He tipped his head to the side and offered a cheeky grin. "When you were in the shower, I called my mom and asked her what I should say to you. She gave me the right words, I guess. I hope they help."

"Well, thank her for me. I'll take it to heart." I leaned into him, closing the space between us and let him kiss me before giving his hand one last squeeze, then pulling back. "So, if I don't call you by 3:00, come back, okay?"

"Got it, honey. 3:00 unless you call me first. Have fun."

He stared while I sat there, my finger on the door latch, willing myself to open the door and get out of the car. "I have record stores to visit," he said, pushing at me a little with the tips of his fingers. "Get out of the car."

I swatted his hand away and laughed a little. "I'm going! Love you."

"Love you, too."

Regina was patiently waiting on the sidewalk, a polite distance away from the car. I got out and stepped back, waving as he pulled away from the curb. When I couldn't see the plates anymore, I turned around and faced Regina for the first time since she'd hurried into the hotel after our meeting months before.

She looked good. Great, even. Even better than the last time I'd seen her. Her hair was cut and styled, she had put on a little weight, and was wearing a form fitting shirt and slacks instead of the oversized flannel shirt and baggy, worn jeans she wore the last time I saw her. Her eyes were clear and bright, her teeth pearly, her skin luminous. She looked young. She was young.

"Hey Regina." I stepped to her, awkward. Did we hug, or shake hands or do nothing? She opened her arms wide and wrapped them both around me.

Her voice, muffled at first since her head was buried in my shoulder, then clearer as she pulled back, was rich and clear and familiar. "It's so good to see you. I'm glad you're here!" She pulled back, running her hands up and down my sleeves, that ‘proud mom' smile on her face. "You look really good. You're glowing, if that makes sense. Was that your boyfriend? The guy in the car?" She nodded toward the now empty street.

I knew I was beaming, I just couldn't stop it. My face was hot. I felt a few beads of sweat pop up and swiped at them with the back of my hand. "Yeah, that was him." I nodded, looking back at the street, where the car had disappeared.

"You must be in love. It shows." She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to another, her eyes darting around the neighborhood. "So. Uhm. They're ready for you, whenever you are, but just take your time, you know. They figure you're pretty nervous."

"I'm scared out of my mind."

"Well, do you want to just sit out here, for a minute? We can sit on the steps and talk. Catch up."

I walked beside her, up the sidewalk, to the top step and then sat next to her on the cold, red brick porch step, crossing my arms and resting them on my knees. I struggled with what to say, for awhile. Regina wasn't the kind of person I could have ever had a conversation with. After a few tense moments, I just tossed something out there.

"You look really great, Regina. I mean that. I'm so proud of you."

She seemed embarrassed and sheepish, maybe a little shy, twisting the buttons on her shirt, staring down at the red brick under our feet. She shrugged, and then looked up at me. "Thanks. I don't have much choice, but to stay clean," she said, glancing back at the house. "They kind of never take their eyes off of me. Until I can get on my own, I'm here. I feel 14 again, you know? But uhm, truthfully it's nice. Been getting fat off of baklava and pita bread-"

I had only had an English muffin and a cup of tea at the café, watching JC smile and sign autographs and have mindless conversation with person after person. "Are we having Greek food for lunch?"

She nodded, her turn to beam. "It smells amazing." She closed her eyes and breathed in, as if she could smell the food in the air. "Anyway," she continued, "I'm at almost 200 days sober. Pretty proud of that. And studying for my GED. When I pass, Daddy might give me a job and I might go to school."

Two things struck me, just then-first, how easy it was to talk to her now, after listening to senseless ramble for most of my life; second, how humbled and child-like she had become. She could have been my sister, the way she talked and acted. At 47, she was hoping her father might give her a job at one of the Hotels he managed. It was like she'd just picked up where she left off.

"Going to school would be great. But do you think you can handle it?"

"I can handle it," she said, stern and determined. "I want to try, anyway. I need to do something good for myself. I was thinking that you're pretty smart, and that maybe you got your brains from me." We both laughed, and I thanked her for the compliment. "Thinking of Drug Counseling," she added, blushing a little, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking backward. "Ironic, huh?"

"Not so much," I said with a shrug. "If anyone knows where people are coming from, it's you."

"It's been a ride. And it's not over, you know." She rocked forward again, her slipper-clad feet landing back on the step, squinting into the air, her forehead wrinkling up.

"Once an addict, always an addict, they tell you in rehab. It's never over. I have to work at it, everyday, to stay clean. To not drink. I crave it, sometimes, but I'm so embarrassed by the mess I was when I got here. And the same things that made me want to escape..."

I heard her swallow and watched her blink back tears. I ran a hand down her spine, inwardly cringing at the ribs I could feel through her shirt as I tried to comfort her-awkward, but I was trying. She swiped at tears and sniffled.

"Anyway, I've wasted a lot of time. Like my whole life. It's time to get on some kind of track, before I kill myself. I came home at just the right time. And so did you." She glanced back at the house again, then to me, and offered a small smile. "Are you ready to meet your grandparents?"

"I'm ready to eat. If meeting them is what I need to do to get to the food, lead the way." We laughed together, just about the same laugh, linked arms and walked into the house.

An overwhelmingly delicious smell enveloped us, almost knocking us over as soon as we stepped inside. The spacious interior of the home boasted a large amount of stone, ceramic floors, and bright colors from the paintings and framed photos on the walls to the comfortable furniture in hues of blue and orange and yellow. The sun streamed in, illuminating the rooms through large windows on every wall, shaded by sheer draperies that I could just imagine billowing in the summer wind.

Some rooms away, I heard two voices lightly bickering, faint accents going back and forth. Regina grabbed a hand and held it tightly as she led me through the foyer and living room, around to the kitchen and dining room. We stood for a moment, watching them, their backs to us, fussing over an overflowing olive tray. He would reach for one of the plump olives piled high on the tray-- she would smack his hand away, fussing and muttering but smiling. Regina giggled, which caught their attention. They turned, and stood next to each other, leaning against the counter. She ran a hand down her skirt, subconsciously smoothing it down.

"Mama, Daddy." Regina pulled me forward, a little. I had to remind my feet to move, otherwise I would have fallen flat on my face. "This is my daughter, Serena," she said, turning to me, smiling, her face a ray of sunshine, she was so proud. "Serena, these are my parents, your grandparents, Ana and George Karides."

They had to be in their 70's, but looked young and lithe, smooth skin, bright eyes full of sparkle, a glow to olive toned skin. George stepped forward first, pushing Ana close to Regina and I, and then stepped back, bringing his hands together at this chest with a clap. A smile crawled across his face, his stern features softening as it grew.

"Don't move. I take a picture." He shuffled away, and I stood there like a bump on a log, between Regina and Ana, holding onto Regina's hand for dear life. George came back, holding a camera, not one of those point and shoot things but a professional camera.

"Daddy took all of the photos you see framed around here. They're all places in Greece. I'm sure he'll give you the tour, later." We stood still for the photos, the flash blinding as he took several pictures, in several poses. "Good, good," he said, after one set. "Looks nice," he said after another. "Three of a kind."

Ana settled an arm on my shoulder and smiled the most gentle, warming smile I'd ever seen. "It's good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. Are you hungry?" I opened my mouth to answer but my stomach rumbled, loudly, answering for me. I laughed, and she laughed with me, glancing over at Regina.

"You were right, Regina. She is beautiful. She favors you."

"She reminds me of you, Ana," said George, sidling up to her, dropping a kiss at her temple and smiling down at me.

"We eat five courses," he explained, holding up five fingers and counting them down. "First, some ouzo and meze-that is drink and a light snack, some olives, some cheese, some bread. Next, Ana serves a great spanakopita. It's like ambrosia--delicious. Then we have salad, and some soup with orzo pasta, then I made roast beef with lemon potatoes. Sound good?"

His brows and mustache were bushy with grey streaks throughout but his smile was warm and wide and youthful. I grinned back and nodded, and let Regina pull me toward the dining room. "I couldn't describe very well what you do, you know-- for work. So I'll let you do it, if you don't mind, Serena."

Those few hours with them seemed to coast right by after that. I gave the usual spiel about the work I did, and the Qwest project, which explained why I had come from LA. I sidestepped most personal questions and answered what I could about my life, about growing up with my family-they seemed to want assurance that I was taken care of as well as they would have taken care of me, given the chance. I picked up on streams of tension between Regina and her father, most especially where my adoption was concerned. There was no imagining that they were still upset that they'd never had the chance to know their granddaughter, nor were they given an opportunity to care and provide for her. For a few reasons, though, I saw why Regina made the choice she made and was secretly very thankful for it.

I could also see how Regina had gained some weight. I think I ate my own weight in kalamata olives and Greek Salad with feta cheese crumbled on top, and then several slices of spanakopita, which tasted better to me than I'd ever had at any restaurant. Fresh vegetables, cooked to perfection, not overpowered with spice or sauce, aromatic, tender cuts of beef and lamb. I ate until I was well past full, then nibbled at the cinnamon and honey donuts that had been set out and slowly sipped at a glass of wine.

Ana and George taught me history-their history, where our family was from- Volos, near the capital city of Athens. George's family worked in imports and exports; Ana's family owned a busy café in the heart of Volos. They had known each other since they were children, grew up together, and fell in love. When George's father was offered an opportunity to move to the US and manage a section of the booming international trade industry, George hurriedly proposed, married Ana, and carted her off with him. They set out on their own soon after. George managed a small hotel, working his way up to Corporate, was transferred to Denver, and now oversaw several large hotels owned by the Hotel group.

I hardly noticed it was well past 3:00 when the doorbell rang. Before I could stop her, Regina shot up to answer the door and in seconds, JC was being dragged through the living room to the dining room. She stared up at him, babbling something about me looking happy. JC chuckled nervously, allowing himself to be pulled further into the room. I sat, wide eyed and helpless, as he settled into the chair next to me. I sent him an apologetic look but he seemed amused, taking the situation in stride, winking at me and reaching for my hand under the table.

"So, I guess I should introduce you all," I said, stuttering. Why was I nervous about introducing him to people I barely knew?

"Uhm, so these are my grandparents, George and Ana." I pointed to them, at the end of the table, all smiles and twinkling eyes and knowing glances. "And you were dragged in here by uhm... by my mom. Regina. This is JC, everyone. My uhm... my boyfriend." He squeezed my hand, clasped tightly within his and resting on my thigh. I covered the tangle of fingers with my other hand and just tried to breathe. Their good opinion wasn't necessary, but for some reason I was worried they wouldn't like him.

"Nice to meet everyone," JC said, nodding around. "I just came to pick up Serena, she said 3:00-"

"Are you hungry?" Ana interrupted, pressing her palms against the table and standing up. "There is a lot of lunch leftover." George lifted a finger and stood, leading Ana into the kitchen. "We make you some food."

"Oh, I don't want to impose..." His voice trailed off as he was obviously ignored.

"So. JC, huh?" Regina sat across from him, stars in her eyes. "What does JC stand for?"

JC looked at me, as if the concept of people not knowing his name was foreign. I looked at him, and shrugged. She didn't know who he was, and I hadn't told her.

"Uh. Well, when I was younger, people started calling me JC because I wasn't the only Josh. It stuck, so I've been JC for... a long time." He left it at that, since it seemed to satisfy her question.

"And how long have you two been together?"

"I met JC in October." I shot her a look, one that I hoped said shut up. JC squeezed my hand again and I glanced up at him. Stop, he mouthed. I glared back at him but relented, ready to jump in if Regina and her questions got out of control.

George and Ana filed out of the kitchen with all five courses and a glass of wine, setting the array proudly in front of JC. I watched his eyes grow wide as they bounced from plate to bowl to glass and back to the plate. A small sampling of each dish we'd had and two cinnamon honey donuts sat before him. They stood next to him, looking on, expectant.

"This is where you get your appetite from," he said to me. Then nodding at them, said, "thank you. It smells great." Satisfied, they filed back to their chairs to sit and watch him eat. I tried to keep the conversation going but JC seemed to be the main event. Maybe because he was my love interest but also because he ate faster than anyone I knew, inhaling the soup and spanakopita, stabbing miscellaneously at the salad and bread. He was eating everything all out of turn, but I think they were too amused by watching him eat to educate him.

In short order, most of the food was gone and they sat blinking at the end of the table, smiling and accepting JC's compliments on the food, and then the framed photographs on nearly every wall in sight. George perked then, and stood, waving at us. "Come, I give you the tour of Greece."

He took us through each room, showing off his flair for the art of photography in black and white and vivid color, taking us on a pictorial tour of some of his favorite places in Greece. Some photos were of the Greek Islands, specifically Santorini-"Nice for honeymoon," George said to JC with a wink and a nudge. JC grinned and nodded and waited for him to move on. I squeezed his hand and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Other photos were of mainland Greece-many, many photos of Athens, Volos, Attika and Ancient Olympia. Some were very old, over 50 years old. Some were new, from recent trips back to Greece.

Ana stood behind us, a hand on my back and murmuring an appreciative word or two at each photo. "You should visit," she urged softly, with a pat on my back. "If you get the chance. Greece is a beautiful country, rich in culture and history-your history. The food is excellent, the modern nightlife is exciting, but really, I feel very spiritual there. Close to God. Close to Mother Earth. I think you would like it."

I was lost in the photos, so larger than life and real, a snapshot of a place half a world away, that sort of tugged at my heart a little, calling me to it. "It looks just beautiful. These pictures are amazing." George seemed proud, clasping his hands behind him, rocking forward and back on his feet.

JC slid an arm around my waist, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. "We have to be downtown in an hour. We'd better go."

I had forgotten all about my meeting with Charles, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered anew. I made the rounds, hugging Ana and George, giving an especially tight, lingering hug to Regina. In a hushed whisper, I told her to call me if she needed anything. She nodded against my shoulder and when she pulled back her eyes had an unmistakable shine to them. Her bottom lip trembled as I picked up my purse and let JC lead me out the door before I joined her in tears.

It was dark as we marched down the red brick steps together, hand in hand, along the sidewalk, to the car. He unlocked my side and I stepped in, popping the latch on his side and checking the back seat, which was covered in bags.

"JC, what did you buy, and how do you think you're getting those home?"

"Records, baby. Vinyl. The good stuff. And I think I have to ship them from the hotel tomorrow."

The car purred to life as soon as he turned the key and he pulled away from the curb, out onto the street, headed for the highway. I slouched into my seat, as much as I could under the seatbelt, and stared ahead, watching the Denver suburbs race by.

"So, you don't want to talk about it?" His voice was gentle, on the quiet side as he shot a glance over to me.

I was in the middle of a tug-of-war inside. I wanted to reflect on the day, but I still had more to be nervous about. I wasn't sure which emotion I should be feeling- I was trying not to feel any of them.

"You're quiet," he said, looking over at me again. "Talk. Let it out."

"Well. I mean..." I stopped, searching for words that evaded me. My emotions were still such a jumble. I didn't much like to emote on cue. "It was a little weird, at first. Like you said it would be. But then the food came out and, I was at home. I just..."

"You just..."

"I'm just... starting to see why Regina left. I mean, they are nice people. Just old world. Some of the things George said-he's very ‘my way or the highway'. And the way he talked to Regina and how she reacts to him. She like, shrinks in his presence. He seems domineering. If I put myself in her shoes, as a 13 year old, I'm rebelling, you know?"

"So, you're starting to see things from her perspective."

"I just finally get it, why she did what she did for me. She could have just as easily ran home and let her parents rescue her, but she didn't. I would have missed out on so much and been so sheltered and so smothered-what they did to her they would have done to me. She didn't want that, for me. I totally get it, now."

I tapped him on the arm and grinned. "She wants to go to school for Drug Counseling. Isn't that awesome?"

"It's more awesome that you sound proud of her." He laughed a little and his voice took on a light, teasing tone. "Like really proud, not that ‘I'm so happy you're not high today' proud."

"Shut up, JC." I rolled my eyes and turned my head toward the view out of the window so he wouldn't see me laughing.

"It's the truth. Anyway. I'm happy it went well. I told you it would."

"Oh, you did not. You said it would go how it went, whether I worried or not, so stop worrying."

"Well, I also said you didn't have anything to worry about. That's the same as saying it'll go well."

"JC. It isn't'," I said, shaking my head and stifling laughter. "But I'll let it slide, because you love me and you told me so."

"Oh, lucky me."

Charles and I agreed to meet at 6pm in the bar of a trendy downtown Denver restaurant. His directions were easy to follow, and a few minutes before 6 JC and I snuck into the side entrance. He found an empty booth in a dark corner while I walked around the bar. It was one long continuous circle, surrounded by high backed bar stools with seats upholstered in brightly colored fabric. The room seemed awash in a haze of reds and oranges, lit by oddly shaped geometric lamps hanging from the ceiling over each table and every few feet around the bar.

I saw him as I made my way around, seated in front of a tall, bulbous glass of golden ale with a light head of foam. The sight of his dark hair combed back from his face, his hunched shoulders, the way his fingers toyed with the edges of his cocktail napkin made my heart slam against my chest so hard I could barely breathe. I reached out and made contact with the back of a bar stool and tried to steady myself, breathing in and breathing out.

"You okay miss?" I heard the voice from far away, inside a fog, under a pillow. I slowly turned my head toward the voice and found the bartender leaning over the thick wood bar, staring. I weaved a little, then regained my footing and my head cleared. I offered the friendliest smile I could muster and made my way around the rest of the bar, clinging to chairs as I went, until I was a few feet away from him.

"Charles..." I managed to eek out. His head popped up and he swiveled in his seat. His forehead, previously creased with worry lines, cleared as a nervous smile appeared. I was gripping the back of the chair so hard that my knuckles were white, I was light headed and not entirely sure I could take another step, so I just stood there.

"Hey. Hey you." He climbed down off of the stool and pulled out the chair next to him, offering a hand to me. "You alright? You look pale."

"Ye-yeah," I stuttered, wiping at the sweat popping up along my hairline under my bangs and above my collar. "I'm just..uhm. Kind of lightheaded."

He motioned to the bartender. "Barkeep, a bottle of water and a glass of ice, over here?"

The water had not been in the glass a full minute before I sucked it down completely and asked for another. It felt good on my throat, which was threatening to close up, and cooled me down, since I was burning up, and helped stall for time, so I could get my wits about me again. I glanced around the bar, looking for JC. I saw a thumb sticking up in a far off corner and felt better, knowing he was there.

I inhaled deeply and blew the breath out, then lifted my eyes to him. Concern clouded a thin, handsome face, his blue eyes and deep laugh lines around his mouth softening the severity of angular jaw. He was tall-he towered over me when he stood up-with broad shoulders and giant hands.

"So, uh. I understand you met the grandparents today." I nodded a few times, stealing a glance up at his face. He seemed mildly amused, turning his glass of beer on the wood surface, watching it make wet rings that overlapped themselves. "Yeah, they're uhm. I remember them being pretty strict, with Regina. She just couldn't take it and split."

"Yeah. They're kind of still the same."

I played with the now empty water bottle, peeling the label off of it, trying to remember all of the questions I wanted to ask and all of the things I wanted to say, but I was drawing a blank.

"Well, so..." He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. "So, how long are you in town? You came with your uh... your boyfriend, right?"

Again, I nodded. "Yeah, he came with me. For moral support." I smiled up at him, briefly, and then went back to peeling paper. "We fly out Monday."

"Nice of him to come with you. It's kind of a big moment for you but not much for him."

"Well, a big moment for me is a big moment for him, so..." I shrugged, and tossed the bottle into the garbage can under the register. "Uhm, so. Your wife and your... your daughters. They know you're here, I imagine?"

He nodded, slowly, his lips pressed together. "They do know I'm here. They'll want the whole story, when I get home."

"Will they?" I asked, head tilted, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I mean if my dad told me he had a child out there somewhere that he just found out about, I think I'd be kind of pissed." He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of my stare. A few tense seconds ticked by, and then I softened. "You know, I guess I'm expecting the worst, here. I'm expecting your family to already hate me, so if they do, you don't have to sugarcoat it for me."

"No, no. It's not like that," he said, reassuring. "It's been awhile since I found out about you, and they know we've talked. I've shared all I can, and emotions have run the gamut but I basically said, you know, I didn't know." He flailed his arms in frustration. "If I knew, they would have known, but I had a daughter out there and I wanted to meet her and know her. It hasn't been a walk in the park, but they've come around."

"I just don't want them to hate me over things I couldn't control," I mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

"They don't. I think the jury's out on me, though. You know, the absentee parent, the sperm donor, the birth father. Or whatever."

"How can anyone blame you? You just said you didn't know--"

"Oh, I know, I know. But, I'm just saying, there's lots of stuff out there that's basically focused on the birth mom and the kids-how to get back child support, how to find a deadbeat dad, things like that. There's not a lot of resources out there for honest to goodness real good dads out there who just never knew they had another kid. It's like a... what's that word... a... bad reputation sorta thing?"

"Stigma?"

"Yeah. That. That's always gonna hang over me."

"Not to me." I laid a gentle hand on his arm and he covered it with his. "And I'm sure not to your family, and definitely not to Regina. She knows she was wrong."

"I appreciate knowing that. That you feel that way." He started to say something and hesitated, then started again, his blue eyes deep and earnest. "I uh... you know, I definitely want a relationship with you, Serena. I mean you can define it, if you want. I know you have a dad but I can't imagine not being in your life. Now that I've met you."

"Oh, well yeah. Of course. I mean, I'm not ready to dive in and call you daddy or anything but I'd like to see where it goes. Not stand in the way of anything good happening." We both nodded, and then, in an attempt to avoid becoming overwhelmed with emotion, looked away at the same time.

"So tell me-"

"Do you want anything to-" He stopped, and gestured for me to go ahead.

"I was going to ask you to tell me about your girls and your wife and your job and... everything about you. I want to know everything. "

We talked, for a good long while, about anything he was willing to share. From meeting his wife in college-he went back to school after Regina left, got his diploma, and went to University of Denver-to the births of his daughters, to the new Auto Supply stores he was planning to open. Business and Marketing were my bread and butter, so I was touched and a little impressed that he asked my opinion on a few things. I gave them honestly and fully, but really without any background in the industry I didn't think I was much help. At least it gave him a place to start.

I opened up a little about life with Regina all those years. He paid rapt attention to story after story of how we managed to keep her alive but couldn't keep her in one place for very long. I didn't know what kind of stronghold Denver had on her, but it seemed to be working, for the time being, and I was crossing my fingers that she would make it this time. Honestly, I didn't think I could take another relapse. I had so much hope riding on this time around.

"You've got to be tired," he said, after I had finished my long series of stories.

I sank forward, onto my crossed arms. "You don't even know the half of it. But you know, if she stays sober a year, maybe two, I think she'll be out of the woods and then I can relax. Until then, I feel like I always have to be ready for a four alarm fire with her."

"Well yeah and... I mean, it's stopped you from being able to live a full life, having to worry about her. I hope you take the chance now, to live for you. Do what you want to do, when you want to do it, without worrying if she'll be okay. You deserve to be happy, too. She's not your job anymore."

I turned, just then, to find JC just around the bend of the bar, about 10 seats away, his head angled up and watching an episode of Sports Center. I pointed at him, and smiled at Charles. "That's my boyfriend, over there. He's amazing. You should meet him."

He dipped his head to see past me and laughed. "Yeah right. You and about a billion other girls."

Shocked, my jaw dropped and I laughed. "You know who he is?"

"What, are you kidding?" He waived an arm and winced. "I have three teenage girls. They hog the TV every Thursday watching that dance show he's on. And I think I know every word to that song by his friend the other one. You the one with the...you know, the sexy back...." He burst into song, snapping his fingers and bumping his shoulders to some random beat that didn't match the song he was singing-badly.

"Justin," I said, giggling. "And I'm serious, that's my boyfriend. I met him, last year."

He rolled his eyes and picked up his nearly empty glass of beer. "Right. Yeah, okay."

"JC," I called out softly, across the bar. His head turned and he perked up, his eyebrows raised. I waved him over with a nod and he picked up his bottle and sauntered over, his eyes on the giant screen above the bar.

"Shit," said Charles, under his breath. "You do know that guy."

"I do know that guy," I said, sliding an arm around JC, and smiling up at him. "This is Charles, my dad. Charles, this is JC. He's made it his personal mission to make sure I'm happy." They exchanged strong handshakes and polite pleasantries. "So, I think we're going to head out. It's been a long day and you have a family to get back to."

"Yeah, I better get going. Let me get your drinks for you, at least. And uh, I hope you'll keep in touch. Come out to Denver every once in awhile."

"I go out to Vail twice a year, so it wouldn't be that hard to swing through. I'll call you when I'm out this summer."

"That'd be great. Maybe you could meet the girls. They'd like that. I'd like that." He signed the credit card slip and slid it back across the counter to the bartender, and then climbed down from the stool. "It was a pleasure, finally meeting you, Serena. I'm glad we did this." With that, he gave a single nod and backed away, then turned and headed toward the exit.

"Charles!" I hopped down from the chair, broke past JC, marched right up to him and stood on my tiptoes, arms extended. He bent to my level and closed both arms around me, holding me tight in a long bear hug. He smelled of cologne and aftershave and hair products and hugging him felt oddly comfortable, like my body had always been craving that feeling. Once it was satisfied, I was at such peace inside myself. I sighed deeply, hugging him as tightly as I could.

He pulled away, grabbed both of my hands and squeezed them in his, then leaned forward and dropped a kiss on my forehead. "You are the first best thing I ever did with my life." His voice caught in his throat and he choked a little, his face turning a deep pink. "You take care of yourself and keep in touch. I hope to see you this summer. Don't let me down, alright?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and squeezed his hands before he let go and walked out of the front door of the restaurant. I stood at the door and watched him walk to his truck, unlock the cab, climb in and shut the door. After a minute, the truck rumbled loudly, exhaust pluming out into the night air, and he drove away.

I could smell JC before I heard him, before I felt arms around my waist and a chin on my shoulder, his head leaning against mine.

"That was my dad," I whispered, tears streaking a wet path down each cheek, dripping off of my chin, onto my shirt. "I can't believe I just met my dad. That was the most awesome thing, ever."

"It was so awesome, honey. I'm proud of you," he whispered, so close to my ear that his breath tickled, his arms tight around me, swaying slightly while I sniffled and watched the retreating tail lights. He pushed the door open, the cool air shocking me back into reality, pushing me toward the warm car.

I sat in my seat and pulled the seatbelt across me, snapping the belt into place. "I don't want to talk, okay? I just want to think."

JC didn't say a word. Instead he started the car and pulled out into light traffic, then reached across the seat for my hand, offering quiet comfort in the best possible way.

The sleepless night and the long day caught up with me in the elevator, on the way to our room. JC was practically carrying me down the long hallway, leaning me up against the wall while he dug out his keycard and slid it through the card reader, then ushered me inside, where I fell face forward onto the bed.

He shrugged off his jacket, eyeing me from the closet. "I don't know why you're tired. It hasn't been a very exciting day."

"Hmm-mmm," I mumbled. "Not exciting at all."

I felt the bed dip as he sat next to me and a warm, heavy hand on my back, rubbing in a soothing, circular pattern. "So, I know you said you don't want to talk, but you're okay, right? Not like messed up and need to get stuff out?"

"I'm okay. I just wanted some time with it, to myself."

"Good. Can I get you anything? A drink? If you're hungry, I will laugh out loud."

I laughed into the mattress. "I'm not thirsty. And I'm never eating again. I'm so full. It was good though, huh?"

"Mmhmm." His hand moved slower and moved to the small of my back, crawling under the hem of my shirt and caressing skin. He bent toward me and laid soft kisses from my cheek to my ear and down my neck. After a while, he laid next to me, an arm slung across my back. He watched me and I watched him and we listened to the lights hum and the traffic on the street from 30 feet below.

"Regina didn't want me to leave."

"Hmmm-mm," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't blame her. You're pretty awesome."

That made me smile. "You're a suck up."

"You can't ever just take a compliment. I have to be sucking up; I can't just say you're awesome?"

"You usually want something when you start complimenting me."

"That's not true. At least I don't mean it to be, so just in case it is, here I am, saying you're awesome and I don't want anything." He leaned forward and pecked at the corner of my mouth.

"Except that kiss," I said with a laugh.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling and he tossed up an arm in mock frustration. "Argh, there's no winning with you. Good thing I love ya."

"Good thing," I agreed, rising up onto my elbows. "So, I've been thinking about stuff."

"Okay. Stuff like what?"

"Stuff like..." I paused, laying a hand out, palm up. He laid a hand on top of mine and intertwined his fingers with mine. "Like when I used to say that she sold me and that she embarrassed me and didn't want me and I had stopped loving her..."

"Mmmhmm..."

"And then you used to say, you know, ‘you should still love her', and ‘think positively and just support her', and Dr Brown used to say ‘she hangs around for a reason, find out what that reason is."

He nodded. "I give good advice. Yeah?"

I cut my eyes at him and squeezed his hand, wrapped around mine. "Yeah. So. I guess I haven't figured it all out yet but... she was my mom, all along, wasn't she?"

He nodded again, slower, angling his head so he could see my eyes. "Yeah. Always watching over you, always sticking close by. Maybe she just needed to know that you were being taken care of."

"Your mom did the same thing, huh?"

"Yeah. And really..." He stopped to think, rubbing at the shadow that had grown on his chin, his eyes taking on a dark, faraway look. "Really, I think our moms must have loved us, like an extraordinary amount, to give us up. To want better for us than they could give. And what should have been a relief was like the other side of a nightmare, maybe. It wasn't like she could keep you, but it must have killed her to give you up and to finally sign the papers."

"Yeah. Brave lady. I'm happy she did, though."

"Me too. I'd have never met you, if she didn't. I wouldn't be where I am, if my mom hadn't have given me up. That's why I never have regrets, you know? Some awesome things have happened to me, and some not-so-awesome things have happened, but if I could have undone any of them, who knows what I might have missed out on? I can't even imagine not knowing you, right now."

I rolled to my back, scooting close to him as he propped himself up on one arm. "I feel like I've known you forever," I said, smiling up at him.

"You haven't though, you know. You're just getting started."

"Yay," I said, an instant before soft lips brushed against mine, the kiss slowly turning from light and airy to deeply passionate, almost needy. I released the grip I had on his hand and buried my fingers in his hair. He'd been letting it grow a little longer and it was starting to curl up, much to my delight.

"So, are we done talking about your parents, because it'll kill the mood if you start talking about your dad while I bend down and start nibbling on this ear, right here."

I giggled and squirmed but I couldn't escape the ticklish feeling of his teeth on my earlobe. "If I wasn't done before I am, now. Come here." I pulled at him, pulling him on top of me, sighing with satisfaction as soon as I felt his weight on me and the unmistakable bulge pressed against my belly. "Are you... ever... not ready?"

"Nope," he mumbled against my neck, his breath hot on my skin there. "Anytime, anyplace, at your service."

"How about right here, right now?"

Before I could get the statement out of my mouth, he sat up on his knees and pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt up over his head, unbuttoned his jeans and leaned over me as he kicked them. Wearing only his briefs, he resumed his previous spot, breathing hard with the exertion of undressing in mere seconds.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Willis," he said, heaving, pulling at the buttons on my blouse.

"Mr. Chasez, you're doing a lot of talking. The only hard thing I want to hear about driving is-" He cut me off with a kiss while nimble fingers undid each button on my blouse and pulled it open, then rolled the tank top up and over my bra.

"Fuck," he whispered, rocking his head back, a look of bliss upon his face. "I forgot you wore lace today."

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, JC. Whenever I'm with you, I'm wearing lace. Because you like it." I pushed his head between the full cups. "Don't stop."

"I-you're just--fuck," he mumbled, growling and licking and moving from mound to mound, lightly biting at one nipple poking through the delicate fabric, and then the other. "Take it off. I can't handle it, take it off."

He sat up so I could pull both shirts off and unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye they were gone, in a pile on the floor next to the bed. My panties followed, and then his briefs. I breathed a contented sigh as he settled on top of me again, his lips taking possession of mine again, his hands roaming freely and unobstructed again. My legs tangled with his, my hands full of soft, silky hair and my body arched up toward him.

His head tilted to the side and found his favorite spot, where my shoulder met my neck. It was sweet torture, feeling wet lips and hot breath and his heart racing, as his chest pressed against mine.

"Don't make me beg," I breathed. "I need you. Please?"

"Okay, okay." He lifted himself up on his hands and knees and crawled over me, to the mini fridge. "Just hold on a minute, I'll be right back."

From the fridge, he pulled two bottles of water and set them on the nightstand next to the small clock radio. Then, he disappeared into the bathroom, where I heard him rummaging through his toiletry kit. On his way back, he snapped the overhead light off, and the small lamp next to bed on. He dropped a few of the familiar silver foil packets next to the bottles of water, but kept one, ripping it open and pulling out the thin film and rolling it onto himself.

"Don't suppose you want to do this for me, do you?"

I rolled to my side, propping myself on an arm. "I like to watch you do it. Do you need me to?"

"I'm kind of in a hurry," he said with a chuckle, checking, adjusting, and then stretching out next to me. "Keep me in mind for later, though."

His skin sort of glowed, in the soft, low light. Every time he moved, a different muscle rippled in his arm or his shoulder or his abdomen, and I wanted to run my hands over each and every one of them. I had a deep appreciation for his build and never missed an opportunity to tell him so. He played with the waves in my hair, pushing it back off of my forehead, where it would fall again, and he would push it back again.

"Did you have a good day, sweetie?"

I smiled and nodded and closed my eyes as his hand traveled around to the back of my neck, gently pulling me forward until my lips met his. "Thank you for coming. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Mmmm," he hummed. "I was happy to. Thank you for sharing it with me."

My smile grew wider as I sat up and straddled his midsection, feeling him under me, pulsing and throbbing. "You wanna share something else with me?"

Large, strong, warm hands made their way up my thighs and around my waist. "Waiting on you, mama. You said not to make you beg and I'm not. It's all you." I rose up on my knees and moments later sank down onto him, blowing out a long, low sigh of relief.

Every care in the world that I ever had was gone, in that moment. Every need I ever had that needed satisfying was taken care of. Every urge I ever thought of acting out was being played out in every touch, every breath, every thrust of hip and lick of tongue and cry of pleasure and urgent whisper of ‘I love you'. Any perfect moment that I could have ever imagined paled in comparison to the feeling of being loved by him, making love to him, falling over the edge of something intense and powerful, bringing him with me seconds later.

For the first time in...well, probably ever, I felt whole, and I liked that feeling. In the foggy moments right before I descended into sleep, wrapped up in him, surrounded by him, loved by him, A most wonderful last thought raced through my mind.

This is what happy feels like.

It was a sunny Tuesday in Los Angeles, the afternoon sun beating down on us as we crept down Wilshire Blvd. The pavement had been baked so hot that heat waves were rising into the atmosphere, the clear blue sky held not one cloud, and everyone with a convertible had tops down and music blaring, making for a lot of noise at every stoplight. The beaches were full of women in skimpy bikinis and fat men in board shorts gawking at women in skimpy bikinis and muscle bound men randomly pacing the sand in no shoes and, more importantly, no shirts.

For the working class it was a long day spent toiling while others got to play, and then a mad dash for the car at quitting time, where they were off to be fabulous, to see and be seen, to be a part of what made the Los Angeles social scene so appealing-- loud music, bright smiles, short skirts, the stench of too much cologne and the scent of marijuana giving a slightly herbal tinge to the air.

There were a lot of people on the street for a Tuesday-didn't these people have jobs to go to? How could they afford to be casually strolling Wilshire in khaki shorts and flip flops and trendy shades, appearing as if they hadn't a care in the world? I guessed that people could say the same about me, but I had reason to be out on a random Tuesday afternoon.

Two important tasks sat at the top of the very short list of things to do before I left California: attend the Qwest Kickoff Party (at which we ceremoniously throw the switch that turns the system on-never mind that had been on for weeks) and check out of the hotel. It was my last week in town and JC's wish, his beg, his... well his command, really was that I spend it with him. There were times I said ‘no' to him-- that wasn't about to be one of them. I think I was packed and ready before the suggestion was out of his mouth.

JC steered the car into the parking lot of a low-slung building housed in a nondescript strip mall. Emblazoned across the front in bold, colorful, playful letters was the phrase ‘Pottery Palace'. The dry, bland scent of clay mixed with the pungent fume of paint hit my nose as we walked in. The studio was bigger than it looked from the outside, and was more popular than I imagined it to be, especially on a Tuesday afternoon. This was JC's plan for the day, part of his mantra for the week-Make Memories- so as I sat in front of a grey, dull slab of clay, I tried to think of something that I could make him that would remind him of me.

An hour later, I still had an ugly slab, a colorless, shapeless lump on the table. I pouted and stared at it, willing it to form itself into something classy and sentimental but it defied me and just sat there. Across the room, JC was learning how to use the pottery wheel, to control the speed with the lever at his feet while manipulating the clay in his hands. He was so artistic it made me sick, picking up techniques and complicated steps right off the bat. His clay wasn't rebellious. I pushed at the lump with a sigh, and crossed the room to watch him.

He crinkled his nose up at me as I stood, watching his hands move over the clay as it spun. "It's kind of slimy."

"You want to be careful you don't go too fast, or the clay will go flying. Too slow and won't form for you. That's a very good speed right there. You should be able to just run your fingers up..." The instructor guided his hands up over the shapeless mound and a cylinder appeared. "Excellent job!"

He was concentrating, taking it all very seriously, but he was proud, his eyes bugged out and his smile wide and playful. "Oh, wow," he said, amazed at himself. His face held a joy, a child-like, boyish, care-free joy that I loved to see, when it showed up. That wasn't very often. "That's so awesome."

"Keep going," the instructor said, encouraging him with a pat on the shoulder and moved onto another student with a rebellious lump. JC took his time, painstakingly forming a tall, thin object that turned out to be a vase. The rounded lip arched outward and the body gently sloped to a tapered edge. He'd even made a small pedestal base. Once finished, he stepped back and admired it and then turned to look at me.

"Well..." He gestured toward the wheel with a grimy finger and grinned. "Honey, what do you think?"

"I think I hate you," I said, pouting again, eyeing my pile of clay drying out where I left it. "You've never done this before?"

He shook his head, circling it, looking so proud. "Nope. Cool, huh?"

"It's beautiful." It was, I realized, as I stood and admired it, a beautiful piece. I imagined it shiny with paint and glaze, sitting on his kitchen table, full of fresh, bright flowers. "You should get it in line for the kiln so it can be fired."

He shrugged, a little shy. "I was thinking you could paint it. You know, when you come back. Then we can say we both made it."

"Well I wasn't going to come back but now that I have this to paint, I mean, I'll definitely be back."

He made claws with his fingers, caked with wet, muddy goop, and threatened to touch me with them. He wouldn't dare, and I knew it. I didn't even flinch. "Smart ass," he said, eventually.

The instructor, making her rounds, came to check on JC. She squealed and then clapped, circling just as he'd done moments before. "Oh my," she cooed. "This is brilliant! This is going to look great once it's fired and glazed." Without even asking, she picked it up and ooh'd and ahh'd over it as she walked off toward the kiln.

JC bent to wash his hands in the sink and glanced over at my pile of clay. "So that didn't work out for you?"

I shook my head, daring him to laugh. "We'll let you be the artistic one, ‘kay honey?"

"Well, I mean..." He paused as he tore a length of crisp brown paper from the roll of towels above the sink, rubbing his hands dry. "I wanted it to be something we could do together."

"I know. And we were. Until you became some kind of prodigy star pupil." I rolled my eyes, looping the strap of my cross body bag over my head. "It's okay. Just remember the little people when you're sculpting for the masses."

We left the JC's work of art at the studio to sit in the hot, hot oven and bake, and then wait for some undetermined point in the future, when we would return to paint it.

Undetermined being the operative word, since I would fly back to Atlanta the following Monday, and I already had a meeting on Tuesday to meet with and discuss StarTel's next client. I couldn't believe I wasn't going to be able to relax and breathe and get my bearings back, but according to Gary, we couldn't rest on our laurels, so it was out of the fire, straight back to the frying pan. My last week in LA was actually my break and my rest-if JC didn't tire me out with his plan to do all of the things we said we'd do and never got around to doing. We had a list of movies we meant to see, the classes we meant to take, walks on the beach at sunset to have, and set aside lots of time to stare at each other, to squeeze every last second of time I had left.

The following day, JC had meetings and I had last minute items to take care of, but I was instructed to be ready to leave at 11am. No earlier, no later and wear something comfortable that I could move in. Following directions, I was waiting at the bottom of the stairs in loose yoga pants, an oversized t-shirt and sneakers. He hopped down the stairs a few minutes after 11, in sweats and a t-shirt, a small smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye as he passed me.

I followed him out to the garage and slipped into the passenger seat, dropping my bag on the seat behind me. "I have the distinct feeling that I should be afraid of that look on your face."

He ignored my wary expression and backed out of the garage and out into the street. Straightening the wheel, he glanced over at me and wiggled his eyebrows, then unclipped his shades from the visor and put them on. "No need to be afraid. You'll have fun. You already kind of know what you're doing."

I couldn't imagine what he meant, though I wracked my brain during the entire 20 minute car ride. It wasn't until we pulled into the Millennium Dance Complex that I started to get an idea of what was in store for me. I hadn't seen a gym in months-he surely wasn't expecting me to dance?

"Let's go, mama. Time to shake those hips." JC stepped out of the car, energetic and bouncy and grinning like a fool. I got out slowly, sort of dreading walking into the building, coming around the front of the car. He laid an arm across my shoulder and guided me toward the door. Try as I might, I wasn't getting out of this-whatever it was. I heaved a sigh and steeled myself.

The studio was bright and clean, the wood floors of the spacious room gleaming with a high shine. Floor to ceiling mirrors lined every wall except the bay of windows on one side, through which the bright sun of the day was shining through, unfiltered. Small groupings of people milled about the room in various stages of undress-skimpy tops, clingy, skintight stretch pants and short shorts--some talking, some stretching, some sitting along the wall, silent and waiting.

An athletic woman, blonde and curvy but muscular, too was at the front of the room, wearing a headset and pushing buttons on the sound system. Her freckled forehead was creased with a wrinkle as she pressed random buttons, increasingly frustrated, it seemed.

JC chuckled and sidled up next to her, elbowing her. "Did you turn it on?"

Startled, she jumped and then seemed relieved to find him standing next to her, laying a hand on her generous chest and making a show out of breathing hard. The crease in her forehead disappeared and her frown was replaced with a friendly, flirtatious smile.

"Shut up," she said returning his elbow jab. "I think it's on, anyway. Oh-" She pressed a button and the sound system roared to life, a peppy tune pouring out of the speakers mounted high in each corner of the room. "Whatever," she said to JC, with a shrug, then adjusted her headset as people moved away from their groups and pushed against the wall to stand, lining up in predetermined spots.

"Okay everyone, let's get into places." Her voice was gritty, gravelly, something I imagined JC found sexy. I had my eye on her.

She paced, swinging her arms back and forth. "For our new class members, my name is Tina. This class moves pretty fast, but don't be afraid. We go over and over and over new steps, so fall in when you get it. Do your best to keep up, but don't kill yourself. There's no test, so just have fun. Okay?" Tina paid particular attention to me, hiding behind JC a little, clutching my bag and not knowing what was going on.

"Put that down," JC whispered, gesturing to my bag and pointing to a spot along the wall. I ran to the edge of the room, dropped my bag, and fell into place beside JC as he started to stretch and then work through a choreographed warm up routine.

"Great, great. We're warmed up. Let's get really moving, huh?"

Tina turned to the sound system and switched out the CD, turning the volume up loud. A horn heavy, full, Latin tune filled the room. She began to call out moves I didn't know, in combinations and formations I didn't know. I was getting frustrated stumbling around, trying to follow along without knowing what a ‘downbeat' was or where was the ‘clave' that I should be listening for. JC wasn't helping me and Tina was moving along from combination to combination, nodding her head to the beat and calling out steps and instructions.

"Relax, honey," I heard behind me, and felt warm hands on my hips and a body up close to me. "This is supposed to be fun. You're all tense."

I shot him a dirty look over my shoulder, watching everyone else out of the corner of my eye move fluidly and gracefully, kicking and stepping and turning and adding of flair. I didn't know when to kick and when to step and I couldn't pick up the rhythm.

"Here, let me show you. I forgot you're awful at this," he teased, stepping beside me and taking a hand in his. "Now do what I do, don't worry about anyone else. Legs apart-- now bring your left leg up and kick, and back down and now your right leg up and kick and back down, now kick, kick, step back, and then to the front. And now, same thing but to the side."

Painstaking and slow, I walked through the steps with a patient JC. I was embarrassed at not being able to get it, but feeling more confident the more times we went through it. By the time Tina was ready to build on the combination, I had it down pat and was moving with the rest of the class. For the first time since we walked through the door, I was smiling and laughing and moving easily. Breathing hard and sweating buckets in the hot, sauna- like room, but having more fun than I'd had in months.

We built upon the same combination of steps, adding some turns and even a small flip, which JC loved. He said he liked having someone to throw around. If I was being honest, I liked being shown off, especially in front of someone who was so obviously into him. It wasn't that I was jealous, and I trusted him-I just didn't trust anyone else.

Before I knew it, the class was over and I was a little sad, trotting to the edge of the room to pick up my bag.

"Where did you pick this one up?" Tina's gritty voice was low, but still audible as she stood at the front of the room, talking to JC, waving randomly at people walking past.

"Airport," I heard him say, laughing. "We've uhm, been together awhile. She's been here working on a long term project, but heading back to Atlanta next week, so I'll have some time."

"So, that's why you've been skipping my classes." She tapped him, playfully, on the arm. "Well you look like you haven't minded being occupied," she said.

"No, well-no I haven't minded, really. I kind of need to get back into my usual groove, though. You know?"

Back into his usual groove? What did that mean?

If I decided to stay at the hotel instead of driving out to the house, he pouted until I changed my mind. When I left every Sunday night to head back downtown, he acted like I was leaving the state, instead of going a few miles away-and he was now longing to get back to his usual groove? Maybe he was looking forward to my leaving more than he was letting on. It wasn't like I wasn't happy to get back to my house and my car and my family, but that meant leaving someone I loved on the opposite coast.

Oh well, I told myself. I'm not going to get all emotional about leaving, either. After all, I would be back. Sometime.

I was quiet through dinner, but JC hardly noticed, rambling and babbling about dance classes and moves, throwing in a compliment or two about how quickly I picked up the steps. I smiled and nodded at the appropriate times, tuning him in and out.

"Excuse me," I said, grabbing at the waiter as he rushed by. He stopped and doubled back, recognizing JC and giving him a small grin. "Could I get a glass of wine, please? I don't care what it is, just make it good."

JC watched the waiter shuffle away and shifted his gaze to me, quietly staring, watching me fold the cloth napkin, push my half empty plate away, and set the napkin next to it. I settled back in my chair and lifted my eyes to meet his. "Go on," I said, folding my hands in my lap.

"Are you alright?"

"Yep," I answered, shorter and more curt than I intended, but didn't correct myself.

"You don't seem alright."

"I'm not getting sloshed, JC. I'm having one glass of wine. Get off my ass."

JC blinked once and then again, ran his tongue along his teeth and picked up his napkin, laying it on the table. "Can we... do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

He shook his head a little, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. "About why you need to have a drink right now, maybe?"

"I don't need to have a drink. I want a glass of wine. I'm having one." Relenting, I let a smirk tease at the corners of my mouth. "That okay with you, sir?"

He caught it, and tapped at my foot with his, smiling a little. "Yeah, it's fine. It's just, you've been weird since we left the dance class. What? Were you mad that I didn't tell you we were going there? I was trying to surprise you with something fun."

"I know, JC-" I paused while the waiter set a beautiful goblet full of a berry colored liquid in front of me. I nodded at him and he shuffled away again. "I know," I continued. "I just. I felt stupid, out there. And I felt stupid yesterday, at the pottery studio. It's cool to watch you like, make a vase and dance these steps so easily, and I know you wanted to share something with me and I love you for that. I just... I'm not artistic, like that. I'm not you."

He contemplated his words for a minute, scratching the hairs at the back of his neck. "I don't want you to be me," he blurted out, finally. "You think you feel stupid, how do you think I feel? I've been listening to technical jargon for like six months now. I feel like an idiot."

"You said you understood what I do. And you manage to have conversations about it whenever I talk about work."

"We don't have conversations. You bitch and I nod and then we talk about something else."

I took a rather large sip of wine, letting it coat my throat, hoping I wouldn't choke on it as it seemed to be closing up on me. I felt a shiver rush through me, but I wasn't cold. I paled, watching my skin turn from olive to something pasty.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't realize I was making you feel stupid. And I guess last weekend was a lot about me and I could have been more patient at the pottery place. And I did have fun, today. Eventually."

"Good. I wanted you to. I just wanted to share something with you that you would remember, when you went home."

"Oh, I will," I said, taking another sip of wine, savoring the sweet flavor. "While you're getting back into your groove, I'll be at home, remembering that vase I have to come back here and paint."

JC's eyes slammed shut for a millisecond, and I knew that he knew he was caught. "You heard that."

"I did."

"She was asking if I was coming back to class. I was going once a week until you were here all the time."

I shrugged, now cradling the goblet in both hands, feeling a little warm and a little loose. "I don't care why you said it. I just care that you said it. I feel like you can't wait until I leave so you can get back to busty- flirty- sexy- voice Tina."

JC opened his mouth to argue but stopped, letting himself smile, a big, wide grin. "Are you....are you jealous?"

I set the goblet down in front of me and dropped my hands to my lap, glaring at him. "No. I'm not jealous. Not of her, anyway. But she sure had the doe eyes and friendly smiles and I didn't like her ‘where'd you pick this one up' commentary."

He let out a laugh, a chesty guffaw and lightly clapped his hands together, falling back against his chair. "You are jealous. Oh my God. You're so cute."

"You know what, JC? I'm not. Really-- this isn't about her. This is about you, and me feeling like you want me to leave."

"I don't, you know," he said, serious again. "I'd be cool with you staying as long as you want. But you have to go, so." He shrugged, reaching for the small leather case that held the bill. "I'm sorry if I seem like an asshole about it though. I don't mean to be."

I said nothing, but pushed my goblet away and slid lower in my seat. "I'm sorry I'm an asshole, too."

"Hey. Shit happens." He slid a card into the provided slot and handed it to the waiter as he walked by. "I just paid $12 for that glass of wine. I don't care if I have to carry you out of here. You are finishing that."

###

The next evening, two parties were going on at the same time. One of them was fun. The other was stuffy. I was at the stuffy one. JC attended the final taping of MTV's Dance Show and went directly to the wrap party. From his sparse and increasingly misspelled texts, it was my guess that he was having a great time. I seethed with jealousy, finally turning the damned blackberry off and dropping it into my evening bag.

The room was packed full of mostly Qwest staff. Some people I'd worked with closely for the past few months. Some I hadn't seen since the first pitch meeting so long ago. Some I'd never met but wasn't about to introduce myself. Not when I was on the way out. I was at the party because it would have been conspicuous if I skipped it, though the ceremonial ‘throwing of the switch' had been tabled.

I mostly held up a wall, and clung to a small throng of developers near the punch bowl, glancing around the room and inanely nodding at their technical chatter. A tall, silver haired man in a crisp suit blacker than midnight was striding confidently across the room, headed straight for me. I recognized him right away- James Barker, President and CEO of Qwest.

What the hell does he want with me? I panicked, wondering if I still had time to pretend I didn't see him working his way toward me, and run.

"Serena!" he called out. I guessed I didn't.

My head lifted, just a hair above everyone else and glanced around. "Serena," he called again. He was right in front of me. It would have been rude to ignore him. Besides, who ignores James Barker? "Walk with me, talk with me."

He beckoned me with a finger and I set down my drink to follow him. We left the loud banquet room and set off down the quiet hallway, our footsteps padded by plush carpet. We walked slowly, as if he hadn't a care in the world. I had no idea Barker even knew my name, let alone what I looked like. I wondered what he wanted with me-the thought had me insanely curious and more than a little nervous.

"So, Martin tells me you've been doing a superb job with this team." Martin was a Project Manager and a complete pain in my ass. He really had Qwest's best interests at heart and served them well. Very well.

"He's really impressed," James continued. "Came in a little over budget, but that's to be expected. These projects normally hemorrhage money."

"Well thank you, sir. Mr. Barker. Martin was pretty easy to work with." That was a lie, but what was I supposed to say? I wouldn't miss Martin, with his nitpicking unimportant details and endless requests to rewrite code and push it again, well after the deadline to do such things had passed.

"Right. Great. Listen, uhm..." We rounded a corner, walking the quiet halls of the fancy hotel. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks, and rubbed his salt and pepper goatee. "Tell me, how is StarTel treating you out there in Atlanta?"

"They do alright," I answered, slowly. "This project is one of the reasons I went to work for them. You know, to get the chance to do something like this. Why?"

"Well, you're a bit of a legend, if you hadn't heard," he said with a chuckle. I hadn't, but I was intrigued.

I stopped walking and turned to face him, my head tilted. "I don't understand."

"Serena, I don't think it's any secret that I wasn't 100% on board with this project, but I must say our weekly progress meetings with Martin have completely won me over. This project has enormous revenue potential for us." He gestured for us to continue walking and I followed his lead.

"You know, if you have any designs on doing more of the same, except here in LA, I could definitely find something for you. I mean, I know you've probably got a non-compete clause but give it some thought. I've got a few friends in manufacturing that could use a sharp tack like you."

We made our way back around to the banquet room, the music getting louder the closer we came. He reached into his interior jacket pocket and pulled out a silver business card case, flipped out one card and handed it to me.

"I'm serious," he said, as I took it. "Very. Use it." James slid the case back into his pocket and wiggled his shoulders to the Muzak- like tunes pumping out of the speakers, disappearing again into the crowd.

I toyed with the card in my hands, staring at it, looking around, and wondering if anyone had seen him give it to me. It wouldn't be good if word got back to StarTel that I was being wooed away. I slid the card into my evening bag, took a glance at the full room, decided they wouldn't miss me, and slipped away. I had some thinking to do.

The driveway and street outside the house was packed with cars, up one side and down the other. I squeezed into a spot a block and a half away and teetered on my heels up the street. By the time I made it to the house, I'd taken my shoes off and limped my way inside. JC had, apparently, brought the party home.

"Hey, Serena. What's up?"

I nodded at a red-faced Tyler as I passed through the foyer. "Nothing much. Just got home. Here. Whatever. Where's he at?"

"Patio," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass doors off of the living room.

"I'm going upstairs. If you see him, tell him I'm up there."

"You're not gonna party? Drinks are flowing, music is bumpin', everyone's having a good time." He bumped my arm with his elbow, grinning down at me, his dimples deeply indenting his cheeks. "Come on, Serena. Relax, the project is done. Celebrate."

"Alright, Counselor. Lay off. I might come back down later. I just need some time. Tell JC I'll be upstairs, okay?" I weaved my way through the small crowd of people before he could bring up another argument. He was really going to make an excellent Attorney, someday.

I climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind me and blocking out the noise. I tossed my shoes toward the open suitcase on the floor outside of the closet, then unzipped myself and shimmied out of my dress, dropping it on top of my shoes. I closed myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower. I would normally avoid thinking in the shower, since it was when things started to roll into my memory and the forefront of my mind. Things I didn't always want to remember, things I didn't always want on my mind.

That night, I wanted the thoughts. I wanted the musings, the ideas. I wanted them to creep into my subconscious and let me talk myself into something I hadn't even thought of. Or talk me out of something I was already considering. I stood in the shower, under the pounding spray, for a long while. Thinking. Deciding, and then deciding again, and the finally deciding not to decide. This wasn't something I could just jump into. It would take some thought. And some planning. It was a terrible idea.

Except terrible ideas had brought me to where I was, standing in JC's shower, staying at JC's house, loving him and being loved by him. Terrible ideas were really good for me.

When the hot water finally ran out, I turned off the shower and got out, wrapped a towel around myself and set about the slow, tedious process of detangling the waves of thick hair, then pulling it into a high ponytail. I stepped out of the steamy room, fully expecting to still be alone, so I was surprised to find JC stretched out on the bed, still in his slacks and dress shirt. His tie was flung haphazardly on the seat of a chair in the corner of the room and he had the TV on, the volume low.

"Hey. What are you doing up here?"

He pressed a button on the remote and the TV snapped off. "I live here, remember? You didn't save me any hot water, did you?"

"No. Sorry. I thought you'd still be partying. Is everyone gone?"

"No. I heard you were home so I came up to talk to you but you were in the middle of the longest shower, ever."

I rolled my eyes at him before bending to dig my toiletry bag out of the suitcase. "You want me to pay the water bill?"

"No, I'm just saying. Long shower." He sat up then, and scooted to the edge of the bed. "Lotion time?"

I nodded, handing him the bottle. It had become sort of his unofficial job, if he was around at night. I did it faster, but no one gave a rubdown better than JC. It was something I had started looking forward to, and was high on the list of things I'd miss the most when I was gone.

He started at my feet, as usual, after I'd unwrapped the towel and laid down in the center of the bed, on my stomach. He worked his way up, his breathing changing with the effort as he rubbed the cream into my skin, long, soothing strokes, squeezing and kneading as he went.

"You alright, honey?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Feels great, you're so good at that."

"No I mean. Are you okay? You're not still mad at me, about yesterday?"

"No." I raised my head and glanced over my shoulder, but he was bent too far over me, working his fingers into the small of my back and poking his way up. "No, I'm not. Still mad."

"Okay. What's wrong, then? You seem tense, up in your shoulders, here."

"I'm just. You know. Leaving. Hmph." I could tell him. Just so easily, it was on the tip of my tongue that I wanted to move to LA, but I couldn't. I didn't. I needed more time with it, to make sure I wasn't riding some kind of emotional wave and making a rash decision. And being stupid and acting crazy. I tended to do that, with him.

"Yeah, there's that. You want to talk about it?"

"No. I don't. I don't even want to say goodbye, just kiss me and put me on the plane and walk away. Serious." He had finished, and was just sitting next to me, rubbing the last of the lotion into his own hands. He tossed the bottle back into the suitcase and reached behind him to pull at my pony tail.

"I'm not gonna do that. In fact, I'm planning a little something for you, Saturday night." My shoulders sagged and my eyes closed and I tried to stop the swell from coming. Emotion, tears, all of it. I wanted no part of it.

"JC...I-you're sweet. But I-"

"I know, I know. You don't want a big deal. It won't be one. We're just gonna go out, one last time. Have a good time, party it up. It'll be fun, a good way to end our week of making memories. Right?" I felt him shift on the bed and soft lips land on my back and travel up to my shoulders, to my neck, to my cheek, to the corner of my mouth, which wanted to bend into a smile. "Please?"

"Fine. But none of that sappy shit, no speeches and gifts. We're partying. Right?

"Right. Roll over, here. So I can see your face." I obeyed, turning over, watching the expression on his face go from plain to appreciative as his eyes roamed my body. He laid down next to me and heaved a sigh.

"Oh, God." I smacked my forehead and rolled to my side, so I could see him. "I'm so fucking self centered. I didn't even ask about the show, tonight. How was it? Did the girls win?"

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "What did I tell you? Of course not."

"You are... are you kidding me? You said they were good!"

"They are. They really are, but you know. Producers. I told you. You owe me $10."

I snorted with laughter. MTV had been running a marathon of the show all week. Since I hadn't seen many episodes, we sat and watched them all, one day. I bet him $10 that the all-female team would win the title. He told me I shouldn't bet against someone who was actually a part of the show, but I was insistent, so we made the bet.

"$10, sure. Come and get it."

"I am. Soon as I take a shower." With that he rolled over and pushed himself up off of the bed, stumbling to the bathroom, removing clothes as he went. "Hope I have some damn hot water in here. If not, I'm coming to get that, too." The door slammed behind him and I heard the shower turn on.

###

Glum, I stared at the calendar on my blackberry, and then pressed the button to close the program and make it go away. Staring at it wasn't making time go any slower. It was still marching ahead, second by precious second, counting down my time with JC, with LA, with this short slice of heaven I'd come to love. Soon it would be back to the usual grind. Sooner than I wanted to get back to it. It was Saturday-after that night, I had one more day.

It seemed like JC was inviting everyone he knew to come out and party. I hated to be a downer but I really didn't feel like being the center of attention and being out until the wee hours of the morning. He was thoughtful enough to arrange something for me though, so I decided to paste on a smile and pretend to have a good time and maybe, after all that pretending, I would actually have a good time.

10pm was the magic time, West Hollywood's Villa Lounge was the place. JC was looking particularly handsome in dark jeans a dress shirt and a v-neck sweater. His signature spicy scent filled the car as we picked our way through traffic, then waited for the valet. We headed upstairs as soon as we made it past the door, where a group of people were already spread about the couches that lined the perimeter of the room. A heavy dance beat thumped through the speakers on the main floor below-loud enough to hear, but the rooms upstairs were for gathering and not for dancing, so there were no speakers, and no music to try to talk over. Just the din of people already half drunk, talking loudly, girls squealing at each other like they hadn't seen one another in months. I knew for a fact some of them had just seen each other a few weeks ago at the house. Some of them, I thought, tried too hard to be LA socialites, with the air kisses and the ‘darling' and the wide smiles. I sighed, inwardly, then smiled at JC as he headed off to the bar.

I made myself comfortable on a pristine white couch and shrugged out of my jacket, laying it across my lap and taking in the room. Minutes later, JC returned with two brown bottles, talking over his shoulder to someone who was following him across the room, and then fell in step beside him.

My heart skipped a beat. Skipped a few beats, actually as I watched, almost in slow motion, a shorter, well-built muscular man with choppy spiked blonde hair and the whitest teeth ever approach me, smiling and laughing with JC like they were old friends. Because they were old friends.

It had been so long since I'd met JC, I hardly remembered to fawn over his history with *Nsync anymore. Every once in awhile, I heard a song on the radio from them, or a song would come up on the iPod and I would laugh and reminisce, but the JC I had come to know was bigger and greater and so much more than his time with the band. I had subconsciously kind of forgotten, until now.

"Hey, look who I found." JC flashed a megawatt smile at me. I stood and smiled back, more than a little nervous. "Lance, this is her. I was just telling him about you, honey." He handed me a bottle, ice cold. I gripped it with both hands, afraid I would drop it.

"Hi, great to meet you. Again. I met you before. A long time ago. You wouldn't remember." Shut up, Serena. Just stop talking. I stood, nodding like a fool, looking from Lance to JC and back to Lance again.

"Yeah, I heard that," he said, nodding back, one hand around the neck of a beer bottle, the other shoved into his pocket. "It's cool that you could, you know, meet him again. And forgive the hair. Because, wow."

"I keep telling him I liked his hair, back then. But I liked Chris' braids too, though so maybe my opinion doesn't count?"

JC laughed and stepped closer, sliding an arm around my waist. "You never told me that. I think we need to evaluate this situation."

"So, I hear you're leaving in a couple of days, sorry I didn't get a chance to meet you before. I hope you'll be back. Gotta keep this guy in line."

Oh. I would definitely be back. Definitely.

JC looked on proudly as I made small talk with Lance, interjecting now and then with a laugh or a joke or a story. Lance had to leave after a few minutes and then it was just he and I, relaxing on the long row of couches along the back wall, watching people talk and laugh and drink, flitting from one end of the room to another.

"You look bored," he said, an arm across the back of the couch, his bottle of beer half empty, nestled between his thighs. I glanced over at him, my bottle hardly missing a sip.

"What?"

"You heard me. You look bored. I planned this..." He gestured to indicate the full room of people milling around. "And you're just sitting here."

I shrugged, glancing quickly about the room. I didn't see anyone I just had to get up and talk to. I wasn't very close to JC's friends. "I guess I am distracted," I said, looking back at him. "Or something. But I'm here."

"Yep. You are."

"JC, I told you I didn't want a big damn deal. You asked me to come. I'm here."

"Not having a good time, though."

"I'm... I'm just not much of a big party girl. We talked about this, like on our second... or third... date. Remember, the first night we went out? When we went for drinks, and you said you tried to impress me, and I said it wasn't necessary?" He stared at me, not blinking, not smiling, not moving. It was unnerving-I didn't know if he was really upset, or if he was just messing with me.

"Look, I'm sorry, I feel like shit, now. You want me to get up and mingle or something? You want to go downstairs and dance?"

He broke the stare and glanced through the wrought iron bars of the railing, toward the crowd down below, moving as one and gyrating to the beat of 50 Cent, Just a Little Bit.

"Not if you don't want to," he said when he looked at me again. "I just don't know what to do, to make things meaningful for you. I keep planning things I think you'll like and you just sit there. You plan stuff and I love it because you know me. You know what I mean? You've known me longer than I've known you."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I wished I had known that he was trying to make it special, for me. He was trying, so hard, and I was fucking it up.

"I asked Lance to come, because I thought you would be excited to meet him."

"I was excited, JC." I set my bottle on the floor and twisted so I was facing him, wrapping a leg around his. "I promise, honey, I was. But you know what, this whole time with you, being out here, has been meaningful. I don't need something big and special for something to be memorable to me. You know what I'll remember most?"

"All the sex?" He grinned, that silly Alfred E Neuman grin that made me giggle.

"Well, yeah. But besides that. I'll remember all those times we sat on the couch and watched fucking Top Chef Marathons, and Intervention and Star Wars and all your science shows. I'll remember laying in bed with you at 3 am while you ramble on and on about something or another, while I'm trying to fall asleep. I'll remember Sunday morning pancakes and arguing over the remote and... yes, all the sex."

"Especially the sex? The really great sex?"

"Especially the sex. Even the really great sex."

He tucked a lip between his teeth and his eyelids lowered. He hadn't shaved since the final taping, and the stubble on his cheek and chin were at that length where it didn't hurt for him to hug me or kiss me anymore. He raised a brow at me and, in a low voice, "I want to go have some memorable sex, right now."

I scoped the still full room out of the corner of my eye, and raised a brow in response. "Right now? You can't leave your own party."

"Sure I can. I just get up, and walk out. These people don't care. They're just here for the booze. Let's do it, just go. We'll hang out and argue over the remote and watch a stupid movie and then roll around in the bed a little." He waited for my response, and when it didn't come, he prodded a little, winking at me. "Wanna?"

I smiled, smoldering already. "I wanna."

He nodded, and then stood, offered me a hand to help me stand and then walked out, with me in tow. Down the stairs, to the valet stand, and then into the car as soon as it arrived and back onto the road, in the direction of the house. Home.

"You want to hang out upstairs or down here?" He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter as he passed, flipping on lights as he went.

"Upstairs," I answered, already headed there.

"I'll be up in a minute," he said, his head behind the door of the refrigerator.

I left the overhead light off, and snapped on a lamp next to the bed. The room was cool, and clean, and quiet. I would miss this room, this spacious escape from anything else going on. I sat on the edge of the bed, working my shoes off, one by one, glancing around at the sparse but classy decorating, the obvious manliness of the room with hints of nostalgia and things that were important to him, like the photo of him and Tyler on top of one dresser, and him as a child at the piano, in a pewter frame with engraved music notes around the edges.

I heard footsteps on the staircase, headed toward the bedroom, and then saw a shadow at the door. "Leave it off," I called out softly. He obeyed and walked in, closing the door behind him, and then just stood there. He was feet away from me, but I felt the heat between us from across the room.

"Did you want to watch a movie, or..."

Slowly, I shook my head no, then held a hand out to him, beckoning him to me. He moved to stand in front of me and then dropped to his knees, his arms circling my waist, his forehead leaning against mine. A long, low breath escaped him, and I felt his fingers working their way under my blouse, seeking out warm skin, rubbing and caressing in slow circles. I moaned a little, the sensation sending sparks up my back.

"I'm... gonna miss you so much," he whispered.

"Don't make me cry," I said, tearing up already. "I feel like I'm always crying in front of you, lately."

"There's nothing wrong with crying," he said with a light chuckle. "I might do some."

"Oh, no you don't. Let's not do that yet, okay? I just. I want to enjoy this, with you." I lifted my head and tilted it just so, enough that I could brush my lips against his. Once, twice, three times, feather soft.

His mouth opened, just enough for me to play with him, tease him. It worked, and he opened wider, his tongue coming out to play, swirling itself around mine, over and under. It was heady, and intoxicating and sweet. He broke the kiss and moved to the side, climbing up on the bed, grabbing my arm and pulling me. I scooted back, all the way, until my hand hit pillow, and then laid next him, on my side, my head propped up on an arm. He laid the same way, snaking an arm across my waist.

"You know what I'm remembering?" His thumbs found skin, again, and rubbed their usual circles. Sparks shot off, in the usual places. That old familiar feeling- the fire, and the passion, roared through my body, from the tip of my toes to the longest hair on my head.

"What are you remembering?" I reached out to him, stroked his cheek, his stubble pricking my fingers. He moved his head to kiss my palm, and smiled.

"That first night that I met you. Actually, the plane ride. I was uhm. I wanted to ask you out, on the plane, when you asked if I knew of any cool places to hang out. I talked myself out of it, because it was a dumb idea. Then we were getting off the plane, and talking while we went to baggage, and I just... couldn't help myself. It took everything in me to not follow you up to your room, that night. I wanted you, so bad."

"Really. You hid it pretty well."

"I know, but the second day was like... there was no way I was leaving without at least trying. But then you told me about Regina and how close you felt to me, in that way, because we had that in common and that really should have turned me off. I mean, you're not the first fan to tell me she's adopted and hope that I feel some sort of wicked connection, or whatever. But you didn't use it, like that. I liked that."

"Well, I didn't plan to. I wasn't even going to tell you. It just kind of came out. I had no idea that I was going to sleep with you until it happened. I guess if I was conniving I could have tried to seduce you."

He chuckled, and his fingers drummed a beat on my skin. "You didn't have to try. Believe me. But then I was like, laying there with you and watching the movie, sort of, and in my mind I was having a total battle, of if I should or shouldn't try. And if you wanted it, or not. But you looked so good and smelled so good and I liked being with you... I just went for it."

"And I'm so happy you did."

"But after. I didn't want to leave. And that's never happened before. Usually I'm up and out about a half hour later. You know, just let me catch my breath and I'll be seeing you around, you know? But I just-- I hated that you live in Atlanta, and I just wanted to see you as much as I could, before you left."

I hated that you live in Atlanta rolled around and around in my head. If he only knew how much comfort that gave me and how it mattered to the changes I wanted to make and the decision that weighed heavily on my shoulders.

"I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm there, again. I'm there every time you have to leave. I hate that you have to go."

"I hate that I have to go, too. But I don't leave for another day, so let's make the best of the time we have left, okay?"

He answered by rolling forward, pushing me back against the bed, his weight sinking onto me, his lips landing on mine in a rushed, hot, wet kiss. In brief flashes of movement, we undressed each other, flinging shirts and jeans and socks in random directions. We only parted to move under the sheets, our limbs tangling together again, our bodies pressed against one another from head to toe.

He tipped his head to find his favorite spot to lick, sucking like it was his last meal. I would, for sure, have a mark but I didn't care. I kissed and bit at his shoulder, the skin smooth, and wrapped my arms around him, feeling the muscles ripple underneath. God, I would miss that.

He rolled us over, so I was on top, and I sat up, straddling him. The lamp on the bedside table cast a glow across the room. I caught my shadow on the wall, my erect nipples apparent in it, my hair wild and big and... everywhere. I glanced down at him, laying back, arms spread out on either side of him, eyelids barely open, two baby blues focused on me, traveling up and down my body.

"You want me to-"

"Yes," he interrupted, laughing. "Since you're up there."

I giggled and leaned over, reaching for the drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a foil package and tucking it into one of his open palms. "You just hold onto that, for me."

I moved down his body slowly, laying soft, light kisses here and there, hopefully torturing him the way he did to me, when he knew I wanted it, and he did everything he could to delay pleasure until just the right moment. I stopped when I reached him, erect and a long, solid column. He bucked his hips up toward me, and when I glanced up at him, had a grin on his face.

I took that as an invitation and wrapped both hands around him. No foreplay, no teasing, no more torture, I took him in, working my tongue around him. A sigh of relief and pleasure and who knows what else ticked my ears and I was encouraged, moving him deeper, applying light suction, squeezing him with my hands, swirling around him.

He wasn't shy about letting me know he was enjoying it. The sounds and movements under me, his furrowed brow, the beads of sweat that popped up along his skin and the reddish pinkish tint that covered him told me what I needed to know. His breath quickened and his groans grew louder and his hips bucked faster and then, in not nearly enough time to be ready, he grunted, and shuddered and let go, his hips moving steadily, working out every ounce. Finally, his hips fell and he exhaled, deeply. His face was split by a wide grin, he was sucking in air and coated in a sheen of sweat.

I reached for the foil packet, but he tossed it up onto the nightstand and grabbed my hand, pulling me up toward him. My hair fell around us, and he brushed it back, pulling my head down toward him, planting his lips on mine and moving, rolling us over.

"Sorry," he said, when his lips released mine. "I wanted to warn you, I just couldn't breathe, let alone talk. You okay?"

I nodded. "I managed."

"Well. I'm gonna repay the favor, if you don't mind."

I answered by pushing on his shoulders, pushing him down on my body. He laughed against me, and it tickled as he made his way down, stopping at each breast to take a nipple into his mouth, soft and warm. He swirled his tongue around one and then the other and then flicked one and then the other, until my hips were out of control and I almost begged him to keep moving. He read my mind and traveled further south, settling between my legs and taking his time, licking and nipping at my inner thigh, moving higher and closer, until I felt his breath on me, and then something wet and stiff and teasing.

I let out a breath and resisted the urge to press him to me. I tilted my hips up toward him and he glanced up at me, smiling with his eyes, knowing full well he was driving me mad. "Shit, I hate it when you do this."

"I know. It's why I do it. I am evil."

"Well stop it, and-ohhhh...God." I lost all ability to speak when I felt his entire mouth on me, his tongue bathing from bottom to top and back down again, and then focusing, twirling, sucking in wild rhythm and combination. He moaned in response to my hips and yelps and cries, the vibration only adding to sweet painful pleasure that was building. It didn't take long, considering I'd been waiting for awhile, to reach the cliff and then fall over it, happily, eagerly. Loudly.

My body stiffened, even my toes and my eyes slammed shut and hips jerked involuntarily and then and for a long, blissful moment I laid there, panting. Feeling. Coming down.

"How we doin'?" I heard, from far away. I forced my eyes open and tried to answer but choked, and realized I was drooling. I laughed and sat up, wiping and flushing pink with embarrassment.

"Damn, I'm good," he said, crawling over me, off of the bed. "I'll grab a towel, I'm sticky anyway. Hang on." He left and came back with a warm, wet cloth and handed it to me. I wiped my face and handed it back and he wiped his, and then tossed it into the basket in the closet. I picked up the foil packet and ripped it open, handing it to him as he crawled back into bed.

"Thank you," he said, rolling the condom on, adjusting. I took over, pushing him so he was laying down, running my hands up and down his body, from his chest to his abs, and further, past his waist, rubbing him through the thin latex. He came to life, pulsing and growing stiff in response.

We said nothing, just stared at each other as I stroked him and his fingers found me again. Passion built quickly as we writhed against each other, until he couldn't take possibly one more second and sat up, rolling me over, positioning himself above me, and pushed, filling me in one long stroke.

"God, you feel good," he moaned in my ear, between pants that matched his strokes.

I couldn't talk, only moan and groan and grunt. I dug the fingers of one hand into his hair, wrapped the other around him, gripping his shoulder, my nails digging into his skin. My legs wrapped around him, squeezing him closer to me. Though just about every inch of his skin was touching mine, I couldn't get close enough to him.

The rhythm built, and felt incredible, so fucking incredible, I never wanted him to stop. He was close, though, if his increase in speed and force was any clue and I wanted to finish with him. I moved my hips with him, matching his pace, feeling the pressure start to collect just under the surface. He moved a hand to my waist and gripped me tightly, then dipped his head to my neck and thrust hard, his voice muffled as he groaned and grunted over and over. "Come, please, I ca--please."

"I'm coming," I moaned, as I worked my hips with his, a calming, soothing climax lazily coursing through me. I laid back and just let it wash over me like a wave, again and again until the strength of the wave subsided and I came to, with JC on top of me sucking in air, dripping with sweat.

His hand moved from my waist to stroke my thigh, which had loosened itself from around him and laid limply next to his. He hooked his hands behind each knee and wrapped my legs back around him, settling onto me, laying his head on my chest, occasionally turning his head to kiss the skin under his cheek.

"I love you, Serena. More than anyone I've loved in my life. In a way I never loved anybody before."

I could have answered, if his voice wasn't so soft and small and quiet, yet filled with so much emotion and meaning that it opened the floodgates. I tried, to tell him I loved him, too, more than anything, anyone, at any time, ever, but all that came out were sobs and ragged breaths, so I gave up, and just wrapped my arms around him and hugged him as tightly as I could.

###

Days later, I peeked out of the window as the LA skyline retreated and the airplane sped me toward Atlanta. Home. To my house. To my car. To my family-Garrett's wife had a baby girl while I was gone and I was dying to meet her. To my job, where I was some kind of superhero, apparently. But away. Away from the absolute love of my life and a city that had worked its way into my heart.

I sighed, not out of sadness, out of resolution. I would be back. To stay. When, I had no idea, but I would be back.

Annette and Melissa owned a 1920's brick bungalow on a quaint, Magnolia tree-lined street in Atlanta's historic Morningside neighborhood. Midtown was the assumed pulse of the gay community-Morningside was about as far as a person could live and still be considered to be living in Midtown. Annette found the house first, and despite living in such a nice area, the house was in disrepair. They'd spent the last five years turning it into the home of their dreams and it now sat proudly among the other half million dollar homes on the block.

I heard Annette squealing  as soon as I stepped out of the car. I paused, wondering if I was brave enough to go inside. If I got back into the car and just drove away, I could avoid the overt show of emotion. I had been gone for months, and phone calls had been sparse, so our reunion would be quite a spectacle. I deeply considered leaving, but then I'd have Melissa mad at me, and no one wanted that. I let the door close with a soft thud and marched up the sidewalk to the front door.

"Oh my Gaaaawwwd, look who's home!" Annette threw open the door before I could even knock and tugged me inside. She alternately hugged me and then pulled back, and then hugged me again, beaming and giggling and as overly excited as a puppy. "You look so good, so thin, so tan! LA took good care of you!"

"JC took good care of her. Come here, girl." Melissa was always the calmer one, but I could tell by the strength of her hug that she was emotional on the inside. "Was the house okay? I went over about once a week, and I think your brothers were going by, too."

She linked an arm with mine and led me to the sunken living room, where I curled up in my usual spot. Annette set a tall glass of iced tea on the table in front of me, slid a coaster under it, and sthen perched next to Melissa on the sofa. The whole setting was so familiar and comfortable and usual. I hadn't been to their place in months and it felt good to be there. To be home.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving her off. She'd taken better care of my house than I had. "Thanks for watching over it, for me. If I wasn't working, I was with JC and I just didn't see flying home."

"Oh no, of course not. It was right on my way home from work." As was her habit, her hand came to rest on Annette's thigh and she squeezed, ever so lightly. "So, Qwest went off without a hitch, and things are good with the man?"

"Qwest is great and things with JC are incredible."

I filled them in on sketchy details, leaving out a lot of things I wanted to keep to myself for now, especially the elephant sized thought that seemed to be taking up all of the space in my mind. I couldn't get around it or over it or under it. It was ever present and heavy and I wanted it gone, but I didn't know what to do with it. I already knew what Melissa would say, and I wasn't in the mood for a lecture. I was missing JC like crazy and I was liable to snap at her.

"And Charles and Regina and... everyone? Have ya'll talked since you left?"

I nodded. "A couple of times. Things have calmed down a lot, thank God. I can't take anymore drama. I should be seeing everyone this summer, so I'm looking forward to that."

Melissa smiled, one of her ‘lips pressed together, trying not to bust into a grin', smiles. "Well, great. We were just... so happy to hear that you met them. How are your parents doing with all this?"

I winced, involuntarily scratching at my neck. We'd always been wide open about Regina and her issues, but when information started flowing and I started making plans, they became quietly supportive, and not as vocal as I had expected them to be. It seemed to be a sore subject and I was avoiding it.

"I think... I think they're a little freaked out," I explained gingerly, reaching for the glass of tea in front of me. "They had no idea that Regina knew who my dad was, so that was a shock. They're cautious about Regina. Hope she stays clean, for everyone's sake."

Melissa shifted and leaned back, propping an elbow up on the back of the sofa. Annette naturally angled against her, her chin teetering on Melissa's shoulder. Their intimacy and closeness was usually heartwarming, but it tugged at me, lately. Everything reminded me of JC. Everything made me want to be with him.

"What do you think? Like really, from your gut?"

I had tuned her out a little--it took a second to recall what we'd been talking about. "About Regina?"

"Well. Yeah," she said, blinking at me. "You know, she hasn't been clean that long. And she's done the rehab thing before. Do you think this is it?"

What did I think? Was I really giving her a chance this time? Based on sounding good and looking good and connecting me with my dad and my grandparents? Did she deserve that? And if not, couldn't I, just this once, give it to her anyway?

I shrugged and traced the rim of the glass with a finger. "This is the longest she has ever been sober, and when I saw her, she was different. Like, remorseful and really wanting to move forward. Not like every time before. And she might screw up every now and again but she's in a good place. I have no idea what tomorrow might bring but she looked and sounded and acted the best I've ever seen her, so..."

They nodded, together. Melissa chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. Annette brightened and sat up. "So, tell us about LA! Did you meet any of JC's famous friends? Go to any parties?"

I snorted and dipped my head shyly. "Well, I met Lance Bass last weekend."

"Oh my God, you're kidding!" Annette flailed and fell back against the couch. "He is such a cutiepie! Tell me everything."

I sat up and set my tea back on the coaster. Where Melissa was usually bored by my ‘guess who I met' stories, Annette was the complete opposite. I knew she would enjoy hearing about meeting one of her favorite celebrities.

"So, JC threw me a party, a sort of going away thing," I started, "and you know how well that went over..."

###

The phone startled me as it buzzed against the wood of my desk. It woke me up, actually, from a light doze. My body clock was three hours off, and I couldn't seem to readjust to East Coast time. I wasn't falling asleep until 2 or 3 am and I had to be back up a few hours later to get to work. I was dragging all day, and then I couldn't keep my eyes open once I got home. For the second night in a row, I was forcing myself to stay at work and plow through documents and research on StarTel's next potential client.

"Hey," I said, instantly wide awake. I loved it when I heard from JC out of the blue.

"Hey," said a sweet voice in my ear. He sounded so close, but I knew he was so far away. God, I missed him. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," I managed to choke out. "And how are you?"

"Just alright?" I could just see him narrow his eyes and tilt his head at me.

"Yeah. I'm tired. I can't get used to being in this time zone. And I miss you." I grinned and hoped he could hear it in my voice. "Answer me!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said through a laugh. "I'm good."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said, exhaling a long breath. "For the first time in, like, a week I am doing nothing. Feels good. What are you doing?"

My eyes shot around the small room that StarTel referred to as an office. One wall was lined with bookshelves, floor to ceiling, nearly full with any kind of manual or text or guide a Marketing major could ever wish for. I couldn't get a raise but I could get $300 worth of research materials whenever I wanted them. My desk, a dark brown, dull wood, sat in the middle of the room. It might have been an antique, but it wasn't in good condition. Maybe I could get JC to come to the office and fix those drawers, too. A glance out of the blinds covering the window only led to the office across the hall, which had darkened hours ago. I was alone in the office suite, except for the cleaning crew that would show up at 9.

"I'm working," I answered, followed by a grumpy ‘humph'.

"Yeah? On what?"

I chuckled, remembering our conversation a few weeks before. "Technical jargon and other such things. You don't want to know."

He laughed that deep laugh from the pit of his stomach. "I'm sure I don't. I was being polite. So, I won't keep you, but I need to run something by you."

I cradled the phone on one ear, and started to shut down the computer. "Oh? What's that?"

"Uh, so... I'm gonna miss your birthday."

"Yeah," I answered, shoving papers into folders. "We talked about that. It's okay."

"Okay. Well..." He stopped to clear his throat, dragging out the moment. "I wondered if you could manage a trip out of town, maybe a couple weeks after that."

"Out to LA? JC, honey I don't know if I can get away again so soo-"

"No, no... babe. To New York."

My hands stopped moving and the rusty cogs of the JC Fan Wheel began to churn in my head. I had to be careful-if I was too excited, he would shut down and refuse to talk. "Uhm, so...you only go to New York for meetings and to record. Which is it that you're going to New York to do?"

He was quiet, and it was driving me crazy and he knew it. "A little of both," he finally said. Nonchalant. Casual. Fucker.

My fingers gripped the desk, slipping a little, leaving little smear marks on the wood. "You have a meeting? Is it a meeting I want to know about?"

"Ssssooorrrtttt of...," he answered, drawing out the word. His cocky grin was coming through loud and clear over the airwaves.

"Tell me!"

"It's just a meeting, sweetie. I've had a hundred of them in the last year."

"Well, right but you've been out there, recently. Like, out in media. Is it someone that saw you on the show?"

"Could be. I don't really know but I guess so. Anyway," he said, brushing by the topic. "I have a pretty short meeting scheduled and while I'm up there, I might get into a studio. See a show. I thought you might like to come. I'll be going crazy by then."

"I'm going crazy now." I sighed, my mind already speeding forward a few weeks and imagining seeing that face, that sexy saunter coming toward me, feeling those arms close around me, kissing those kissable lips.... I could barely breathe, thinking about it. "Uhm. Send me the dates. I'll see if I can. I want to say yes, but they're being kind of weird right now."

"Weird? How's that?"

I groaned, remembering strained conversations with a few of my co-workers when I came back to work. I hadn't told JC, since it wasn't that big of a deal, but if I asked for time off to go to New York, it was sure to cause a wave.

"I guess there are pictures or something floating around, of us hanging out. So now they act like I was on vacation or something. I mean, I totally pulled Qwest off by myself, while managing my current client list, but yeah, I was hanging with celebrities and living the good life on the company's dime." I began again to shove folders and papers into my bag, closed the laptop and unplugged it, and strapped it into its spot.

"Oh. Shit. That sucks."

"It does. So, I want to say yes, but I'll have to let you know for sure."

"Well. Okay."

Dammit, I hated that sound, that downturn in his voice and stern expression that came with it, like he didn't want anyone to detect he was affected, except that he just sounded so... disappointed. I hated to make him sound like that.

"I'll ask tomorrow," I said softly. I hoped I was reassuring and convincing, especially to myself. "I'm sure it'll be okay. Thanks for the invite."

"Sure. It's a perk of being my girlfriend. I get to miss your birthday because I live on the other side of the country and try to make it up two weeks late."

"You used to say that's what airplanes and telephones are for." I laughed to myself as I finally stood, slung my bag over my shoulder, and checked my desk for anything I'd need to take home. I found nothing, and rounded the desk, headed toward the door. "So, listen, I'm all packed up and I'm heading out of here. Can I call you later?"

"When you're in bed? With the webcam? Mmhmm, please do."

My eyes slammed shut as a bolt of electricity shot through me and centered at the small of my back. "Stop it. I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too," he said, the smile in his voice coming through. "Call me later, then."

I pressed end, shoved the phone into a pocket in my bag and meandered down the semi-lit hallway toward the double doors leading out of the suite. I hated to get dramatic-- it really wasn't my style-- but certain things needed to still fall in place for JC and me, and if they didn't, well... I'd shove them into place, if I had to. Just let them try to keep me from him.

###

"So, the last time you had that look on your face, you admitted you told JC you loved him. What now?"

I glanced up from the patio table that I was painstakingly setting, in preparation for brunch at my place. It would be the first time that all of us girlfriends were in the same place at the same time since well before I left for LA. It was long overdue, and I was looking forward to it.

"What the hell are you talking about, Melissa?"

"Oh, I think you know."

"I don't think I do." I set the last place, stood back, and admired my work. Classy, Elegant. Fun. Perfect. I smiled at the finished product and looked up at Melissa, who was leaning against a column, eying me. "What?"

"You have this look-" The doorbell interrupted her. She threw up her hands and huffed out a breath. "Nevermind. Get the door."

A line of giggling, prattling, chatty women filed into the house and out to the patio, carrying Tupperware and Rubbermaid containers of brunch foods-finger sandwiches and muffins and fresh fruit-and mix for mimosas. Melissa's comments and observations were lost in the shuffle of food and drink and girly conversation. My heart sighed with relief-I had missed them.

A few hours later, Jen, Melissa and I lazed around the table, staring at the mess of plates and napkins and empty champagne flutes. "Well, you guys might have noticed I skipped the mimosa," Jen announced, red-faced and beaming. "Brian and I are expecting!"

Melissa snorted. "So that's what the pooch is? You're not just fat?" I smacked her on the arm and she burst into giggles and a wide grin. "I'm just kidding! Congratulations, honey! Maybe you can rub some off on Serena."

I choked on the last swallow of orange juice and champagne, and coughed to clear my throat. "Don't start with that," I said, when I could. "No babies!"

Jen pouted, in dramatic fashion. "Awww, you guys would have cute babies!"

"I am squashing this conversation. Now. Except to say congratulations, Jen. I know you and Brian have been uhm... working hard at that." And they had. Jen had been to several specialists for infertility and had taken every recommended drug or vitamin. She and Brian desperately wanted children, so a pregnancy was the best news that could ever come, for them.

"Ask her why she has that weird look on her face." Melissa nodded her head toward me-I still had no idea what she was talking about.

"I'll bite," Jen said, rubbing her belly and grinning, positively glowing. "Why do you have that weird look on your face?"

"I don't have a weird look on my face."

"You know, you have a nice patch of dirt right over there, Serena." She pointed to an earthy spot, just off of the patio. "We could do a damn good vegetable garden. It's a little late to plant..." Her voice trailed off as she fell into deep thought, and then her head whipped around, her eyes so narrow they were like thin slits in her face.

"See? Something's wrong. Normally you start spouting off scientific things like prime planting season and drag me off to Lowe's. What happened to you in LA?"

"I worked in LA," I shot back at her, stabbing at the air with a finger. Her eyes grew wide and she reared back. Something inside me broke. I felt the fire in my eyes and before I could stop them, words spewed into the air and I couldn't pull them back-not that I really wanted to. I was more shocked that I was actually saying them and not holding back like I normally would.

"I worked my ass off, in LA. I lost 12lbs, in LA, because I didn't sleep or eat. I also met my dad and my grandparents, who I never knew existed before a few months ago. I've been going through some things, so excuse me if I'm not here for your entertainment, lately. I have things going on in my life that don't involve you, okay?"

Silence fell over the patio as I sat back, huffing like I'd run a mile. Melissa shifted nervously, staring into her lap. Jen gulped and played with the diamond cross she always wore, her eyes wide and jumping from me to Melissa and back to me. I heard every sound around us-- birds chirping and traffic flowing by and kids in the backyard three houses down and loud music pumping from car speakers two streets over, but nothing on the patio- no apologies or backtracking or words that made everything better.

Melissa cleared her throat, lifted her eyes and tossed her hair back. "Do you uhm... maybe want to talk about whatever it is going on in your life? Or should I just leave?"

"Don't leave." Melissa and I both stared at Jen, surprised at the soft voice that interrupted the hard stares between us. "You guys talk. Now." She pointed at us both. "Talk!"

I glared at Melissa and she glared at me, and then suddenly, a smile broke and a giggle bubbled to the surface. "You're such a bitch," she said, laughing harder, bent at the waist, her face turning red.

I wilted against the chair, leaning on the armrest. "I learned it from you."

"Took you long enough to pick it up!" She laughed and laughed until she was choking and stopped to catch her breath and wipe her eyes.

"So, really. Talk. Tell me-us. What's up?"

I stalled, running my fingers through my hair, rubbing my palms on my skirt. I stopped and started, several times, and then, under the weight of concerned stares, decided to just get it over with.

"StarTel has a new client," I said, staring into the small floral arrangement that I used as a centerpiece. "New client is a telephone company local to Boston, but it's almost the same as Qwest, so... the same sales cycle, the same amount of travel, the same extended stay away from home." I looked from Melissa to Jen again in hopes that they were following where I was leading.

"Okay, good news. You've done that before. It's what you do. You're not afraid, are you?"

"No, No. I'm not scared. The thing is that..." I picked up a napkin off of the table, twisting the pale pink linen in my hands.

"The thing is that, uhm...well, things with JC are going really well. I'm happy with him, and he's important to me and I'm important to him. I think. But if his show gets picked up for another season, which he thinks it will, then his ability to travel will be limited. I'll be back and forth from here to Boston, so getting to LA will be out. I'll never see him." I shook my head slowly, feeling a pout forming on my lips.

"That show is one day a week, right?"

"It's one full day for taping, but if they have something special going on, it's more time, plus he's always watching video or in meetings or doing press. So, he has to push anything he would do with that time to other days, sometimes weekends. He's already missing my birthday. I mean, I don't know if I am at the point where I decide my relationship is important enough to fight with the higher ups about, or if I just suck it up and--"

"You suck it up," they said in unison.

"Okay. " I nodded, sitting up. "I get that, I do. I just-- I'm tired. And I'm doing the same thing right now that I was doing three years ago. Gary would never think to send me to a conference or give me anything besides what I'm doing. I want to be more, do more than I've been doing, lately." I sighed, and dropped my eyes to my lap. "I'm thinking of... moving on."

"Well, if that's what you want to do, now's a great time to capitalize on-" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Melissa lean forward, just slightly. I didn't dare look up.

"Serena. You're thinking of moving on elsewhere. Aren't you?"

I twisted the fabric over and over in my palm and let my silence speak volumes.

Melissa was uncharacteristically calm. "Serena, you're not thinking of moving to LA. You're just not. Are you?"

"I have been thinking about it," I admitted. Quiet, and meek, and it sort of pissed me off that I had to walk eggshells about my own life. "There might be great opportunities for me, and I have a lead already. I love the city-"

"And you love your family and your friends and your home and a guaranteed job, here. Tell me this is just an ‘I miss JC' thing and it'll pass. Please, honey?"

I shook my head, my eyes still in my lap, on the linen cloth I was destroying. "I don't think it is, Mel. I just don't."

"So you're going to give up everything you have here for him?"

"Not for him. He's obviously a big part of the package, but not just for him."

"Right." My head popped up and I shot an impatient look at her. She sent the same look back at me. "If it wasn't about him, you'd have chosen to move anywhere in the continental United States. Don't sit there and say you're not moving for him."

"I don't intend to move for him. I'm not going anywhere without a job and I don't think I'm going to live with him."

"So she says, now." Melissa pointed at me, smirking at Jen. "Give her a few months and this place will be up for sale and she'll be packing and changing her address to West Hollywood, California."

My jaw dropped and I had a hard time hiding my frustration. Her reaction was the exact reason I didn't want to talk to her. "Why are you being so negative?"

Melissa's forehead creased with worry lines and she scoffed, incredulous that I would even ask why she had a problem. "Why are you acting like the only woman who's ever had to live away from her man? Annette is gone two weeks a month. Every month. Brian is always in the truck, on the road, all the time. Do you think you're the first woman to miss her man, or something?"

"No," I answered quietly. "No, I don't. But I do know that Annette comes home every two weeks. And Brian is home every third night." I twisted the napkin again, tighter, coiling it. It represented something-maybe it was all my feelings all tightly wrapped up, to save people the trouble of having to deal with them. Excuse me while I feel something over here, don't mind me.

"I also know you're with the love of your life. And Jen, so are you. And so are my parents. And so is everyone else I know, but when it happens for me, you can't wait to tell me how bad he'll hurt me. Make me feel stupid for wanting to be with him. I love him. I want to be with him, at least in the same city, and if I can make that happen, I want it."

The patio was quiet for a few seconds, and then Melissa laughed. "You're sounding dangerously close to a Lifetime Movie plot, sweet friend."

I sighed, then laughed and flipped her off. "Fuck you."

"Thank you," was her customary response. "So, have y'all talked about this? Is he wide open to it?"

I wagged my head-of course I hadn't talked to JC about it yet. I was even more afraid to talk to him than I'd been to talk to Melissa. "I haven't brought it up. I'm not ready."

"Don't," they said again, in unison. I slouched in the chair and blew out a breath. The side swept bang that I'd tried so hard to tame was dangling in front of my face and swayed in the air.

"Look, if you want him to freak the fuck out, talk about how you want to move to LA, because you love him and you just want to be near him. The very definition of suffocation. You can't do that to someone like him."

"Truth," Jen said, her head bobbing. "Wait, Serena. Don't tell him, not yet. Some things need to work out, first. I'm not trying to squash anything for you, I swear."

"Promise us that you won't breathe a word for awhile? Make a plan, throw out some feelers, see if anything comes up for you? Then you can go to him with a plan that makes sense and doesn't sound like you're coming out there to sit on him. Okay?"

I glanced from Melissa to Jen and back to Melissa. I was trapped. I nodded, solemn, tossing the twisted napkin up onto the table.

"Neither of you are getting out of here without helping me clean up."

###

I had sold my soul to the devil, or something of the sort. Not really, but it felt like it. It was touch-and-go for a few days but I managed to convince Gary that the world would not explode and the company would not collapse if I took a day off. So, on an overly warm, muggy Friday morning I was pacing the rows of Gate B-13, waiting for the boarding call.

When the call came, I hardly took note of any nervousness at getting on the plane. I just wanted to see him, hug him, touch him, kiss him-be in the same room, breathing the same air as him. I mentally counted the hours and tried to guess how long it would be before I saw his face: three-and-a-half hour flight, an hour long cab ride, check in, bum around until he was out of his meeting... if everything went well I could be with him before three that afternoon.  Maybe. I sighed, reached into my bag and pulled out my book. It would be a long day.

A relatively uneventful flight dropped me at JFK International, New York City! From the moment I stepped off the plane, I felt different-energized and excited and metropolitan. I couldn't wait to walk around and stare up at sky scrapers, to see the lights of Broadway and ride a double-decker bus and take a ride through Central Park. I wanted to see Ground Zero and the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building-but most of all I just wanted to see JC. It hadn't been that long since I left LA, and the web cam and phone and instant messages helped me feel close to him, but it felt like forever since I'd seen him and there was nothing like being with him.

I hopped into a cab outside the airport and gave him the name of our hotel. The cab driver attempted to talk to me but I was just too mesmerized by the city. Throngs of people bustled down city blocks, looking very busy and important with things to do, people to see, deals to make! Too soon, we pulled in front of the hotel and I wheeled my carry on through the revolving front door toward the check in counter.

I gave the attendant on duty my name and glanced around, for the first time noticing how elegant and upscale the hotel was. JC wasn't much for spending money, but when he did, he did it well. We were steps away from Times Square and Broadway and the moment I entered the lobby I was enveloped in a quiet, serene sophistication. Marble and gold and glossy shines were plentiful and the staff rushed about soundlessly in crisp black suits and polite smiles.

"Yes ma'am, your room is ready." The attendant, who bore the name tag ‘Rodney', smiled brightly and slid two key cards and a printout across the smooth counter. I almost choked at the nightly room rate, but signed the form and slid it back across the counter. He ripped off the carbon copy, folded it, and placed it inside a thin folder and then slid the folder across the counter to me.

"Jeremy is ready to accompany you to your room. He'll take your bags."

I blinked and stared at Rodney as if he spoke a foreign language. I had one, small bag. I could certainly roll it toward the elevator on my own. I gripped the handle and hefted my bag higher on my shoulder, brushing off the offer.

"Miss," he prodded, "I'm directed to take the utmost care of you until your companion arrives. It's no trouble at all. Jeremy will be happy to assist you." He pointed toward the tall, lanky young man with an ill fitting suit and a shy smile.

What the hell? Live a little.

"Well okay, then. Here you go." I handed him my small, single rolling carry on and he led me toward the elevator, making nervous small talk as we went.

Jeremy waited while I swiped the card and pushed the heavy door open. The room was bright and clean and welcoming, soothing colors and lots of space. One wall was floor to ceiling windows obscured by long, flowing, sheer draperies, through which we had an incredible view of the Manhattan skyline and the street down below. So, so, so busy, this city.

On the table next to the window sat an oversize bouquet of Lillies. At first I thought they were artificial flowers and started to admire the realistic touches, but as I stepped closer, I realized that they were real and they were gorgeous and the scent from them was a heavenly light perfume.

"Oh, what a really nice touch," I commented. "These just happen to be my favorite flower."

"Yeah, I brought those up earlier," Jeremy said. He was awkward and nervous and shifted his weight from one foot to another. I realized he was waiting for a tip and quickly dug out a few bills and handed them to him. "They're uhm... special for you. There's a card. Okay, bye."

He lumbered out of the room and I eyed the flowers. Sure enough, there was a card sticking up out of the center of the bunch. I opened it, and in penmanship that was most definitely not JC's loopy scrawl, was a brief note:

Making up for lost time. Enjoy these. See you later.

Love, C

My phone buzzed in my bag and I just knew it was him. "Hello," I answered, my smile annoyingly wide.

"Hey. Just landed." I heard the airport intercom in the background and conversations around him. "Are you in the room?"

"I just checked in. Do you know anything about some flowers?"

I swear I heard him smile, and a short ‘heh' on the line. "Do you like them? You like lilies, right? Did I remember right?"

I smiled into the phone, staring at the bouquet, my heart just about bursting. "You remembered perfectly. They are gorgeous. And they smell wonderful. Thank you so much, you made my day."

"You're welcome. I thought you should have something pretty to look at. Did they tell you about the spa?"

"No, what about the spa?"

"Well there is one, in the hotel. I'll be awhile. I think you should go down there. The hotel website said they have a Stress Buster package or something like that."

"Are you trying to say I'm stressed out?"

"No," he answered quickly. "I'm not. I don't know, I thought you would like that."

I giggled to myself. He's cute when he thinks he's said the wrong thing. "I might go down there. I hoped I would see you around three. You figure?"

"Good guess, but I never can tell. I'll call you-" I heard Eric in the background say something, his tone high pitched and hurried. "I need to go, sweetie."

"Okay. Thank you for the flowers."

"Go to the spa, put it on the room. Let me be nice to you. Just this once."

"Just this once." I winked at the phone, like he could see it. "Have a good meeting. Say hi to Eric."

I sat on the edge of the bed, testing the firm comfort of the mattress. The room was certainly nicer than I was used to. I wouldn't dream of a reservation at that hotel, and yet there I was. I felt weird among all the opulence and fancy decorating, so I got up and flipped through the hotel brochure, made an appointment at the spa and then called Melissa.

"You should see this room," I gushed as soon as she picked up. "And these flowers. Lillies. He remembered!"

"Girl, I can imagine," she said, her Tennessee twang coming through. "I'm so jealous! You are so incredibly lucky."

"Mmmm, I feel kind of..." What was the word I was thinking of? "I don't know, like, a gold digger."

"What? Stop it, he invited you, right?"

"Yeah, but... really..." I glanced around and everything, just everything screamed high class and big money and I felt small and out of place. "This room and these flowers and... the spa. And we'll probably go to a show and eat out a lot... I don't know, it's just a lot. Do you know how much it costs to stay here?"

"I don't think he's thinking about it and I'm sure he doesn't want you to think about it. You think he stays at the Motel 6 when he's not with you? Eats peanut butter and jelly and never leaves the room? You think all of that is just for you?"

"I guess not." I sighed, falling back onto the mattress. "You're right. As usual. I suppose I'll get ready for my appointment, then."

"Listen, just have a good time. Relax, and remember what we agreed, now. You'll be very tempted to tell him and I don't want you to spoil this for yourself. Call me if you need me!"

Spas should be listed as one of the finest pleasures on earth. Right after sex. I took him up on the package he recommended, since he brought it up. I had a sugar scrub and massage, paraffin dip, a facial, a manicure, and a pedicure. I had found heaven on earth, and it was being wrapped in a fluffy, soft terrycloth robe. The whole experience was so decadent and relaxing and soothing, I had to practically pour myself back into real clothes. What a perfect idea, I thought, as I floated toward the elevator.

I headed back to the room with plenty of time to spare before I thought I would see JC, but I heard my phone incessantly beeping as I swiped the card and re-entered the room.

"'bout time. Okay, where are we? What room?"

I plopped into the wingback chair near the window and glanced down at the street below. "1243. Are you done?"

"I am done. Did you go down there?"

"I just got back. It was awesome. I feel so good." I stretched and grinned ear to ear, listening to my heartbeat speed up in anticipation of seeing him.

"Good girl. That's what I want to hear. Getting into a cab, I'll see you in like, a half hour."

I flipped on the TV and surfed the channels until I heard a rustling in the hallway and then a taptaptap at the door. My heart leapt to my throat and I was already choking up. I ran for the door and yanked at the knob and on the other side stood the most handsome man I'd seen in a very long time, looking hot as hell in new jeans, a long sleeved shirt and a vest. He topped the ensemble off with a silvery shimmery scarf that left little gems of glitter around his neck. I normally rolled my eyes at his fashion sense, he could have been wearing a garbage bag and I'd think he looked hot.

I snatched him up as soon as he crossed the threshold, jumped into his arms and held on for dear life. "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, I missed you!"

I felt him laugh, deep in his chest, and his arms close around me and his chin dig into my shoulder. I closed my eyes, willing time to stand still and just let us stay that way, for the foreseeable future. When I could finally let go, I stepped back and held his hands in mine and took a good, long look at him. His eyes were the bluest blue and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth and oh, God. I'd missed him.

"So, hi," he said simply, just staring.

"So, hi back at you," I answered, staring back. "How was your meeting?"

"It went well. It was good. I think I want to kiss you."

"It's been so long since you did. I think you should." But he didn't. He stood there, staring and smiling but not moving. "Well, so are you going to?"

"I'm just looking at you. Can I look at you?"

"You haven't been in the room for five minutes and you're already giving me shit.  Kiss me!"

He laughed and bent toward me. I met him halfway and our lips touched in a light, airy, feather-soft kiss. I stepped closer and opened my mouth against his, literally purring, one hand at the back of his neck where I scratched at the short hairs. He shuddered and stepped even closer, working his hands up under my blouse and stroking my back-- long, soothing, comforting passes up over the band of my bra and back down to the band of my jeans. I rose up onto my toes and wrapped both arms tightly around his neck, lost in the best kiss I'd had in a long time.

He finally pulled back, so we could breathe. "Not that I didn't enjoy the hell out of that, but are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, wiping away smeared lip gloss from my mouth, and then his. "Hell yes, I am more than okay. I missed you, I'm happy to see you. Come here, tell me about your meeting."

I led him to the bed and reached over to the remote to mute the TV. We sat next to each other, so close our thighs touched, and he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. "Okay. So. What happened?"

"I don't really want to get into it." He shook his head, brushing me off, but I stopped him, tipped his chin with my thumb toward me, so I could see his face and his eyes and he could see mine. I was sincere, not someone looking for more information than I deserved to know.

"You can talk to me, you know. About stuff. I feel like you're always there for me but you don't share things with me." I squeezed his hand in mine. "Please? Even if it was a nothing meeting, I want to know."

He shrugged both shoulders up, and then let them drop. "I don't know that it was a nothing meeting. Just, you know... what are you doing right now, what do you want to do, what are you looking for, did you bring anything to consider... things like that. I mean, we could have done it over the phone but I think it's easy to deny over the phone. If I take the time and effort to be here to meet with them, I think it shows a certain level of professionalism and dedication. You know?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's like any interview, best done in person. So what's next?"

"We wait." He blew out a long breath, staring at the nondescript pattern in the carpet. "It's one big long waiting game, while they try to decide if I'm worth spending money on."

"Can I know what label it is?"

He shook his head slowly, giving me that straight line grin that made me laugh. "Nope. You'll find out when they offer me something. Right now they're in the same league as everyone else."

"And that is?"

"People not offering what I'm looking for. I'm trying to be patient and do this right, you know, but..." He blinked several times and shook his head.

"I can't imagine how hard this is. You've worked so hard."

"Labels want a guaranteed hit, off the bat, you know? I'm just...not a machine, a hit factory. Least I haven't been in a long time..."

He sighed, and his shoulders sagged as he leaned forward. I almost felt sorry for him, except he would have been offended by that. I just wanted it to be as easy for him as it seemed to be for anyone else.

I leaned against him, gripped his arm, gave him a comforting squeeze. "You're really, really talented, and people know that. Everyone knows that. You're not the next big thing. You're a constant thing. Labels have to see that, you know."

He rubbed the back my hand in his, the rough skin on his thumb creating that squiggle that ran down my back. "Thank you," he said quietly. Somber. "Your support, no matter what, means a lot to me."

He tipped his head up, a sparkle in his eye. "‘Cause I might go poor and have to move to Atlanta and live off of you. Would that be a problem?"

I laughed out loud, considering the decision I was trying to make. "Hell no. You can go live with Dallas."

He chuckled and stared at the TV, the images flashing in high definition. He sat up, his expression brightened, and he declared, "Enough of that. You're here to have some fun. Someone in this room is now officially older than me and she missed her birthday spankin's! Bend over here!" 

He tried to pull me over his lap but I resisted, pushing against him, already laughing and sliding off of the bed. "Swear to God, if you touch me, you will feel pain like never before."

"I don't believe that, for a second," he said, panting, trying hard to land a slap. "I got 33 of these. Stay still!"

"NO!" I scrambled up from the floor and around the side of the bed, leaning up against the wall.

"Oh, see...that's a bad place for you to be, young lady." He stood, and turned around and slowly walked around the bed, his head tipped slightly to one side.

"Is it?" I panted, watching him move slowly toward me. "Feels good to me. Could I maybe get 33 kisses instead of spankings?"

"I think that could be arranged," he said, a moment before he stepped close, and pressed himself against me and crushed my lips with his and stroked my tongue with his and groaned through the kiss, his chest rumbling with the sound. I sighed and leaned into him, slid my hands up his arms and across his shoulders and interlocked them behind his neck.

"How was that?" His chapped, dry lips scraped across the skin of my neck.

"Mmmmm," was all I could say, lightheaded and lost in him.

"I agree." He stepped back, finally looked around the room and then back to me. "These are nice digs, huh? I stay here a lot."

"You must. The guy at the front desk was all ‘do what I say, your companion said to take care of you', or whatever." I rolled my eyes and sat on the bed, watched him glance out of the window where he was scoping out the view.

"I wanted it to be nice for you, for them to take care of you. I didn't know how long I would be in that meeting." He looked back at me and asked quietly, "Did you like the spa?"

"I did," I said, with a solemn nod and a grateful smile. "I haven't been to a spa in... I can't remember how long. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He turned from the window and sat next to me, then held out a hand, reaching for me. "I suppose you have a list. Stuff you want to see, and all that."

"Eventually," I said, taking his hand, stepping between his legs and sinking onto his lap, resting an arm across his shoulder. "Right now, I don't care if we never leave this room. I just wanted to see you."

"Well, here I am." He tipped his head and presented his lips for a kiss, which he got, then spotted the vase of flowers. "I did good with the flowers, huh?"

I followed his eyes to the bright burst of color in the corner. I couldn't help but smile at them. "You did great with the flowers. I love them. I love you. Very much."

"You too," he whispered up to me, drawing an arm around me and pulling me closer to him. I was already dreading leaving, and that was days away. My decision was pretty much made in that instant, sitting in the hotel room with him, listening to the silence, staring into those eyes framed by long lashes that curled up a little. Savoring every second I had with him.

It could always be like this.

"So," he said finally, and gave my thigh a loud slap. "Let's go see some stuff and go eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

"Of course I am," I said, laughing, swinging my legs over his.

Times Square was a blur, literally. Between the MTV building and Virgin Records and the News bureaus, and the Hershey and M&M stores, I was dizzy, standing in the center of the flashing lights and the crowds of people and the jumbo-tron and so much action. Even in Atlanta, that many people in one place meant a parade or something special was going on. In New York, it was just Friday.

"Let's go eat," I said, pulling him toward a sushi restaurant.

We took a walk down the busy New York street after dinner, completely lost in how bright and busy it was. We ducked into a theater to catch a movie, just because, just to sit and snuggle in the dark, unrecognized and nondescript. Like a normal, regular, everyday couple. In New York! I'd never heard of the film JC chose and truthfully, it was awful.

"Oh, come on honey-- it wasn't that bad."

I stopped walking and turned around to face him. "It was that bad. It wasn't even in English, JC."

He closed his eyes and cocked his head back and laughed and laughed. I cracked a smile but wouldn't let myself laugh with him. "Come on. These shoes are killing my feet."

We could not get back to the room fast enough. The second we made it inside, I kicked off the shoes and sat down to rub my aching, throbbing toes. "You know what? Those are those same fucking sandals, remember? The day we spent in LA when I first met you? I'm throwing those shoes away."

He unwrapped his scarf and carefully folded it, then set it on top of his suitcase. "I think you're just hinting for my patented magical foot rub."

"What's magical about it?"

"It makes clothing disappear." I glanced up to find him leaning against the wooden case that housed the TV, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows in my direction.

"Complete with happy ending." I patted the bed next to me, motioning for him to sit down. "New rule. I'm not walking anywhere else."

"Then you won't be going anywhere." He sat heavily next to me and motioned for my foot. I moved sideways and lifted them into his lap, then watched his thick fingers work the muscles and tendons. Not rough. Never rough. His hands were magic.

"You're okay, my little princess," he soothed. "You're full of complaints tonight. You didn't like the movie, your feet hurt..."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop whining.  I'm not used to someone being around to hear it. I like you, though." I wiggled my foot in his lap, up against him.

"Well, good. I was hoping I wasn't next on the chopping block."

"Not yet anyway." He rubbed and soothed and worked and pulled at each foot until I could move them without pain. I sighed, in utter bliss, and swung my feet off of his lap.

"I brought you something." He said it so quietly and simply, as if he'd said the sky is blue. I wasn't expecting anything above a nice trip out of town. The spa was already beyond what I'd hoped for.

"You did?"

He nodded, rubbing his hands together. "I was going to wait until tomorrow to give it you, but I don't want to. You want it now?"

"What is it?"

JC hopped up and laid his suitcase on its side and then unzipped it. He rifled through to the bottom and produced a small white cardboard box and handed it to me, then sat beside me again.

"You didn't have to get me anything, JC. I've never bought you anything--"

"I'm not keeping score," he interrupted. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, and then pointed to the box. "You've given me a lot, actually. Open it."

I slid open the flap and found a smaller box inside. I glanced up at him, turning the smaller box in my hands. "You must have stock in boxes."

He waved at me, motioning me to keep going, his expression playful and amused and excited. Inside the smaller box was a small, black, felt covered box. My heartbeat roared in my ears and beads of sweat popped up along my hair line. This was most certainly not what it appeared to be, but if it wasn't, then... what was it?

I looked up at JC. He looked at me and gestured for me to open it. My shaking hands flipped up the lid of the box to find two shimmering, gleaming, sparkling diamonds staring back at me. A breath I didn't know I was holding rushed out.

"What'd you think it was?" He was almost laughing as he asked.

I shook my head, trying to calm my heart rate. "I didn't think anything," I said, tilting the box just to see the gems sparkle. "I think I've been watching too much Lifetime again."

"Oh." He looked like he didn't know what that meant, really but wasn't invested enough to find out. "Well, before you ask, they're conflict free, or whatever. I have the certificate at home, I forgot to pack it. I had to get Tyler to go pick them up. And then keep the secret."

"JC, I don't even know... what to say." I stared at them, overwhelmed. I had diamonds, precious gems. I just didn't expect them from him and that made the gift all the more meaningful. I made a futile attempt at hiding how moved I was by the whole thing, blinking back tears and trying to stop the pink flush from crawling up my neck.

"You can cry if you want, I did when I bought them." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood, then leaned toward me and brushed soft lips across my cheek. "Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I wish could have been there to give them to you on time."

"You're right here, right now." I laid a hand on his cheek, the day's growth of hair pricking my fingers. "That's all I care about. I love them. I love you, thank you."

"Say it with a kiss." He closed his eyes and puckered up.

I said it with a whole lot more.

*

Sated and relaxed, JC's long frame stretched out in the bed, one hand tucked under his head, the other flipping through way too many channels.

"Nothing. Nothing. Stupid. Infomercial. Nothing. Chick movie. Nothing. News..."

I slipped on my night shirt and crawled into bed next to him. "In summary, there's nothing on."

"Exactly."

"So order a movie. With any luck, we won't watch it."

"Someone insinuates that I have bad taste in movies. Some girl who was like, stomping and stuff."

I rolled to my side, admiring the view of his profile in the glow of the TV. "I did not stomp. I know I didn't, because my feet hurt so badly."

"Yeah, well in my mind, you were stomping."

"You know what? In my mind, I can kick your ass."

He started to laugh, his deep chuckle, shaking the bed. "In my mind, I'd like to see you try."

"I have the feeling that would lead to sex."

"You catch on fast. You know pretty much everything leads to sex, right?"

"I had picked that up."  I giggled, tossing a leg over his midsection and curling it around the side of his body.

"See, that right there? Don't start what you can't keep going." He set the remote down, rolled toward me and grasped my thigh, pulling me closer, up against him.

"Little do you know, I really like that everything leads to sex."

"I had picked that up, actually."

"Well, aren't you smart."

In the mostly dark, except for flashes of light from the TV, I watched him, watching me. Barely blinking, the glint of the brief flashes of light reflecting in his eyes. I felt soft, heavy hands gliding over my thighs, around and up my back.

"Are you enjoying your trip to New York, so far?"

I nodded, my head making a ‘swish' sound against the pillow. "I can't believe I'm here."

A finger reached out and tapped the tip of my nose. "You're cute. So, what's on tap tomorrow? Got anything in mind?"

"I'm kind of overwhelmed. When do you go into the studio?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm here until Tuesday, so maybe Sunday. Monday. Once I get in there, I don't want to leave. I don't want to spend your whole weekend here away from you."

"Well, if you need to get in there, I understand." He blinked and said nothing, but I could just feel him inwardly rolling his eyes at me. "Okay fine, dammit. So tomorrow..."

"Well, we have plans tomorrow night. Just so you know."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." He sounded sleepy, like he could drift away at any moment. "So, whatever you want to do, I'm okay with it. The weekend is yours."

I sat up and reached over him, picked up the remote and pressed the ‘off' button. The room was pitch black in an instant and so quiet. "I'll let you know in the morning," I whispered, and settled in next to him, my back to him. He scooted closer, right up against me, a heavy arm thrown across me, his cheek against my back, his heartbeat strong and steady, reverberating through me.

Every single day of my life could end this way.

"Hey, JC."

"Hey, wake up." Tap tap tap. "JC."

Punch. "JOSHUA!"

JC sat bolt upright, startled out of a deep sleep. He scanned the room, then glanced over his shoulder and squinted down at me.

"Ow," he whined, rubbing his arm where I punched him. "What's wrong?"

His voice was gravely, his hair was tousled, his beard was scruffy and his eyes were wild. If I wasn't so sleepy, I'd have pulled him close to me and disturbed the early morning quiet. If I hadn't been listening to his phone vibrate against the side table for the past ten minutes in one ear, and his light snoring all the way through it in the other.

I tossed the phone at him, the small, flat device quiet for the moment.

"Phone. It's Eric, over and over and over. I think he might want to talk to you." It buzzed in his lap as soon as it landed. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the phone, the bright display practically screaming that the caller was Eric, again.

"Sorry honey," he growled, and cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while climbing out of the bed. I snuggled under the sheets again and tried not to listen to the hushed conversation. After a few minutes, the call ended and he tossed the phone onto the table and stalked into the bathroom, stretching his arms and popping his neck, working out the early morning kinks.

The familiar sounds of his morning routine were muffled through the wall- toilet, toothbrush, water running and then the door opened again and he shuffled out, his bare feet dragging along the carpet. He crawled back into bed, sliding up against me and burying his wet face in my neck.

"Rude!" I whined and squirmed and tried to roll away from him. "You are cold. And wet. Get off me."

He relented and rolled onto his back. I followed and laid on my side facing him, watching him stretch. "That's not what you said last night," he said through a yawn.

"You were hot last night. Everything okay? With Eric?"

"Mmmhhmm," he said, nodding, his eyelids drooping again. The man could sleep on cue. "MTV heard I was in town and wanted me to come by."

"Oh. The life of a rock star. So, you have to go by there?"

"I'm not a rock star." He reached up to pat my cheek.  "Nope. I got out of it. Sorry he woke you."

"Mmmmm," I hummed, grabbing his hand and then his arm and pulling him toward me. "Well, that's all well and good, but I'm awake now."

"It's still early. Go back to sleep."

I shrugged. "By the time I get to sleep we'll probably have to get up."

"Well..." He leaned over and found his favorite spot. I shivered and squealed as electric currents ran down my back. "We can occupy our time another way if you want."

A devilish smile crossed my lips and I laid back against the crisp sheets and fluffy pillows. "You see how everything leads to sex?"

"You said you liked that," came a muffled response.

"Mmmm...I do."

*

Despite being only slightly outdoorsy, Central Park was high on the list of New York landmarks that I really wanted to see. We set out after breakfast to make the brisk 20 minute walk to 59th, which marked the base of the park. Atlanta had a huge, urban city park, but Central Park dwarfed it many times over-Piedmont would fit in a corner of Central Park. It was majestic and sprawling, lush and green, and the iron entrance gates stood open, welcoming us.

 It was an early spring morning but the park was already crawling with people. We took the winding path that led through the park, sidestepping joggers and walkers, people pushing strollers and being pulled by dogs.  It was a busy Saturday at Central Park- we stopped to watch a local Acoustic Band play a set on one of the performance stages, then took a tour of the Gardens and watched the Sea Lion feed at the Central Park Zoo, and then strolled through the Conservatory Gardens-- a quite, serene, fragrant place to stop and take a breath.   JC kicked at a leaf as he walked, scuffing the sidewalk with the tip of his converse sneaker, the sparkles in his scarf glinting in the sunlight.

"I need to get back out to Atlanta, soon. Spend some time down there before taping starts up again."

"Mmmhmm."

I heard him, but not really. My mind was occupied with the constant thought, the flip-flopping back and forth. I wished I could just make the decision and decide that it was final, and not change my mind again. Every night I went to sleep and I was sure that I was moving. Every morning I woke up and weighed the pros and the cons and it seemed the cons won every time. I was scared out of my mind to do it-and scared out of my mind not to.

"What's up? You're like... not all here."

I glanced up at him and he was staring, his eyes fixated on me as we casually strolled the pathway.

"Hmm...Nothing. Just thinking."

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Seems like something's up."

I blushed and looked around, really just trying not to look him in the eye. "How do you know something's up? Maybe I'm just being quiet."

He laughed a short chuckle of ‘ha'. "Because I know you. You get this... look. I can't describe it. You're totally transparent. Is it me? Are you mad at me?"

"No," I answered, laughing. "I'm not mad at you at all."

"But is it about me? Or us?"

"Uhm...yes," I answered, then reconsidered. "Well. I don't know. Kind of."

We walked a little further in silence, the happy sounds of the park around us. JC admired a runner with a small pack of yipping dogs.  

"So...yes?" He continued, his eyebrows raised, eyes round. "No? Yes but no? Sort of maybe? Pick one."

"JC..." I stopped to laugh. "Okay, something's up. I've been thinking about something. It's pretty heavy. But I can't tell you about it, not just yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not ready. And I'm not supposed to," I answered, lifting my head so he could see the roll of my eyes.

"Said who?" A wrinkle appeared in his forehead and he scowled. "Let me guess, Melissa?"

I dipped my head and hid a smile. "And Jen. And me. Mostly me."

He watched me for a minute, then hung an arm around my neck and pulled me toward him. "There's no such thing as things you can't tell me. If you don't want to talk about it, that's cool. Just say that. But don't let people tell you what you can say to me."

We veered off of the path, toward the wrought iron gate that led into another garden, leaning against it and taking in the view, the expanse of the park before us, behind us, around us. The scent of roses and fresh cut grass hung in the air, like a perfume except it wasn't overpowering. It was refreshing. It was a perfect day. The last thing I wanted was to bring up something that might make him uncomfortable.

He bumped my hip with his and rested an arm on the rusty iron. "Spit it out, woman."

"Okay. So, at the Kickoff Party for Qwest, remember that?" He nodded. "I didn't tell you that I met the CEO of the West Coast division and uhm..." I stalled and kicked at tuft of grass and weeds around the fence. This speech sounded so much better and like a more attractive proposition in my head.

"And?"

"And, well, so, he said he was impressed with how Qwest went down. Which was good, a compliment.  And he said that he had some connections for me, if I ever thought about moving west." I stopped and inhaled a deep breath, bracing. "I'm thinking of taking him up on it."

His lashes fluttered as he blinked, several times. He recovered quickly, but not before I caught his reaction. "Really."

I nodded, once. "Yeah."

He blinked a few more times, and stared into space for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Isn't...isn't this something we should talk about? Should have talked about when you were still in LA?"

"Well, yeah, we'll definitely talk about it. I wanted to think it through, first. Try to work out the logistics of everything." I bit down on my lip and braved a look up at him. "And avoid that blinking thing you're doing."

"So, you haven't decided yet."

"I keep flip flopping. Yes, then no. But a final decision?" I shook my head. "Nope."

"Well, were you going to tell me, before you decided?"

"Not really." I pushed off of the fence and headed back toward the pavement path that wound through the park.

"How about before you landed in LA for good?" He met me at the path, falling into step beside me.  "So I don't get a say? I get no vote?"

"Why would you get a say about something I do? This isn't about you, JC. This is something I need to do for me.  This could mean a chance to do other things I'm qualified to do, that I've wanted to do for a long time, that I'd have no chance of being able to do at StarTel."

"I'm all for that, I'm not saying I'm against that. I'm saying-- Serena..." He stopped and grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop and face him. "I'm saying I wish you would have brought this up to me before now. This is a big deal, and we should talk about it. Together."

"I know, and I was going to-"

"But not until after you made your decision, like my input doesn't matter."  He turned a slow circle, his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his eyes narrow and blinking rapidly. "That's kind of shitty, Serena."

Dramatics were so unlike JC.  He was the king of ‘I don't care, whatever man.' I imagined all sorts of problems and arguments and tantrums-namely from my parents and Melissa. He was the last person I expected such a passionate reaction from. Regret began to mount inside, balling itself up into a fist in the center of my chest. Regret that I even told him-and that I didn't tell him sooner.

I bowed my head and blew out a long, slow, calming breath. "I guess I should have brought it up. And we should have talked about it when I started thinking about it.  Give me some credit, though?  Don't make it sound like I was going to show up on your doorstep next week with luggage and a cat. This is why I didn't want to say anything. I guess I know how you feel about it."

I walked ahead and he followed.  "You can't know how I feel if you haven't talked to me about it."

"I shouldn't have even brought this up," I said, a weary sigh behind the words. "I'm kind of sorry that I did. I'm not trying to cramp your style. I'm just thinking about it. It's a potential plan for my future. Let's just drop it? Okay?"

"Yeah, let's not talk about it some more. Good idea."

We ambled through the park, tense, uncomfortable silence and more distance than usual between us. We weren't even looking at each other as we passed happy couples and bike riders and rollerbladers, people walking dogs and playing Frisbee and running along the path. We came out at Fifth Avenue and stood there. We could walk down Fifth, or head back through the park and come out elsewhere.

He tipped his head toward the long line of shops. "I want to stop in at Kenneth Cole a second."

I shrugged and followed him as he headed to one of the many boutiques on the famous road, mentally kicking myself, over and over. And then kicking him, cursing him under my breath.

He pushed me to say something, deluding me with that ‘don't let anyone tell you what you can tell me' line. He was just being nosy, until he found out it meant something that involved him. Heaven forbid I disturb his groove.

Melissa and Jen were so right. Should have kept it to myself, until I was all set up and he didn't have to do anything but come over for dinner. 

I found a comfortable chair outside the dressing room and sulked. We were making a big show of being together but hardly talking at all, which was uncomfortable. We were always talking-JC at least had a stream of consciousness sometimes that was alarming, so the silence was actually deafening.

The view outside Kenneth Cole was pretty much just Fifth Avenue. Expensive cars and yellow taxis rolled by and couple after couple walked past. It seemed like every pair were hand in hand, laughing and talking and joking. It reminded me of that post break up feeling when all you see is what you want back. Even if what you want back is what you had at 7AM.  

A door down the hall clicked open and JC padded down the narrow walkway in a pair of slacks too long and too tight. They clung and stretched across his thighs, a bulge perfectly imprinted in the fabric.

"What are you rolling your eyes at?" He turned several times in the mirror, kicking at the long hems.

"Nothing," I said quietly, shaking my head.  

"Serena. What?"

"Nothing." I caught his glare at me in the mirror and gestured at the slacks. "Why do they have to be so tight?"

He looked down at them, and then in the mirror, turning again. "Well, I like them to fit."

"Fitting is one thing. Choking is another."

"I'm not choking, look." He slid a finger between the band of the slacks and his skin. "These aren't even that tight."

"That's not what I'm talking about," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me.

One eyebrow lifted and the other lowered and he looked altogether annoyed. "Then what?"

I got up and stood next to him, and with my index finger traced the outline of him plastered against his thigh.

"Oh. Well," he said, shrugging a shoulder, turning pink but trying to stay nonchalant. "That's not a big deal."

"To you," I said, resuming my spot in the chair.

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. "It's a big deal to you?"

I tried not to smile. We were fighting, dammit. "Most people buy clothes that fit well, everywhere. You buy clothes that fit everywhere but there. You like that, don't you?"

"I'm just not all that shy about it." He smirked, and looked again. "There's nothing I can do about it, it's there. I can't take it off. What do you want me to do?   Tuck it?'

I couldn't help the bubble of laughter that popped up. "I want you to wear a bigger size!"

His laugh bounced off of the walls as he made his way back down the hall. They did look good on him. Everywhere. I just really didn't want everyone looking...everywhere and then looking at me and nodding and smiling and winking and wiggling eyebrows- people were rude and could be really inappropriate. It disturbed me that people would try to connect with me based on the bulge in his pants. I wasn't used to having a nationwide audience thinking about me having sex with my boyfriend.

A few pairs of the too long, too tight slacks hung inside a garment bag laid over his arm. He had a tailor in LA that would hem them for him, which was the only reason I could breathe a sigh of relief-he wouldn't be wearing them out that night.

"Let's go in there," he said, as soon as we hit the sidewalk outside Kenneth Cole, and headed across the street to Sak's Fifth Avenue. I'd never been in an actual Sak's before, though I had longingly admired some of their products on the web and in catalogs. Brand names, big, expensive brand names screamed at me as we walked in-Gucci, Prada, Louboutin-every luxurious and indulgent and decadent need or want was on display. All you need is money-come and get it!

"Holy shit, look at that." Out of the corner of my eye, a gorgeous patent leather satchel called to me, and as I floated toward it, the rest of the world faded away. I dared not check the price tag-I knew better. I was too in love, and it would completely break my heart.

"That looks uhm, handy. Like you could put a lot of stuff in it." I ignored him as he walked around me, watching me admire it. "You should get it, if you like it."

"I'm scared to check the price tag." I caressed the shiny almost plastic leather, the stiff, strong handles, admired the roominess of the interior. I was a sucker for a shiny bag.

"Come on, how much can it...." He flinched as he turned over the tag. "Wow. $850."

"Shit. That's a lot." $850 was a flight and a half to LA. My mortgage. Two and a half times my car payment. $850 was ridiculous. But it was pretty. I sighed and turned it over in my hands, tested the straps, felt the heft of it. 

JC stepped back around the display and muttered in my ear, "Honey, do you want me to get it for you? I will, if you want."

The trance broke, and I set the bag back on its stand in the display, turned on a heel and started to walk away. He was offering to be nice, but was probably hoping I'd say no. I wouldn't dream of saying yes.

"That's okay. Do you want to look at some of their Diesel shirts?"

"Serena, I don't mind. Let me get it for you." I turned to say no again, and he had the bag in his hand, folded over and under his arm like a football. I sighed, took the bag from him, walked it back to its spot and set it, again, on the display stand.

He flapped his arms against his side, the hangers inside the garment bag clinking against one another. He watched me eye the bag one last time and then walk away from it.

"I don't get it."

"You don't have to get it. Let's go."

"Serena, why-"

A sharp pang of anger raced through me and I turned around again, eyes wide. "Stop trying to buy me! You already had that girlfriend!"  

I don't know what he said in response, because I was rushing toward the door in a huff, tears stinging my eyes. I got out to the street and stopped. I looked right and left and then remembered--- I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I had no choice but to wait for JC, who took his time sauntering out of the store, garment bag over one arm, not in any hurry at all.  He walked out to the curb and stood next to me as I fumed, arms crossed and avoiding his stare.

"What is wrong with you?" His tone low and very serious. "Are you...hungry or something?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry," I snapped, glaring at him. "That's my whole problem. Yes, that's it." I rolled my eyes and looked away. I could have  probably set him on fire if I looked him any longer. "Do you need to drop that stuff off?"

He shot out a hand and a taxi swerved toward the curb and stopped in front of us. "You are the weirdest woman I have ever dated," he said, swinging the door open. "I've dated some weird women. You're taking the cake, right now."

"I wasn't trying to win a contest," I said, ducking into the taxi. The ride back to the hotel, through the lobby, in the elevator and up to our room was painfully silent.

I sat in the chair in the corner, far away from him and  watched him hang the garment bag and take off his scarf. His jaw twitched as he found random things to do in the room to avoid looking at me or talking to me-rifling through his bags, digging through his suitcase, scrolling through his phone.

I flipped through the hotel brochure and waited for him to say something--anything-- but he was uncharacteristically quiet.

"So, do you want to go back out, or eat up here?"

"Don't care," came a tight lipped, terse response. "Whatever you want."

I tossed the booklet onto the table and huffed in frustration. "Well, I don't care either, so I'll guess we'll just keep not talking to each other."

"Okay, you know what? Fuck this." He had been bent over his suitcase, unzipped and open on the bed, but now was standing straight, red face and dark eyes. For a minute, I was sure this was it and we were over.

"What?" He spat out, his arms open wide. "Are you mad that I'm not flipping cartwheels that you might move to LA? Maybe you think I think you're poor because you saw a bag you can't afford?  If that's not it, then tell me. Tell me what I did or said, so I can say I'm sorry and we can get over this."

I sank into the chair, my foot nervously twitching as it dangled.  I'd never seen him actually really mad before, let alone mad at me. It was a little scary.

"I don't even know," I sighed. "I'm... I don't know. Maybe I'll go for a walk."

"No, you stay. I'll go."

Before I could answer, the door opened and closed and I was alone, in that giant, gorgeous expensive room. I listened to the silence and kicked myself some more. The pendulum of the day had swung from perfect to hellish to okay and back to hell, all because of me. I was close to losing the best thing I had going in my life. The thought made me cringe, my shoulders hunching up toward my ears.  

Half an hour later, I was submerged in a tub full of hot water and fragrant bath beads. I felt some stiffness in my neck and shoulders melt away, into the water and the suds and the scent. The lower I sank into the tub, the lower I felt, until I was almost completely underwater.  

I heard the room door open and close and then a knock at the bathroom door. A head of dark hair poked in and all I saw were two eyes, big and round.

"Is it safe?"

He was smiling. I could tell by the tone of his voice and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Dammit, he was cute. I smiled, sheepish and shy.   

"It's safe."

JC stepped in and closed the door behind him, then stood in the middle of the room, staring at the ceramic tile as I stared up at him. He was clearly uncomfortable, scratching his throat and then temple and then dropped his hand with a slap to his thigh, and finally perched on one of the steps next to the tub. He peeked over the edge into the water, his eyes traveling from my feet to my face, pink from the heat-- and embarrassment.

"So, I don't like fighting with you. I don't like fighting, period. What do you say we stop fighting, and start talking?"

Relief. It was a sweet feeling. I nodded, my head bobbing. "I'll start. I'm sorry. I suck."

"Okay," he said, laughing, scratching the short hairs at the nape of his neck, his eyes wandering the room.  "Me too. I don't know what to say to you when you're... you know."

"Bitchy?"

"I got pinched the last time I called you bitchy." He looked relieved to hear it, though.

"If the shoe fits," I said with a sarcastic smile. "I just have more things to think about than you, and whether or not you're okay with me moving to LA. I figured you would be the least of my problems." I shrugged as I looked up at him. "We have a bigger problem if you don't want me out there."

His head wagged and he pounded his fist on the ceramic edge of the tub. "I didn't say that. I never said that, ever. You still haven't asked me what I want, or how I feel about it."

"You acted like you didn't want me there."

His eyes closed and his jaw twitched, and then his eyes fluttered open. "Stop trying to read me," he said slowly, "and ask. My point is that we've been together awhile, and it's not about just me or just you anymore. I care about you, and what happens to you, and I want to be in on this. You shut me out, but you let other people in and I get to just sit back and be informed about something that will change my life, too. You don't want it to be about me, but it is."

"Alright." I stalled, brushing my hair back from my face, pushing the suds around. "So... do you want me to move to LA?"

"I don't really care," he said, breaking into a wide smile, his face red with laughter that came from deep in his chest. I huffed and rocked my head back and stared at the ceiling.

"You can be such an asshole," I said, shaking my head.

"I know," he said, catching his breath. "I am evil. Nah, seriously, I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it."

He pushed his sleeve up over his elbow and dipped his hand into the water, swirling it around before it came to rest his fingers curled around my side. His thumb started that soothing, circular rub, which felt even better under water.

"See, I want the same thing you want, outside of the obvious selfish benefits." He squeezed my waist and let his hand wander down my thigh, to my leg, to my calf and back up. "It has to be a good move for you, something that would benefit you, not just a shit job or a shit place to live, just to be in LA. Everything you know is in Atlanta, and you live a good life, there. I wasn't going to ask you to leave everything behind so I can have my girlfriend with me all the time."

His voice, soft and low, soothed me almost as well as his fingers did, moving back and forth, the waves making the water lap against the edge of the tub. "I just figured we'd work it out, I'd sacrifice, you know? To make it work. And here you were, making big plans behind my back.  I wasn't expecting you to want to move so soon."

"I guess I misread you. I thought you were mad."

"I was. Mad that you kept it from me. I thought we stopped doing that."

"We?" I laughed a haughty, sarcastic laugh. "I have to drag information out of you. You don't tell me shit about what you're doing and what's going on with you unless I beg, but you're mad I didn't tell you one thing? No, sweetheart, we didn't stop doing that."

His eyes dropped and he pressed his lips together in an attempt to conceal a shy smile. "Point taken," he said, finally. "Okay, let's us stop doing that, then. So, we share everything because everything is about us, now. Us is you and me, not just you, carrying the world on your shoulders, like a martyr."

I rolled my eyes dramatically and crossed my arms. "I do not play the martyr."

"Okay," he said simply, with a snicker.

"Whatever. Do my back for me?"

I handed him the cotton cloth with the hotel logo embroidered into it, and the bottle of bath gel and faced the wall. He scrubbed lightly, in tight circles, from my shoulders down to the small of my back and then started at my shoulders again. It was a soothing, relaxing feeling. I loved when he did it for me and he was good at it.

"So, what did you mean by you already had that girlfriend?"

I snorted, the sound hollow as it bounced off of the tile walls. "Like you don't know."

"Like I don't. What does it mean?"

"I meant Bobbie," I said softly, embarrassed that I'd let fleeting thoughts of comparisons to his exes get the best of me. I'd heard all about her, read all about her, had my own opinion of her and it wasn't flattering. I didn't want to be her and I didn't want to remind him of her.

He stopped scrubbing for a few seconds, and then started again. "That's a pretty old skeleton you're pulling out of the closet. What about her?"

"Well, you know. She was-- well, you must know the rumors that went around about her."

"Do you know how long it's been since I was with her, Serena?" I didn't answer.  He rinsed the towel and squeezed it over my back, the water cascading into the tub and washing away the soapy residue. "So, she's why you've been bitchy today?"

I shook my head and tried to explain as best I could. "JC, you're in the business, you live this every day. It's not what it is; it's what it looks like. If people see you forking out $800 for a purse for your girlfriend, they start talking and whispering and chattering." I flapped my fingers together, mimicking the gossipy talk that flew around Hollywood day and night. "Pretty soon I'm in the same category as Bobbie. I've watched it happen."

"So...you're saying she was a gold digger? And you think people will think you're one, too?"

"Opportunistic, if they're being polite."

"I don't believe this," he muttered under his breath. "I dated her a long fucking time ago, a century ago. I was still in *Nsync when we broke up. You've been shitty to me all day because of her?"

"No," I shot over my shoulder. "Not just because of her, because of what people think of her." I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my arms on them. It was getting cold in the room and the water was cooling off-like the conversation that had started sweet and was turning sour again.

"I felt like you thought I was hinting for you to buy me that bag. I feel like this trip is kind of extravagant. Nice, really nice, but so much more than I'm used to. I know you're trying to impress me and I'm having a great time, but I draw the line at ‘rich boyfriend takes me shopping', or ‘rich boyfriend showers me with gifts'. I'm not that girl, JC."

He dropped the towel and poked me in the side. "Turn around. Look at me."

I obeyed and sat cross-legged near the edge of the tub, shivering in the cool air of the room.  "Okay, look. I get it," he said, nodding. "I get that you're trying hard to not be something you hate. I see that, and I appreciate it, but you're trying so hard that you're turning into something I hate."

If he was trying to get my attention, it worked. My head popped up and my eyes bugged out and my heart slammed around in my chest.  

"I'm not an idiot," he said, matter-of-factly. "I know you're not with me for my money, you know you're not with me for my money-let's just know that and have fun. What's not fun is when I can't do anything nice for you because it makes you uncomfortable when I buy you things."

He pulled at a wet curl that had fallen out of the elastic band holding my hair up, winding and unwinding it around his index finger. 

"When I was a kid, I used to think it would be so cool to be rich and famous. So I could do things I couldn't do before. See things I couldn't see before. Buy whatever I wanted and not have to worry about where the money for it was coming from. Even if I didn't want anything, if I changed my mind, I could buy it. I wanted that for my family, too, and anyone I was with. If you're with me, I got you covered. Especially if you were with me when I had nothing."

He let the curl unwind itself from his finger and fall against my shoulder, and then leaned his elbow up on the edge of the tub. He was almost smiling, with his eyes at least.

"I'm pretty sure you won't let me spoil you. Not too bad, anyway.  Did you really think I would bring you to New York and not show you a good time?  Bring you someplace nice, make it special, even for your birthday? I mean..."  He seemed to run out of words and stared into the murky water.

I ran a hand through his hair, messed up his perfectly arranged curls and waves and scratched his scalp the way he liked it. His head sank onto his arm and I leaned forward to kiss his temple. 

"I love that you want to do nice things for me. I don't know how to not feel guilty for loving it, and for taking them. I don't expect gifts and shopping trips from you-- I hope you know that. And I love that you offered to buy that bag for me.  Even though you know I don't really need another bag. You've seen my closet at home."

He sighed, a strangely amused expression on his face and then reached under the water and pulled the plug in the tub. The water began to drain, loudly and quickly.

"Come out of there. You'll be a raisin." He got up from the step and unfolded one of the large towels that were stacked on a shelf on the wall. I stepped into the towel and he wrapped it around me, and then followed me out.

"Damn, it's cold in here when you're wet!"

 I unwrapped the towel and started to dry myself off and pulled my hair out of the ponytail. The half wet mass plopped down on my back, sticking to my skin. I didn't notice it, at first, the big black plastic bag with white logo design on it, until I picked up my suitcase and slid it onto the bed.

"What is that?" I asked pointing at the bag. He shrugged and plopped down on the bed next to it, but didn't say a word.

My shoulders sagged and my eyes closed and I rubbed my forehead. Sometimes it was like what I said went in one ear and out of the other. This was one of those times.

"JC, what did you do?"

When he didn't answer, I reached for the bag and opened it. Wrapped inside layers of tissue paper was the patent leather bag from Sak's. 

"I don't believe you. What did we just talk about, Chasez?" I cocked my head and tried not to smile, but I held the smooth, shiny bag in both hands.

"I heard you," he said, hands up in surrender, his grin smug. He seemed to be very proud of himself.  "But I want you to have it. Enjoy it. You should take it tonight. But get dressed so we can eat, we gotta be where we're going by 7."

I'd forgotten that we had plans that night. My heart skipped a beat and I was suddenly very excited. "Where are we going?"

"You've learned nothing today. Relax. Just go with it." He got up from the bed and moved behind me, then dipped his head to bury his face in my neck. "Stop being a control freak. Have some fun. Get dressed."

I smiled and leaned back against him. "Who are you calling a control freak, bossy?"

He laughed, his stomach muscles rippling against my back. "See, that's how I know you're not mad anymore. You call me Chasez and say I'm bossy. Get dressed."

A hand lingered around my waist as he walked by, dropping to the curve of my hip before he bent over his own suitcase, humming and picking through piles of clothing.

I set the bag on a chair and tried not to stare at it. "This cannot become a habit, Chasez. You hear me?"

"Honey, I wouldn't worry about that."

*

Shortly after 6 PM we piled into a taxi for the ride to a new club in SoHo. JC smelled good, the Varvatos cologne he favored sharp and pungent. It reminded me of the night I met him- all heady and intoxicating. He was in a good mood. I was in a good mood- finally- and determined to not ruin the rest of the weekend.

"I think you'll like this place. I've only been there once before, but it's really cool. It's like, eco friendly but trendy. It's fun."

I smiled up at him and stroked a freshly shaved cheek. "You're so excited, that's cute. I can't wait, I'm sure we'll have a good time."

"We will," he agreed, nodding before he shoved a thumbnail into his mouth.

"Stop that." I grabbed his hand and held it in my lap. A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and he dropped a dry kiss on top of my head. I leaned back against him and listened to his chatter about the difference between LA Clubs and New York Clubs and watched the city lights come on, one by one, as we crept through Saturday evening traffic.

Quite some time later, we arrived at Greenhouse. I'd never heard of it, but judging from the long line, it was all the rage. We climbed out of the taxi and headed for the entrance, but instead of getting in line, JC walked right up to the doorman, a large, menacing looking man with a thick neck and dark, sunken eyes that widened when he saw JC.

The glare melted away as soon as the wide smile broke and the loud laughter boomed out of his chest. "I do not believe my eyes, is that C over there?"

JC smiled and laughed and slapped the man loudly on the shoulder. "It's me, man, it's me. Good to see you're still here."

"Hell yeah I'm still here," he said, simultaneously checking ID cards and allowing people inside a few groups at a time. "Can't give up a good gig. I got this at night, going to school during the day, it's all good. What's up, why are you here?"

"Having a little party, I should be on the list for Darren."

"Yeah, lemme check that out." He picked up a black lacquer clipboard and ran a thick finger down the list of names. "Chasez plus one, right here."

He leaned around JC to see who his guest was, and I gave him a shy wave. He smiled politely and with a nod, lifted the red rope barring us from the entrance. Behind us, a loud chorus of ‘booo' and ‘that's not fair, just cause he's famous' rose from the crowd in line. JC laughed a mocking ‘haha' as he walked down the dark, narrow, dimly lit hallway.

Greenhouse was New York's first environmentally friendly club. The floors were bamboo and instead of flourescents, the club was lit with bright LED lights. Live, growing plants climbed the walls and the veranda outside. It was Studio 54 meets jungle safari, in a hip, trendy, celebrity magnet kind of way. The entire place was covered in low leather couches and the glow of thousands of little lights overhead gave the room a purple haze.

JC led me by the hand to a section at the back of the club, away from the main dance floor and the bar but still the center of action. A small group of people were already gathered there, talking animatedly and sipping on drinks in large goblets. Glass tables doubled as planters with greenery arranged inside them and were strategically placed in front of each section of couches. A wide assortment of alcohol bottles covered half of every table. The other half held an ornate bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in the ice.

"This is recycled glass," JC shouted in my ear over the music, pointing at the tables. I smiled and nodded, following him toward the group of people, who all stood and offered hugs and handshakes.

"This is Serena," he said, stepping to the side. "This is Darren, the host."

He pointed toward a lanky man with dark hair that flowed past his shoulders in a long sleeved print screened t-shirt and jeans. Darren's long fingers swallowed my hand as we shook. He grinned, his smile wide and full of straight white teeth.

"Darren is a buddy of mine from way back in the day. He's an amazing producer. I'll be in the studio with him while I'm up here. I told him I was coming up and it was your birthday so he put us on the list for this little get-together."

"Thank you," I beamed to our host. "This place is awesome; I can't wait to look around."

"Go ahead," he shouted. "Take the tour. It's the hottest place in town, right now!"

Darren waived us off and we took a quick tour around the nearly full lounge, watching the crowd bounce in rhythm to the music and the lights jingle to the beat. The ivy and moss gave the club an odd smell but the eclectic design more than made up for that. We finished the circle around the building and ended back at Darren's group, where they slid along the couches to give us room to sit.

"So, Serena, what do you think of this guy?" Darren angled a thumb at JC and winked.

"He's alright," I answered, giving Darren a flippant head shake. JC laughed and wrapped an arm around my neck.

"Please, I rock her world. What are you drinking?"

I ended up with a large glass of something sweet, pink, and fizzy and JC nursed a bottle of some environmentally conscious brand of grain alcohol.

"Sip that slowly, honey," he said to me, smirking.

"Shut up," I said, but took a tiny sip and set the glass down in front of me.

His arm slid around my waist, a thumb working the hem of my blouse until he felt skin. "So, no more fighting. We're having fun. Okay?"

I nodded and gave him an apologetic grin. "Okay."

His lips grazed my temple as he mumbled into my ear, "Love you. I just want you to be happy."

"Love you, too. I am happy. Just trying to stay happy, is all."

"Hey lovebirds, smile!" A bright, hot white flash blinded me as I looked toward the voice and in the next instant I was blinking away orbs of light.

"Hey, come on, man. That's not fair," I heard JC protest as he twisted around and away from me.

"Sorry, dude. Sorry," said the voice.

JC's jaw twitched in irritation as he turned back around. "Asshole," he muttered. "Sorry about that. So, what's your plan, for moving?"

"Uhm, well if I were to move, I need to find a job and eventually a place to stay." I reached forward for my glass and took another tiny sip.

I knew he would be confused, and it showed in his face, creasing his forehead and pursing his lips. "Why do you need to find a place to stay? You'll be at the house all the time, anyway."

I shrugged, watching my drink fizz. "I kind of like having my own space. I like to be able to go home and give you your space, too."

"We need to talk about this, later."

He tipped the bottle back and took a long drag, swallowing slowly. "Not bad," he said with a low belch, reading the label, and then suddenly whipped his head in my direction. "Do you know how expensive it is to live in LA?"

"Well, let's hope I don't get shitty contacts and some entry level shit job so I can actually afford to live there."

 "But you have to stay somewhere till you get on your feet."

"Maybe." I took another sip, a big one. It tasted sweet and the fizz tickled my nose and I started to feel warm and loose and relaxed. "You're being nice, I know. And I love you and I thank you. And it would be convenient.  But what if I bug you? Or you bug me? If I live there I can't pack my bag and go home."

I hated to admit that some nights I had really wished I was at the hotel, with peace and quiet and control of the remote. When he wasn't thinking about it, he was a little clingy. Not in a bad way, he just had to always be touching me or laying on me or wrapped around me. Sometimes I just wanted air, or three inches of space that I could call my own. On the other hand, I loved waking up next to him, watching the sunlight spread across the room, his heavy breathing in my ear, his stubble pricking my shoulder.  There were definite benefits but the sacrifices had to be counted, too. I didn't want to make it seem idyllic--living with him would be hard after living alone for so long. Living in a new city, even if it was somewhat familiar, would only add stress.

He leaned toward me and bumped his forehead against mine "You're bugging me right now," he said, then pulled back and laughed. "It's a big house, Serena. We'll go to our corners. Just think about it. I'll help you find something, if you want, after awhile. The offer stands."

"Alright, already. I'll think about it."

Somehow, I only had a swallow or two of my drink left. I blinked at it, finished it and slid the glass back onto the table. I was done, for the night.

"That means yes," he declared, and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

JC was... popular, in New York. He was the most nondescript person I'd ever met and yet people made a beeline for him as soon as they walked in. I met so many people I started to forget names, and then gave up trying to remember.

We talked and drank and laughed, had a great time out on the dance floor, then rested and danced some more. The DJ started a slow song and all across the club, couples began to form, swaying together cheek to cheek. Sweaty and winded, we weaved our way through the crowd back to our section and collapsed against the seats, gulping down water.

JC stretched an arm across the back of the couch and his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Darren jumped him into the middle of a raging debate and soon our section of the club was rowdy with laughter. Half of the group got up to refill drinks at the bar. The other half hit the dance floor again, and then it was just JC and I. I was starting to yawn, but stifling it-I was always ready to leave a party first but I was determined to not be the one to suggest we leave.

One second our section was mostly empty-the next second three girls had wormed their way in and sidled up next to JC in young, giggly excitment. They were very pretty and obviously ignoring the woman he was sitting with. The one sitting closest to JC did something with her lips that I think was supposed to be sexy, and asked if he'd like to dance.

"Oh, I... we just got off the floor," he said, his arm dropping around my shoulder. "We're just resting. But thanks."

She leaned close and smiled a sweet smile full of pearly white teeth, then crossed one long, shapely leg over the other. Her skirt rode up on her thigh and she placed a hand on his bicep. "Well..." she said, drawing out the word, dragging a fingernail down his sleeve. "We could maybe dance the next fast one. I bet you still have some nice moves." Her eyes traveled down his body and stopped at his crotch and popped back up to his face.

"Uhm..." JC glanced down at his arm, picked up her hand and dropped it gently back into her lap. "I'm with someone. But thanks, I appreciate the invite."

"So?" Another of the girls peeked around the first girl, her grin wide and her eyes bloodshot. These girls were drunk off their asses trying to seduce JC Chasez in a club. I wanted to laugh but stayed quiet and let him handle it.

"Yeah, so?" The first girl put her hand back on his arm and batted long, fake lashes at him. "That doesn't mean anything. If you're not married, you're fair game."

Once again, JC picked up her hand and placed it back in her lap. "I'm... not interested. But thanks, ladies. Thanks." He nodded and gave them a tight lipped grin. They sighed and scurried away, no doubt to giggle and blog about how they tried to get JC Chasez to dance with them.

"Damn," he said, watching them walk away. "Girls go hard here."

"Must be flattering, though."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled. "I bet if I only had a couple bucks to my name they wouldn't give me the time of day. Are you ready to go? I see you yawning."

I laughed as I hid another yawn and stood up. Truthfully, in another few minutes he would have had to carry me out.

"Yeah, let's go, before they get brave again. Did you see her look at you though? See what I mean, about your tight pants?"

We fought through the crowd to the front door, made it outside and then to the curb, and waited to flag a cab down. It was cool out, the air refreshing after being in the stuffy club for hours. I reached for JC's hand and relished the feeling of it closing around mine, our fingers winding together.

"Did you have fun?"

I leaned up against him, tired but content. "That was fun. Did it smell weird in there? I feel like I smell like dirt."

He bent to sniff behind my ear. "Nah, you smell good. Sexy."

A line of cabs turned the corner and he waved an arm to flag one down. When the car pulled close to the curb, we climbed inside. JC gave him the address of our hotel and we sat back for the slow caravan back to Times Square.

"You didn't even bring the bag I bought you," JC managed to say through a yawn.

My head felt heavy as I slowly rolled it toward him. "That's because we're taking it back tomorrow."

"We are?" He bumped his head against the headrest a few times and groaned. "We were making such progress."

"Mmmhmm. I was thinking that if I'm moving to LA, I need the money more than I need the bag. Take it back, put the money in savings. I might need it."

He nodded but smiled to himself. I giggled as we bounced along the uneven pavement. "I can't even believe you bought that thing. Who are you, and what did you do with my cheap ass boyfriend? What's wrong with you?"

"Temporary insanity?" He laughed for a second, and then said, "I don't know. I thought it would smooth things over."

"Money doesn't really buy happiness. Not mine, anyway. Words work way better."

"I used to know that. I'm rusty at this, I guess." He lifted his arm and dropped it around me, then slouched down in the seat and leaned agains the door jamb.

"Don't worry. You'll pick it up."

###

"Look at all this stuff down here!  We need more time."

The taxi rolled slowly through Lower Manhattan, past museums and stunning buildings and places ripe with culture and tradition. Hearty, stoic brownstones and block after block of food, clothing, and gift shops seemed to stretch on for miles. I couldn't peel my eyes away from the window for more than a few seconds at a time, except to look out of the window on JC's side of the car.

"We'll come back and stay longer. It's impossible to see everything on your first trip."

I pointed at a church that had to be over a hundred years old. The stained glass windows were probably original. "Check that out-now that's architecture."

"It has a bell tower," JC said over my shoulder. "I wonder if they still ring it."

"Yep," said our driver. "Six am, noon, six pm, everyday. ‘Bout to go off in a few minutes."

The car threaded through traffic to Church Street, where he let us off at the corner of Church and Vessey. My heart caught in my throat as soon as I turned around and took in the view of Ground Zero. No TV image, no photo, no movie screen could duplicate the experience of seeing, in person, the site where so many lives changed in an instant.

We opted out of the guided tour and walked around to the Viewing Wall, where the plaques bore the names of every person that died on September 11th. I ran a finger down the list, looking for a name- Gladys Willis.

Gladys was the half sister of my father and my Uncle Walt, from Grandpa's previous marriage. She was quite a bit older than they were, pretty much an adult by the time they were in grade school. Gladys had worked for Port Authority for over 30 years and threatened to retire every year, and then every year decided she'd work one more. In 2001, she was finally going to move out of her Tribeca condo and head to Tampa to live with Walt and Esla, saying the hard living in New York had finally caught up with her.

"Here it is, honey." JC found it and marked it with his finger until I made it to where he stood. And then I just stared at her name. Sadness and regret and anger and... nothing balled up in the pit of my stomach until I couldn't take it anymore, and looked away.

"Did you know her?"

I nodded, walking past the plaques bearing lists and lists of names, toward the observation deck. "Yeah. We weren't close, but I knew her. She was a cool lady. Funny. Really outgoing. I wish I'd spent more time with her."

"You shouldn't feel guilty about it. It's not like you knew."

"We never know what will happen. I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I just do."

A heavy construction fence surrounded the sprawling 16 acres of destruction. Where two towers once stood was a giant pit of dirt, crawling with construction workers and cranes and plows and trucks. From right to left, buildings stood empty and uninhabitable, possibly forever scarred by the memories of that day.

"Kind of puts things in perspective, doesn't it?" JC mused as his eyes traveled over the site, occasionally biting his lip or rubbing his chin.

"Can you imagine driving past here every day? Having to see this, knowing people died here?"

"No." He shook his head, almost violently. "No way I'd drive past this every day. I'd drive through, like Connecticut to go around it, if I had to."

"It just amazes me, you know?" I nodded my head to pedestrians strolling by, nonchalant. A few didn't even glance up as they hurried past the site. "They rush around here like it's nothing, just a random pile of dirt. People are taking pictures like this is Disneyworld. And we're gawking like it's a museum exhibit. Just... life goes on."

"But it doesn't, for some people. And what matters is the life you lead after you realize it doesn't go on, for some people." He reached for my hand and held it tight, and then tucked it to his chest. "I'm not trying to be cheesy, but there's a lesson in this."

Despite the solemn mood and the seriousness of the view, I buried my face in his arm and laughed. "A lesson, huh? What should it teach me?"

"Life is short. So, if there are things you want to do, go for it. You might not get the chance again. If you try something and it goes to shit, oh well." He shrugged a shoulder. "You tried it, at least."

"You're talking about our conversation yesterday."

"You're very smart."

"You're a smart ass."

"Serena, be serious." He ducked his head around to see if anyone heard me. If anyone did, they paid us no attention. "Which will you regret more? Moving, or staying where you are?"

"Good point. Very good."

As we walked away and headed toward the Subway, I hoped he was listening to himself. I wasn't the only one who could use that lesson.

*

"You got everything? You'll be okay right? You're getting home really late."

JC peppered me with useless questions as I rushed to push my carry on out to the waiting taxi, patiently huffing outside the hotel doors.

"I'll be fine. Melissa is picking me up."

"You sure you don't want me to come to the airport?"

"I'm sure," I said, holding my arms out to him, my hands stuffed with ID and a copy of my airline reservation. "Don't make this hard. Kiss me."

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, holding on tight. I didn't think he was going to let go, but he did, and stepped back, cupped my face with his palm and kissed me, light and sweet and feather soft.

"Call me when you land," he said, when he pulled back. "I'll be with Darren, so the phone will be off. I'll check messages, though and I will have your ass if you don't." He wiggled his eyebrows  at me and tried to look stern and serious. "Got me?"

"Yes sir," I said, pecking the corner of his mouth.  "Thank you for this trip, it was fun. A lot of fun. I'll call, I promise."

I winked as I started to back away, toward the doors and the cab, away from him. I longed for the day when I didn't have to say goodbye to him.

"See you in a couple weeks. We'll get your house ready to sell."

"And you'll meet my parents."

He cringed. "I knew that was coming."

"You didn't think I was moving to LA without you meeting them did you?"

"I was hoping for it." He reached for my wrist and yanked me to him, curled his hands up into my hair, planted a heavy kiss on my lips and then pushed me back. "Go home. I love you. Fly safe. Call me, I'm serious."

"I love you, I will!"

I folded myself into the taxi and shut the door, waving through the window as the car pulled away from the curb. I got comfortable for the ride, closed my eyes, and started planning my move to California.

My luggage was starting to show some serious wear and tear. Tiny rips, worn edges, a broken zipper across the front, and now noisy wheels, squealing as they bounced over the linoleum floor of the Atlanta Airport, a place I seemed to be frequenting despite my almost desperate fear of flying. So many things were happening away from home, things I couldn't possibly miss, so if the choice was to miss something important or grit my teeth the entire flight, I'd choose to grit my teeth. That didn't make the flight any easier.

Just outside the sliding glass doors of baggage claim, the Georgia heat seared blazing hot. The summer was shaping up to be a scorcher and I was already missing the relatively moderate temperatures of the Mile High City, where I had spent a week with my mom's family and the weekend with my... what did I even call them, Charles and Regina and her parents? Family? Are people family because you are related to them? I wasn't really sure, yet.

Chipping paint and rainbow sticker on the fender announced Melissa's arrival like a bullhorn. She rounded the corner of the pickup lanes twice before I could get her attention. Once she spotted me, she pulled to the curb and I heaved my suitcase into the back seat. I finally climbed in next to her, panting from the heat, grateful for cooler air.  

"Oh my God, it's so hot!" I fanned myself, frantically turning up the a/c.

"How hot is it?" She smirked at her own joke as she pulled away from the curb and into the slow circle of traffic leaving the airport and heading to the freeway. "So, how was it?"

"It was pretty good. Vail was fun."  I adjusted the vents in the dash, pushing the flow of air directly on me. "Aunt Grace is still a riot. Uncle Edward still has a stick up his ass. It was the usual."

"And then Denver?"

"Awkward." I turned a little in her direction, getting comfortable. "Charles' daughters all look like their mom-blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. I, of course, look more like him, so hello. Big damn reminder, there. They were all really quiet for like, the first hour . It was so... forced.  I was almost ready to just get up and go, but then his wife asked a question and the girls piped in and then it was fine. I ended up spending most of yesterday out at their house, just hanging out. It was okay. I don't have sisters, so... it's different. But okay."

"Regina, George Ana?  Everyone still doing well?"

I nodded, catching her nosy glance and her way of asking if Regina was still on the right track.  "I stayed at the house, with them. Ate a lot of Greek food.  And then Regina graduated from her GED program Friday. It was so cool to see her walk across that stage. It's like the first really good thing she's done with her life, you know? I could have lit up the auditorium with the smile on her face."

Melissa beamed as if Regina was her own mother. "You must be so proud of her, honey."

I squinted into the setting sun, the thick smoggy air contributing a rosy haze to the horizon, watching the city roll by my window at breakneck pace. "I am. Lately, I am really proud of her."

My driveway beckoned as we turned into the cul-de-sac, the sun behind the house giving it an ethereal glow. I always felt a pang when I came home after a trip. I loved my house, with its nooks and crannies and turn-of-the-century, antebellum design and construction, big trees in the yard, picket fence that was quaint but needed mending and painting, nosy neighbors who always seemed to know the best neighborhood gossip. It pained me to think of giving it up-I wasn't even sure how long I'd still have it.

Melissa must have sensed what I was thinking as I stood in the driveway, arms crossed and staring aimlessly into the yard.

"You're really leaving, huh?" 

Her arm across my shoulder both jolted me from deep thought and offered comfort. "Eventually," I answered. "Have to find a job."

She guided me toward the front door, my suitcase in tow behind her, wheels squeaking as they rumbled over uneven pavement. "Any luck yet?"

I unlocked the front door and dropped my keys and purse on the table just inside the front hallway. Time was marching on, more quickly than I really wanted it to or thought it would. I expected weeks and months to drag by before I got any attention in LA, but James Barker was true to his word. Not long after I called to discuss his offer, he made good on his promise and forward a page long list of company names, contact information, and industry bios. I sent my resume and portfolio to every contact on the list.  

Melissa followed me to the kitchen and climbed up onto a bar stool. I opened a cabinet and pulled down two glasses, filled them to the rim with ice and water and climbed up into the chair next to her.

"Four or five replies, already. I'm back in LA the first week in July to meet with Qwest so I'm hoping to sneak in a couple of interviews."

"You think they're serious? Or just humoring Barker?"

"They better be serious. I have a lot riding on it. I'm serious."

Cubes of ice bobbed and melted slowly. My finger caught a bead of condensation as it rolled down the outside of the glass.  "One company has an opening for my dream job. They manufacture green materials-you know, environmentally safe? It seems like the hip new industry to get involved in. A lot of government money tied up in it, lots of oversight by the EPA. Like that club in New York that we went to, that was all earth friendly."

"You could be a prettier Al Gore."

"Yeah, something like that, I guess. Anyway, that's my first interview, if I can swing it." Melissa didn't seem to be really listening, but sipping her water, her eyes fixed on the muted design in the countertop.  "You okay, Mel?"

She nodded slowly, her expression sort of sad and melancholy. She wasn't a wildly outgoing person but sadness wasn't her style. "You know," she said, "I'd feel better if you, like... got mad at me or something."

"I'm not going to get mad at you." We'd had this exact conversation several times since I'd come home from New York. When JC and I had finally straightened out all of our issues, I had to admit that her advice was ruining our relationship and I couldn't afford to depend on it, anymore.  Revealing this bit of news to her was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do-we'd been sharing life and love for so many years.

"You're never mad when it matters."

She pushed her glass across the counter with a sigh, her shoulders sagging in a sulk.  "Remember when we were in college and we'd sit around the Quad and talk about boys and girls? I always used to give the best advice. At least I thought so. People always wanted to know what I had to say about something."

She straightened and squared her shoulders. "I just don't get it. If I say don't do something -- he gets mad because he'd prefer it if you did. I say do this-- he really doesn't respond to it." She shrugged, her shoulders nearly reaching her ears. "It's like he does the exact opposite of what men are supposed to do, by nature. And it's hard to not be the person butting in, telling people what they should do because men are basically all the same. So now my advice is bad, because he's so weird."

"You don't give bad advice, silly." I draped an arm across her drooped shoulders and tried to console her with a friendly squeeze. "He's... JC.  Not really different from any other man, he's just quirky. Keeping things from him because I think it will scare him or tick him off... ticks him off. That's just a JC thing. He'd rather just know everything and find a way to deal with it. Keeps things simple."

"I think I'll just play the supportive friend from now on. You know what you're doing. I guess."

That was pretty much the ultimate in compliment from Melissa. She didn't often admit to people being better off not listening to her words of wisdom. "Well, I appreciate hearing that."

She slid her glass across the counter again, creating a wet streak that disappeared in the heat of the room. "I can't promise I won't be snarky about you moving, though."

"Well, you wouldn't be Melissa if you weren't snarky about something." We laughed together for a few moments and settled into a comfortable silence.

"He's coming, tomorrow," I said quietly.

"He is? I didn't know that. Special, just to see you?"

I leaned forward onto my arms, wilting in the heat. I just needed it to cool down a few degrees, so I could breathe, and think.  "He has all these plans and ideas of getting the house ready to sell. I don't have a job yet, but he's trying to sell my house. He makes it sound like this place will be the Taj Mahal when he's done with it."    

"It'll keep him busy. And with all the men folk in your family, maybe you won't have to do anything. Unlike me," she added with a sigh, and climbed down from the stool. "Annette is digging up some weeds in a plot of dirt behind the house. She thinks she's planting something."

I looked at her, puzzled, as we walked to the door. "In June?" 

"See?" She pointed, shaking a finger in my face. I laughed and smacked it away. "There's the Serena I know and love. Want to come over? Tell her she can't plant stuff once summer starts?"

"Nah," I said, waving her off. "I need to unpack and do laundry and get ready for the office and JC tomorrow. Thanks though."

"Suit yourself. Have fun this week-hey, we should do something this weekend, if you guys are up for it?"

"Mmmhmm, maybe." I leaned against the doorjamb, in the middle of a bright ray of setting sun. I already had a long list planned for JC's visit. "We're up at the Lake this weekend but I might take him to The High Museum on Friday night. They have an acoustic Jazz Band playing. I think he would like that."

 "Oh, really?" Her face softened into a bright smile. "He would like that. We could tag along if you want company. I've gotta run, I'm five minutes away from a Car 54." Annette and Melissa still used a series of text message codes from our college days, when all we had were pagers. Car 54 meant ‘where are you?'-- fashioned after the old black and white TV show of the same name.

Melissa slipped out the front door, the jingling of her keys growing fainter the further she got away from the house. I heard the car door slam and the engine start and the car back out of the driveway. I shut the door and sighed into the quiet, the absolute quiet of the house. No ticking of clocks or dripping of faucets or whining of pipes. Just quiet.

I wasn't used to quiet.

The next day, in the middle of a day that was full of weeding through the work that had piled up in my absence, the phone rang.  I almost jumped out of my skin when it did, even though I was expecting it. Anticipating it, even. It meant JC had landed, that we were in the same city, breathing almost the same air, nearer to each other than we'd been in over a month. I finished the rest of my day in a daze, watching the clock, counting the minutes. At the stroke of 4:59 I was locking my office door and on my way to the car, to the freeway, to home, to my man. I couldn't wait to see to him.

The more time I spent with JC, the harder it was to get on a plane and leave him behind, or drop him off at the airport and drive off without him. I was getting used to him-- his presence, his scent, his way. He was quiet and always thinking. His eyes moved around a room and took it in way before he spoke, if he spoke at all. Then there were the times when he was a fountain of words and questions and stories that made me double over in laughter or shake my head because he was just so funny, most of the time without meaning to be.

Mostly-- and not so secretly-- I loved to hear him say my name. Whether he was calling to me from another room, or whispering in my ear, or groaning in passionate outburst, I just liked the way he said it. I craved attention from him, loved to listen to him talk to me or sing to me. I sped home, not as fast as I wanted to go, but just fast enough to get there before I went out of my mind.

A mid size black SUV rental sat in my driveway as I turned into the cul-de-sac. The garage door lifted slowly as I pulled into my spot, noting that the door leading to the backyard was open. My heartbeat sped up double-time as soon as I saw him, leaning casually against the fence, deep in conversation with my favorite neighbor. 

Mrs. Rhodes was an elderly lady, a widow well into her 80's with a full head of white hair and all of her teeth (something she was proud of) who spent most days tooling around in her backyard garden in a floral print housedress. She wasn't head of the Home Owner's Association, but she was quick to tell you if your leaves needed to be raked or if your car needed to be moved. She had lived in the house next door to mine for about 60 years and always had a story to tell about the hussy down the block or the hunk around the corner. She made it her business to know everyone-and everything about everyone. I couldn't even imagine what she was saying about me. Or to him.

I dropped my bag just inside the door and walked through the garage, out into the ankle deep, lush green grass of the backyard. It had been a rainy spring and with traveling and work I hadn't had a chance to mow. JC was intently listening to one of Mrs. Rhodes' stories, so much so that he must not have heard me pull up or walk out. He jumped when I stepped next to him and linked my arm in his.

"Aw, honey, you scared me." He clutched his chest and giggled a little. "Your neighbor was just telling me this story about somebody that was murdered around here. Did you know about that?"

"Mrs. Rhodes," I said, chiding. "That was 30 years ago. She told me the same story when I moved in."

"Well, still," she protested, laughing and blushing as she waved a spotted, pasty hand. "It happened. We were just talking about how nice the neighborhood is. Well, first I wanted to find out why this young man was in your backyard, but then I realized I had seen him around here before."

She gestured to us with her tiny garden shovel, our arms linked and leaning against one another. "You two look very cute together. He's a handsome fella. Brings my Paul to mind."

"Thanks," we both said. Mrs. Rhodes nodded, her smile fading as she glanced around her garden full of flourishing roses and fragrant bushes of lilac.  She looked as if she was about to launch into another story, which I hoped to avoid, or we would be stuck in the heat, out by the fence for hours, but she thought better of it and gave a tight lipped grin. Her husband, Paul, had been dead for going on twenty years, but she still choked up when she talked about him.

"Well," she said, perky but forced, "I will let you get to your young man. He said you're going to do some work around the place this week?" She gave a disapproving look to the length of the grass. "Almost too long. The Jaynes', two houses down? Got a fine last week."

"Yes ma'am, I plan to mow. I promise." I pulled JC by the arm toward the house, trying to escape before she changed her mind and started another story. Gossip always prompted a session of ‘I remember this one time...'

"Nice to meet you," he called over his shoulder.

"Likewise. Enjoy the heat."

"She's a bit of a busybody," I whispered as we neared the garage door.

"Yeah I figured that out. She was all Young man! Young man!" His spot-on imitation was impressive. "Scared me a second but uhm... yeah, I was out there looking at your lawn, too."

I led him through the garage and into the house, stopping to kick my bag toward the stairs and then headed for the kitchen.  "Hey, don't complain, young man, or it'll be your job tomorrow."

"I was thinking I might do that tomorrow. Before it gets hot. Shit, it's hot here." He swiped at a few beads of sweat that had collected near his hairline and mindlessly wiped his hands on his jeans.

"It's summer in the south, baby."  I tipped my head up and leaned into him, pushing him up against the counter. "Hi.  Kiss me, hug me, tell me you love me."

"Oh. Well, hi," he said, a smile brightening his face before he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, humming happily and ending the kiss with a loud smack. "Love you."

"You, too. How was your flight?"

"No one freaked out on me or anything, so... uneventful."

"I consider that a good thing, since you hit on girls that freak out on you on airplanes." I dug a few bottles of water out of the refrigerator and handed him one. "So, it's too hot to cook. We can go out, or I make a mean PB&J. My nephews rave about them."

"Whatever works for you. I'm not picky," he said, and then tipped his head back, closed his eyes and took a long pull off of the bottle of water. A simple, regular, everyday gesture that fanned the flame burning in the pit of my stomach. I exhaled a happy sigh. I'd missed him.

JC was a creature of habit, almost ritualistic about how he spent his days, nights, weekends. He wasn't against doing new things, trying a new restaurant, going to a new club, but mostly, he did the same things, all the time. That allowed us to fall into a predictable pattern that would be boring with anyone else but with him, it was comforting, especially if we hadn't seen each other for awhile. Falling into the same routine felt like home, to me. There was Wednesday dinner and Sunday morning breakfast and coffee and bad movies on cable. 

Monday nights was Intervention, a weekly profile of addicts and families desperately offering help. He was a fan of the show and I'd never seen it before watching it with him. Truthfully, I watched it because he wanted to, more out of fascination than entertainment. Most of the people profiled on the show hit too close to home, dredging up memories of Interventions staged on Regina's behalf. It was hell on earth just trying to keep her alive one more day.

We had our sandwiches and chips in the living room, snuggled up on the couch. I halfway paid attention to the show, really just waiting for it to be over so we could go upstairs and get comfortable. After I yawned a few times, he took the hint, snapped off the TV and motioned for me to lead the way upstairs. Happily, I obliged.

Since he was staying longer than a weekend, I'd made room for him-there was space in the closet, a few empty drawers, and room around the double sinks in the bathroom for him to put his things, unpack a little, and get comfortable. It almost felt like he was moving in. I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy for a brief moment.

The worn leather bag that he dragged everywhere was stuffed full of things that he proceeded to dump out onto the bed. A thick, heavy package flopped out and landed near me. I glanced at it, paid it no attention, and then looked again-it was a thick stack of pages bound on one end, like a book but wasn't.

"What's that?" I pointed to the bookish looking thing.

"Something I wanted to talk to you about," he said, digging further through the bag, nodding toward it with his head. "Check it out."

I picked up the heavily bound package and read the cover aloud. "Company One. A screenpl- Is this a script?" I flipped through the pages of neatly organized type. One role in particular was highlighted on every page, and JC's neat scrawl filled the margins next to a few lines. My eyes shot up from the page to his face.

"JC. This is a script." 

"Yep, it is." He picked up his toiletry bag and took it into the bathroom and then came back out.

"So, what... you're doing movies, now?"

"Sure," he said, finally looking at me straight on instead of sideways glances while doing something else. "Why not?"

I could give him a thousand reasons why not-namely that he was not a very good actor-but chose not to. The back and forth and yes, maybe, no indecisiveness about his return to music was aggravating and frustrating. As far as I was concerned, acting was another stall tactic keeping him from what he could really be doing, and doing well. I dumped the script back in the middle of the bed where I found it and went back to putting away piles of freshly laundered clothes.

He breathed long, tired, frustrated breath and sat on the edge of the bed. "Serena. You're mad? Seriously?"

"No," I replied, in all truthfulness. Disappointed is not mad. Not hardly, anyway. "Not at all."

"Well...you want to hear about it? You know, in the spirit of telling each other everything?"

‘Supportive. Be supportive. You think it's bullshit, but support him.'

I pushed the drawer closed, then sat next to him on the edge of the bed, tucking a leg under me. I picked up the script again and flipped through it. He had a lot of lines-a major part. "Sure. Tell me about it. What's your character like?"

"So, I'm the typical best friend, wingman kinda guy." His hands were a flurry of motion, his face animated with excitement. He was cute when he got excited.

"It's sort of a comedy, sort of a drama. This dude is like, a loser. You know the type, sits around all day, bums off his parents, does nothing with his life. He and his buddy-me, also a loser-decide it'd be fun to join the Army cause, you know, we're bored and we want to travel on Uncle Sam's dime. We kinda joke our way through basic training and whatever and then we get sent off to war. So, it totally becomes less of a 'wow that sounds like fun', and more of a ‘shit, we could get our heads blown off'."

I glanced up from the script as he laughed. "Your head doesn't get blown off, though. Right?"

"No, no, sweetie, it's not that kind of movie. It's not like, gory or anything. It's cool because for part of it, they're apart and they keep in touch, and then they meet up again, in the same Company, Company One. And-- well you have to read it or see it to find out what happens. And a bunch of stuff happens back at home and it's like... life changing." His hands dropped in his lap and he shrugged, but he was still grinning that cute, excited grin. How could I deny that grin? "You know? You get it?"

I nodded, slowly, hoping my expression was somewhere near ‘cool, honey'. "So, best friends helping each other through the horrors of war, kind of thing."

"You got it."

"And you're excited about doing it."

"Well, yeah," he answered with a light, nervous laugh. "Honey, I know you hate the idea of me acting..."

I blew out a frustrated huff and glared, my eyes narrow. "I wish people would quit saying they can read me. You just assume I hate it because it's not music."

"No, you hate it." He laughed for a few seconds, my disappointment verging on anger. "I can read you. But don't worry. I'm still working on the music thing. That's the other part I wanted to tell you."  

I perked, suddenly feeling like an ass. My heart flopped around in my chest, the rapid beat echoing in my ears. Please be good news, please be good news, PLEASE be good news!

"So, uhm..." He stalled flashed a nervous smile and continued. "So, MTV is sending the final teams from Season 1 and Season 2 out on the road." He paused, waited for a reaction, then continued when he didn't get one. "And... they need an opener for some West Coast dates. I need some time in the spotlight. Put two and two together..."

"So... you're... going... on tour?" This news didn't make any sense. Unless he'd skipped some important news, he still had no recording contract. He never let me hear anything, always claiming it wasn't finished, it wasn't ready, it needed this or that added to it. He was touring with what songs?

"Well... remember the Nothing Meeting, up in New York? Might turn into something-- the latest is whether or not I still have an audience or even a fan base and uhm... besides you, what fans do I really still have, out there? So I'm telling this to Randy, and he's like, you know, the Dance Show Tour is coming up. We'll send you out there, open up some shows.  It might be me and some other people and it might not be a whole concert, but at least I'd be on the bill."

He said some other things, rambling around a fingernail shoved in his mouth, so calm and nonchalant, as if he wasn't telling me it was possible that he could be on a stage again, soon. I knew that once he was there, he'd remember how good it felt and never want to leave again.

"You're going on tour!" Giddy and excited and uncontrollably happy, I clawed at him and peppered him with questions. "So, wait, you're serious? You're not kidding, right? When did you hear?" I smacked his arm, loudly. "And why didn't you call me?"

He mocked at fighting me off and then gave up and laid back onto the mattress, an arm behind his head. He looked so relaxed and rested and excited to be sharing good news for once. "I just heard about it yesterday, but you were on a plane. These things happen fast, like in an hour," he said, snapping his fingers. "I wanted to tell you in person. And here I am. In person."

I climbed him, straddled him, clasped my hands in his and bent over his face, my hair hanging down around us like a curtain. "So, you're doing this, right? This could be big for you-just get out there, baby. You need tons of exposure."

"Thank you, Marketing Chick," he said, his tone sarcastic. "I'm thinking about it. It's a big reason why I'm here. I've got a bunch of half finished, half mixed stuff, good tunes that I want to get out there. This would be a good way, while they don't belong to anyone but me."

"Okay." Breathless from bending over, I climbed off of him and laid next to him. "So... what about publishing? People will buy new music from you. Trust me on this, I know you don't get that, but people will want it. They've been waiting a long time."

"I get it, I'm just... I don't know." He rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow, his face clouded by serious thought. "I'm thinking I might self publish. I don't need a big ass label. Right? Maybe after I'm out there for awhile and get some attention..."

"...you'll catch the eye of some enterprising record label that doesn't treat its artists like shit."

He rolled his eyes and the start of a lecture began. "Honey..."

"I have opinions," I interrupted, a finger on his lips. "You can't stop me from expressing them. I hate Jive for what they did to you."

"Jive is paying some bills, right now. I'm alright with Jive."

JC had a look, when he was done talking about something. I knew it well, and it was right in front of me. I pressed my lips together and made a zipping motion across them, saving the rant for another day. He smiled an apology, wiggled his brows, brushed his lips across mine. When he pulled back, he heaved a sigh. Not a tired, forlorn, sick-of-life sigh. One of those content ones that I hadn't heard in a long time.

"So, ya happy now?" He poked at me, his fingertip digging in under my ribs. "Is it okay for me to audition for a movie as long as I am doing something in music?"

I blushed, swatting his hand away, then reaching for it again to wind my fingers between his. "What are you asking me for? It's your career."

"Mmhmm," he said, nodding. "Yeah, that's why you get an attitude when I talk about doing anything but music. I knew you'd flip out at the script. It's okay, though. I need you to think I suck at it, so I can get better. You'll read through some lines with me, right? Tell me everywhere I'm bad?"

"Of course, whatever you need. I'm here for you." My sentence ended in a long drawn out yawn. "I'm still so tired from last week. I need to get in the shower." I dragged myself up from the cool, comfortable bed next to him and slowly gathered my items for the shower. 

"Let me know if you uhm... need some help, or anything. I'm pretty good at the showering thing."

A glance back at him almost made me whimper. How he could look so sexy in simple t-shirt and jeans, I would never figure out, but God, he was hot, sprawled across my multi-colored bedspread. I wanted to crawl back onto the bed, push him down, undress him and have my way with him. I maintained control.... barely. There would be time for that later.

"I might need some help," I choked out finally, then ducked into the bathroom, towel in hand.

"I'll be right there," he was saying as he rolled off of the bed and followed me into the bathroom, shedding clothes on the way. "So, we're not meeting your parents tomorrow, right?"

I shook my head, my arm in the shower and adjusting the temperature. "That's this weekend. Why?"

I watched him roll his briefs down slender hips, pelvic bones jutting out at sharp angles, a thin line of dark hair leading from his belly to a thicker patch of hair and ... and then I had to look away, otherwise we weren't going to make it into the shower.

"I don't want to show up with that ‘I've had sex with your daughter' look on my face."

I blinked and gave him a sideways glance, kind of speechless at him, kind of amused. "Proud of that one, aren't you?"

A silly, stupid grin crossed his lips, apparent through the thick mist building in the room, fogging the mirror, warming our skin. "I thought it was a good one."

I stepped into the shower, the cascading fall of hot water already soothing the day away. "Get in, dork."

###

 "Mkay, so. You'll be alright by yourself, all day?"

JC ignored my question and instead opened the refrigerator and stared into it, mindlessly picking at hairs in his light beard.

"What are you looking for?"                                                                                        

"I don't know...I'll know when I find it."

"Well you're wasting energy. Here in Atlanta, we pay a power bill. Close the door and think."

He sighed and closed the door, then moved to the counter and leaned against it, watching me stuff items into a bag for lunch. "I pay a power bill. I bet you didn't know that."

"Really. You pay the bill yourself? You don't have someone do that for you?"

"Hell no," he said, shaking his head, his forehead creased with his mock look of irritation. "That's the fastest way to get money stolen-trusting other people to take care of your money for you. I have a Business Manager, of course, but I watch my money as closely as he does. I sign every check. I see every bill. I check my accounts and make sure nothing weird is happening."

"Hunh. I guess I just figured you had someone take care of details like that."

"Maybe you don't know everything about me." He tapped the end of my nose with his fingertip. "And some stuff I don't go around bragging about. No one cares about my accounting system." He snatched the vinyl, Velcro closure bag from me and peeked inside. "What do you have in here?"

"Uhm, a sandwich and some fruit and some chips. Nosy." I took the bag from him and rose up onto my toes to kiss him. "I have to go. Be good, okay? Don't... reorganize anything."

My bag hefted onto one shoulder, I grabbed my lunch and keys and headed toward the garage. JC followed me around like a loyal puppy.

"Don't reorganize anything?"

I stopped and turned to look at him, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the garage in jeans but no shirt. Dammit. I reminded myself that I absolutely had to go to work and kept walking toward the car.

"No, please don't. Some of that stuff I have to sell and I already have it sorted."

"Okay. So, don't alphabetize your lingerie drawer?"

I bent to set my bags in the backseat, and reached for the driver side door.  "What? Go back to bed."

"Not tired. You know, ‘A' for ‘appetizing', ‘B' for... ‘bootylicious', ‘C' for-"

"I am leaving, now. Rest. Watch TV. Leave my DVD's alone. Mow the lawn, if you have to."

"... ‘T' for ‘tantalizing'..."

"I love you. Goodbye."

I slid into the driver's seat and inserted the key into the ignition. A knock at the passenger side window startled me-JC was standing outside the car, motioning me to roll the window down. I resolved myself to not laugh at whatever else he was suggesting, and rolled it down. It wasn't good to encourage him.

"Yes? I'm gonna be late, messing around with you."

"I love you," he said, leaning into the window. I stretched across the seat and kissed him, and he backed out again. "Call and check up on me, later."

"Uh, definitely. Have a good day. Step back before I run over your toes."

I pulled out of the garage, the door sliding closed on JC leaning out of the kitchen and waving. I imagined him wandering about the house like the kid on Home Alone, doing all sorts of things he thought I'd never let him do if I was home, like stand with the fridge open. I amused myself with that thought on the drive to work to distract from the feeling that I really wanted to stay home with him.

In time, Serena, I told myself. Hopefully, in time.

###

"You look nice."

I padded barefoot through the bedroom in a sleek black wraparound dress with plunging neck and back lines, my newly pedicured feet sinking into the recently shampooed carpet. After a week of fixing and painting and cleaning carpets inside, and mowing and clipping hedges outside, I deserved some pampering and JC deserved some rest. He was a champ, up every morning to see me off to work and spending his days doing little things that were supposed to make the house more marketable. We took a well-deserved night off and were headed to A Night of Jazz, an attempt to show him my appreciation and a good time.

"Thanks, sweetie."

"You have a dress on, though. Should I change?"

The sparkling gems from my birthday trip sat in their box on top of my jewelry case, still unworn. On a whim, I put them in, twisting the backs onto them and turned to look at his attire.

"No," I answered, glancing at his dark jeans, dress shirt, and jacket. "You look hot. Every guy there will look exactly like you do. Serious."

JC gave himself the once-over in the mirror, arranging his hair, checking his shave job. I kind of wished he hadn't have shaved. I was getting used to the beard and the longer it grew, the softer it felt.

"If you're wearing a nice dress I should have slacks on though. I think. Shouldn't I?"

"No, you look fine. I promise." I screwed the last earring back in and stepped into the sandals I had set out to wear. "Melissa will be here any minute, are you ready?"

"You're sure?" I headed down the stairs, JC behind me, the scent of his aftershave and cologne creeping over my shoulder. "I don't want to look like an ass."

"Yes, I'm sure. Girls have different fashion rules. You're fine. This dress is new, so I'm wearing it."

Just then, headlights turned into the driveway, announcing the arrival of Annette and Melissa, in Annette's Lexus. "I told you. Let's go, come on."

The High Museum of Art boasted itself as one of Atlanta's most prestigious venues, home of classic and contemporary art and the location of choice for events like ‘An Evening of Jazz'. The large ballroom sized lobby of the gallery was about half full of people milling about, toting glasses of colorful drinks in eclectic glassware or small plates of appetizers from one of the sponsored restaurants. Small crowds wandered from piece to piece, exhibit to exhibit, nodding and murmuring appreciatively and checking price tags as if buying a piece from the High was not only feasible, but easily done.

In the corner of the room, the band was warming up, and after we migrated to that side of the room and claimed a table, they struck up a tune that was sultry and sweet, filling the room with sound. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched JC bob his head slowly to the beat. His eyes never left the band and his foot tapped along under the table.  Melissa jabbed at me with her elbow, nodded her head toward JC and grinned.

45 minutes later, the band took a break and JC finally sat back in his seat. "That was pretty awesome. I want to pick up one of their CD's. I'll be right back."

He weaved through the tables to the edge of the room and browsed the small selection of materials. Members of the band made their way over from the stage, making conversation about the items for sale. I was chatting with Melissa over the din of conversation in the room when a strong vibration shook the table. I picked up my purse and dug JC's phone out, the device buzzing in my hand. The display said ‘Dallas'. I picked it up.  

"Hey, Dallas, it's Serena." I had to yell a little, over the noise in the room, and the noise in the background on the phone. "What's up? JC is across the room right now."

"Serena, baby!" Dallas had a smooth, rich voice that almost crackled over the phone line. "You gonna let me have JC for a little while?"

"What, next week?"

"Naw, baby. Well, yeah but no, tonight! The boys are out on the town, I wanted to see what he was doing, but it sounds like you guys are out, too."

"Yeah, we're at The High. I'll tell him you called, though and tell him to call you back."

"Sure, you will," he said, an undercurrent of laughter and teasing coming through his voice. "Tell JC I'll see him next week, alright?"

I rolled my eyes and clicked my tongue. "Dallas, I will have him call you."

"Sure, sure. Bye."

I hung up and said aloud, "Like I control him, or something."

Melissa snorted a short laugh. "Don't you?"

"Hell, no. That there is a grown man," I said, pointing at JC coming back to the table, CD's in hand.

"What's up?" He took his seat next to me and slid the CD's inside my purse. "You don't mind carrying those around, do you?"

"Dallas called," I said, handing him the phone. "Call him back;. The boys are out, he said. He wants you to do something with them."

"Okay, thanks." He slid the phone into an inside pocket in his jacket. "You answered my phone?'

"Only because it was Dallas. You're not calling him?"

"Maybe later."  He lifted his beer bottle and took a swig, then pulled the phone back out and scrolled the call log.

"I'm serious--if you want to go hang out with him, go. You're not in town for that long, and possibly very soon I will be in LA, all up under you."  He smirked at the comment and tipped his head as if he was imagining the possibilities.

"Figuratively speaking," I corrected. "Sweetie, it's been a long week. Go. I'll hang out with my girls and meet you back at the house."

JC glanced up at me, then down to his phone, and back up at me. "Really? I just haven't seen him yet, or any of the other-"

"Go."

He eyed the phone again, and then looked back up at me, as if he expected me to say I was joking. I wasn't. "You can't be mad at me, later if I do."

"I'll be mad if you don't. Call."

A quick phone call, some fancy logistics, and 20 minutes later, a jet black, shiny stretch Hummer slowed and then stopped in front of the museum.

"Hey, Serena, baby. How you doin'?" Dallas leaned out of one window, waving JC down to where he was sitting.

JC laughed, looked at Dallas, and then glanced back at me. "Wait up. I don't think I'll be out late. This looks like trouble."

"Uhm..." I peeked into the car, noting several men and open bottles of alcohol. The interior smelled like weed and cologne. The mix of the scents was sickening. "Call me if you want me to pick you up. I'll be up."

"How late can he stay out, mommy?" Dallas cackled and leered as he hung out of the window.

"Grown men don't have curfews. Just take care of him, for me, alright? Not too wild, now."

I winked, and kissed him, then pushed him toward the car. He seemed almost reluctant to get inside. "Be good," I said as the door closed behind him and he settled into a seat between Dallas and another large, burly man wearing all black, smoking a cigar.

"You be good," JC called out of the window as the long vehicle pulled away from the curb and into traffic.

"Okay," said Melissa, appearing beside me, looking very confused. "So. You want to explain what all that was about?"

"God, I love him," I said, watching the elongated Hummer navigate Atlanta traffic as if it owned the road. "But I need five minutes where he's not looking over my shoulder or following me around. Let him be Dallas' problem for a few hours." I laughed an evil laugh and looked around for Annette. "Let's go. I'm sick of these people already."

"Your chariot awaits," she said, pointing toward Annette's car coming to a stop in front of us. I settled into the back seat, exhaling as I sank into the smooth leather, then stretched out, relishing having the entire seat to myself.

Melissa turned in the passenger seat so she could see me. "So, he's meeting the folks tomorrow. Ya'll nervous?"

I glanced out of the window as we passed club after club, flashing lights blinking into the night, entrance lines wrapping around buildings and down city blocks. It was, most definitely, not my scene. And it was okay if it was JC's scene. I liked knowing I could put him in a car and send him off to have a good time and not sit at home and feel lonely and neglected. I felt autonomous-such a different feeling than before. I liked it.

"I'm not," I replied. "He might be. He already met Garrett and Chris, though. Those two are the hardest to impress and they really like him."

Annette flipped her visor down, caught my eye in the mirror, and asked, "You plan to tell Terry and Donna the good news?"

"Good question. We haven't really talked about what we're telling them. It'll make great conversation for the two hour drive out there."

"For sure. Well, good luck," she said, and flipped the visor back up. The sleek car sliced through the night, weaving through traffic and two-lane highways until we reached my subdivision and then finally home.

Within minutes I was in yoga pants and one of JC t-shirts, slouched in a corner of the couch with a drink in one hand and the stereo remote in the other. I halfway watched the clock and the phone while we lounged and talked, watched TV and listened to music. The phone never rang and the hours waned on.  

At 1am the couple stood, yawning and stumbling toward the door.  I never wanted to go bed so bad, but I was sure that as soon as I crawled into bed, the phone would ring. I camped out in the living room in front of the TV, my eyelids growing heavier by the second and sleep rolling over me like a fog.

I was in a garden-my garden, except I didn't have a garden, so it looked more like Mrs. Rhodes' garden-- full of bright, colorful flowers and butterflies, everywhere-the sky was full of them. A few landed on me, sweet and light and soft, wings glinting in the wind, flapping in my face. I waived one away, but another came. I waived it away, and then another and another and another came and kept coming, over and over, flitting around me, landing on me. I flailed, trying to wake myself up from what was becoming a nightmare. I felt something odd-skin and hair and fabric-and then a tight grip around my wrists. I yelped, forcing my eyes open and jerking myself awake.

"Sweetie, it's me. It's me."

I blinked, my blurry vision clearing. JC was leaning over me, a smile on his lips, just on the verge of laughter, his hands still gripping my wrists and holding them down in my lap. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I was trying to wake you up. You almost clocked me."

I groaned and sat up, yanking my wrists out of his grasp and stretched. "I dreamt I was in my neighbor's garden and..." I shook my head as the dream faded in my mind. "Butterflies... "

"I was kissing you, trying to wake you up, and then you started with the windmills." He laughed and imitated my arms flapping around. When I was swatting at butterflies, I must have been swatting at him. I yawned and leaned into him, relaxing against his strong frame. He closed his arms around me, settling back against the couch. I welcomed the kisses, since I was awake, across my forehead and down my nose, finally landing on my lips.

"Time's it?"

"Um, it's about 3."

"I could have gone to bed," I mumbled into his neck.

"I forgot I was going to call you. I figured you went to bed. I saw the light on when we pulled up and felt bad." 

"You stink. Need a shower." I sniffed and wrinkled my nose against the stench from the car-pot and cigar smoke and alcohol and cologne and sweat combined into one ball of bad smell. I wasn't sleeping next to that.  

"You should come up. Help me out."

"No." I grinned against his warm skin and chuckled. "Too tired to help you shower. You go, though and I'll meet you in bed and try to wake up a little."

"Alright." His arm lifted from around me and he got up, heading toward the stairs.

"Did you guys have fun?"

He stopped at the bottom step, leaning against the banister. "You know," he said, glancing off to the side. "Sort of. It was sort of fun."

"Only sort of fun?"

"I think... I think I'm getting older. You know? Maturing or something. Used to be a time when I couldn't wait to hit the streets with Dallas. It was cool. I really would have rather been here with you. And that kind of freaks me out, a little." He trudged upward, his heavy shoes clumping up each step.

"Maybe you're growing up. I'll be up there when you come out of the shower."

When I heard the high pitched whine of hot water coursing through the nearly century old pipes in my bathroom, I got up from the couch, turned off the TV and slowly climbed the stairs, turning off lights on my way.  I sniffed, following the trail of musky, earthy scent to the bedroom, where the hint of Varvatos deepened. It wasn't overpowering, but I could definitely tell he was there. When he left, his scent would linger in the closet and the drawers and the bathroom. The carpet would still bear an imprint of him. My pillows would still smell like his shampoo, and when I missed him most I would curl up with the ones he slept on, hug them close to me and bury my nose in them and wish it was him I was curling up next to.

‘Soon, I won't have to wish. I hope I won't have to wish.'

I stepped over a pair of dress shoes kicked haphazardly next to the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress, yawning and trying to wake up, just a little. I wanted to spend some time with him, all the time he would give me before he went home. Pieces of a song, softly and beautifully sung, wafted through the room from under the bathroom door. I smiled to myself, slipped out of my clothes and opened the door. Billows of steam hit my face as I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

JC's head poked out from behind the shower curtain, wet hair plastered to his head. "Hey. Change your mind?"

I twisted my hair up and out of the way and offered a shy smile. "Your voice is a siren song. Too irresistible. Got room for me in there?"

"I'll make some."

He stepped back and opened the curtain, allowing me to step inside under the spray of water, and then slid the curtain closed behind me. I moved close to him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and leaned my head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump-thump thump-thump- thump-thump of his heart beat and the shallow sounds of breathing in and out. His arms circled me tightly and we stood there for a few minutes until his hand moved under my chin and he angled my head up with the tip of his finger.

His lips were warm and wet as they gently landed on mine, softly at first and then with power and urgency, his tongue prying my lips open and taking full possession of my mouth. I was more than awake by then, and well aware of hands traveling south, one arm wrapped around my waist, one hand working quickly, thick and nimble fingers teasing, my voice involuntarily crying out and rising higher. The faster his fingers moved, the faster I moved in rhythm with them, until I felt the sweet release approaching and then hit me like a brick wall. I came in a loud burst of moans and flurry of spasms squeezing and releasing and then squeezing again. I clung to him, desperately holding on for dear life--otherwise I was going to pass out.

"Shit. I can't...."  I panted and fought my weak legs to get my footing in the slippery tub.

"Relax," he said, gathering me to him, muttering in my ear. "Relax, I gotcha. I won't let you fall."

I waited until I could catch a breath and stand on my own to let go of him, finally. I reached for him, but he stopped me, and then leaned around me to turn off the shower. "Let's get out of here. It's too cramped and we're losing hot water."

It was nearly four am by the time we crawled into bed and snapped off the lamps on either side of the bed. We gravitated toward each other like magnets-lips found lips, arms and legs intertwined, chest heaved on top of chest.

"You know you're meeting my parents tomorrow," I said, teasing him as he hovered over me.

"I'll have to take my chances," he said, laughing, and then exhaling a long, slow sigh as the weight of his body lowered onto mine.

###

Terry and Donna Willis didn't always live in a rustic, peaceful house on a Lake. At one time they were part of the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan city, but after raising three kids and sending us all out on our own, the big family house became cold and lonely, and a perpetual summer home seemed like a well deserved gift to themselves and the family. Before meeting JC, I would drive up every few weekends and spend time there, feet in the water, head in the clouds. I was embarrassed to admit that I hadn't been up there in months.

One side of the Lake was a Resort that saw a lot of activity in summer-boaters, kayakers, swimmers and the like descended upon the tourist attraction like bees to honey. The other side of the Lake was residential-landowners who built homes on the lake's edge and woke to gentle waves lapping the shore every morning. Summer meant a barbeque, lying out on the deck, taking a ride in the boat or on the Jet Ski, or just finding shade under the big oak tree and dreaming the afternoon away. After dark, us ‘kids' usually sat around the fire pit talking and laughing and enjoying the clean, smog free air and the pleasant sounds of the Lake at rest.

The morning got off to a hurried start.  Everyone was gathering at two that afternoon. It was late morning, almost noon when I finally cracked an eye open and checked the clock, then bounded out of bed, dragging a sleepy JC with me to the shower.   

"I guess I'll just wear my bathing suit under my sundress," I mumbled to myself as I pulled on the long, flowing garment, pretty much my summer staple. Comfortable and cool. "You brought something to swim in, didn't you?"

"I was gonna swim naked," he growled, shoving rolled up clothing into an overnight bag.

"You were not. Did you?" When he didn't answer me, I turned around to find him frozen in the middle of his task, a ball of socks in one hand, his eyes meeting mine. He was somewhere, in a faraway place.

"What?" I checked my reflection, looked for anything weird. "Does this look funny? I should just pack the bathing suit, huh?"

"Come here." He held out a hand, which I took and let him pull me close to him, up against him. He smelled so good, like soap and lotion and mint toothpaste. "I just wanted to say that you're very pretty today and I like your hair."

Sometimes I wished life could just stop, and it could just be him and I, and he could always look at me that way and say things to me the way he did. Not loud and not flowery; kind of plain and mumbly, but I savored every word.  It shouldn't have, but his compliment caught me off guard and suddenly I was as shy as if we'd just met for the first time. I couldn't hide the stupid grin on my face, nor could I stop myself from nervously patting a hand down the waves of curls. I tried not to mind the blush creeping up my chest and my neck, on up to my hairline. He smiled and kissed me, feather soft. I almost wished we didn't have anywhere to go.

I couldn't wait for everyone to meet him and love him and know him like I did. And yeah, okay-I wanted to show him off. It had been a long time since I'd come to one of these family weekends with a man in tow. Someone to sit next to at dinner, or on the banks of the lake to watch the neighbors play in the waves and the setting sun, or around the fire pit, listening to the crackle and pop of the wood in the flames. I was in love and genuinely happy and I wanted everyone to see how good we were together, how good we were for each other, and how me moving to LA was going to work out just fine.

Overnight bags, a pan of my famous brownies, toys for the nephews were all piled into the backseat and we were on the road, heading north and ahead of schedule. Traffic was heavy through downtown but once we left Atlanta city limits, driving was easy and the mood was light.

"So you think you're coming for my birthday?"

I winced at the mention of his birthday. "I want to," I finally answered, stealing a glance at him. "I really want to. I'm getting you something awesome." My eyes left the road for a flash of a second, long enough to see his eyebrows rise in curiosity. "It might be hard to get the time off."

His hand as at its usual resting place when I was driving- resting just inside my thigh, the callous on this thumb rubbing back and forth. He squeezed gently, soothing. "My parents were thinking of coming out and they want to meet you. I can push them off, though, till later."

Wait months to meet his parents? That felt like torture, to me. "I'd rather get it over with sooner than later."

"They'll like you," he said with a pat. "They're easy. I'm more worried about meeting your folks, especially your dad. You think we should tell them? About you moving?"

It was a crapshoot either way, but I knew my parents. A lot of lead time would mean a lot of time to try and talk me out of it, to present the opposing side, to play devil's advocate. My mind couldn't be changed and I wasn't going to be afraid of taking this step. There was no sense in giving them time to try.

"I don't think so. I know you want to, but trust me. We want to wait."

I took the familiar exit to the access road and the residential side of the Lake. My heart beat and my breathing sped up a little. I patted his hand on my thigh. "We're almost there!"

"Great," he said with little fanfare, gazing out of the window at the Chattahoochee Forest that surrounded the lake and obscured one house from another.

A long two lane highway took us deeper into the forest, traveling along the tree line. Lake Lanier glistened in the sunlight between thatches of trees, a breeze creating tiny whitecaps on the water. We passed a few houses, some small and ramshackle, some larger and sprawling. A few turns brought us to Cherry Road, and at and the end of the block sat a modest, welcoming home with a wide driveway and brick front. Several cars were already parked in the driveway that circled around and back out to the road, in the other direction.

"We are here," I announced, unsnapping my seat belt.

"I look okay?" He checked his hair in the visor mirror, frowning at his stubble. "I should have shaved. Shit."

I reached over to stroke his face and smoothed his hair down near his ear. "You look great, very handsome. You'll be fine. Let's go in."

One of the doublewide garage doors slid open with a mechanical growl and a series of clicks. Three boys spilled out of the opening, yelling and laughing and running right toward me. "Aunt Serena! Aunt Serena is here!" Tiny voices and arms vied for my attention as I gathered them to me, planting hugs and kisses on each one of them.

"Did you bring us presents?" CJ, the baby of the group at five years old, was the image of his father, Chris, with a tall pile of curly blond hair, hazel eyes and a thick, muscular frame. He was going to look like a football player before he hit puberty.

"Of course, I brought you presents. I always bring you presents." I reached into the backseat and tossed a squishy, squeezable ball to each of them in their favorite colors. It was so easy to please children-they squealed and jumped around, so grateful for such a little thing.

"Hey you guys, I want you to meet my friend." I pointed at JC, leaning against the hood of the car, watching with amusement. "This is JC. JC, these are my nephews. Go introduce yourselves, say hi."

The boys were nowhere near shy--they marched right up to him and stuck out little hands, which he shook and smiled and said "nice to meet you," after each introduction to Matthew, Devon, and CJ. They scrambled past us both, back into the house, a loud ball of legs and arms and kid voices.

"They're friendly." He picked up the bags and the pan from the backseat and nodded at me to lead the way into the house.

"You just wait. Grandpa has a Wii. They know you play-they will want you to play with them."

"I'm totally in the mood to get beat by some kids today."

Sounds of a lively conversation spilled out of the house, the closer we came. JC lagged behind me, walking slower and slower as he checked out the well stocked garage. Every tool, every toy, every utensil and container had its place in the garage-it was designed and built that way and one of the things that made my dad's chest puff up with pride.

I flipped the latch and stepped inside and suddenly felt as if I was in one of those E.F. Hutton commercials-when E.F. Hutton talks, people listen. All chatter stopped, making the room eerily and unusually silent. Every head turned as I stood motionless and then broke into a smile.

"You guys talking about me?"

A chorus of "no, no of course not," rose from the small group standing around the center kitchen island, sharing a bowl of tortilla chips and homemade salsa and guacamole. Garret snapped a chip in half and tossed it at me. It stuck in a curl and I brushed it off. "Where's your dude? I thought you were bringing him?"

"He-" I turned, expecting to find JC, but was greeted with an empty screen door. I poked my head out and around the corner and found him admiring a wall of tools. "You can't hide out here. Come on, they don't bite."

He didn't move, standing there with one bag slung over each shoulder, holding a pan of brownies. "They don't bite you. They might bite me."

"I promise they won't bite you." I grabbed his hand and he let me pull him into the house behind me. A round of applause smattered throughout the kitchen, echoing up into the vaulted ceiling.

"Okay, okay, okay, calm down. And no biting."

I pulled him through the group, took the bags and the pan and introduced him around the room. "So you've met Chris and Garret." He nodded at each of them. "These are the poor women that got roped into marrying them. "

I pointed to Kim, a tall brunette with blue eyes and a winning smile, married to Garrett; and Andrea, a short, athletic blonde married to Chris. JC smiled and shook hands, gracious and warm with each of them.

"I am... oh my God, one of your biggest fans," Andrea gushed, her face turning redder by the second.

"Thanks, uhm... I appreciate that." JC started to blush and a few drops of sweat popped up near his hair line. "I heard about you, actually. I met your husband around New Year's and I was supposed to meet you but I ran out of time."

"I was so mad when I heard you had already left. That's okay, I've met you. I can die now." Andréa was glowing, much to the chagrin of her husband.

"Awesome," grumbled Chris. "Now I'm gonna have to like, work out and stuff, to keep up with you. Thanks, man." At that, the room lit up in laughter and JC relaxed.

On Kim's arm bounced a rosy cheeked baby girl. Chloe was six months old, her wispy hair just long enough for a pretty barrette and her light brown eyes open wide, taking in the action and the noise. She clapped and squealed at the laughter, trying to join in on the fun. After three nephews I was so ready to spoil a niece.

"Who is this big girl? This cannot be my niece."

"It is. She's a little pig lately. Here, take her." Chloe was as friendly as her brothers and fell right into my arms, her little legs kicking as I hugged her to me.

"Hi, punkin," I cooed at her. She gave me a gummy grin and a gurgle. "Do you want to meet Aunt Serena's friend?"

"This is the baby," he said softly, leaning over me, close to her face. "Hi. I'm JC. What's your name?"

"Tell him your name is Chloe, and that in about 30 seconds you're going to yank on that necklace hanging off of his neck."

One of JC's favorite necklaces, an antique silver cross hung from his neck and captured her attention. She stared, open mouthed and wide eyed as it swayed in front her, and as I predicted, a pudgy hand rose to grab it before he tucked it inside his shirt. She pouted for a second, but was easily distracted by the animated faces he was making at her. She was back to bubbling over with laughter in the span of a few seconds.

"Kids love me," he said, straightening to full height again. "It's parents I have issues with."

The sound of a door sliding open interrupted and all heads turned toward the patio off of the dining room.

"What, do I look funny?" My mom glanced down at her shorts and shirt, attire that seemed almost foreign since she wore nurse's scrubs to work every day. She shrugged and rushed into the kitchen.

"Oh, good. Serena is here. You could have called to tell us..." She seemed to lose her voice as she caught sight of JC standing behind me.

This was it, the whole point of JC's strategic visit, on this one weekend when the whole family would be there. I was suddenly nervous, stammering and feeling a little lost as to how it should go. I hadn't introduced a man to my family in years.

"Uhm, mom do you... where's dad?"

"Uh... he's..." She swallowed and shook her head, as if she needed to clear the cobwebs. She pointed in the direction of the door and said, "Out on the patio. Chris, run and get your dad," she said, moving toward JC with a wide smile. "I'm Donna, Serena's mom.  It's great to finally meet you. This has been long overdue."

JC scratched the nape of his neck and then shoved both hands into the pockets of his long khaki shorts. "I know," he said, blushing and blinking. "I'm sorry; I don't get to Atlanta very often." He swallowed hard and glanced down at me. I smiled at him, reassuring him, but the worried look hardly faded. The door slid open again and when JC looked up, he jumped back at least a foot, his eyes wide and mouth open in surprise. 

Terry Willis didn't look like a numbers guy-he was a tall, well built man, fit even in his fifties. Chris got his curly, wiry blond hair and stocky figure from him. Garrett got his height from him, nearly towering over his sons and JC at 6' 2". His brown eyes twinkled as he stepped in from the patio-one hand on the butt of a rifle, the other hand cradling the barrel.

"Someone here was talking about dating my daughter?" His voice bellowed as he stood across the room, menacing and gruff. I think I almost fainted-I'm sure I gasped and almost dropped the baby.

"Daddy!" I frantically swiveled my head from my dad to my mom and back to my dad, horrified at his hunter's stance in the middle of the dining room, holding that old dusty rifle he kept in the shed. "Mom, make him put that away!"

JC stared, his eyes wide open and subconsciously backed up against the counter. I stood in front of him, guarding him with my free arm. "This isn't funny, you guys!"

"Terry, don't scare the poor boy," mom said calmly, putzing around the kitchen. "Put that away. My goodness."

Dad's face turned a few shades of red as he laughed, a booming sound that reached the rafters. He handed the antique musket rifle off to Chris. "It doesn't shoot bullets, sweet pea. You know that. I'm just playing with the boy."

He lumbered into the room, a hand extended to JC in the corner. "Sorry, son. Sorry," he said, laughing as he shook JC's hand, pumping vigorously. As big as JC's hands were, they seemed dwarfish compared to my dad's. "Just having a little fun. It's an antique. It doesn't shoot. Terry Willis. Nice to meet you, finally."

JC seemed entirely more relaxed and relieved now that the gun was nowhere near him. "JC Chasez. Thanks for having me out here."

"Of course, of course. Serena won't shut up about how nice you are and everything, so provided she's telling the truth, our home is your home. Make yourself comfortable. You want a beer or something?"

"That'd be nice. Please." He swiped at his brow, breathing easier. A ring of sweat dampened his neck line-it was already warm in the house, on a hot day. Meeting your girlfriend's dad while he's holding a rifle was obviously enough to break a sweat.

"Well, before you all get started, can we get some things accomplished?" Mom started ordering people around, doling out tasks to everyone, including JC. "Come on now, you stopped being a guest five minutes ago. Everyone works. I need you to grab a cooler for me from the shed. Follow me."

"I guess I gotta go to work," he said with a sideways grin and obediently followed my mom out of the door.

"Okay, so I'm never washing this hand again," Andrea gushed, hand to her chest, watching him out the window. "How can you stand how cute he is? I think I might faint!"

"You're not gonna faint, ‘Drea. Relax." Kim sighed and cut her eyes at Andrea with an impatient glance before returning to forming patties out of balls of ground beef. "So, uhm...who is he, again?"

"He was in ‘Nsync," I reminded her. "He looks almost the same as he did back then. He's just, you know. Built."

"Like a fucking locomotive. Shit, look at his arms..." Andrea strained, up on her toes, practically climbing into the sink so she could stare out of the window.

JC walked up the path from the shed, lugging the large white cooler we used in the summer. He slid it onto the patio as directed, where my dad and brothers emptied bags of ice and cans of soda and bottles of beer into it, filling it to the rim. My dad dug a few bottles out of a layer of ice and handed them around. The four men stood in a line against the wood railing that surrounded the patio, twisted the caps off of their beers and took long, slow swallows.

JC fell right into step with my family-- taking his turn at the grill, watching the level of beers in the cooler, playing football with the boys and letting them tackle him to the ground. When dinner was ready, we gathered at the long picnic table under the shade of the tree in the backyard. It was a perfect spot, overlooking the lake below us, sitting in the shadow of the house above us.

"Pretty nice out here," JC remarked, passing bowls one way and then another, so all of the food could make its way around. We didn't eat breakfast, so I'm sure he was hungry, evidenced by the piles of food on his plate. It would be gone in minutes. "Really peaceful and quiet. And no cameras."

"I almost bought out here, but it would have been too far of a drive, especially in the colder months. I kind of always thought I'd retire up here, but since I'm-" JC kicked me under the table and I slammed my mouth shut. 

"Since what?" Garrett asked from the end of the table, an evil glimmer in his eye. "Since you're moving to LA?"

I stopped breathing, almost choking on potato salad. JC dropped his fork into his plate, his eyes darting around the table, first at Garrett, then my mom, then my dad, then me.

"Well you are, aren't you? You guys can't do the long distance thing forever." Kim kicked him under the table, and he jumped. "Ow! What? No one else is thinking it?"

I folded my napkin and laid it next to my plate. My parents were oddly quiet, eyes fixed on the both of us. I had envisioned this to be entirely more dramatic-and private. I looked at JC. He held my stare and nodded once, slowly, and then reached for my hand.

"So, I wasn't going to say anything until things were more concrete." I cut my eyes at Garrett and continued, breaking the news as gently as I could.  "But I am planning to move to LA. I plan to have a job first though, and I'm looking. I'm going back to LA with JC next weekend. I have a meeting with Qwest and then I hope I can squeeze in some interviews."

I glanced around the table at everyone, meeting every eye. "I have great connections and some companies are interested in talking to me already. I've thought this through, and it's what I want. I would appreciate your support."

I finished my speech and held my breath, waiting for the wailing and crying and protests and arguments, and then finally the emotional outburst and mom getting up from the table... but it didn't come. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to say something.

"Well." Dad broke the silence with a cough and a rough clearing of his throat. "I say, give ‘em hell, sweet pea. And don't take a penny less than you're worth. It's expensive to live in LA. Isn't it?"

He clapped JC on the back, his hand spread across his shoulder. "I expect you're helping her do this. Don't strand my baby girl out there. I'll find a gun that works."

"Yes, sir," JC said, his head bobbing a nod, daring a chuckle at the joke. My throat and lungs opened and I started breathing. Everyone else took dad's lead and made upbeat comments and wishes of good luck. Conversation around the table rose again, swirling around me. I wasn't sure how JC was feeling, but I was lightheaded. And giddy. 

"...Braves double header next weekend, taking the boys to out to the game..."

"... go to that baby boutique I told you about? Their girl stuff is really cute..."

"...good growth stock mutual fund, something that'll earn you 11 to 12 percent on your money..."

"... stick it on the grill and leave it, turn it once, don't mess with it..."

"...just simple accounting..."

I tried to eat, but my appetite disappeared somewhere between Garrett asking the question and my dad giving a rare thumbs up to me doing something completely out of the ordinary. I picked at my food for a few minutes, listening to my family talk around me. A foot touched mine, but it wasn't JC. I lifted my head and met Mom's eyes-warm. Soothing. She smiled a little, and mouthed, "You okay?"

I nodded and exhaled.

*

The harsh afternoon sun beat down on us, baking the boys and turning everyone beet-red. We retreated into the house, the spacious living room set up to hold us all in casual comfort. Chloe, rested from her nap, settled on my lap and against my chest. JC lounged next to me, slouched into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out, eyes half open in post -meal fugue.

I heard giggles behind the couch and giggled myself, a little. My nephews were had been following JC around most of the day, climbing him, taunting him, getting him to play with them. A tousled stack of curly hair came around the side of the couch and CJ's face peeked out from behind the cushion. JC's eyes, and then his head slowly rolled in his direction.

"Hi."

"Hi," CJ said, suddenly bashful, resting his hands on the arm rest and his head on his hands.

"Sup, lil' man?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Cool. Nothing, here either."

"Are you Aunt Serena's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. I am Aunt Serena's boyfriend. Is that okay?"

CJ nodded and grinned a gap-toothed smile. "Are you getting married?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh. JC was calm and collected as usual, not the least bit flustered.

"I don't know, man," he answered with a light shrug. "Are you getting married??"

"I'm five!"

"Oh. I forgot."

"Guess what? Grandma and Grandpa has a Wii."

"They do? I have one, too. And Aunt Serena has one. She's good, huh?"

"Yeah, she can beat me on some games."

"Did you teach her how to play?"

"Yeah. Mostly Matthew and Devon, but I teached her some, too."

"You guys taught her very well. She beats me all the time."

"Do you like Super Mario Brothers?"

"No. I love Super Mario Brothers. You need someone to play with, huh?"

CJ nodded and blushed, hiding a smile behind his hands. "I'll play with you, lil' man. Let's go."

JC's head rolled to the other side, his lips brushed my shoulder and he got up from the couch. "Excuse me while my inner five year old goes to have some fun."

"I think we're going down to the lake in a bit."

"Perfect. We'll have a victory lap. Come on, little dude." CJ's sneakers clomped along the wood floors as he bounced down the hall, JC in tow, overjoyed that he had a partner to play with.

 "It's like they have a new toy," I said to Kim, laughing as I watched CJ lead him to the Play Room. "One that never breaks and they never get tired of."

"Yeah, we should rescue him, in a couple of minutes." She yawned and stretched and leaned against her husband. "He's really good with them, though. Most adults just brush them off, you know? He totally doesn't have to play with them."

‘Score one for my man,' I thought to myself, then turned my attention to the drooling, wriggling bundle in my lap.

The sun was beginning it descent across the sky, to sink into the horizon. The blazing heat of the day was lowering in ferocity and strength-it was a perfect time to take a dip in the Lake. Kim went to the Play Room to pry the boys from the controllers and put them in swim trunks.  I went to our room so I could change.

JC was already there, pulling his swim trunks up over his hips. I was so happy to see him, to be alone with him, I practically jumped into his arms. Like magnets, we were drawn to each other, a tangle of clinging hugs and stolen kisses.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all day," I whined, hugging him tighter.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, his face buried in my neck, lips tickling my skin. Goosebumps popped up along my skin.  "I've had kids all over me all day." He groaned and turned around, angling his head so he could see me. "I think I have an Osh Kosh shoe imprint in my back."

I rubbed his back and gave him a sympathetic smile. "They're so excited to have someone new to play with. I promise you can play with the adults, now."

"It's okay." He sighed and drew me close to him again. "I'm good. They're fun, at least. That CJ is gonna be a heartbreaker." 

"I know. He's kind of obsessed with you." I winked and pulled away. I had to change, and quickly-we couldn't stay in the room much longer or people would come looking.

I slipped my dress over my head and wrapped my cover up around me. He pulled on a t-shirt and pulled it down, made sure it covered his torso completely.

"JC..." I perched on the edge of the mattress and watched him adjust himself in the mirror.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you do that?"

He twisted around, confused. "Do what?"

"Cover up." I pointed to his trunks and t-shirt. "You swim in knee length swim trunks and a t-shirt."

"I don't know," he said, adjusting his t-shirt more. Obsessively. "I just get uncomfortable with people looking at me. Makes me feel better." He gave himself the once over in the mirror, then smiled back at me. "I'm modest. Does it look stupid? Should I take it off?"

Our trip to New York came to mind-yeah, modest. "It looks fine. I just wondered."

"So, how do you think I went over? They seem to like me." I thought back through the day-my dad's practical joke, the easy way he got along with my brothers, his frequent offers of assistance to my mom, and most of all the adoring stares of my nephews and niece.

"Yeah," I said with a wide smile. "They like you a lot."

"You know, I thought your dad was gonna bring the gun back out, when Garrett brought up you moving. My heart totally stopped beating."

"Mine too! God, he's such a little shit. And then my dad was like... way more supportive than I thought he was going to be. They must be mellowing out in their old age. Or he's faking it."

"Maybe they're just being nice because I'm here?"

I shook my head. "Dad is the kind to let you know what he thinks. He doesn't care if the Pope is sitting next to you, he'll tell you that you're being a bastard."

"So, the moral of the story is, stay on his good side. Got it." JC picked up a towel, slid his feet into flip flops and slipped on his sunglasses. "I am ready for the water. There's no alligators, right?"

*

One of the best things about summer, especially a summer at Lake Lanier, was the long, hot days that stretched into pleasant, warm evenings. They all sort of went the same way--the boys took turns diving off of the dock into the warm lake water, splashing and playing, climbing on JC's back and then mine, taking rides in the boat, watching everyone zip through the water on the jet skis, the wind whipping through our hair and the force of the vehicle sending up a cooling spray. They would play until they were nearly passed out, until the sun was setting, until they couldn't see each other in the water anymore. That marked the official start of the ‘evening'-when Grandma and Grandpa took the grandkids and the young adults could do our own thing.

 "Our own thing" was making a fire in the fire pit a few hundred yards from the shore, sitting and watching the last rays of the sun sink behind the forest. The fire pit wasn't much more than a circle of rocks with a pile of wood in the middle of it, but it was the best thing ever about a weekend at the Lake.

I took my usual spot, up against a tree, settled back and let out the longest, most satisfied sigh I'd ever breathed in my life as JC settled in next to me with a bottle of beer fresh from the cooler. He twisted the cap off and offered it to me. I took it, savored the smooth taste and handed it back.

"I've never been so relaxed. It's really nice up here."

He tipped his head back against the tree and leaned up against me a little. I snaked a hand under his arm, tangling my fingers up with his. The young fire was already dancing and popping, creating shadows on one side of his face. I shuddered, watching him-in the low light, his prominent features were mysteriously shaded and as it got darker, the simple sound of his voice in the pitch black of night was seductive. 

"I'm so glad you're enjoying it. My family likes you a lot. It really says a lot that they didn't argue, about me moving. And now we don't have to hide it anymore."

"Yeah, that feels good. I hate secrets."

"Do your parents know?"

He was silent, but I swear I heard him smile. "This isn't about me, young lady."

"Well, no, but... do they know you've invited some crazy, rabid fan to come live with you for a little while?"

"I've had worse people live with me. They're used to it. They taught me hospitality, man. It's their fault." He laughed, a quiet chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He leaned against me a little more, crossing one ankle over another and took a long swig of his beer.  

"You should tell them, JC. My parents know, so should yours. Just on general principle."

"I'll tell them. I will. I kind of wanted them to meet you first..."

"... and then you could be like, oh by the way, mom and dad..." I laughed with him, squeezing his hand. "I know you, too baby. Tell them. Okay?"

"Mkay. If Tyler hasn't already done it."

"Tyler," I sighed. "How is he? And Allison? Still together?"

"Ah, man," he said, shaking his head, still laughing. "The boy has it bad. Bad, man. He won't admit it, but bad. They are together all the time. They do everything together. She's been cracking down on him lately you know-Bar Exam."

"Yeah? Good. He's been studying for the Bar Exam as long as I've known him."

"Yeah. He's... he procrastinates. And he thinks he won't pass. So he freaks out and won't do it."

‘I wonder where he gets that from.'

"Don't say it," JC said, as if he read my mind. "I'm not scared. Just... it's complicated."

"How?" I took his bottle again, stole a long swallow, and handed it back. "Tell me how you doing what you love and what you so fucking rock at, is complicated."

He sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly, taking his time. Thinking.

 "Well, you're moving to LA, right? Because you want to do something else. Do something different. You love what you do, but you just need something else, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Right. Okay?"

"Okay so why can't you do what you want to do at StarTel? Just hop on out there and do it, because you'd love it and you'd totally fucking rock at it?"

"Well," I paused, giving it actual real thought. "I could, it's just not something StarTel wants to be involved in. They kind of have a role they want me to fulfill and that's it. They won't approve me to do anything else. They don't want me to do anything else."

"Okay. So. Take you and StarTel and replace it with me and a record label."

Lightbulb.

"Hunh. I never thought if that way."

"Seriously. The music business is so not about music. It's about money and promotions and advertising and money and image and money. It's not about writing songs and reaching an audience. That was a really hard lesson to learn."

He shook his head slowly, his eyes somewhere over the water but his mind way back in the past. "It was easy, when I had four other guys who knew where I was coming from. We could lean on each other; remind each other what we're there for. If you're solo, and if your label already thinks you're lame, it's a cold, lonely world." He squeezed my hand, clasped in his. "You know? You get it?"

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "I get it."

"And when I say I'm trying, it's me trying to get a deal that's about music and not about how much money I bring to a label. At the end of the day, though, every dollar they spend on me, they want a buck-twenty-five back or the deal is a no-go. This mini tour thing I might do? If they don't feel like I have an audience, or a listening public, or I can't convert people who don't care into fans, guess what happens?"

"They get tossed into the pile of labels doing nothing for you."

"And I'm supposed to be grateful for that nothing," he spat out, shaking his head, incredulous. "That's what gets me."

I leaned my head up against his arm and looped my other hand in the crook of his elbow. "It'll be okay, because it has to be okay, because no matter what happens, you're fine. I'll always be right here, when you need me."

"Are you? Are you really, Serena?"

It wasn't so much the question but the tone that caught me by surprise. My head tipped up and I searched his face, what I could see of it in the flicker of flame. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just sometimes I wonder," he said, glancing into the dark, away from the fire. Hiding. "I wonder how long you'll want to be with me. How long I have you for. Stuff like that."

"I wonder the same thing, sometimes. I wonder if you're bored." He laughed, out loud. "Seriously, I worry that I'm boring and that once I get to L.A. you'll be like ‘oh my God, I didn't realize this chick was so regular.' I mean I'm a get up every morning and go to work, come home and make dinner and veg in front of the TV kind of girl."

"I've always wanted to meet that kind of girl."

"Liar."

"Okay maybe not," he said with a laugh. "But I still want to be with you. Because I like you, the person." He turned his head, and looked me in the eye. "Do you like me?"

"Oh, honey. I love you. As a person. I really, really do. I've never met a better person in life."

"You know there's more to me than ‘JC your boyfriend' and ‘JC the musician'," he said, using air quotes. "You know that, right? You don't get to just pick and choose the parts of me you want to like or love."

He was being all kinds of deep and mysterious. Maybe it was the fire, or the moon, or the fresh air, but we were covering new territory, things we'd never talked about before.  

"You think I pick and choose what parts of you I want to love? Where does that come from? You've never said you felt like that before."

He didn't respond for almost a full minute, watching the surface of the lake ebb smoothly. The words seemed to want to come but he couldn't make himself say them right away. His voice finally broke into the darkness, not loud or confident, but quiet and contemplative.

"I come out here, to Atlanta to see you. I hang out with your friends and we do what you want to do and go where you want to go. We eat what you want to eat, wherever you want to eat it. Serena wants to see a movie, we go see a movie. Serena wants to go shopping, we go shopping. I hang out with your friends and am charming and everything. I came out here to meet your parents and I've played with your nephews and joked with your brothers. I'm all-in. I'm all wrapped up in you, you know? I like that, believe it or not.

"When you come to LA... well, my friends think you hate them. Or that you think you're better than them, and I know that isn't true. If I want to go out, you'll drag yourself if you have to. If I want to eat out, you'll go, but not really have a good time. If I want to, say, treat you to a dance class or something artsy or fun or out of the ordinary, you can't step out of yourself for one single minute to have a good time with me, to see the benefit in whatever we're doing."

It was unintentional, what he was saying about me-I didn't set out to be that way, to act that way. I had my reasons for being that way, reasons he didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He was right, and I hurt my own feelings as I slowly recounted every example he had given. He was describing a snob. I felt lower than low and wondered how long he'd been carrying that around, letting it fester to the point where he had to say something.

"I want you all in, Serena. A part of my life. My friends want to get to know you and hang out with you and yeah, some of them are kind of foolish and some of them are tools but these people have been there for me, just like you are, right now. They're my people. I love them and I love you and I want to love you all. Together.  I don't want to choose between my girlfriend and my friends."

"Wow," I breathed. Speechless. Kind of winded. Mostly shocked. "I... you never said any of that before."

He hung his head, drawing designs and lines in the dirt beneath us with his finger tip. "I've been wanting to. I just didn't want you to dump me over it. I just want to make it better."

"God, I'm not dumping you over it." To prove it, I leaned in closer to him, gripped his arm tighter, squeezed his hand, his fingers wound together with mine. "I didn't realize I was being so stuck up. I could give you a thousand excuses and reasons, but...I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to be that girlfriend."

His eyes, shaded by lush lashes, lifted to meet mine. "Honey, I wasn't calling you stuck up."

"I was. And I want to stop it, because that's not me. I want to be all-in. And-" I tipped his chin up and toward me and dipped to kiss him. "I promise to stop complaining about the music thing. You want to do movies and TV and stuff? Go for it. I'm behind you."

"You're sweet," he whispered, and kissed me back. "I appreciate your support, and I want it. More than anyone in my life right now, yours means the most. But I mean... don't stop pushing, about the music. You remind me that there's more for me than the easy route gives me. I mean, the acting thing is inspiring; it gets me in a creative mood. I read a script and write a song, you know? Don't let me forget that I love music. Okay?"

"You know I won't. I promise."

"Counting on it," he said, with a confident nod.

We fell silent, listening to the sounds of the night-water lapping up onto the shore, crickets chirping and dogs down the river barking and howling. A rare cool breeze blew through, making the fire flicker a little, then return to popping and crackling. JC glanced around me, and my eyes followed. The other two couples were deep in quiet conversation, not paying attention to us at all.

He looked back and me and smiled. "So, what are the chances we can get some uh.... alone time?"

"Pretty good, actually," I whispered. "Follow me."

We stood, brushing the dirt from our clothes and headed back up the path toward the house, veering off toward the shed. It was far enough away and angled so that if we went around the side, we wouldn't be seen from the house or the lake. As soon I was sure we were out of view, I grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and pulled him to me and threw my arms around him. He stumbled, surprised, and fell against me.

He laughed and I giggled quietly, pressing a finger to his lips, "Shhhh... they can't see us, but they'll hear us if we get too loud."

"We'll have to be quiet, then," he said, bending toward my neck, whispering in my ear. He stepped even closer to me and pressed his body against mine, hands roaming, breath hot on my neck. He bit at my skin, lightly up my neck to my ear and back down to my shoulder. I sighed, as quietly as I could, and melted up against the wood building.

"We have to be quick," I whispered, when I could catch a breath. He moaned, tucked a hand behind my neck, up into my hair, and covered my mouth with his. His lips were firm, he tasted sweet, he felt so good, wrapped around me, up against me, all over me.

He still had on his swim trunks, dry since he hadn't been in the water in hours. My hands shook as I felt around the band for the button and zipper and finally undid them enough that I could slip my hands inside. He shuddered when I touched him and broke the kiss long enough to push his trunks down over his hips. He was erect, a solid column that I couldn't see but could feel against me, pressing itself into my thigh. My body responded to him, a hot wet shock of need collecting in the small of my back and radiating up.

I flipped up the hem of my dress, yanked down my swimsuit bottoms, and hooked one leg up and around his waist. In one fluid motion, he pushed me, hard, up against the wall of the shed and guided himself into me, thrusting with all the urgency of a man who'd been denied for days, weeks, months, instead of hours. I bit my lip, trying not to moan, not doing a good job of it.

"Holy... fuck me," I said, too loud.

"Shhhh....iiitt," he said, laughing too loud, then tucked his head alongside my neck, breathing into my hair, his gulps of air hard and fast, matching the rhythm of his hips.

I held onto him tight, clawing at his hair, curling my fingers up into it. He ran a hand along my thigh, the leg he wasn't holding against him and lifted me up so that my legs circled his waist. I moved against him with just as much urgency as he was pushing into me, sure that our hard breathing and gulps of air could be heard by anyone who might be listening for it. At the moment I didn't care. The fresh, clean air, the atmosphere, the danger of maybe being caught only added to the excitement.

"Serena. I'm..." He shuddered, his breath caught in his throat and his knees were buckling-all signs that he was close.

"It's okay," I panted in his ear, grabbing at his shoulder with one hand and a chunk of hair with the other. "Oh my God, please...please come."

In the very next instant he stiffened and groaned and seemed to almost collapse against me, pinning me up against the wall. He glistened with sweat and heaved, trying to breathe. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, eyes just barely open.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "You?" His voice was low and ragged. He looked exhausted.

"Fucking fantastic," I said, grinning at him. "Can you let me down, though?" I laughed and kicked my legs, still suspended between him and the wall. His hands circled my waist and he held me while he stepped back. My legs slid down from around him. I felt warm and drunk and dizzy, adrenalin still pumping. I grabbed him by his face and pulled him toward me in a fiery kiss.  

JC tore his lips from mine, still breathing heavy. "You didn't... I'm sorry. I wanted to wait for you..."

I pressed a finger to his lips, then replaced it with my lips. "It's okay. I had a really good time. You'll just have to owe me."

Voices-they were coming, up the path. I scrambled to pull my swimsuit bottoms back up and my dress back down. JC tucked himself back inside his trunks, zipped and buttoned up in time for us to sneak around to the side entrance of the house before anyone saw us.

I closed the door softly behind us, and then leaned against it, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "That was way too close," he whispered, laughing silently against me. "And so fucking awesome."

"I know!" I peeked around the window curtain and watched as the porch light came on and shadows of the two couples coming up the walk and inside the house reflected against the trees.

"We're safe," I whispered. "They're all upstairs. Our room is down the hall."

"Take me. I got some making up to do." 

###

"Definitely tipping the scale as one of the best weekends, ever. Thanks for having me up-I had a great time."

Dad stretched out a hand to JC, gripped his hand firmly and shook, smiling warmly. "Our pleasure, son. Don't be a stranger."

Mom stood next to Dad, waving to everyone as we began a slow caravan out of the driveway. "Ya'll drive safe," she called out. I stuck a hand out of the passenger side window and waved as we turned out of the driveway and onto the road.

I reached over to the driver's seat and rested a hand on JC's thigh. "Have fun?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at me and then back to the road. "A really good time."

"Good. I'm so happy. I had a great time, everyone loved you, I got to share the Lake House with you. What a great weekend."

He nodded in agreement, concentrating on the winding road out of the forest, back out to the highway, back to civilization and the real world, where there were still jobs to try to get and a house with hallways that needed paint on the trim and bushes to be cut back. A world where, eventually, I was going to have to say goodbye to JC again, for some indeterminate period of time. I was kind of starting to hate that world. I couldn't wait to be rid of it.

"Hey uhm...so your dad asked me to lunch tomorrow. What's that about?"

"Lunch?" I couldn't imagine why my dad would want to have lunch with JC-he'd just spent two days with him. "Did he say where? The Club?"

"Uhm...Buckhead Club?"

"Yeah, it's where he takes people when he wants to impress them."

The swanky, members only organization in the heart of the Finiancial District was where many of Atlanta's businessmen could rub elbows and socialize with community leaders and high ranking executives. I sort of giggled to myself about it-JC wasn't going to be impressed by some over glossed hyped up urban Country Club.

"Don't let him talk you into handling anything financial for you," I added, after a thought. "I mean he's great, you know? He handles my money- I would feel weird if he was handling my boyfriend's money. Okay?"

"Had no plans on that."

I gave his thigh a squeeze. "Thanks again for coming, this weekend. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

He stole a few glances at me, trying to keep his eyes on the road but watching me at the same time. He dropped a hand to his lap, on top of my hand. "I wouldn't have missed this weekend for the world."

###

An entire day had passed and I hadn't heard from JC. I knew he'd made it to lunch, but there wasn't a phone call to let me know what was up, so I spent most of the day wondering what my dad wanted to meet with JC about. I hoped it wasn't work. I prayed it wasn't about our relationship.

My dad had never been one for meddling in my relationships, not since I turned 18 ad moved out. My moving to a different state-- a different coast, even-may have changed things. He liked to assert his authority as my father, but his blessing was a courtesy, not a requirement. Still, I hated to make a move without it, and I hoped he wasn't going to make it hard on us.

JC was still gone when I came home. It was unusual to not hear from him but I decided to give it awhile. I donned my usual after work uniform, paint splattered jeans and a t-shirt, and started touching up the trim in the hallway outside my office.

I was halfway finished, and it was looking nice, when I heard his rental pull into the driveway and the car door slam shut. I breathed a sigh of relief-I was minutes away from becoming a nag and calling him to find out where he'd disappeared to.

"In the hallway," I called when the door opened, and heard footsteps in my direction.

"Hey," he said, peeking around the corner. "Looks nice over here."

"Thanks. I'm proud of it." I stood and stepped back, nodding at my handywork. "So uhm... how was today? What happened? Where've you been?"

His face held a stony, pained expression that struck a bolt of fear into my heart. He looked like he had a headache, his brow furrowed and mouth drawn in a tight pout.

"Uhm. It went okay. We uh... You got a minute?" He reached for my hand and pulled me out of the hallway.

"We need to talk."

His hand was clammy, cool to the touch, and damp with sweat as he wound his fingers with mine and led me, stunned, down the hallway to the living room. He sank into the plush, cushioned fabric of the couch, his shoulders sagging, his mouth in a tense downturn. I gingerly sat next to him, turned a little so I could see his face, look into his eyes-dark, with heavy eyelids and puffy bags underneath. I was in the middle of the worst nightmare ever but I couldn't wake up.

JC opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, so he closed it, instead inhaling sharply through his nose, chest barreling. The house was quiet and still, painfully so. I was vaguely aware of holding my breath, waiting for some kind of hammer to fall.

"It's been a long time for me, you know. Since I like... let myself be open like this."

JC seemed to cringe, his voice small and timid. He spread his hands open in front of him, as if perhaps the words he wanted to say were written on them.  There was no help for him written on his hands, so he clasped them together again.

"My last relationship... well, you know how that ended and I don't ever want to go through that, again."   

I felt a crease spread across my forehead at the mention of her-- Eva. We never really talked about her. He wouldn't stand for negativity about her-wouldn't stand for much talk about her at all, really. He never brought her up, and if anyone else did, he brushed over it and changed the subject.

All I knew, from comments in passing, was that he felt something for her. Something big and important and he felt blindsided by how it ended. On the outside, he didn't seem bothered by how quickly she fell right into the arms of someone else, easily, as if he meant nothing. As if the words he'd finally made himself say and the feelings he'd finally let himself feel were just worthless, random pieces in a mismatched collection of ‘stuff you have', and not something special, to be cherished and nurtured-and returned. Even though he had to set it aside so it wouldn't eat him up, so he could go to industry events and watch TV and read magazines and not fall into despair, he didn't really seem over it. Over her. The abrupt ending left him changed, more guarded, and for a time turned him into someone that sought temporary thrills and momentary pleasure in the arms of anyone he could convince to say yes.

My encounter with him-meeting him on that flight, going out with him that night, spending the weekend with him--was no different than meeting him at a party and going home with him. I considered myself lucky that I was more than a good lay and he was interested enough (and maybe in a better place) to keep coming around. I tried not to really think about it, seeing as how we were so far past that night.

I watched him, sitting on my couch, waiting for him to say something that made sense or shed some light on why he looked so distraught. He sucked in his bottom lip, bit down on it and let it go, willing himself to keep talking. I tried to stop my mind from chanting 'please God, no' over and over. Right after we had the most amazing weekend, and then came home and had the most amazing night, and then laid in each other's arms, staring the ceiling, talking about all the things we planned to do once I was there-- this wasn't happening. There wasn't much my dad could say to alter the road that the last nine months had paved. Was there?

"I want you to know," he was saying, in a voice so coarse and broken that it sent shivers up my spine, "that I do love you, so much. More than I thought I could, because I thought... I mean... I didn't think I could love anyone. Not like, the right way. The good way. I wasn't sure I could even let myself like someone again. So, don't think this has anything to do with me not loving you. I do. It's not about that."

"This? It? That?" I shook my head, confused. "JC, what? Just spit it out."

He took my hand in his and held it, wrapped his hands around it, stroked my skin with the pad of his thumb, that damned callous working its magic. That would normally make me feel better, and by better I mean really good, but it didn't. I was terrified of what he was trying to say. 

"My meeting with your dad kind of threw me. I went for a drive, after. To clear my head. Got lost and found my way back but it gave me a lot time to think. And well... this weekend was cool, you know? I liked meeting your family, and the kids and everything and... uhm..."  

He paused again, which was driving me crazy. I wanted to grab him by the face and scream at him to just say it, so I could hear it and deal with it. WHAT?! 

"I feel like people are expecting something more--I don't know-serious maybe, about you moving. I was thinking, you know, it's a big family weekend and everyone's all coupled up, and it's feeling really cozy. And I just started thinking about stuff, like... like that we don't ever talk about forever. You've never brought up marriage."

Shocked, I recoiled. "What are you, crazy? Hell no, I've never brought it up.  We're so not there." I tried to play off the ‘m' word with a haughty chuckle, but inside my knees were turning to jello and my heart was slamming around in my chest. What would make him bring that up?

"Honey, I think I got asked about seven times if there were plans for the future or if there was a proposal coming and..." He gulped, the sound desperate and audible, and glanced away, and then back at me. "Sweetheart, I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything but... it's not coming."

My right eye twitched as the eyebrow lifted. He was still holding my hand, the pad of his thumb still stroking my skin. He was looking right at me, searching my face for some kind of reaction. I felt like I was under a high powered microscope. I didn't much like the experience.

I blinked back surprise and tried to come up with something to say in response. "Ever?" I choked out, after I swallowed the heart stuck in my throat.

"Well... I can't say I've never thought about settling down. Of course I've thought about that, in passing, you know. Way, way off."

"Oh," I responded, and then looked away, found some point in the backyard, through the blinds, to focus on.  The thought had been creeping into my mind lately, but I hadn't been letting it blast full force all through my brain and infiltrate my dreams and make me want it. I wasn't there yet, and I wasn't expecting it from him quite yet-- but the words hurt all the same, in a ‘just in case you were expecting this.... don't' kind of way.

"So. You've thought about it, but you don't see that with me.  You want to settle down, way, way off in the future. Just... not with me."

"Serena, don't-" He leaned his head on the tips of his fingers, closed his eyes and shook his head, huffing out a quick breath. "I don't mean it that way," he continued, calm and controlled. "I'm not avoiding thinking about it. I just haven't got there yet. I'm not breaking up with you, but I'm not planning on asking you to marry me before you get to LA."

My head was shaking, wagging, even, before the thought even processed. "When did I ever ask for that, JC? You said yourself-- I've never brought it up. I've never said anything about you marrying me."

"I know, but after today... it sounds stupid, but I was really hoping you weren't trying something underhanded with your family. To push the subject, bring it up, get me to start thinking about making the move. I'm feeling a lot of pressure, from a lot of sides, and I... I can't handle this." 

"Pressure from who, JC? Me? Okay, I mean, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't at least thought about it, you know? Because what we have is amazing. It's the best thing to ever happen to me. Times ten. I know you agree with me, there."

He nodded, his eyes still closed, his head still balanced precariously on fingertips. I gripped his hand, wrapped around mine, tighter. He squeezed back in response and his eyes fluttered open, just barely, and rolled in my direction.

"This has been the best, scariest, most wonderful, most terrifying thing ever and I love it. I love ‘us'. I love being with you. I have thought about what it would be like to be with you forever. The idea doesn't suck." I shrugged a little, smiled and added, "And I'm not gonna lie. I tried on Serena Chasez for five minutes. Just to see if it fits. It does."

He dipped his head and laughed, for the first time all night. It was such a nice sound.

"On the other hand, every time we see each other practically, we have a fight about something. We're still getting to know each other. We don't even live on the same coast. You can't even get me to agree to live with you longer than three months. Do I seem like I'm expecting a proposal? Come on, now."

His eyes opened fully and darted about the room as a pink flush rose to each cheek and the smallest, shyest smile started to spread across his face. "Well. No. Okay, but your family--you've been through a lot and you deserve to be happy and they don't want you to be with someone that's gonna jerk you around like Robert, or be a drain on you like Regina. They want someone for you that makes you happy. And I want that too. I just... I'm-"

"Not ready to get married," I finished, matter-of-factly. "Me either."

"I know, but-"

"JC..." I pressed a hand to his chest. "Stop. I'm a big girl. I make my own decisions. So, what did my dad say to you ? You look like hell."

JC rolled his eyes but was starting to relax. He looked so tired, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He settled back against the couch, his jaw finally losing that clench he got when he was upset.

"So, I get there and it's this big, glassed-in, corporate kind of place. I get in the elevator, go all the way up to the 26th floor and I'm feeling kind of uncomfortable, right, cause it's covered in marble and like.. quiet. So quiet. Your dad is waiting by the elevator and we go in and sit down. We're making small talk and he's waving and saying hi to random people. A little business talk, or whatever, and I'm starting to relax, because I think it'll be easy to blow him off, you know? Like you said, if he handles your money, I don't want him handling mine.

"So we order, right, and we're waiting for lunch and he sits forward and his face goes stone cold. You know what I mean?"

I nodded. That face was a familiar staple in our home that said Dad was serious and we'd better listen.

"And he says to me, ‘So it appears my daughter has lost her damn mind'. Right then, I'm like holy shit, I'm in trouble. I'm sitting there and I'm sure I have that deer in the headlights look, and he gets real quiet and he starts talking about how much he loves you, and how hard they fought to get you and to adopt you. And then he starts asking me these questions about my intentions. With you.

"He's talking about sending his daughter off to California and you being in my care, because you trust me and he wants to know if he can trust me. And the more he's talking the more I figure out that he's not just talking about you moving." He shook his head, intently staring as he spoke.  "He wants to know when I'm gonna pop the question. And he wants to know when it's coming and he wants to give his approval. I just couldn't breathe."

My eyes slid closed, a dark curtain against this conversation. "Other people" were going to kill this relationship-- if it wasn't Melissa giving advice that that didn't work, it was my Dad levying veiled threats that scared the living shit out of someone I wanted to stick around.

"Let's... let's not worry about my dad. Okay? I'll handle him."  I slid my hand up his arm, over a bulging bicep, across his chest, then down to wrap around his side as I laid my head on his shoulder.  "And let's agree between us that we're not ready and we don't need to talk about it just yet. You don't want to ask and I don't want to answer."

I felt him nod, and breathe out a tiny, muted sigh. Probably relief. I'd be relieved, too.

"Don't rule it out forever, though," I said, poking at his side with the tip of a nail. "Serena Chasez has a nice ring to it."

I felt him smile as his cheek pressed against my forehead. "Or maybe I'll take your name. I'm a feminist, you know."

I giggled, relieved that he could joke about it. "I don't care what name you take. I'm changing mine to Chasez."

He laughed, his chest rumbling with the sound. "Well. I guess I won't rule it out. We'll just see what happens, take it day by day. I have a lot I want to do, before I even think about that. LA isn't a place I want to settle down and raise a family. It's a nice enough place but not for that."

"Really?" I sat up and leaned an elbow against the back of the couch. I knew he wasn't committed to staying in California--he'd lived there since 2002 but still held a Florida driver's license and vehicle registration.  "Where would you go? Back to Orlando?"

"Anywhere else," he answered with a dramatic eye roll. "But yeah. Probably back to Florida. My family is still there. Slower pace, a lot less press. Once I get there, to that point in my life? I want to have nothing but time."

"Mmmm," I mused nodding. "I don't want to have to work this hard while I play world's sexiest wife and best mommy ever. I'm good..." I shook my head and sighed. "But I'm not that good."

He nicked my chin with his knuckle and grinned. "So humble."

I tipped forward, toward him, and let his stubble tickle my lips I scraped them across his chin. "Are you okay, baby? Or did my dad scar you for life?"

He moved his head so our lips met in a soft, slow kiss. "I'm alright," he mumbled against my lips. "I didn't want to let him down. I don't want to let you down."

"I wouldn't worry about that. Right now, so much is going on with me and with us and seriously-- I'm not thinking about marriage, right now. That's not to say I wouldn't love to join you way, far off. I'm sorry my family pushed that on you. I wish you would have just talked to me about it, JC. Don't you yell at me, like all the time about that?"

"Yes," he answered, more quickly than I expected him to. "I want you to have what you want. I want to be ready to give it to you, though."

I gave him a reassuring pat on his thigh, then slid my hand across his lap. He twitched a little, sensitive to touch especially below the belt.  "You're a sweet man. I love you. All I want, today, is for you to love me back. A lot. For a long time. And if, at some point, you love me enough to think about forever with me then that would be cool. You got yourself all worked up over this?"

"I did," he said, slouching into the couch, stretching out his legs, breathing a little easier. The worry lines that creased his face were gone. The tense, uptight strain to his voice and the hunched shoulders were gone, as well.

I lowered my voice to my most sultry tone and lightly stroked him with the back of my hand through his jeans. "You know what I hear is... really relaxing?"

"I could maybe guess..." He was smiling a cocky half grin, eyes half open but focused.

I leaned into him, captured his bottom lip between my teeth and teased it, pulling at it before I released it and engaged him in a passionate, needy, whimpering kiss. Almost as quickly as I took possession of his mouth, I pulled away. He groaned and his head fell to my shoulder. Hot, wet lips and tiny prickles of his beard stubble danced along my skin.

"Let me just make a suggestion," I said, leaning to whisper in his ear. "You should go upstairs... and take off your clothes... and then put on your painting clothes and help me finish the hallway."  I was giggling before I even finished the sentence, accompanied by a groan from him in the crook of my neck and shoulder.

"Fucking tease. That's what you are." I squealed and curled away from him as I felt teeth in a gentle, teasing nip on my shoulder. "I guess we gotta finish though, huh?"

"Mmmhmm," I mumbled. "Painting was your idea, baby. But then later we can both take our clothes off and have sex until we pass out."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Invigorated, he hopped up from the couch and bounded up the stairs like he was climbing air. I made a mental note -talk to Dad! - then, proud of myself for averting another possible crisis in the saga that had become my relationship with a celebrity, pushed myself up from the couch to head back to the half painted hallway.

###

"Tilt your head down a little, and now lean into the fan, so your hair catches that air-yes. Beautiful. Hold that."

Snap. Snap snap snap. Snap. The camera clicked and whirred in the hands of a gangly man in baggy jeans, a long t-shirt, and a mangy, disheveled goatee. On first glance, one would never think he was a renowned photographer, but Dean Grady been recommended to me as the best.  The best was what I wanted.

One of the things I struggled with-had been struggling with-in my relationship with JC was the other side of his life. The side he wanted me to put away and not consider and not get caught up in. He was simply JC to me now, but my mind often traveled back to our first weekends spent together, when it had been such a struggle to look at him and not see JC from *Nsync or JC the pop star or JC the celebrity. It was hard to separate him from his public persona and we wrestled, on more than one occasion, with my definition of him.

Sometimes, though, it was hard to set his celebrity aside. To not look at him and think that he could probably buy and sell me all day and most especially that there wasn't much I could buy him that he couldn't buy himself. I drove myself (and my friends) up a wall trying to think of what to get him for his birthday. He was picky about clothes, he already had a hundred necklaces and I'd be embarrassed to hand him a gift card. Whatever I got him had to be personal, just for him. Special.

One night, shortly after we'd come back from New York, we were chatting on the web cam, a random conversation of flirting and jokes back and forth. He said something to me, something that sparked an idea. The more I thought about it, the more I loved it, and the more I was scared of it.

It would take a lot of nerve. I thought I might be able to scrape up enough nerve to pull it off.

And so, a few weeks after I returned from my trip to LA, I was in a private studio, being photographed by one of Atlanta's best in artistic photography.

Nude.

Tangled up in creamy silk sheets on a King sized four poster bed under bright lights and the pop pop pop of the flash from the digital camera.  Melissa and Jen, along for moral support, were curled up in the corner of the room, whispering to each other.

"I feel like Faith Hill in that video for Breathe.  She said her mom hated that video. Didn't understand why her very intelligent daughter was rolling around on a bed in sheets".

"Faith's got nothin' on you, honey," Melissa called from across the room. "I bet Tim McGraw loved that video. Just think of the look on JC's face when he sees them!"

"You should do the Shakira rolling around in mud thing," Jen offered. "He'd think that was awesome."

"Don't spoil his Christmas present," Melissa said, and then burst into a loud cackling laugh. 

Dean hid an amused grin and nodded at me. "Okay, so we're going to move to the completely nude, no sheets shots, if you're ready?"

He was all business, checking his camera, adjusting lights, placing me precariously on the edge of the bed, pillow strategically placed, just enough to make no mistake that I was unclothed. I was going for seductive and sexy, not pornographic. That did nothing to stop the catcalls from the corner.

"I'm gonna kick you guys out, if you don't behave. Now shut up, I have to look sexy for this picture."

I tried to erase the smile, focused on the camera lens, and imagined it was JC in the room, gazing at me with those eyes, deep pools of blue, sometimes blue-green, sometimes grey, with that flash of a smile on his face-the one that made you wonder what he was thinking, and then blush, because you knew.

"Yes, very sexy. Good look there. Lift your head, very slightly... yes." Snap snap snap. "And now turn your head to the left, and look down. You're thinking of him, missing him, good." Snap snap snap.  

He climbed a ladder and took a few shots from above, then laid on the floor and had me leaning over the bed and snapped a few more. I took hundreds of photos in dozens of costumes-and some completely nude-and using multiple props. I wanted a lot of variety to choose from-and I kind of wanted to shock JC with something he would never, in a million years, imagine that I would do for him.

Two hours later, I was pulling a terrycloth robe over my shoulders and sitting next to the photographer looking at rows of color and surprisingly artistic black and white prints on the oversized monitor.

"They look pretty good, I think. I'll clean up certain spots here and there..."

We flipped through pages and pages and rows and rows of shots, Melissa and Jen offering their thoughts and opinions on the final bunch. I thought I would have trouble finding the shots I liked, but it was quite the opposite once we started going through them. My body had changed dramatically in the past few months. With all the work and travel, and with Regina doing just fine out in Denver, and having met the other half of my DNA, and finally being overwhelmingly happy with JC, I wasn't sitting at home in front of the TV or the computer every night anymore. I was active, or at least not eating as much, and it showed.

I picked my favorites for Dean to touch up and turn into prints to be bound into a book. In between each photo would be a song or poem selected especially for JC. I hated to miss his birthday for last minute trip to Boston, but a digital replica of me would be there to keep him company. I couldn't wait to hear from him when he got it.

"I'll take the rest of them untouched," I said, as I stood. Dean nodded and made a note.

"The way he looks at you with clothes on, he's not gonna be able to handle these, Serena. Hot!"

Jen and Melissa giggled behind me as they followed me to the dressing room. I ignored them and started pulling my clothes back on.

"God, I'm so nervous. I hope he likes it, the whole thing, you know?" I sat in one of the cushy chairs and slipped my sandals on, rambling to anyone who was listening. "I looked better than I thought I would. Not to be on an ego trip or anything." 

"Honey, you looked great," Melissa reassured, thumbing through the fashion magazines stacked on the low table next to a velvet covered settee. "Really good. He's really going to like them. I promise."

"Well, there's nothing I could buy him, really...but he couldn't buy these photos if he wanted to, so I'm hoping he thinks it's a good present."

"He will love it. Really, don't worry. " Jen rubbed her growing belly, her round face glowing. "Can we eat, now? The baby wants Italian."

I stood, hefted my bags over either shoulder and gave her belly a pat. "Then the baby gets Italian. Let's go."

Three weeks later, holed up in a hotel room in Boston, I was bored.

The air was thick with a steamy, sticky hot, the kind of hot that made clothing stick to skin and make me offer my left arm for a cool breeze to waft through. Instead I was stuck in a hotel room with an A/C unit blowing warm air, fanning myself with a Telecommunications Standards manual, flipping through TV stations, waiting for a phone call. When it came, I snatched the phone up from the table.

"Happy Birthday!"

His laugh, rich and deep from his chest, came over the line, wrapped itself around me. "Hey, baby. Whatcha doin'?"

"Sweatin'." I panted into the phone and fanned harder. "This hotel is a shithole. I miss the Sheraton. What are you doing?"

"Uhm, I'm looking at a big, brown package with my name on it. You know anything about this?"

It came! My heart skipped a beat as soon as he mentioned it. I couldn't wait for him to open it-I'd spent more than a month putting it together and bared my soul on film for him.

"Yeah, that's the stripper I ordered for you for your birthday."

"Is she gonna pop out of this little package?"

"She's a pop up stripper," I answered, laughing. "Are you alone? You want to be alone when you open it."

"Ohhh?" He said the word with an upturn at the end that made me smile. I could feel his grin across the airwaves, and it tugged on my heart. I missed him. I wanted to be with him. I knew it was coming soon.

I wanted soon to be sooner. 

"I'm by myself. I brought it up to my room."

"Okay. Wait!" I sat bolt upright and dashed across the room to the laptop. "You should turn on the webcam so I can watch you open it. I want to see your face."

"Honey, I don't-"

"Just do it! Damn. I want to see you open it. I won't save it or send it anywhere. Please?"

I heard a sigh on the other end, and I could just see him roll his eyes. "Hang on."

In the background I heard rustling, and the sounds of his laptop coming to life, and then he picked up the phone again. "Okay log in. I'm broadcasting live and in living color."

"Yay!" I opened the connection and there he was, his face all scrunched up in the camera, eyes clamped shut. "See, when people go on and on about how handsome you are, these are the faces I remember. That's why I laugh."

"You love that face," he said, laughing and backing away from the camera. More of the room came into view and I saw the large, brown, oversize package laying on his bed, unopened.

"Okay, so, before you open it... what do you think it is?"

"Uhm..." he rubbed his chin, stared at it, tilted his head one way and then another. Then pretended to measure it. Then picked it up and shook it. "I have no idea, honey. Can I open it already?"

"You take all the fun out of these things, you know. You just can't handle not being in control. Yeah, open it."

"Yay!" He clapped twice and turned the package over, carefully tearing long the tape, unfolding the flaps along the side, and then tearing the tape down the middle to reveal his gift. The light in his bedroom wasn't particularly bright, but I could see his grin clearly, so wide the side of his eyes crinkled up the way I loved.  He carefully picked up the spiral bound book and sat on the edge of the bed, in front of the camera.

"So, this looks awesome already and I haven't even opened it."

He held it up in front of the camera and stared at the cover, one of my favorite prints of the shots from above, tangled up in the sheets. My hair was teased into a wild, tawdry mess around my face, eyes a smoky, seductive grey. Dean had done a perfect job touching it up and softening the edges-the moment I saw it, I knew it had to be the cover shot. I titled the book "Pieces of Me", the shots becoming progressively more suggestive and the songs and poems more meaningful to us and our relationship toward the end.

"JC, I've already seen it. Open it."

"Okay,okay. I was just trying to savor it. Damn." He tossed his head with attitude and flipped the cover open. His eyes lit up and his jaw dropped at the first few pages, all shots of me in costume, dramatic makeup, using the props I had bought. I hoped each photo would show off a different side of me-maybe some sides he'd never seen before.

"This is... oh my God..." He muttered as he flipped from page to page, smiling at one page, rubbing his chin while he read a page, smiling again when he got to an increasingly more revealing shot. "You got some Shakespeare in here, I like him. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "How Do I Love Thee", classic. Lord Byron, "She Walks in Beauty"-I had to recite that for a class, once..."

"Do you like the pictures?" As if I had to ask, but I wanted to hear him say it.

His head popped up and he seemed surprised I would ask. He blinked a few times and then said, "I love them. I'm just... I'm really surprised."

"Good surprised, or oh God I wish she wouldn't have done this, surprised? You can tell me. It'll help me to do it, or never do it, again."

"No, I-honey I'm pleasantly, very, very pleasantly surprised." He turned another page, getting closer to the end, shaking his head slowly, grinning like a fool. "I might uhm, crawl into bed with this tonight, seriously."  He held the book up and stretch his arms out, then tilted his head to the side. "You're very limber, honey."

I chuckled and he grinned in to the camera. "Alright, alright. I just wanted you to like it."

"Well you said you were getting me something awesome. I kind of thought it was a new game for the Wii but this is much better." He closed it, then opened it again, and then closed it and set it next to him on the bed. "Thank you. I can tell it really came from your heart, I appreciate it, really. I love it. I love you."

"I love you too. Happy Birthday. And get your ass ready for when I come down for Labor Day. I've got your spankings all ready for you."

"I can't wait. You know I'm a freak." He smiled and made eyes at me into the camera. "So, you hangin' in there?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just hot." 

Right then, the air conditioner finally kicked into gear, humming and rumbling. I felt the first wisps of cool air fly through the room and sat back, still fanning myself, hoping to catch some of it and propel it near me. It was a good thing I forgot to pack the webcam, because I was surely not very sexy-sweating like a stuck pig, my hair up and off of my neck in a messy, haphazard ponytail, lounging in the lightest thinnest clothing I could find and even still considering taking them off and just hanging out in my bra and panties. The idea was sounding better every second.

"I wish I would hear something about those interviews. At least the one from the environmental company. I thought I did really well on that one. I was sure they would call by now."

"Patience, sweetheart, patience," he soothed, his usual positive affirmation lately." You'll hear something soon. And if you don't, you'll find something. Worrying about it won't make it happen faster."

"I know," I whined. "I just feel like I'm in limbo and waiting for some company to feel like I'm good enough to pay me to do some stuff for them. I hate the waiting."

"Yeah. Me too."  I wasn't sure if he meant for himself, or for me. Or for both. Either way, I we both tended to have an impatient streak, used to making things happen, not sitting around waiting for things to happen to us. It was an uncomfortable turn of events.

"Let's change the subject," I suggested, and tried to perk up. It was his birthday-no whining, no pulling on him to be a support for me. Let him have this day. "Tell me about the show. How's it going?"

"Oh, it's going good. I'm excited about this season." 

He was laid out across the bed, his feet, clad in spotless white socks, one arm tucked under his head. I propped my feet upon on the ottoman in front of me and continued to fan myself, listening to JC talk about the dancing hopefuls that he would be judging. The second season was in full swing and plans for his mini-tour after the season was over were just beginning to take shape. He was more excited about it than he was letting on. He was also more scared than he was letting on. January would come faster than he expected it to and he wanted to be ready.

"I can't wait until you're here," he said suddenly, his voice kind of pouty. "This is getting hard. If you weren't already moving, I'd ask you to move."

"I'm trying to get there. It's hard for me, too. At least the house looks nice."

"Yeah? Thanks."

He sounded proud, and with good reason. JC worked hard and tirelessly on the house, inside and out, armed with unsolicited advice from both of our fathers, our brothers, friends and HGTV. The wood floors gleamed, the carpets were plush and refreshed, every ceiling fan had been dusted, every window washed. My dad and brothers lent a hand in replacing the countertops and re-facing the kitchen cabinets-it didn't even look like the same kitchen anymore. The shrubs that lined the perimeter of my property had never been so expertly shaped. The lawn in front, along the sides, and behind the house was a perfect length and a gorgeous green. I was following his exact instruction on watering and mowing and it was thriving-even Mrs. Rhodes was impressed with the transformation.

All I needed was a reason to put the house up for sale.

"Okay, birthday boy, you're not sitting around talking to me on the webcam all night. What are you doing to celebrate?"

"Uhm, I'm going to the studio in a little bit," he said, rolling up his sleeve to check his watch, then letting his arm flop back down to the bed. "Then, depending on what time we finish up, probably will do some dinner, some drinks. I don't plan to get too crazy."

"Well, I hope you have a good time. Your birthday only comes once a year."

"Yeah, but I want to remember what I did on my birthday. I'll have a good time, I always do." His mouth stretched wide in a loud yawn and he stretched each arm out in front of him. "I gotta get up from here, or I'll go to sleep."

I fought a sympathetic yawn, myself. "Yeah, I need to get to bed, I have an early meeting. Thanks for letting me see you open your present. Happy Birthday, handsome. I love you."

"Love you, too. Thanks for the present. I love it. I gotta hide it, though."

A brief flash of horror raced through me at the thought of someone seeing something so intimate, something just for him. "Joshua Chasez, if someone finds that, I will beat your ass. You better hide it."

"You'll do it, too. You could take me, as demonstrated in this photo here." He flipped to a picture toward the end where I was leaning up against a dresser, arms flexed so that the few muscles I'd managed to build were profiled. In contrast, I wore a frilly pink lace lingerie set. I liked that photo, since it represented my soft side and my strong side.

"Put that away somewhere safe and you won't have to worry about it."

He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, stood, and stretched again. "I'll hide it in the same drawer as the sex swing," he said through a yawn and a laugh.

"Shut up, you don't have a sex swing."

"You don't know that. I gotta go. I love you. Call you tomorrow."

"Have a good time. Be good."

"Always. Bye, honey."

I pressed ‘end' on the keypad, slid the phone onto the side table and leaned my head back on the chair. As I did every night, I whispered a prayer to the heavens.

I just want to hear something, God. Yes, No, Hell no, something. I just need an answer. Please

I listened, intently, for a minute, but no answer came.

Take your time, God. I'm just hanging out in limbo, over here. Good thing I'm limber.

*

I put in a full day with clients, shuffling my laptop from meeting to meeting during the hottest part of the day in the hot, muggy northeastern summer. My final meeting drew to a close and I slowly wandered my way back to the hotel. I hadn't even had the chance to explore Boston, I'd been so busy. No matter-if I didn't get a job offer soon, I'd be back. A lot. My heart sank at the prospect.

I made it to my room and collapsed into the chair, enjoying the coolness and the quiet. The room wasn't so bad, once it was cool, and the air had been working fine since it kicked in the night before. I began peeling off clothes and was looking forward to a shower when my Blackberry alerted-an IM was coming through.

Hopefully that's JC. I hadn't heard from him since the night before and I wanted to know how his birthday celebration went. I picked up the phone and scrolled through the screens, but the IM was from Melissa.

‘You there?'

I tapped the keys with one hand while unzipping my skirt with the other. ‘Yes, here. Everything okay?'

 It was rare to hear from Melissa in the middle of the day, especially by IM. She was a talker, she'd just call.

‘I need to tell you something. Email you something actually. But I want to talk to you before you read it.'

Confused, I shrugged at the phone. ‘Okay, well call me.'

‘Emailing. Don't open it yet.'  A second later, an email arrived and the phone rang.

"What's up? Why are you being so cryptic?"

"Uhm." She hesitated and lowered her voice. "I just saw something and I wanted to make sure someone you knew showed it to you before you saw it yourself. It's about JC, last night, out in Hollywood."

"His birthday party? There are pictures?"

"Uhm, no not really, just... someone was talking about the party, or actually the after party out at the house. Well, log in. Read the email I sent."

I followed her instruction, completely annoyed at the cageyness. Melissa was a blunt, open person. Not saying what she meant to say went against every grain within her. It was practically against her religion.

My system trudged along on the slow wireless system, and eventually Gmail popped up for me and I opened the last email received, a copy and paste from a gossip blog. I'd received tons of them since I started dating JC. Most of them turned out to be lies wrapped around a tiny shred of truth. After awhile, I stopped reading them and told people I didn't want to see the emails anymore. They'd all but stopped, so it was odd for Melissa to send me something and be so guarded about it.

From: mwren@healthycorp.com

To: swills@gmail.com

Re: FW: Isn't this your friend's boyfriend?

            JC Chasez single and on the prowl!

            Filed under: jcchasez

Former *Nsync front man JC Chasez has been cruising L.A. and other cities around the country with a steady companion on his arm, rumored to be a woman from Atlanta that he met on a flight to LA last fall. We heard rumblings of a wedding date approaching, but if last night was any indication, this handsome hunk might just be single again!  Ladies, start your engines!

One third of MTV's Dance Show judge panel, Chasez turned 33 yesterday and celebrated the occasion at Villa Nightclub. The party raged until the wee hours of the morning and it's being reported that a small group of guests gathered at Chasez's West Hollywood mansion for an after party-and that's when things got steamy!

A source tells us that she was a guest at last night's rowdy shindig and recounted stories of wild partying, loud music, raunchy dancing between Chasez and his female guests and enough alcohol to poison a horse. Our source says Chasez and a special guest were "very cozy" as they lounged together on a couch, tossing back shots until JC nearly passed out, and when they thought they were alone, joined at the tongue and lip locked. LUCKY!

Our source also confirms that JC's supposed girlfriend was nowhere to be seen and she was not mentioned at all during the entire evening. Chasez seemed relaxed and happy, so perhaps the breakup has been a long time coming?

A little old for wild parties, but being single looks good on you, Chasez! Keep it warm for me!

My jaw hit the table as I read through the short article that had been forwarded to Melissa, and she passed along to me. Most of it seemed patently untrue-JC wasn't much of a partier or hard drinker. He liked light beers and wine, and while he would do shots, he wouldn't do them until he was passing out. Raunchy dancing wasn't his style. Even when he danced with me, he was close but he wasn't a grinder.

"This whole thing sounds so made up," I told Melissa, reading through it again. "This is stupid, it's obviously some chick trying to make a name for herself. They didn't even name their source. I bet so no one can track her down and call her out for the liar she is."

"All the same, I wanted you to see it before anyone sent it to you so you'd know it was out there."  

"Thanks I appreciate it. I'll just call him and ask him. He was so tired when I talked to him last night. No way was he up till dawn, lip locked with some girl."

"Alright," she said, sounding relieved. "Well, if you're not worried, I'm not. I gotta go, Annette is due home tonight."

I pressed end and immediately scrolled to JC's number in my phone. He wouldn't think it was as funny as I did, since he hated gossip blogs, but I wanted him to know I had seen it and it was apparently making its way around. The line rang and rang and just before the call rolled to voicemail, he picked up.

"Hey." His voice was clipped and short. He sounded busy.

"Hi there. Did you have a good birthday?"

"Uhm... yeah," he answered, after a heartbeat of hesitation. "What I remember of it yeah, it was okay. I actually had some drinks but I think I kept it together most of the night."

"Well someone thinks they're a story teller. There's an article going around about your party at Villa and the after party at your house."

"I uhm... Yeah, I just heard about that." He sounded strange, not even annoyed, like he usually sounded when I mentioned gossip blogs. "So, did you... did you see it?"

"Mmmhmm.  Melissa sent it to me."

"Shit," he said under his breath. "I was hoping to catch you before you saw that."

"Don't worry about it. You taught me well; I'm not taking this seriously."

"Listen, I... Serena, I gotta tell you something." 

I paused, wondering what was the shred of truth that this web of lies was built upon.

"What?"

"Okay," he started, after a breath. "Uhm, so last night the party was at Villa and I don't think I got wasted but I was pretty lit. A few of us came back here, and there wasn't a lot of loud partying or anything but I had some people here, including uhm... well... this girl I used to hook up with, before I met you. I hadn't seen her in awhile so were just talking. And uh..."

"JC," I interrupted, my voice shaking, but already beyond my control. "You're not saying what I think you're saying. You're not."

"I was gonna call you-"

"We're talking now, no need to call me. Just tell me, yes or no, did you kiss her?"

"Serena if you give me a minute-"

 "Yes or no?"

"--- I'll explain what happened...."

My face was hot, despite the coolness of the room. I watched a red glow creep from beneath the skin of my arms to the surface and then climb up, virtually setting me on fire. The tears threatened, but weren't quite flowing. I swallowed, hard. I had to maintain control.

"I don't care for an explanation, JC. Did you kiss her? That's all I want to know and then we can drop it. Yes or no?"

"It's not that simple-"

"It is that simple. Yes, you were kissing her, or no, you weren't."

JC exhaled a short, frustrated burst of air. "I can't do this, right now, Serena. I promise I'll call you back. Can it wait?"

"What, got a hot date? It doesn't take that long to say a word. Yes or no?"

"You don't understand-"

"You don't understand! I don't care why. I just care if you did. Were you kissing her?"

A heavy silence hung on the line. His refusal to answer the question told me everything I needed to know, but I wanted to him to admit it. I wanted to hear him say it.

"Answer. the fucking. question, JC. Yes. or NO?"

The other end was so quiet I almost thought he hung up. Then I heard him breathing, quick, rapid breaths.

That's right. Freak the fuck out. You got caught.

After a few seconds of silence, I heard, "Yes." So quiet it was almost a whisper. "But... Serena it's not like it seems. She--"

"What isn't like it seems? It wasn't an accident. You don't trip and fall and your tongue lands in some girl's mouth. You made the choice. It was a... what do you call that?  A mistake. Isn't that the word you used before? The one that made you seem so humble for owning up to cheating?"

The line hummed in the silence on both ends.

"That's what I thought. I have to go."

"Serena. Honey, come on. I don't get a chance to explain myself?"

"Explain yourself?" I scoffed. "Forgive me if I just can't think of one thing you could possibly say that would explain anything. I don't care about excuses or anything you've been thinking of all day to tell me. I just don't care. I can't even stand the sound of your voice right now. Don't call me."

I slammed my finger down on the end button so hard I almost shoved a hole in the phone. The room was blurry and although the a/c was chugging out cold air, I was burning up, sweltering hot, and my throat was closing up. I stood to move to the bed, to just lay down and think, but the room spun around me in a tight circle. I tripped over my own feet on the way to the bed and fell to the floor.

The minute I hit the floor, the floodgates opened. I had no strength, no will, no energy. I laid there for hours, until well after the sun had set and the room grew dark. Across the room, the phone laid on the floor, facedown in the exact spot it landed when I dropped it. It had been lighting up every few minutes, likely JC calling over and over.

By that point, I had no voice left-I'd screamed it out-so picking up would be pointless. A fresh swell of tears flashed over me. I turned my head away from the phone and cried and sobbed and even though I had no voice, screamed some more.

I wish I could say it made me feel better. It just made me feel hopelessly alone.

I woke up on the floor, in the dark, around 4 am. My flight was at 9, devastated or not, so I pushed through a raging, blinding headache and puffy yes, and raw throat, hurried to pack the last of my things and caught a cab to Logan Airport. I was a complete zombie, and sure that I looked awful. I didn't care. I didn't even care enough to be afraid on the flight. As soon as the plane took off and reached altitude, I closed my eyes and went to sleep. At least during sleep, there was no pain.

I couldn't shut off my mind. Endless, raging, revengeful, evil thoughts ran through my brain. I was afraid of some of them, afraid I might actually carry some of them out, if JC were to come near me at any point in the future. I was sad, I was hurt, I was angry.

Most of all I was embarrassed. I felt like a fool, immensely more stupid that I would have felt in the beginning of our relationship. As I drove home from the airport, I started to wonder how much of ‘us' was real, and how much of it was some kind of game for him.

He said he loved me, and I believed it-was that a sham?  

He had been there for me, done things for me, pushed me to do things that no one else had been able to convince me to do-- was that a ploy to earn my devotion?

Was I part of a carefully selected few, who thought she was exclusive? And if so, how dumb can a person be, to fall for that?

I'll tell you how dumb. Really dumb. God, I'm so fucking dumb.

The sound of a doorbell is the most jarring sound on Earth when you don't expect it.

The weekend was an ugly blur, viewed through an opaque pane of tears, felt through a blinding, pounding headache, endured through a gamut of emotions ranging from explosive anger to a depth of sadness I've never experienced before. I didn't see anyone, didn't talk to anyone, didn't go anywhere. I needed my time, to be alone with my pain. The one person I would have counted on, whose shoulder I would have cried on, who would have consoled me and made me feel better was no longer a person I could turn to.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was feeling a little bit better... enough to crawl out of bed, finally and try to get myself back in order. Crying for days on end wouldn't erase what happened.

I bounded down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell, already aware that it was Melissa. Whenever I avoided her calls, she would just stop by. She had a key, even, so if I didn't answer the doorbell, she would just let herself in. There was really no hiding from her, so I didn't try.

A fleeting glance of shock crossed her face as I opened the door. As quickly as it appeared, it went away but I caught it. For the first time since I'd arrived home Friday morning, I considered how I looked-probably pale, sunken eyes, bulbous nose that was sore from too much wiping and sniffling. I hadn't washed my hair in days, just shoved the curly, matted mess under a scarf.

"Hello to you, too," I grumbled, closing the door behind her and heading back upstairs.

"What's all this?" Melissa stood in the middle of my bedroom, between two open boxes in the middle of the floor. "You're still planning on moving?"

I shrugged a shoulder and dropped a pair of shoes into a box. "I don't know about moving yet. He..." I almost choked on his name. Not saying it wasn't going to change anything. "JC left some stuff here," I said, after a steadying breath. "I'm packing it up to send to him."

"Oh." She settled on the edge of the bed and set her messenger bag, a constant companion, next to her. She watched as I moved around the room, back and forth to the closet, her head following me and bobbing like a spectator at a tennis match.

"Why did he bring all that stuff if you have to send it back?"

"Every time he comes, he leaves something here. And this last time he was here for a few weeks and he just didn't feel like dragging everything home."

I sniffled and trekked back to the closet. "His stuff is making this room smell like him. Everything smells like him-the pillows, the sheets, the towels, the..." I headed off a new swell of tears, scratched nervously at my temple, and kept working.

"I called your office. They said you hadn't been in all week."

"Yeah," I said, nodding and plodding back and forth, wishing I was done already. "I just uhm... I just couldn't handle it. I'll be in tomorrow though. I need to get out of this house before I go crazy."

"Serena..."

I turned around to look at her, watched her trace the multi-hue, psychedelic design of the bedspread with a fingernail. She had that hesitant, walking-on-eggshells kind of demeanor about her, one that said she was about to say some things I probably didn't want to hear.

I plopped down next to her on the edge of the bed. "What? You have something to say, may as well say it."

"Well..." She paused, looked around the room at the boxes and the missing photographs and the lack of "JC-ness" around the room-things he'd given me, pictures of us. I'd taken down the poems he used to send that I tucked inside the frame of the mirror on my vanity table. I even took down the poster of him that I had up in my office.

"So, you don't think that you're maybe... you know, overreacting a little?"

She winced, like I would actually dare to bite her head off. I opened my mouth to give her a resounding "no" but it didn't really come. Time and peace and quiet had given me some distance and space. I was thinking a little more clearly, and truthfully, the fact that I could be overreacting was a niggling thought in the back of my mind that I was ignoring. Those niggling thoughts were what got me into trouble, before. Best to keep them at the back of the mind.

"Mel..." I held one of his shirts in my hands and folded it, resisting the urge to sniff it. "Do you know how many times he...JC...told me he loved me?"

She shook her head, her lips pursed. "Had to have been hundreds. Thousands."

"At least," I said quietly, nodding, glancing at the boxes overwhelming the room, not in size but in meaning. Weeks ago, I'd felt like my house was a second home to him. Today, I was moving him out.

"Every day, since the day he first told me. Two, sometimes three times a day, he'd call me. Sometimes we'd talk, but most of the time he'd say, ‘I don't want anything. I just called to hear your voice and tell you I love you. Have a good day.' Or ‘Have a good night.' He still calls. Every day. Twice a day. I just don't pick up."

"Well, that must mean something, then? He must mean it, to keep calling, even though you don't pick up."

"But then, I think about the very second I knew that article was true. How he was quiet when I told him I saw it, and how when I asked him, point blank, he didn't answer right away. And I have to think to myself that I was so close to being duped." I stroked the polo shirt, laying flat on my lap, neatly folded, warm and gentle against my skin.

"I mean, what if that article was never printed? Was he going to tell me? Or was he going to let me wander around LA in bliss, thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world while that same world was snickering and sneering and knowing what he's done behind closed doors?"

"True, there's that."

"So what, he calls every day to say three words. It just isn't enough. You have to show it. Live it. You know?" My eyes welled up, again and my nose flared with the onslaught. Melissa's face began to fade behind the curtain of tears.

"I love him," I moaned, through a sob I couldn't hold back. "More than anyone I've ever loved before. And I don't want to. I miss him like I'd miss my left arm or half my heart and I want it to stop. And I want him. I want him so bad, I just want to drop everything and run to LA, and hug him and kiss him and just beg him to not do it again because I love him..."

The dam burst then, and what had been so carefully constructed with a callous ‘whatever, I don't need him anyway' attitude and a meticulous method of avoidance fell under an avalanche of tears. A warm hand on my back rubbed and patted, in a soothing circular motion while I cried, and then hiccupped, and finally caught my breath. I got up and grabbed a handful of Kleenex and sat down again. Emotional outbursts were exhausting.

"So tell me," she said, in the lowest, calmest tone that has ever come out of her mouth. "Why can't you do that? Go to LA and see him and talk to him and hug him and kiss him and tell him you love him and you miss him and if he does it again you'll shoot him?"

I laughed, and then felt bad for laughing. And laughed again as I wiped my eyes and nose. "I want to. But then I'm in the same spot I was in with Robert. Making excuses for unacceptable things and making decisions based on my libido and not what's right for me. I can't ever be that weak again."

"Okay," she said with a nod and a pat on my leg. "But I want you to think about something. You remember when you told me that you'd spilled it to him that you loved him, and I brought up Robert, and you said the comparison was apples and oranges?"

"Given the situation, I think we're now talking Gala vs. Jonathon. Apples."

She smiled a wry grin and chuckled. "Touche'. I know I'm not supposed to give you JC advice, and I'm not. But it's your relationship. It's your heart. It's your state of well being. Do what's best for you. I don't think that's bad advice, no matter who you're dating."

"You're right." I sniffled and wiped my nose again, caught a few residual tears as they fell. "I guess I just don't want to decide, right now, that what's best for me is to go back to him. I want to be smart about it."

"Understood. But--you should at least hear him out. Give him the chance to respond."

I shook my head, almost violently. "No. No way. I'm not interested in helping him absolve guilt. He can keep his excuses."

"Okay," she answered quickly. "Just a suggestion, nothing more."

I got up again, started filling boxes. Melissa watched in silence, checking her watch every few minutes.

"So. You feel like being social for awhile? It's just dinner. An hour. We won't even pick on your hair."

I almost cracked a smile, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of admitting I looked like death warmed over. It felt good to be in better spirits. Normal couldn't be too far off, could it?

"Okay, but I'm gonna hold you to that picking on my hair thing."

Melissa and Annette's sunken, cozy living room was like a refuge. It was a place where I was always welcome, where I could come ‘as I was', without any pretention or formality. I could kick of my shoes, pop open a beer or enjoy a cocktail and relax. An immense feeling of relief, and maybe a little bit of escapism came over me as I eased into my usual spot in the corner of the L shaped sectional couch that dominated the room.

We had dinner- pasta and garlic bread, comfort food-and settled in to talk through a badly written, badly acted made for TV movie. My phone vibrated inside my bag twice during the movie. I was sure it was JC, and I had no plans to pick up, but a sick part of me liked knowing that he was still calling.

It wasn't going to last long. I knew JC well enough at least to know that eventually (and by eventually, that meant a few days) he would give up and slink off, so I didn't have long to decide if I wanted to talk to him, or if I was going to let him ride off into the sunset, feeling guilty.

The closing credits rolled up the screen and I stretched and yawned, sliding my feet into my sandals. "Thanks for dinner and conversation, girls. It really helped to take my mind of off... him. I have to work in the morning, so I better head out."

"Well, thanks for coming by, eating our food, and sitting on our couch," said Annette, slapping a hand to my back. "Take it easy, okay? You're not superwoman. You can't get over this in a couple of days."

"I know." I shrugged, bowing my head. "I just feel so stupid. I just feel like I fell for the oldest trick in the book, you know?"

"We all have, honey. Drive safely, okay?"

I nodded and waved and then made my way down the dark driveway to the car. The phone was vibrating again as I slid into the driver's seat and I rolled my eyes.

‘Odd how if I called him more than once, he got pissy with me but he's been blowing my phone up for days.'

I threw open the flap on my bag and dug out the phone, but it wasn't JC calling. It was a local number I didn't recognize and just in case it was my family trying to reach me, I picked up the line.

"This is Serena."

"Serena, Baby!" I let out a breath, and didn't even try to mask it. JC had enlisted Dallas to talk to me? Unreal.

I plugged my blue tooth in and started the car, then backed out of the driveway. "Hey Dallas, what's up?"

"Nothin' much, just calling to see how you're doing."

"You can tell JC I'm fine." I knew I was rude, my voice clipped and bitter. The words just tumbled out that way, before I could stop them and self edit. Oh, well.

"He didn't tell me to call and ask that. I was asking that on my own. I don't play messenger boy."

"Right. So what are you calling for?"

"Well, I mean... I heard. And I've talked to him. I'm not delivering any messages or anything but he's not doing too good, baby."

"Good. That'll teach him to keep his tongue where it belongs."

"Yeah. Yeah." I was surprised. I expected Dallas to defend him or something. Was he actually agreeing with me? "Yeah, he's learning that lesson right now. Listen, can I rap to you for a minute? I just want to tell you something, from me. Just from myself."

‘Here we go with the character witness.' "What is it, Dallas?"

"Well I mean..." I heard him shift in a chair as it squeaked its protest. It sounded like one of the studio chairs. "I've known JC a long time. Personally, a lot longer than you have. And when I say this dude was happy with his woman, I mean it. He was happier than shit when he was here working. Talked about you nonstop. I'm just saying-- that man loves you. And this whole... this thing? It's not like him. If JC's gonna do it, he's gonna go all the way. He doesn't kiss a girl and walk off. He doesn't start what he can't finish."

"You're really trying to tell me that I should forgive him because he didn't fuck her, he just kissed her?"

"No, I'm really trying to tell you that there has to be something behind this. Behind what happened. Something I think you should be listening to."

"What if I don't really care what's behind it, Dallas?" I pounded the steering wheel in my mounting anger. I couldn't understand everyone taking his side, like he was the angel and I was the devil, like he was the victim. I was the offended party! "It happened. That's all I care about. I don't really care what's behind it."

"You know what, Serena? You know how they say pride comes before a fall? Don't let your pride trip you and leave you ass up in the middle of the street. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I mean, here's the deal. Just hear me out. He's been calling, I know. He's upset that you won't take his calls and you're upset at what's going on-ya'll need some time. Some space to think and to figure this out. How about I tell him to stop calling for a couple of days? Give you your space and time to calm down without him all over you. And you'll call him when you're ready to talk, but you got to promise me that you'll hear him out."

"Dallas, I-"

"Come on, Serena," Dallas said, his voice rising. "Don't dog him, be a woman and listen to what the man has to say. If you don't like his words, then it's over, and cool... but you know how this went down the last time. Please don't do that to him. I know he was wrong, he knows he was wrong, but please don't walk away without hearing what he has to say."

I thought for a moment, a long moment, staring out at the dark roadway ahead of me, almost home.

"Tell him to give me a couple more days," I said finally. Quietly. Defeated. "And then I'll talk to him. But this isn't us making up, or whatever, it's just us talking. We'll take it from there. Is that woman enough?"

"It'll do. Thank you, for doing that for me. And for the record, I don't usually do this mediation thing. I just like you, you know. Out of all of his girlfriends, you're the only one that makes him light up. You're something special, to him. He knows it and he knows how close he is to losing you, believe me."

I turned into my driveway and waited for the garage door to lift. "Okay. I've got to go. I guess I'll talk to him sometime this weekend. I-thanks for calling, Dallas. This is hard, but I'll try."

"You're welcome. I hope ya'll work it out."

I sat in the car for a few minutes after I hung up. Ironically, faint strains of "Build My World" crackled over the speakers from the iPod. I turned it up and, probably for the first time in years, I listened. In the dark, not distracted by what I could see, just listening to the voice and hearing the words and trying to understand, to decipher if they were real or just made up phrases set to lilting, haunting melody.

Someone for everyone, but no one for me/ Constantly searching for the love I need to build my world around/ I'll be the lonely one until I find someone to build my world around.

Was he really looking for that? Because I was, and was thinking the situation was hopeless, and that I'd never find someone I could really and truly love. And maybe I was dumb for thinking it, but I thought I'd found it-someone to build my own world around.

###

"So you didn't give him a chance to explain anything?" Garrett chewed on a dinner roll and appeared disinterested, despite asking the question.

I pushed food around on my plate, not really very hungry. As promised, JC stopped calling, and I felt even more alone. I was so lonely by Friday night, that after work I drove out to near Alabama and had dinner with Garrett and Kim, played with my nephews and my niece and broke the news to Garrett, whom I hoped would not assemble a posse and descend upon West Hollywood.

"I don't know why everyone wants me to hear his side of the story. Does it matter? It happened."

"It might be good for closure," Kim said from the other side of the table, making faces at the baby in her high chair. She squealed and gurgled at me as she opened her mouth and closed it around forkful of food, chewing happily with her mouth open and tiny clenched fists raised high in the air.

"Yeah I don't know if that's what I'm looking for. I just... want us to make up or break up. I just want it to be over."

"I know it seems like really unusual advice, coming from me, but... hear him out. See what he has to say. I mean, he's not gonna have an excuse that will work but..." Garrett raised a hand and shrugged his shoulders in an ‘I dunno' gesture. "It's kind of one sided if you don't. Plus it's a punk move. Girls hate when guys just fade away, but girls do it all the time."

"Not as often as guys do, honey." Kim had finished feeding Chloe and was unhooking the tray from the high chair. She wiped the cherubic face, undid the buckle and plopped her into daddy's lap. "Watch her for a bit, I need to clean the kitchen."

"Kim, I haven't even finished eating." He narrowly rescued his fork from her grabby hands.

I pushed my plate away and reached for her. "Here, give her to me. I'm done." I bounced her on my lap, in love with the light feeling of her. "The ‘m' word came up a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, Dad said he had the talk. Put the fear of God in him or something. Was kind of surprised you guys were still together and still not engaged. Dad said he thought he made himself pretty clear."

"Well, I made myself clear to Dad and told him to butt out. He scared the shit out of JC. But now I'm wondering though. Like, maybe he was just scared or something. Of settling down and this was his way of kind of getting out. But if that's the case, then... I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

I shook my head, more trying to get my curls out of Chloe's grasp than any confusion about JC's behavior.

"He's had so many chances to end it. It's unlikely he'd do it by kissing some chick when you weren't even in the room. He just doesn't come across as that kind of guy. That's why you need to talk to him."

I shot an annoyed look at Garrett over the baby's head. "I don't get how you're so supportive. Don't you want to shoot him?"

"Of course I do," he said, laughing, then shoveling another forkful of food in his mouth, talking around it. "That's beside the point though. Do you want to shoot him? Or do you want him back?"

"It depends on the day. And the time of day. But mostly I want him back."

"So think about that. And work toward it and put all your feelings shit, all that emotion aside and just listen. And really, if what he has to say doesn't meet what you think he should be saying then you can dump his ass free and clear."

Chloe leaned her head against my chest and yawned. I stroked her head, her wisps of brown hair tickling my skin. This wriggling bundle of pure joy had no idea what was in store for her, years from now. I sent up prayers that men and relationships might be more evolved by the time she started dating.

"You know what you need to do," Garrett said, pushing away his completely empty plate. "Remember the good times and why you love him. How you feel about him. I know you think people will say you're stupid for going back to him, but your relationship is about you and him and no one else. "People"-he used the air quotes - "don't matter worth a shit. What matters is who you wake up next to in the morning. Ignore people. Listen to you."

"Yeah. You're right. It's just so much easier said, than done. You know? That hurt me. A lot. I want to get over it but..."

"It won't go away any time soon if you don't turn around and face it. You guys need to talk."

He stretched out his hands to his daughter. Sleepy but still awake, she lurched forward into his arms. My heart swelled, watching him cuddle her close to his chest, watching her curl up against him, so secure in him. She had no reason to not trust he wouldn't always be there for her.

I remembered feeling that way about JC, just not in a fatherly way. I'd let myself trust that he couldn't, wouldn't hurt me. That was what hurt the most-I trusted him. I wanted to give it back to him, to let him earn it back, but I wasn't sure he even wanted the chance and even if he wanted it, could we ever achieve the same level of trust, of love, of relationship that we had before?

There was no way to know but to go through it.

On the drive home, I resolved to myself to try-because there was no guarantee I was ever going to find a love like this again and if he was fighting to get it back and jumping through hoops to make me happy, I could listen to him and then listen to my heart.

The chance to hear him out would come sooner than I thought it would. As I pulled into the cul de sac, I almost didn't recognize my house, because when I left, it was dark. As I approached, I could see lights on, and another SUV rental sat in my driveway. My heart fell to the bottom of my stomach as I crept down the street, in disbelief. He didn't just wait for me to call him so he could grovel over a telephone line, all the way across the country.

"He came," I breathed. And almost started crying right in the car, in the driveway, in the dark.

The garage door lifted slowly, revealing the open back door and the yard, and him leaning against the fence, talking to my neighbor. His head had turned toward the garage when he saw me pull up and I sat in my car, watching him watch me until the overhead light in the garage turned off. Only then did I stumble out of the car, wrestling with the seatbelt, and work my way around the garage and out into the backyard.

"Hey," he said simply, staring me down with those steel blue eyes as I walked toward him.

"Hey," I answered back. "Hello, Mrs. Rhodes. Nice evening out tonight."

"It sure is. Perfect summer evening. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect for snuggling up with someone you love."

She stared off into her roses, wistful and dreamy, then snapped back. "I was just talking to your handsome young man here. He says you two are having some problems. Such a shame, a beautiful couple." She clicked her tongue and shook her head and kept saying "now that is a shame, such a shame."

"Well, uhm," I gulped and lifted my eyes to JC's. His eyes hadn't left my face since I started walking from the garage. "Since the... young man... is here, maybe we'll talk. Work it out."

A flash of hope glimmered in his eyes and he pressed his lips together, like he was excited but trying to hold it in. I tried not to give away my excitement either.

"I remember my Paul..." I cringed, but she paid no attention to me. I was hoping to avoid a long drawn out story, but it seemed an impossibility.

"He took some other hussy to this dance-it was an all city dance, and I couldn't go. I thought he would just go alone or not go at all. I was so devastated because I thought, you know, I was his special girl. Of course it's not the same thing as here..." She waved a pale, splotchy hand at us.

"But anyway. It broke my heart and my Paul tried and tried to make it up to me and apologize and one day, I just got tired of being sad. And being strong. I thought, ‘you know what? I love this man and I want to be with him.' And so I forgave him. And he was eternally grateful and we lived so many wonderful happy years together, after that."

She sighed, and smiled, and glanced from me to JC and back to me. I guessed she was talking to me. How nice of JC to make me look like the bad guy.

"What you must remember," she went on to say, "Is that if you're hurt or sad or angry or disappointed, then you still care." She smiled, her bright blue eyes narrowing, staring right into mine. "There's still a chance. Work it out. You belong together."

"We'll try," we said together, backing away from the fence and heading toward the house.

"Good luck, you two," she called after us.

"Thanks for that," I hissed, just out of her earshot. "Now my business will be all over the fucking neighborhood."

"Sorry. She asked me what was up and stuff. I'm sorry." He fell into step behind me and followed me into the house.

"What are you doing here?" I stopped short in the kitchen and whipped around to face him. "I thought we needed some time, or something."

"I had enough time," he said quietly, shrugging one shoulder. "I wanted to see you and talk to you. And tell you I'm sorry and I miss you."

I wanted to say something else, something snappy and bitchy but I stopped. I just... stopped and dropped my hands to my side and stared at him, from that black Fedora that he wore all the time that was the completely wrong shape for his face, to the crease of worry between his brows, his deep set blue-green eyes, a few days of hair growth on his face and his clothing that looked like he'd slept in them. For a few days.

He moved toward me a step and I moved back a step, and he moved toward me until I was backed up against the counter. It was a usual dance for us, except this time he wasn't cocky, pushing me up against the counter with half a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye. Tonight he was serious and somber and trying to get closer. Once I got up against the cabinet I had nowhere else to go.

Slowly, very slowly, his arms circled my waist and he pulled me toward him. My hands slid up the sleeves of his shirt until they rested on his shoulders and in one breath, I lost it. I held onto him, felt his arms close around me and his chin on my shoulder and his breath on my skin and let out every ounce of anger and disappointment and sadness and hurt in a flood of tears.

"I'm so pissed at you," I said through my tears, sobs wracking my body.

"I know. You should be."

I pulled away and tried to regain control. His shoulder was wet, soaked to the skin.

"You don't get to be that guy, this time," I said, sniffling, ripping a paper towel off of its holder and wiping my face. "You don't get to stand there and be all humble and all ‘I made a mistake and I'm owning up to it'."

"Honey, I'm not trying to be anything. I'm here because you won't talk to me. I'm here to talk to you. You want to yell at me, scream at me? I'll stand here and take it."

I sniffled. I thought I would want to, but not if he was offering it. "No."

"Okay, so what do you want? What could I say, to help? To restart us? Or do you not want to?"

I glanced up at him, did a double take when I saw his face. I recognized utter sadness in his eyes, in the downturn of his mouth. Fear flashed across his face and his voice had lost all confidence and macho. He was quiet and submissive, and nervous- chewing the hell of out of his bottom lip.

"You said... when you called me, after that first weekend in LA... you said to give you a chance. To not write you off as a celebrity that fucks a fan and walks away. You said, when I asked you about cheating on the road, that you were a different person. You said, the few times we talked about Robert and about Eva and about you, that you weren't the kind of person to do it, since it had been done to you." I paused, and swallowed, my bravado running rampant and giving me strength I didn't think I had.

"So what you can say, right now, is that it didn't happen. That you really, seriously, didn't undermine everything I believe about you and everything I love and everything you say you are, and kiss that girl on your couch in your house."

"I can't say that, Serena." His voice was so low, so quiet, so full of shame and pain that it hurt my heart. "But it definitely didn't happen like it's happening in your mind. It's not like I tossed her down and kissed her like I kiss you."

I rolled my eyes and braced myself. ‘Here we go, with his side of the story.'

"So, what happened? Everyone is telling me I should hear you out, so tell me. What happened?"

"Okay." He finally let go of me, and leaned against the counter beside me.

"The honest to God, scout's honor, truth is that I didn't invite her. She was invited by a friend of a friend but I couldn't un-invite her after she already showed up. I literally haven't seen her in over a year. You and I have been together almost a year, so it's been even longer since the last time I saw her and longer before that, the last time we hooked up."

He glanced over at me to see if I was following along. I nodded at him to continue.

"So, anyway, she's got some bit acting parts and she was excited about them, so I was telling her about the movie-you know, the script I showed you-- and she's suggesting we run lines and all this and... I never agreed to, I promise you that. So, she says she has an early call time in the morning and gets up to go, and she bends down to kiss my cheek. And somehow she turns her head and gets my lips and just... goes for it. And I... uhm..."

"And you..." I prompted.

"And I... don't stop her." He dropped his chin to his chest and his gaze fell to the floor. "Not right away. I don't know why, I don't have a reason or an excuse, I just... didn't. Slow reflexes, not thinking, whatever it was, it was dumb. It was shitty of me and stupid of me and I can't believe I risked a relationship I've worked so hard for, with someone I want to introduce to my mom with someone I haven't seen in a long time and kind of hope I never see again."

I chewed on his confession for a long moment, mulling it over. If there was one thing JC was not, it was a liar. Even if it didn't benefit him at all to be truthful, he just couldn't help it. It was hard for him to be deceitful. I knew he wasn't lying, but that didn't make what happened any easier to swallow.

"But you did kiss her."

He blinked, twice, his long lashes shading his eyes. "Well, she kissed me, yeah."

"Same thing. But you didn't stop her."

He cocked his head back and blew a breath into the air, staring into the new light fixture he'd hung in the kitchen. "Serena, are you hearing me, or looking for something to still be mad at?"

"Okay, so..." I pushed off of the cabinet and walked to the other side of the kitchen, directly across from him. "Erase the blog article. And I have no idea that this kiss happened and I have no way of finding out, really. Were you planning to tell me?"

"Serena, I swear to God the phone was in my hand to call you when it rang. I swear, and I just knew, when I saw it was you... I knew you'd seen it and I expected you to brush it off. I thought about just not saying anything and pretending it was made up but I knew it would come back to haunt me. If you were gonna hear it, I wanted you to hear it from me."

I crossed my arms and watched him, his eyes nervously darting about the room, standing against the counter, one leg crossed over the other, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He slouched and his head hung low and every once in awhile he pulled a hand out of his pocket to wipe his nose or scratch his forehead-but he stayed quiet and let me think. Neither of us made a sound as we had our quasi- friendly standoff in the middle of the kitchen.

‘Fuck this. I want this over with'.

In one, two, three steps I was across the kitchen and throwing my arms around his neck. He was surprised at my rapid fire reaction but caught up quickly, pulling his hands out of his pockets and wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in my shoulder.

"Oh my God, Serena." His voice was muffled against me, against my blouse. His arms around me squeezed harder and tighter, pulling me closer to him. His heartbeat was crazy fast, erratic, out of control. His wasn't the only one.

"I know. I know." I grabbed a handful of hair and whispered near his ear. "Please tell me you're sorry and you'll never, ever do it again because I can't take it, if you do."

He pulled back, ran his hands up my sides and cupped either side of my face, dug his fingers into my curls. It ran shivers up my spine to look into his eyes and see a pool of tears gathering in them.

"I am so very sorry," he whispered, an inch away from my lips. I wanted to kiss him, but I wanted to hear his apology more. "I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I miss you, and I'm so scared that I fucked this up, and I want it, so badly. I don't want to hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you, I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Okay. Okay." I pulled away, and paced the kitchen, from one end to the other, dragging fingers through my hair.

"So, I'm still mad. But I'm not furious." I stopped in front of him again and took the hand he offered to me. His fingers tangled with mine and he squeezed, holding on tight. "I miss my friend. I miss you, I love you, I want you, I need you, but-- more than all of that mushy stuff, I don't want to look stupid. I don't care who you are, or what you do, or how rich you are. In my life, in my arms, you are Joshua Chasez. No more, no less. You don't get a pass because you're a celebrity surrounded by beautiful women and you just can't help yourself. That's a crock of shit and a cop-out and if you want all of that, you can have it, just let me out of our deal, first."

"I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not trying to take a pass and don't want all that. I'm not making excuses. I'm saying I'm sorry and I was stupid and please give me another chance. Let me make this up to you."

"And if it happens again?"

He pulled on my hand, inching me closer to him. I played at resisting, a smile almost breaking. "It's not happening again. This week was a nightmare."

"I can't be in competition with every woman in Hollywood or worse, every chick you've ever slept with. I can't compete. I won't."

"Honey, no one compares to you. I mean, I can't control them and neither can you but I can control me and I am never, not ever, getting myself in this situation again."

"Promise me that I'm not doing all of this work to move to LA, closer to you, in vain. Promise I won't regret it."

He pulled again, taking our clasped, tangled hands behind his back, bringing me close enough to tip his head and press warm, soft lips to mine. I almost melted into a puddle when he pulled back, looked me in the eye and said, in a voice so gritty that it rubbed right against the nerve in the small of my back, "I will make sure you don't regret it."

I leaned up against him, laid my head on his chest, closed my eyes and exhaled a breath I'd been holding all week. I was lightheaded, relieved, and ready to put the week behind me. Behind us.

"I was about to dump the whole moving to LA idea."

He laughed, the sound muffled through his chest. "Honey, if you don't move to LA, I'm coming to live on your couch."

I tipped my head up as he bent to meet my lips in a feather soft, gentle kiss-- my favorite kind of kisses from him. We took our time, standing together under the glare of the kitchen lights, until I got tired of standing and pulled him into the living room.

We fell together, against each other onto the couch, arms and legs instinctively wrapping themselves around us.

"I'm tired," he said through a yawn, gathering me to him, resting his chin on my head.

"Me too. Rough week?"

"You know better than anyone." He rolled his head to kiss my forehead. "I'm sorry, sweet girl. I am. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"JC, I forgive you. Stop apologizing."

"Just... I'm just making sure."

"I know, but I want to start moving past it. Right now. Can we do that?"

"Mmmhhhmmm." He tipped his head down and lifted my chin with the tip of his finger. I stroked his cheek, his stubble pricking my thumb, but such a welcome feeling after a week from hell. I tilted my head and let him kiss me, long and slow and wanting, the sensuous rhythm and his light moaning made me heady and short of breath.

He sat back against the couch and pulled me up onto him so I straddled him. The thin short sleeved blouse I'd worn to work was quickly pulled over my head and dumped onto the floor. Already erect, my nipples strained against the lace of my bra.

"Lace, " he growled, licking along the edge of each cup. He reached behind me and expertly unclasped the bra. The straps and cups fell away and he flung it aside. It landed on top of my blouse on the floor.

I pulled at his long sleeved t-shirt, hinting at him to take it off. The eclectic Ed Hardy design was nice, and the shirt outlined his chest in a way that made me weak in the knees, but I wanted it off. He pulled it up and over his head, dropping it on top of my growing pile of clothes.

"Mmmm..." I stroked his chest, my hands wandering everywhere- up and over his shoulders, down his arms, across the taut, six pack of abs and back up. His skin was so soft, stretched over well-built muscle. I shuddered at the thought of how close I was to giving him up.

"I'm glad you came. It was hard to stay mad at you when I could see you."

"Like I said, it's easy to deny over the phone. Harder in person. That's why I came. I knew I was gonna lose you if I didn't get here."

I bent to kiss him, captured his lips with my teeth, gently biting at them. His tongue darted out and I played with it, swirling and flicking around it, taking my time. JC was vocal in his enjoyment, moaning and humming. The vibration added to the pleasant sensation and I moaned and hummed along with him.

He was already aroused, as was apparent by the bulge in his jeans pressing against me, his hips already bucking and grinding. I ran my fingers through his thick head of hair, my nails lightly scratching his scalp. He lowered his head to a breast and licked the very tip of the nipple once, and then again, and then again, the sensation shooting lightning bolts down my back with every touch. I arched my back and pressed my hips to him as he steadily ground into me.

"That feels good," I moaned. "Don't stop doing that."

He sucked the entire nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. The vibration was driving me mad, making me grip the fabric of the couch behind his head. He rubbed the other nipple with his the pad of his thumb, moaning with me as my gasps and yelps and cries reached a fever pitch, high and loud.

He released my nipple, an angry red and puffy and erect and landed loud, noisy sucking kisses all over my breasts, down the center of my chest between them. He groaned, loudly, gripped my hips and pulled me tighter against him while he ground into me so hard he'd lifted us off of the couch, his breath coming in short pants timed with his hips. I buried my hands in his hair and rotated my hips to meet his pumps.

"Oh my God...you feel so good..." I moaned and whimpered, moving against him as fast as I could, my climax approaching rapidly.

"Shit... yeah, don't stop," he panted in my ear, muffled against my shoulder. The couch tapped a beat against the wall, matching grunts and groans and growls.

"I'm...mmm! I'm gonna-dontstopdontstopdontstop....I'm coming!"

Orgasm washed over me like a giant tsunami wave-involuntarily, I sucked in a breath, like water being sucked way from the beach, and then in one giant, crashing wave, it hit and consumed and me destroyed everything in its path. Every ounce of hurt and pain and suffering over the last week was drowned in that wave. My hips jerked as it coursed through me, refreshing my spirit and washing everything away. I heard JC grunt and moan and felt his hips twitch before he dropped us back to the couch.

"God, that was so good." I kissed him, wildly, passionately as my climax subsided. We took a moment, catching our breath-- me topless and spent, him grinning madly, his eyes on the ceiling fan turning in slow rhythm. Slowly, breathing returned to normal and enough blood returned to my head to make me realize what had just happened and be sufficiently embarrassed.

"What are you blushing at?" He grinned, teasing. "Never dry humped your boyfriend on the couch?"

I was too happy to really care about the flush crawling up my body. "Not since I was like... 17. But it felt good."

He hooked a hand around my neck and pulled me to him, planting a kiss on my lips. "Yeah, it did."

I stretched and sighed happily, climbing off of his lap and gathering the small pile of clothes. "Come on," I said, offering a hand out to him. "I have an idea of how you make the last week up to me."

He grinned and took my hand, letting me help him up and followed me up the stairs to the bedroom. He almost tripped over the two boxes stacked next to the door.

"You kicking me out?" He pointed to the boxes, taped and labeled with his address.

"That stuff has to get back to your house anyway but yeah I was kicking you out." I slipped out of my linen pants and panties, and tossed them into the basket in the closet, then crawled up into the middle of the bed and laid down. "So take your jeans off and come here."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and did as he was told. His body felt hot as he cuddled up to me, on his side, leaning on an elbow. "Wait a minute, got something here..."

He brushed at my skin with the tip of a finger and held it up to me. "Eyelash. Make a wish."

"It already came true." I blew it away and grabbed his arm to pull him over. I sighed as I felt the weight of him sink onto my body. My legs wrapped around him, my hands ran up and down his sides, from his ribcage to his hips, around to his backside and up his back, gripping and pinching and feeling the ripple beneath the skin as I went.

He dipped his head to the side of my neck, his breath hot and wet, his lips so soft, his light beard so comfortingly scratchy and prickly on my skin. I felt him between us, rigid and pulsing, wanting, searching. My hips began to roll, on their own, the motion caressing him, and he groaned against my neck.

"I want you so bad, baby. I missed you so much."

JC mumbled something, muffled in the crook of my neck, a hand wandering slowly down one side of my body. He pulled back and scooted down the bed, kissing his way down, between my breasts, my mid section, my stomach until he was lying between my legs, teasing like he always did, biting and sucking my inner thighs. Without warning, I felt something stiff and wet, sliding up and down and around, inside and then around again. My hips jerked at the sensation and my hands flailed around until they finally landed in his hair.

"Mmmm," came the report from below. I laughed and laid back and tried to relax and just enjoy the feeling of his tongue playing, exploring, licking, pushing, sliding. It was always blissful, so intimate and special, just between us. I moaned softly as he worked, my hips rolling by impulse, my body reacting, my voice squeaking as the pressure built.

"God, that is good," I mumbled, my fingers in his hair, then sucked in a breath as his tongue flicked, gently and quickly over me. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming!"

My body pulsed, my fingers tangled in his hair, my hips gyrating and jerking, eking out the last drop of orgasm before I let go. I grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled at him, trying to get him to come up. He moved slowly, always at his own pace, kissing his way up until his face met mine, his lips sought mine, our tongues intertwined. He moaned into my mouth as he relaxed against me again.

"I want you." I panted, out of breath and on fire. "Right now. Please."

"Help me," he whispered, hovering just over my body. I reached between us and gripped him, guiding the head into me. I pushed my hips up and he entered and kept pushing until he was inside.

"God, I missed you. Let's never fight again, ever."

"You're kidding, right?" He grunted and thrust, pushing into me with vigor and an energy I'd never felt from him before. "Makeup sex is the best part of fighting."

My hips worked with his, rolling and mashing up against him, my nails clawing at his back. "I don't wanna-oomph! Careful baby! I don't want to fight just to get great sex. Except-ahhh shit, you're fucking me so good right now."

"How about..."He stopped to swipe at a bead of sweat dripping off of his nose. "How about we just have makeup sex without the fighting?"

"Baby, I know you can do two things at once, but let's just concentrate on-oh my GOD!" He laughed and thrust faster, his hips a frenzy of movement, climbing to the pinnacle moment of climax.

"Don't stop... right there... shit, you're gonna make me come."

He drove into me with fierce intensity, balancing on one hand, the other gripping my body at the waist, dripping with sweat. "I'm right behind you. Open your eyes, look at me."

I struggled to open my eyes, on the very edge of pleasure. As soon as I opened them and caught his stare, his eyes opened wide and he sucked in breath. His face flushed a deep red and he grunted as he pushed harder and faster. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck yes! Come with me."

I writhed and grasped and twisted against him, tipping over the point of no return, joining him in grunts and cries of an overwhelming orgasm, intense and powerful, even divided between us. I clenched and squeezed, he groaned and tightened his grip on me, pushing until we milked the last bit of pleasure out. JC's arm gave out and he collapsed, landing heavily on me. I didn't mind at all.

Both arms circled his neck as we heaved against each other, struggling to suck in oxygen, kissing any bit of skin our lips came into contact with. We slicked and slid against each other, each of us glistening with sweat, our legs still intertwined, trying to stay connected.

"I hope that uhm... started the healing process." I opened my eyes and rolled my head to look at him, his head laying on my shoulder, his body still tossed across mine. His eyes were closed but his cocky grin still sat on his lips.

I leaned down and kissed him and the grin spread into a happy smile. "It's a start. I'd say you have a lot more of that kind of work to do, though. A lot more."

"Okay, well. I'm willing to put in long hours." He was mumbling, exhausted and almost incoherent.

"I bet you are. You should rest up. Get some strength back. I expect some overtime in the morning."

He laughed, a single burst of ‘ha', then yawned and sat up. "I'm gonna get us some water. And then I'm going to sleep. You wore me out, mami."

"You're complaining?"

"I didn't say that," I heard from the hallway. I rolled off of the bed and pulled the blanket and sheets back, then crawled inside the cool comfort to wait for him.

"Brought your phone. It's beeping. Missed call and it wasn't me." He handed the phone and a bottle of water to me, walked around to the side of the bed and crawled in beside me. I uncapped the water and took a long, slow gulp of ice cold refreshing water. My throat was dry and scratchy and it felt so good going down.

I dialed into voice mail, expecting something from a member of my family or Melissa, but a strange voice played back to me.

"Hi, Serena, this is Chuck with Taylor Manufacturing. You came in for an interview a few weeks ago and we'd like to have you back in for another conversation. We're pretty flexible so if you could give me a call at---"

I pressed ‘9' to save the message and set the phone on the nightstand. "That was that environmental firm. They want me to come out for another interview."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!" I turned out the bedside and slid further between the sheets, sliding up against him. "This is gonna be a good one. I can feel it."

"I hope so. I'm ready for you to be with me."

"I think I'm ready to be with you." I sighed, a blink away from sleep. "In fact, I'm sure of it. I'm definitely ready to be with you."

The day began slowly and quietly, the scent of something wonderful-pancakes? - and an elegant blend of Columbian roast weaving ribbons through a deep, dreamless slumber.

I laid in bed, motionless, eyes still closed, swaddled in sheets since the blanket had been kicked off overnight. I knew, without even opening my eyes or reaching out, that I was alone. I heard the subtle thump of the bass on the stereo system and the distant clang of activity downstairs. There was rarely a morning that I woke up next to JC that I did not have to crawl out from under a heavy arm. If he was in the bed, he'd have been lying on top of me.

Part of me was afraid to open my eyes, because maybe it was all a dream. Maybe he didn't really get on a plane and fly to Atlanta to face me, to admit his mistake or bad choice or whatever it was we were calling it. Maybe he didn't really do what I subconsciously wished and expected him to do. Maybe it was my mind's idea of some kind of sick joke, to make me feel better and I'd open my eyes and not see our clothes strewn about the room and ‘man stuff' everywhere and happily trip over giant shoes in the middle of the bedroom floor.

It seemed more right that he did. Maybe he really did come to me, to make things right, and didn't make excuses, just said he was sorry and asked for my forgiveness. And maybe I really did give in way too early and too easily, because all I wanted to hear was that he was sorry and he would never, not ever do it again. I didn't think I could take it, if it happened again...and because he would not come out smelling like roses the second time around.

I sniffed, sucking in the fragrances in the room. Aside from the aromas emanating from the floor below, the pungent scent of his cologne hung in the air, muted by a few hours but still noticeable. On top of that was the smell of the soap he used-some fancy Nordstrom brand laden with rosemary and tea tree extract. I smiled to myself, a warm glow spreading upward from the pit of my stomach. I wasn't dreaming. He came.

One by one, my eyes slid open, squinting against the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the sheer curtains over each of the large windows in my bedroom.  I sat up and stretched, working the kinks out of tight, knotted muscles. ‘We may have over done it, last night', I thought to myself, and then giggled, thinking I'd probably feel it for a few days. I leaned back to swing my legs out of the bed and felt paper under my hand and heard a light crinkle. Laid across JC's pillow was a note, his loopy scrawl scratched onto a piece of notebook paper:

‘If you wake up and I'm not here, stay up here. Do NOT come downstairs! I'm serious. Love, C'

I rolled my eyes at being ordered to not go downstairs in my own house, but I was going to obey. Mostly. I hopped out of bed, joints popping and muscles protesting.

‘Okay, I probably over did it on the couch. There is a reason why people stop doing that at 17.'

I pulled open the nearest drawer, threw on a t-shirt and stepped into the hallway, tip toeing toward the banister.  I heard the gurgle of the coffeemaker, the hiss of the electric griddle, and his voice, singing along to the music-off-key and jazzed up.

And I just can't.... pull myself away
Under a spell I can't break

I just can't stop.... No.... I just can't stop
And I just can't... free myself, no way
But I don't... want to escape
I just can't stop.... No.... I just can't stop

I listened to him for a few seconds, mildly entertained by his slower, funky version.  I used to read stories about how he created a jazz version of every song he ever heard and never really believed it until I met him. He did it all the time, often subconsciously. It was hilarious and endearing and one of the things I really loved about him, but something I had become so used to that I hardly even noticed anymore.

My stomach rumbled at the even stronger smell of food, so loud I thought he might have heard it over the music and the noise of the kitchen. I bent over the railing and called down to him.

"Hey!"

"Hey, you," I heard from down the stairs and around the corner. "You're not down here, are you?"

"No," I said, inching toward the staircase. "Who do I have to sleep with to get some of that food you're cooking?"

"You're lookin' at him," he said, stepping into view just in time to see my foot hit the top step. He was casually comfortable in sweat pants and a t-shirt and one of my aprons that was so short I usually let my nephews wear it when they came over. ‘Kiss the Cook' was emblazoned across the chest in puffy red paint and it was tied tightly around his waist. He was disheveled and unshaven, wielding a spatula in a way that told me he had no clue what he was doing. But he looked so cute doing it.

"No, no," he said, waving the spatula at me. "Get back in there. I got it handled. Can I bring you something?"

My face scrunched into a scowl and I backed up toward the bedroom door. "Coffee?"

"You got it. Gimme a minute, since it just finished brewing." Expectant, he watched me for a moment, then grinned and waved the spatula again, shooing me back into the bedroom. "Your pancakes are burning, sweetie. Get back in there."

"Whatever!"

I turned on a heel and stomped back to the bedroom to wait, steeling myself for something possibly burnt or undercooked. Maybe at the same time. I freshened up in the bathroom and climbed back into bed, straightening the sheets and flipped on the TV. JC appeared at the door, slowly walking toward me and gingerly carrying an overfull mug with a billow of steam rising out of it. Tucked under his arm was the Saturday edition of the paper, neatly folded over.

"For you, miss," he said, handing me the mug. "I can't find that tray thing that you use. Where do you keep it?"

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said, taking it, sipping a little off the top, and then sliding the paper out from his armpit. "Perfect. Uhm, the tray... it's in the pantry, behind the door."

"Okay. For me, miss," he said, bending over me. No sooner had his lips brushed mine than he was off again, rushing back out of the room. "I haven't burned anything yet, and I'm really proud of myself. Almost done, be back in a few."

I watched a few minutes of the news and enjoyed the first swallows of coffee that I didn't have to go downstairs and make. After the news segment began to repeat, I snapped off the TV and set the mug down on the bedside table.

In all the months we'd dated, JC had never attempted to cook for me. He didn't really have the interest or patience to cook, and breakfast to him was something quick from the toaster-an Eggo or a Pop Tart or something frozen, warmed over in the microwave. I hated Pop Tarts and frozen food, so if I wanted something else, I had to cook it.  Waiting for breakfast was unfamiliar territory and I was a little bored, sitting there waiting, so used to hopping out of bed and going about my day. I could be bored for once, though-- it wasn't like this was going to become a regular thing. He was most certainly still sucking up, but I would take it.

My phone sat on the table where I'd left it the night before. Just in case I was dreaming that call, I listened to the message again, my heart pounding out of my chest with excitement. I had a good, positive feeling about Taylor Manufacturing. They had a state of the art facility and brand new office space and were positioned - with a Government grant-to make a difference in green manufacturing. Working for them would give me the chance to do something familiar in a completely new field.

I couldn't stop myself from daydreaming about landing in LA for good, and not having to worry about counting down the days or the hours we had together. We wouldn't always be together, but we would always-eventually-- come home. No more dropping him off at an airport and driving back to an empty house, not even knowing when I would see him next. No more dragging myself out of the car to get on a plane and fly away from him.  I was excited-scared, but excited -- about being able to go home. 

It didn't even occur to me until that moment that LA, not Atlanta, was home.

I set the phone into the cradle to charge, but picked it back up again and tapped out a message:  ‘JC showed up here last night. We had a good talk. And a good fuck. We are back on track. He's cooking, pray for me.'

A few seconds later, the phone beeped and a return message came from Melissa:  ‘I know. He called me when you weren't there. He was afraid you'd gone to LA. He begged me not to tell you he was here and I promised I wouldn't. I'm happy for you. No more fighting. Have fun.'

I heard JC on the steps, dishes and silverware clinking against each other. In the seconds I had before he would appear in the doorway again, I rushed a last message to her:

‘JC says no fighting=no makeup sex. After last night, I might have to pick another fight soon. Gotta go.'

*

"So now I know you can make pancakes."

I licked a bead of syrup off of my fork and glanced over at him, tearing into a second helping. "I will expect this on a regular basis."

"Don't push your luck, honey. Law of averages says it'll be at least three years before I make another perfect batch of pancakes." He stacked the misshapen, flat cakes into a large pile on his plate and gestured at me. "Syrup?"

"You sure worked up an appetite," I commented, sliding the small bottle of Mrs. Butterworth across the tray toward him. "Where, exactly, do you put all the food you eat?"

"I'll show you later," he shot back, brows wiggling and evil grin spreading from the corner of his mouth. A steady stream of syrup poured over the short stack, pooling up on top, oozing over the sides and onto the plate. He turned the plate right, then left, arranged the stack just so, and then sliced into it, creating a perfect, syrup soaked wedge, which he then shoved into his mouth.

He nodded, and chewed, and uttered something that sounded like, "Ifsghut."

Puzzled, I just stared, and shrugged. He rolled his eyes and chewed, his cheeks so full they puffed out, resembling a chipmunk storing food for the winter. His high cheekbones pushed his cheeks up so high that his eyes, small anyway, were mere slits in his face.

"IfsGHUT!"

"JC...chew. Swallow. I swear, CJ could teach you a lesson or two."

He chewed more, swallowed, sucked down a gulp of coffee and smacked his lips. "I said ‘It's GOOD.' You didn't understand that?"

"Nope, I don't speak talks with mouth full.  It is good, though. I'm pleasantly surprised."  I swirled the last bite around my plate, catching the remnants of melted butter and warm syrup and popped it into my mouth, then scooted back in the bed, up against the pillows, content to watch JC eat.

He was content to be watched, sitting cross legged on the bed, methodically dividing and conquering the stack. Every wedge was the exact same size, and he made his way around until the last wedge was gone. Exact. Precise.

"Thank you for coming out here."

I didn't even know where that came from. I wasn't specifically thinking about it and wasn't planning on saying it. It just fell out, in the course of watching him do things he normally did, in the way he normally did them, without realizing the way he did everything was different, from eating pancakes to loving me. He was just so different and I didn't think I'd ever get used to him. Nor did I want to.

I hadn't been looking at him when I said it, so when the room got quiet, I looked up and our eyes met-his bright blue, framed by long, luscious lashes that seemed awfully decadent for a man, and my grey that almost welled up from the way he was looking at me.

"You wouldn't have been able to keep me away from you," he said, his voice low, his expression solemn. "I'm lucky you even let me in the door. You didn't have to. I'm thankful you did, though."

I dipped my head, suddenly a little shy and smiled. He leaned around the tray, uncomfortably bending to the side. I leaned forward and our lips met in the middle. He tasted like butter and syrup and coffee. It tasted like the best thing ever.

"So, I suppose I have to clean up the kitchen, huh?"

"That's the rule, honey."

"And I suppose you left me a big mess, huh?"

JC shrugged, but avoided looking at me, instead stacking our plates on the tray. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll find out in a few minutes. Relax though. Kitchen's not going anywhere."

He scooted back against the other set of pillows and took the sports section from me. I followed his lead and relaxed as well, flipping through the Life section, reading the comics and ‘Dear Prudence' by habit. Eventually he ended up leaning against me, my arm over his shoulder and across his chest. He rubbed his full belly and slowly drifted into a snooze. I slipped out from under him and picked up the tray, stacked with plates and mugs and silverware and crept down the steps.

As I rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of the kitchen-or what used to be my kitchen-and felt faint. I managed to slide the tray onto the one bare spot on the counter that I could find and grip the side of the arched entryway.

An unbelievable mess greeted me as I peeked in, again. Flour coated just about every surface, as if it had plumed volcanically out of the bag and dusted everything in its path. Eggshells and an open container of milk and the butter tray covered one counter. Something was pooled under the electric griddle. I hoped it was butter, but I wasn't sure. My nose caught a whiff of scorch in the air and my eyes shot to the coffeepot. The burner had been left on and the coffee that had dripped on to the warming plate had caramelized and burnt to a crisp.

"JOSHUA SCOTT, YOU BETTER GET YOUR SKINNY ASS--"

I was interrupted by a blur of white t-shirt and lime green sweatpants from behind me. "I know, I know. I'm helping. Look, I'm here. See?"

Slack jawed, I watched him begin to pick up shells and wrappers, then fell into step beside him with the garbage can.

"What the hell happened down here?"

Sheepish, he avoided my pointed stare and gave his head a little shake. A cloud of flour rose as he pushed a mound of it into the garbage with the side of his hand.

"I didn't want you to wake up before I finished. I screwed up the first batch, so I panicked, and I dropped the flour and it went everywhere. And then I didn't start the coffee, so I was worried about that. It turned out good, though. Right?"

"Yeah..."

He caught the mild tension and turned around, eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Breakfast was really good. Thanks. I'm proud of you."

"Serena, what? Are you mad? I'm gonna help."

"No..." I let my eyes wander the room slowly and then settle back on him. "Not very mad, anyway." I shrugged and he gave me a look.

"I'm not complaining," I said in response. "I love that you cooked for me, and please, please do it again. But I never leave you with a big mess to clean up. I want us to be fair to each other."

"Okay," he said, picking at a sponge. "I wasn't leaving it for you. I was coming down to clean up."

Was it going to be like this all the time? Like having a large child? Careful not to hurt his feelings or make sure I didn't pick at his efforts to do something nice for me? I could already see how much simpler my life was when I was on my own. It's a good thing that simple wasn't on the agenda.

I reached for the towel hanging off of oven door handle, twirled it so it wound tightly and popped it. It his leg with a loud snap. He yelped "OW!" and nearly jumped across the room, his eyes wild and mouth open in surprise. 

I giggled and wound the towel up again. "Don't let it happen again, Mister. I have something I want to show you, so hurry up."

Before I could snap my wrist to let the towel fly again, he grabbed it and yanked it out of my hands. Large hands ran the length of the towel and he slowly began to wind it. His eyes twinkled with mischief and his tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth. Sensing the bitch that payback would be, and remembering that I only had a long t-shirt on, I screamed and ran for the door.

"Uh huh. Can dish it but she can't take it," I heard from around the corner, and then a deep laugh and the sound of the dishwasher opening.

*

"Mkay, so... you have to promise not to laugh at this."

"I will do no such thing. I will laugh as much as I want. What am I not laughing at?"

JC plopped himself onto the couch in front of the TV, arms spread across the top of the cushions. I selected an unmarked DVD case from the small stack next to the TV, popped it open and slid the home-made disc into the player, picked up the remote and sat next to him.

"You'll see when I start it. Just watch." I gulped, took a deep breath, and pressed play.

JC started laughing almost immediately as the wobbly, hand held camera blurred and came into focus, settling on a close-up of a familiar face. I remembered the day well-the State Band Championship Competition. I was a geeky, twittering mess, my hair so curly and frizzy that it looked like a puffball underneath the headgear. 

As the camera zoomed out, my full uniform came into view. I had to laugh at myself in the ill fitting white polyester pantsuit, almost military in design, with the bold blue stripe down the side of each pant leg and the utilitarian black shoes every member was required to wear. It was blazing hot and every face in the auditorium flushed pink with the heat.

JC was having a great time at my expense, pointing and cackling at my teenage self. "How long have you been keeping this from me? This is awesome!"

"My mom dropped it by a few weeks ago. I told her we talked about it a long time ago and I asked her if she had any old tapes she said she'd look. They found it and burned a copy for me." He busted out in another loud laugh as the camera caught me grinning wide, braces gleaming in the sunlight. "I'm... so glad I decided to share it with you."

Just then, the sound increased as the first band struck up the beginning chords of their selection. "This was the band to beat, right here. God, they were so good."  Our heads bobbed to the music, the sound loud and the images blurry as they crossed the screen.

"When do you strut your stuff? I wanna see you in action."

"So you can laugh," I said, pointing the remote at the TV and fast forwarding a few segments. "Keep in mind that they let Chris tape it so you'll get random boobs in there."

"Mmm," he hummed, so close to my ear that his breath tickled my cheek. "I like boobs."

"I am not shocked," I said, trying not to smile. A smile would encourage him. "And I love you? Why?"

"Yep, you love me." He let an arm drop around me, his hand curling around my shoulder and pulling me toward him. "Come here. Kiss me, you thing with boobs."

"Watch the-are you watching?" I played at trying to pull away from him, but wasn't really trying all that hard.  "Stop it!"

"That's not what you said last night."

"Shut up and watch-look, there I am!"

I could just barely make myself out in the sea of white on the field as we took our formation and started the first few notes of Depeche Mode, Personal Jesus. Thankfully, Chris thought to zoom in on me and my young, clumsy body filled the screen. I remembered trying to count and remember my notes and dance cues at the same time-somehow I managed to not stumble over anyone.

"Uh oh... shake it, mama!"

He bobbed his head and tapped his foot to what must have been the most horrid version of that song he'd ever heard, occasionally laughing and clapping at the cheesy dance moves that each section did in accompaniment with the song. The choreography called for a few tame hip shakes and head tosses, the rest of the time keeping the beat and solidarity with a rhythmic back and forth movement of our instruments. Looking at it from the viewpoint of the stands, it looked pretty cool.

"That was good," he said when it was over, adding a few claps of sarcastic applause. "Did you guys win?"

"Second place. Not bad."

I reached forward and pressed the ‘stop' button on the remote and turned toward him, tucking a leg up underneath me. "So now you've seen me in high school." My bottom lip stuck out, forming a pout. "You laughed at me."

As if on cue, he burst into laughter again, his eyes crinkling up on the sides. "I laughed a lot, at you." He grabbed my head and pulled it toward him, kissed my temple and let go. "That was awesome. Thanks for sharing that with me. That's all I get to see?"

"That's all you get to see. Maybe I'll show you more on our tenth anniversary."

His smile froze for half a breath and then grew wider. "You're gonna let me hang around for ten years?"

"It'll go fast." I settled against him as a heavy arm settled onto my shoulders. "Can you believe it'll be a year, soon?"

The fingers of one hand curled up into my hair and gently pulled. JC stared off into the room, through the vertical blinds of the glass doors leading to the patio, out into the backyard. He seemed lost, deep in thought, before he finally answered.

"I really can't, actually," he said, an oddly emotional tinge to his voice. "Feels like yesterday that I met you. I still feel like I don't even know you, sometimes."

I shuddered at the sensation of his hands rubbing my scalp, soothing and yet electrifying. He definitely knew how to work with his hands.  "We are gonna get a crash course in each other, very soon. I feel it in my bones."

"I'm feelin' last night in my bones. We're not 20 years old anymore, you know that?"

I chuckled and offered an innocent smile. I was hurting, too but I'd never admit it to him. "It was fun though, huh?"

He answered with a wink and bent to graze in the crook of my neck, his stubble pricking and tickling me. "Fun should maybe not hurt so bad the next day."

He groaned and shifted, then seemed to sink lower into the couch. My head dropped to his chest and I sighed against him.  It was frightening how close I had become to never having that again-- never feeling his heart beat through his shirt, never riding the rise and fall of his breathing, never enveloped in the light cloud of delicious manly scent that was just... him. I could pick him out anywhere, just based on his smell.

"JC."

"Hm."

I sat up and turned so I was facing him on the couch. "What is... the craziest place you've ever had sex?"

His mouth dropped open, and his eyelids fluttered closed. Then opened again as his eyes drifted to the ceiling. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"I was just thinking about what you said-that you feel like you don't know me. Sometimes I feel the same... so let's get to know each other. Weirdest place you ever had sex. Tell me."

"You realize I've been all over the world, right?" He rubbed his chin, almost smiling. "Uhm. I want to say... God, I don't know. Maybe-okay." He looked over at me, square in the eye, and said, "Restroom in Germany."

Blink. "Come again?"

He nodded. "Right. Men's restroom. I mean, we were followed everywhere over there, and one of us would have to like, stand guard so we could use a bathroom in peace. Well this one night, I couldn't find anyone and I couldn't wait, so I just ran in there real quick..."  He chuckled, the memory seeming to become more vivid the more he shared.

"So this girl...she followed me in there. I turned around and... hello. We didn't really have sex. She cornered me. And I was young and... horny..." JC collapsed in a fit of laughter, falling forward toward me. I pushed him back upright.

"Wait," I said, giggling more at him than with him. "That's not sex. That's not even a weird place to get felt up. Who hasn't done it in a seedy bathroom?"

"In Germany," he said, incredulous. Giving up, he tossed up a hand and said, "Honey, I don't know... I don't have sex in weird places. Outside of like, the beach, on Hawaii, I'm not that daring. Your turn."

I pounded my fist into the cushion in mock frustration. "I was sure you had an answer that wouldn't make me sound like a freak."

"Well, now," he said, rearing back. "Go on."

"Uhm, okay." I started to laugh, now embarrassed at what I was about to admit. "When I was in high school, my boyfriend and I went to the elementary school down the street and uhm...had sex on the merry go round."

His smile faded. "Serena."

I giggled and gave him a mischievous grin. "What?"

"What if some kids saw you?"

I scoffed. "I'm not that bad. It was at night. And it happened fast. You know... teenage guy--not of the Chasez caliber of love machines."

"But outside? In public? You are a freak. I love freaks." He leaned over to kiss me but I dipped away.

"Takes one to know one. Okay...uhm. Place you've always wanted to have sex."

He shook his head slowly. "I'm way more interested in your answer. It's probably airplane bathroom, huh? Like the ultimate in conquering your fear of flying." 

"Actually..." I felt a blush crawl up my body and a bubble of nervous laughter escaped. "It was a trip to Vegas and I had to get drunk to get on the plane. It's so cliché, though. I don't think I know anyone hasn't done that."

He wagged his head. "It's not my favorite place to have sex. I don't see how anyone can feel sexy in a shit smelling box."

I choked on a laugh, pointing and nodding. "And that's why I'll never do it again. So, you don't have an answer?"

"Uhm...movie theater," he replied, an answer that surprised me. I couldn't imagine anything he hadn't done yet, let alone something so basic as a clandestine, hurried session in a dark theater. "I've thought about it. Tempted a couple of times but... you never know who's watching."

I didn't know whether to believe him or not-so I just stared at him, speechless. He shrugged both shoulders and grinned. "Serious. What?"

"JC...that's... I can't believe you've never... that's what the back row is for!"

He looked away, and then back at me, and shook his head. "Who are you?!"

"Well, I didn't say I've done it! I'm just surprised you haven't."

"You've had sex on playground equipment and I'm the freak? Uhm..." He lowered his eyes to his leg where I was subconsciously picking at random hairs and laid a hand over mine, stroking the back of it. "I'm kind of shy about that stuff. You know I like to keep my freakin' behind closed doors. So, now you answer the question."

"Football stadium."

My answers were having the most hilarious effect on him- he would look at me and then look away and then lean against the armrest of the couch and pinch the bridge of his nose. He acted like he expected me to be the pristine "sweet girl" image that must dominate the picture of me in his head. He most certainly didn't know me yet. I was sure I didn't know him yet. Not really, as much as I'd studied and memorized and tried to ‘read' him. We didn't know each other, at all.

"Okay. Wow," he said, nodding slowly, rubbing his forehead. "That's...wow. But..." he leveled a finger at me. "What if you end up on the Jumbotron?"

I shrugged, nonchalant, then both arms shot up into the air, mimicking two goal posts, and I yelled, "TOUCHDOOOOOWNNN!"

JC turned his head, covering his mouth with his hand but the couch was shaking with his silent laughter. We both erupted into loud giggles, falling back against the couch, near tears until we were limp and sniffling, wiping eyes and noses.

"Okay, so, you... find some empty stadium and decide we're having sex there. But did you know there are like... long range cameras out there?"

"What? Long range cameras?"

"Long range cameras," he repeated, nodding. "Like, cameras that can see you even when you think no one's watching. Don't you ever look at that stuff on the internet? Like, people having sex in public who think they can't be seen? Balconies, living rooms with the curtains open? Hotel rooms?"

"Oh." A thought crept into my mind and I was suddenly a little scared. "Do you think someone was watching us in the hotel? Maybe filming it?"

"Oh, I doubt it. Probably not. But if we have sex at a football stadium? Someone's watching. Guaranteed." He nodded, laughed, and then added, "It'd be hot though."

Intrigued, I dug deeper. "So, does public sex turn you on?"

"Well...like, out by the shed at your parent's house? That was hot. On general principle?"  He cringed, then shuddered, and then shook his head, slightly. "The idea is sexy. Thinking about doing it with you is sexy. But I think you have to be the kind of person that really gets into that and that's not me. I get nervous about things showing up that people I know- like my mom-- might stumble on to. You know?"

"But would you be that way if no one knew you, or no one cared enough to film it?"

JC rolled his eyes and dramatically dropped his head back against the couch cushion. "People always care enough to film it. I just mean that when I get down I like to feel comfortable enough to really enjoy it. Not have any inhibitions or anything. I think public sex just-- it sounds fun in theory but not in practice."

"Isn't that the appeal?" I gripped his leg, high up on his thigh, and moved higher. "The danger of maybe getting caught? Not that you weren't totally sexy that night out by the shed, but wasn't it more that my family was close and could have caught us?"

"Well, sure," he said, watching my hand roam around his lap. "I mean, once or twice it's probably fun. I wouldn't want to do that too many times, though. It makes me so nervous I can't...you know... perform."

I slid a hand across his chest, letting it travel across his abs and back down. "Oh, and we definitely need you to be able to perform."

JC growled, a low rumble that reignited the flame in the pit of my stomach. "Don't tease me, woman. I wonder what would happen if I said no." 

I chuckled and gave him a sideways glance. "It would take everything in you to say no."

He leaned onto my shoulder, laughing to himself. I laughed with him, playing in his hair and bent my head to softly kiss his cheek. He lifted his head to meet my lips, light moans coming from him. When he pulled back, he settled against the couch and sighed, eyes closed.  Content.

"So, what are you saying, you wanna do me in public? I probably wouldn't turn that down the first few times."

"No, not at all. I mean... not unless..."

He groaned and one eye opened, a baby blue orb rolling in my direction.

"...but if you won't like it, then no. I was just asking. Just to know."

The eye closed and he shook his head slowly. "Not likely, sweet girl."

"Of course not," I replied with a snort. "You don't even walk around without 2 layers of clothing on."

"I like to be covered," he answered in almost a mumble, starting a deep breath that usually led to a nap.

"So...do you stay friends with your exes?"

I wished I knew where that question came from. It wasn't one I was planning on asking, but once it popped into my head, it traveled directly to my mouth and fell out. It was out before I even realized I had asked it.

He didn't react, at first-his eyes didn't open, he didn't flinch, didn't swallow, didn't breathe. Eventually he slid a hand over to my lap, where my hands were now clasped tightly together. He worked his fingers between them, separating them, and then, fingers intertwined, brought our hands back to his lap. Only then did his eyes open and his head roll in my direction.

"She wasn't an ex."

"Wasn't she? She's someone you were with, at some point..."

"You sure you want to go there? I thought you wanted to get over it, get past it, start healing, like right now?"

His words, echoing mine from the night before, should have stopped me in my tracks, but didn't. The conversation turned on a dime from light and flirty to serious, and I felt powerless to stop myself from taking it there.

"I don't know, JC. I don't know what I want, right now. The closer we get to me moving out there, the more scared I get about the women in your past. Or worse-- your current, because you give me reason to be, if you stay connected to women you've dated or slept with. And maybe you can walk away, give a wink and a smile and a ‘thank ya honey, see ya around'."  I bobbed my head and put on my best JC impression-he wasn't amused by it. 

"It's different for women and I don't buy that they can fuck you one day and be platonic the next. They have to still care for you, and the second I screw up, they'll be there to soothe and console you. I'm not stuck up, you know.  I feel...like I'm being set up to fail. And when I do, you have back-ups. And back-ups for your back-ups."   

JC tucked in his bottom lip and bit down on it, his eyes fixed on our fingers still tangled together. I couldn't tell if he was mad or just thinking, but the longer we sat there in silence the worse I felt about what I had said.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, JC," I said, in an effort to apologize, take it back, remove some of the venom from my words and my tone. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm harping on this-"

A gentle squeeze of my hand in his caught my attention. "You have no idea," he said, his voice gritty, rubbing on the nerve at the small of my back. "You have no idea how bad I want to say that you have nothing to worry about and how you can trust me and all that."

I nodded. "I know. I know you want to say that and reassure me, because that's you."

"The thing is, I can't make an enemy out of everyone. I'm not one for kicking people out of my life--you know that about me. And the business I'm in, I see people all the time, everywhere. I have to be able to work and function without avoiding this person or that person because we had a connection at some point. So, I don't know. You'll just have to have faith in us, I guess."

"Okay, but I did." I tipped his chin with a finger, turning his face toward me. Caressing the stubble there with the backs of my fingers I stared into his half open eyes to make sure he was listening.

"I did have faith in us, JC. I had no reason to think you would..." I dropped my hand and heard a heavy sigh-then was surprised to realize it came from me. "You kept saying not to worry, that you hadn't and you wouldn't, even after I told you about what happened with Robert. Did you know almost every boyfriend I have ever had has cheated on me? What am I doing wrong?"

JC's chest barreled with the deep breath he took and he unwound his fingers from mine. "Nothing. Nothing, honey it's not you. Look-- I can't do this right now.  Last night you said we were moving on; today you won't let it go. Obviously, you're not as ready to move on as you said you were. I can't apologize for the rest of my life."  

Sadly, he got up from the couch and padded slowly, quietly up the stairs.  

I stayed downstairs, in the same spot he left me in, listening to him move around upstairs. He probably expected me to run up there and apologize and smooth things over. Again. I was tired, though. So tired of the fighting and the making up and the moodiness (from both of us). Things would only get worse when we were in close proximity with nowhere to escape, nowhere to hide and no waiting it out until one of us was going home.

He was right, though about one thing-I really wasn't as ready to move on as I told myself I was.

I heard him in the hallway, the floorboards creaking with every step. And then silence. And then footsteps on the stairs. I glanced up, surprised to see him back downstairs, even more surprised to see him resume his seat on the couch next to me.

"So."

"So..." I eyed him, wondering what was up.

"So... you were supposed to come upstairs, after me."

An eyebrow lifted-I knew him better than I thought I did. "I was?"

He nodded, once.  "I was waiting for you. And then I was going to say all this cool, awesome, romantic stuff to you and then lay you down and make love to you."

"Really." I couldn't help the smile that was spreading across my face, or the lightening of my mood. "Sorry I missed out on that. Maybe you should have given me some kind of clue, like by not getting up and walking out of the room."

"My bad," he said, with a dip of his head. So cute it made it hard to stay strong. "I needed a minute. But I'm back. So, do you mind if I say all the cool stuff to you right now?"

"Not at all." I waived a hand at him, ending in a flourish. "You may begin."

He laughed a little, then grabbed my hands and held them both and when I looked up again, the expression on his face was indescribable-so serious but so soft. I think I melted into a puddle, right there on the couch.

 "You didn't really let me say I was sorry. Last night. And I was wrong to let you just blow it over. I mean, I know you just wanted to so it didn't hurt so bad, but I need to say it. And you need to hear it. I fucked up. I almost lost you and that was scary because I need you." He squeezed my hands in his and held onto them tightly, like I was going to pull away and run off. I considered it, if only because I felt a terrifying swell of emotion coming.  

"I'm sorry," he was saying, scooting closer to me, still gripping my hands. I squeezed back and he loosened up a little. "I'm really, so sorry. I promise you, it will never, ever happen again.  I don't expect you to believe me, but do believe that I love you, and I want to be with you, and I am working hard to earn your trust back. Your complete trust. I know it won't happen overnight but I hope you'll let me know when I have it again."

By the time he finished his speech, probably painstakingly prepared in the few minutes he was upstairs by himself, tears were threatening to spill over the edges of my eyelids and down my cheeks. I struggled to keep it together. I wanted to be done with the crying and the sadness. He came to see me and tried to make it better... so why wasn't it? Why was I still crying?

"Thank you," I managed to mumble. I felt my nose swell and my nostrils flare, as they did when I was about to cry. It was probably a glowing red bulb in a matter of seconds. "For saying it. And making me hear it. It helps. And I love you, too. And I want to be with you, too. And uhm..." I sniffled, a sob caught in my throat. "I know it's not fair to you, to hold onto this so... I have to... I'm gonna work on, you know, moving past it."

He let go of a hand and pulled me toward him and then wrapped both arms around me, settling back against the couch. I hiccupped into the hollow of his neck, trying to stop the whimpering and the hot, salty flow of tears.

It had been a few minutes since the last tear fell when I finally sat up. I wiped my face with the bottom of my t-shirt. I could feel how puffy and swollen my eyes were. It hurt to blink, so I just squinted at him.

"I hate my crying face," I warbled, then hiccupped again.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, catching a residual tear with the tip of a finger.

"Liar," I said, but smiled.

"So..." he said, his voice low.

"So," I whispered, my throat raw.

"So... how can I make this up to you? Are you gonna be able to let this go? Or is there something else I should do or say?"

What a great question.

What could he do, besides what he was already doing? Being there. Treating me well. Still not making excuses or giving stupid reasons, but taking full responsibility. The burden was on me now, apparently.  If I was forgiving him, I had to do it all the way. Anything less would be unfair to either of us-he'd always feel like he was working off a punishment and I'd never feel like he did enough to make up for it.

"I just need some time, I guess," I admitted finally. "I want to let it go and for it to be over and for us to go back to the way we were. I just... I can't push it there. Not by myself."

"Well, I'm here. You're not by yourself. Please let me be here for you."

It was a surreal experience, sitting in my living room with JC Chasez staring so earnestly into my eyes, almost pleading for this to work out, for another chance. I did not, at any point in my past, imagine that I would be in the kind of position I was in. It was a little unbelievable, but these giant hurdles that we had to jump made it so, very real.

"You know the weirdest thing about this? About us?" 

He shook his head, but said nothing. I toyed with the bottom of my t-shirt, soaked with my tears.

"Way back in the day, like when Schizo came out, I was obsessed with you. I would have dreams about you, so vivid I would wake up and wonder if they were real.  I'd imagine seeing you somewhere and our eyes would meet and you would be totally taken by my beauty..." I laughed, a little nervous at admitting my previous fantasies. "And it would be happily ever after. I don't think I ever imagined what comes between the meeting and the ever after. I think most people don't."

"My mind never got past the sex, when I met you."  When I laughed, he laughed, too. "Honest. I'm a man, and you're hot. That's really all I was thinking about. You're not the only one guilty of that."

"Yeah, I kind of knew that. So I pushed back hard when you started calling me after I came home. I was surprised you wanted anything more than sex. And I guess the weird thing is that we ended up dating, because now that I know you, I can't imagine you with someone like me. Does that make sense?"

A wrinkle creased his forehead.  "No. Not at all. Why do you say that?"

"Well, I mean... I was fucked up. I had all this turmoil about Regina; I didn't even know I had a father." I recounted my issues on one hand, hoping I wouldn't need the other when I was finished.  

"I was so insecure about you. And about us. I guess I see you with like... uber confident, way sexy, Goddess type of women. The women in your life shouldn't scare me and I think if you didn't already know me, it would bug the shit out of you that I even think about them. And I think-- well, I know that's why that--the kiss--fucked with my head, because I already thought that in a tossup between boring old down home Serena and an exciting hot Hollywood actress chick that you might pick her over me."

JC didn't respond. But I didn't really expect him to.

"I really don't want it to, but that scares, me, JC. It scares the living shit out of me, so I'm just gonna put this out there. If you don't want this-this, being us- or you want to pull back a little or take a break, I need to know now. I'm about to pick up my entire fucking life and move it to the West Coast. I want the best benefit to be that I'm close to you, and I so wanted this move to not be about you...but life in LA will suck if I'm not with you."

"Serena, we're talking in circles. I never said I didn't want this or-"

"I know." I held up a hand and he stopped, but huffed a frustrated breath.  "Look, I know. You're here and you love me and you want to be with me.  I heard you. I'm just saying I know you're kind of stretching your likes to be with me and what if... I mean, what if this becomes too big of a stretch for you? What if the stretch breaks?"

A long moment of silence followed while I bravely looked him in the eye and he returned my gaze, intense as ever. His jaw was set, his breathing shallow. "There is no stretch. That isn't how I feel," he said, finally. "I wish I could say something to turn that around for you."

"If you could say it, I would repeat it to myself until I believed it."

"You're more to me than what you look like, and you know that. I look for someone that matches me. That challenges me and makes me think. You match me better than anyone I've ever been with, and if you don't see that, I don't know what to tell you. And if you don't see the sexy thing I see when I look at you,  then honey you need new mirrors."

Unexpectedly, a burst of laughter shot out. It wasn't really all that funny, but I could laugh or I could cry some more. I had a headache from crying, so I laughed. He smiled and bobbed his head a little, like he was proud that he could make me laugh.

"But seriously," he continued, "Every day, I think about you coming out there and us being able to hang out together. All the time. No one has to go home in three days or five days or six weeks or three months. I'm really looking forward to that. You just don't even know how much."

Yes, I did. I did, I did, I did.

"I really can't wait to be there," I breathed, still staring into his eyes.

"It'll be great. But honey, you have to forgive me, or this doesn't work. I mean it, when I say I can't apologize forever."

I inhaled deeply and sat up straight, then slowly let the breath out. Letting it go. Resolving not to bring it back, again. Really, seriously moving forward this time. I grabbed his hand and held it, squeezed it in mine, and said, with the most conviction I could muster, "We're gonna be fine."

"I hope so," he said, squeezing back. 

"I love you, so much."

"I love you, too. Just keep remembering that."

"I will. I do, everyday." 

I leaned forward, toward him as he leaned toward me. Our lips met in what started as a light peck but grew into something deeper as he pressed his mouth onto mine. Insistent and lingering and almost desperate, his tongue forced my mouth open and teased mine, coaxing it into playing with his. I wrapped both arms around his neck and laid back, pulling him down on top of me, sighing into his mouth as his weight sank onto me. I think my entire body exhaled in relief.

"We are too old for the couch," he mumbled against my neck, but made no moves to get up.

"We're not too old to lay here," I said, smiling up at the ceiling. "I just want to lay with you and be close to you."

"Mkay." He settled onto me, reaching back to hook his hands behind my knees and wrap my legs around him.

"God, I love this. I could do this all day."

"Mmmmm..." he hummed. The vibration danced along my skin and skipped down my back.

"So what do you want to do today?"

"This. You just said you could do this all day. Let's".

I giggled and tapped his shoulder. "I'm serious. Before we fight some more."

"No," came a muffled reply, then he lifted his head. "No more fighting, today. What do you want to do?"

I pondered my options for a few minutes, knowing that if the choice was to run upstairs, he'd be all over that. I wanted to save that for later, though, when the day was done and we could relax and not have to worry about getting up, again. I wanted to take my time and enjoy him. Appreciate him.  My mind sparked an idea and as my eyebrows rose, so did his.

"'kay, I've decided. But you'll probably say no."

He tilted his head to the side, eyeing me with suspicious reservation. "If you think I'll say no, I probably will. But you don't know that. Try me."

An hour later, we were climbing into the SUV he rented, jet-black with tinted windows, and took off, speeding around I-285.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him, but he probably knows I came out here. He stuck his nose right in the middle of everything with you and me. I couldn’t get him off the phone—he just kept saying, ‘give her a few days, she’s hurt you know, but she still loves you, man. Don’t let her get away, dude’.”

JC chuckled while expertly weaving through traffic. Though he wore his trademark worn Fedora and aviator shades, he still squinted into the late afternoon sun as it beat down on us through the windshield.

I slouched into the leather seat and leaned my head against the headrest, idly watching traffic go by, trying to quell my nervous stomach and rapidly beating heart.

He was going to let me hear something, something new that he had written and recorded. A few recordings, if I could talk him into it. That was my request, and after a few minutes of pressure and cajoling and a promise to bake him something, he relented and told me to hurry up and get ready before he changed his mind. He had a disc but not his Notebook and it wouldn’t play on my PC, so we headed to the only place he knew of with the technology to play the contents—Dallas’ studio.

I’d never heard anything new, nothing past a few hums and mindless bars when he wasn’t thinking. JC never explained his shyness for letting me hear his new music—I would think he’d be excited to let me hear some but he always waived me off. “You’ll hear it when everyone else hears it. Secret,” he’d say whenever I asked. 

Now though, we were just a few minutes away from the round white structure looming in the distance, where I was going to finally hear what he’d been working on, for so long. I had no idea what to even expect.

More eclectic than Schizophrenic? More tales of drama like Until Yesterday?  More Heart wrenching ballads like You Ruined Me? I was shaking with anticipation.  

JC stopped at the closed entrance, had a brief conversation with the squawking box, and then drove through the gate when it opened. He pulled into the long drive and my eyebrow rose as he parked next to a shiny, black, late model Bentley.

“How did you know he was home?”

JC removed his sunglasses and hooked them into the collar of his shirt. “He told me he would be. I think he was hinting that he’d be here in case I decided to come out.”   He popped the latch on his door and glanced over at me. “You’d be mad if I said I forgot the CD, huh?”

“Infuriated,” I said, my head whipping around. “You didn’t did you?”

“No,” he said, laughing, then stepped out of the SUV. “Gotcha.”

“Fucker,” I mumbled to myself, opened the door and slid out of the smooth seats. He waited for me before walking toward the door, dropping an arm over my shoulder.

“You’re all tense. Shoulders all hunched up.” He bumped me with his hip as he guided us down the longish path to a massive door that was slowly sliding open.

“I’m just excited. And scared you’ll change your mind because I’m so excited.”

“I won’t change my mind, honey. Just remember they aren’t perfected, or anything.”

“I know, I know. But even imperfect new music will sound good.”

“You’re good at sucking up,” he said, laughing, walking through the open door and calling out into the general atmosphere, “Yo!”

The roundness of Dallas’ home was always a little disconcerting at first. There weren’t really corners, just curves and long bending hallways. It felt a little like a circular maze, or one of those games where you drop the marble in and roll the box around, working the marble into the nooks and crannies until it rolled through the puzzle and out the other side. I had to say that being a marble wasn’t the best feeling in the world and I kind of couldn’t wait to get to the studio. At least it was square.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew you came out.” A wide grin and a large hand with long fingers greeted JC as we stepped into the studio. A handshake turned into a hug and a series of backslaps and gut level laughter and manly chatter. I stood behind JC as they grunted and congratulated each other on working together to get me back—like I wasn’t coming back.

Dallas finally realized I was there, too and a loud “Serena, baby!” filled the room. Before I could blink I was swept into a hug, drowning in the scent of marijuana and some brand of alcohol I probably couldn’t even pronounce. I coughed and he pulled back, gripping me by the shoulders, grinning wide.

“So this is good, right? Ya’ll are together because everything is good? I mean, no one called me with an update or anything…” Dallas glanced at JC, his fingers still digging into my shoulders. “I mean, can I be happy, or what?”

“You can—“ I grabbed Dallas’ hands and held them in mine and put on my nicest smile. He was sweet to be excited, but he was used to manhandling people and he was hurting me. “You can be happy, Dallas,” I continued. “You can be very happy. JC showed up last night and we have been talking ever since.”

“You been doing more than talking, I hope,” he said, winking.

I smiled and winked back. “You said it yourself-- JC does not start things he can’t finish. And I… am not going to say anymore!” 

Dallas and JC both burst into laughter while I blushed and marched to a long, red couch that lined one wall.

“Aww, she’s shy, “ Dallas taunted.

“No, she isn’t,” JC responded, still laughing. “But we should probably… you know… get to it.”

“Yeah, get to it,” I said, tucking my feet up under me and getting comfortable. “Play me some stuff.”

“Well okay, sweet thing. But I don’t know why you’re over there.” JC gestured at me with a finger, then pointed to one of the rolling chairs parked under the mixing board. “Get your ass up. Get over here.”

I hopped right up, my heart pounding out of my chest. He wanted me to sit at the board with him! Not hide on the couch or in the corner, out of sight and out of mind, but at the board. Front and center. I slipped into the seat and clasped my hands, trying not to touch anything.

JC chuckled. “You’re not gonna break it, you can touch it. Just don’t go crazy. You wanna see what the buttons do?”

I nodded and was instantly launched into Sound Engineering 101, with JC on one side, and Dallas adding commentary. They played a sample song and let me listen to how it was affected by a mere turn of a knob, a push of a lever, a touch of a button. I was into it, amazed at how the sound changed.

“So what do you want to hear?” He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a small disc, then removed the jacket and tossed it toward my purse on the couch. “I got a lot of stuff on here. You wanna hear something upbeat, something slow, something general? What?”

“Uhm…” My mind was scrambled and I couldn’t think! “I don’t know… can you put it on shuffle?”

JC and Dallas both laughed, which made me blush again. “Okay, don’t put it on shuffle. I don’t know, pick one.”

“I’ll see what we have, just randomly.”

He inserted the CD into a machine and a program on the large monitor started up and opened up a menu. He scrolled the list—a long list—stopped at one and clicked it twice. From the speakers mounted up on the wall on either side of the console and behind us each corner of the room, the sound of drumsticks clacking together filled the air. One, two, three, four clacks and then a piano, guitar, and drums struck up an upbeat tune full of rock flavor. It seemed a little angry, the drums beating hard over the rest of the sounds.

JC’s head instinctively bobbed to the beat as he adjusted the levels—and now the drums weren’t drowning out everything else.

“So this is mixing?” I asked, leaning close to him so he could hear over the music.

“Sort of,” he answered with a nod.

“Is this old?”

“Very,” he said. “At least three or four years old. I keep saying I’m gonna use it and…” He shrugged and went back to the menu, clicked on the song and it stopped. The sudden silence was jarring.

“So, I don’t want to be pushy…”

“Sure you do, honey.” He laughed and scrolled the list. “But what?”

“But… what are the songs you might be performing on your tour? Testing out, for the label?”

“Oh you want to hear that stuff.”

“If you want to play it, yeah.”

“Alright, uhm. I’ll play you something new-ish, then.” He squinted at the screen, scrolling the list, mindlessly chewing on his lip, then shoving a thumb into the corner of his mouth.

“C, why don’t you play her the one you—“

JC’s head whipped around and he gave Dallas a look I hadn’t ever seen before. “I’m gonna—“ He pointed at the screen and went back to his list. “She just wants to hear some new stuff. I’m… that one’s not ready.”

“It’s fine,” Dallas argued. “You just think it’s not ready.”

“I’m not ready for that one, man.”

“What one?” I asked.

“Nothing, sweetie,” he answered, his voice light and sweet and sing song, but his eyes shooting daggers at Dallas.

“You don’t want me to hear it?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to hear it. It’s just…nothin’.” He went back to his list and the long scroll of songs continued, speeding by so fast I don’t know how he read any of the titles.

“You think I won’t like it?”

“Mmm…” He bobbed his head from side to side, contemplating.”You’ll probably like it. I just was going to surprise you with it but someone over there,” he said, tipping his head in Dallas’ direction, “ruined it.”

We both slowly rolled our heads over to the left. Dallas; mouth formed a small ‘o’, and he silently got up from his chair and walked out of the room.

JC puffed up his cheeks with air and slowly blew it out. “So…”

“So…”

He looked over at me, eyes wide, framed by those lush lashes. “So, you want to hear it?”

If I wasn’t mistaken, he wanted me to say yes. So I did. “I would love to hear it, if you want to play it. I don’t want to ruin anything, though.”

“Well, it’s all out in the open, now. But uhm. I’m gonna let you listen to this by yourself. I gotta go find Dallas and make sure he’s not mad or anything.”  He reached for a set of headphones hanging on a rack next to the board and handed them to me. “Put these on.”

I slipped the heavy set of headphones onto my head and let JC adjust them so they were snug before he plugged the cord into a hidden hole under the board. A light, low hum sounded through them as JC scrolled the list again, all the way to the bottom.

“Gonna be kind of loud,” he said.”Adjust the volume here.” He pointed at a knob and clicked on the song, gave me the thumbs up signal and walked out.

A few seconds of silence was followed by the sound of a bass guitar, playing the same chords over and over, laying a foundation. Then a lighter guitar joined in, followed by drums, adding a beat that was not fast, but wasn’t slow either. JC’s voice, sultry and haunting came in after a few measures. The rhythm of the words wasn’t smooth, more halting and offbeat but not uncomfortably so. I was more into his voice and how passionate he already sounded, in just the first few seconds.

I wished I knew how to rewind and replay, because I was having trouble catching the words—and because I wanted to hear them, hear him sing them over and over. That old familiar feeling of hearing a JC song for the first time washed over me, again and again. I closed my eyes, lost in the sound, sinking lower, never wanting to come back to the surface. Every ounce of anticipation I had about hearing new music was borne out in those few short minutes.

I listened hard, trying to catch a lyric and try to get the gist of the song. From the chorus, I caught that it was called Last Night.

Last night I didn’t love you

Last night my world was changed

Last night I didn’t know what holding you would mean to me

After last night I’m not the same.

It was beautiful, I thought, from the lyrics to the arrangements to how he sang it, from how he almost whispered the verses with so much heartfelt meaning to nearly belting the chorus with explosive emotion. As the song faded into silence and I took the head phones off, I toyed with the coiled cord and enjoyed the remnants of the song floating around in my memory.

“You decent in here?”

I turned to find JC in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, the light from the hallway shining behind him and creating a halo-like effect.

I smiled back at him. “Yeah, I’m great. It finished.”

“And?” He inched into the room but hung near the door.

“You wrote that the weekend we met, didn’t you?”

JC laughed loud and long, bent over at the waist, he was laughing so hard. “Wow,” he said, walking across the room, to the table, and landing heavily in the chair next to me.

Shit. What if it was an old song that was just eerily appropriate and I was just being narcissistic?  I cringed at the thought, then started to get mad that he’d let me think it was about us. “Wow, what?”

He laughed some more and shook his head but wouldn’t look at me. Instead, he fiddled with buttons and levers. “I’m just… transparent is all. I wrote that the morning after we… you know. When I said I was doing some stuff in the studio, that day? That’s what I was doing.”

A beat of silence followed and then he cleared his throat and asked, “So, you like it?”

I grabbed his arm and pulled it away from the hundreds of buttons, wrapped it around my waist and leaned into him, laying an arm across his shoulder and planting a kiss on his lips. “I love it. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” He still played with buttons with his free hand. He seemed nervous. “You think it’s good?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

He nodded and chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “Like, maybe first single release, good?”

I laughed. “It’s good, baby. Whether you release it first or last, it’s good.”  I kissed him again and when I pulled back he was smiling and the slightest hint of pink colored his cheeks.

“I like that you like it,” he said, so softly he may as well have been whispering.”Been working on it for awhile.”

“It shows. It’s good. It really is. I wouldn’t say so, if it wasn’t.”

“So, I mean…” He glanced at the board and then back at me. “You know, all that stuff we talked about today. You know, now, that I’m serious about you, right?”

“Yes.” I had already talked so much that day—into corners and in circles—I didn’t need to say much more than that. “Yes, I do know that.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. He punched at a button and it spit the disc out. “Uhm… there’s not really much else on this thing I want you to hear. Most of it is kind of old. But when you come out, in a couple weeks I will play you some newer stuff. I promise. Okay?”

I nodded, not really caring. I had heard a few older songs I’d never heard before and a new song that pretty much changed my life in three minutes.

“You want to do anything since we’re out? Or you wanna go home so you can bake me something?”  I laughed at his wide, cheesy grin. It was obvious which choice he wanted me to make.

“I was thinking we could go home and—“

“We can do that, too. Let’s go.”

JC was already standing, his arms out in a stretch. “Dallas left. He had a club gig.”

I stood too, picking up my purse and JC’s jacket, looping both over my arm. “Aw. He wasn’t mad, was he?”

“Nah.” JC turned knobs and pressed buttons and the board began to shut down. Monitors popped off and lights dimmed. “He felt bad for ruining my surprise, though.”

“I didn’t help. Sorry about that.”

“Was meant to be, I guess. It was a good day for you to hear it.”

He let me walk out of the studio first and flipped the light switch behind him. I got lost in Dallas’ house, every time, so I waited for JC to lead the way back to the front door and out to the car. In the dark, a hand found mine as we picked our way back along the path. The Bentley was gone and the SUV sat alone in the wide driveway.

JC walked me around to my side and opened the door, helped me inside and walked around to his door and slid in next to me. The late model vehicle purred to life and he backed out of the drive and headed the way we came. 

“JC…”

“Yeah, honey.”

I reached across the center console and laid a hand on this thigh. He covered my hand with his, the callous rubbing the skin there in small, soothing circles. He could put me to sleep, with that. After a few minutes he moved our hands further up his thigh. I laughed and moved them back.

“Not while you’re driving. Later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Be good.”

“Okay. So, what? You said my name and then wanted to play grabass…”

“I did not, you moved--- anyway. I was gonna say…that night… I think about it a lot. About how I started changing in just a couple of hours. I honestly started thinking about going to therapy the very next day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t explain why—well I could, but at the time it was stupid to think anything would happen between us. But yeah.”

“See, that’s what I love about you, honey.” I could his grin even in the darkness of the car as we traveled the access road back to my neighborhood.

“Anybody else would probably take everything you went through and like, use it as an excuse to not succeed, to lag behind everyone else. You know, every time you push them, they’re like ‘well I was adopted and my mom was an addict and I don’t know my dad’, and whatever else. Not you,” he said, pointing our joined hands at me before returning them to his lap. “You took everything you didn’t like and turned it around and made it work for you. You were doing that, long before I knew you.”

“I needed that therapy, though. Everyone told me I needed it, but I wasn’t going to go until you told me I should.”

“Well, sure,” he said, nodding. “That’s a lot to go through without help to figure it all out. But what you didn’t do was lie down and play the victim. So, maybe I do know a lot of hot actress chicks, but…” he shook his head, watching traffic, glancing at me every so often. “They got nothin’ on you. I love you because you’re a fighter. A mover and a shaker. You make things happen. You don’t think you are, but you’re a really strong person, Serena. I admire that about you. A lot.”

My heart fell into my stomach and I swallowed hard to keep from tearing up again. I was embarrassed at how much it meant to me to hear that. I should have been telling myself that all along but it just felt different, it meant something different when he thought to tell me so.

“Thank you. I like hearing that. Thank you for saying it.”

“I should have said it before,” he said, staring into the night, his face only lit up by the headlights of passing cars and the dim glow of the instrument panel. “I should have been saying it this whole time.”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed his thigh. “It’s nice to hear, no matter when you say it.”

What else was nice to hear was the comfortable silence, the muffled sound of the road underneath the tires, the low humming from the driver’s seat of the song I now recognized as Last Night.

He’d been singing it for months.

There was a dog in the house. A beautiful, caramel colored, sweet English bulldog puppy. In the house.

A glimpse of what my life might become once I moved to LA was being played out in front of me as I stepped inside JC's house and made my way toward the noise. Tyler and two friends, Allison, and the dog were in the den, where groups of people usually congregated when they came over. It was easy to see why-it was the den to end all dens. The largest flat-screen TV I'd ever seen dominated one wall and, when the surround sound was on, made the room seem like a movie theater. The furniture, upholstered in brown and cream, large and well-cushioned were so comfortable I made a point to not get cozy or I would fall asleep. The set could be moved around and configured to accommodate a small group or a large crowd, and at the opposite end of the room a pool table filled the space and arcade games lined the wall. A small but well stocked bar was tucked away in a corner of the room, adding the last element to a great gathering. The Chasez House was the place to be-JC and Tyler seemed to love having the house where everyone wanted to hang out.

I stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall, watching and listening to the yelling, laughing, and barking, confused and yet so amused I could neither turn away or interrupt. My giggle caught Allison's attention and her face lit up as soon as she realized it was me.

"Serena!" She squealed and bolted across the room toward me, her long blond hair fanning out behind her. She was taller than me by half an inch, so she nearly bowled me over as her thin arms circled my shoulders. Tyler followed, except his hug ended in an arm wrapped around my neck and a fist rubbed roughly against my scalp.

"That's for taking so long to come out here again," he said, releasing me to stumble into the room.

"Ow, ya asshole." I patted my tender scalp and pretended to frown but my joy at seeing him again won over. Tyler had been like a brother to me since I'd met him-I'd never expect any other kind of greeting.

Tyler winked and smiled, his dimples deep and cheeks red. "Does the old man know you're here? He's not home."

"Yeah," I answered, parking my suitcase and bags out of the hallway. The puppy wiggled its way over to me and sniffed my toes, his little body shaking with the excitement of seeing someone new. "I talked to him in the cab on my way here. Who's dog?"

"Mine," Allison answered, arms crossed, rolling her eyes. "I just got him a week ago. They think they're training him. He's just playing with them."

"It's working. Check it out." Tyler squatted in front of the dog, held out his hand, and said, in a stern voice, "shake!"

The dog let out a whimper, opened his mouth and began to pant.

I snorted. "Yeah, that's working out great, Ty. You're doing a real good job."

"He's just doing that because you're here," Tyler said, but gave up anyway and plopped onto one of the couches, next to his friends. They sat like bumps on logs and stared at me. I looked from the two of them to Tyler and back to them and back to Tyler again.

"Oh." Thank goodness he caught the hint-- I thought I was going to have to smack him.

"Hey, guys, this is my brother's girlfriend, Serena. She's here from Atlanta." He angled his thumb in their direction. "These are my friends Dale and Pedro. We call them Dumb and Dumber." Both young men offered me toothy grins and nods, mumbling ‘hello's and ‘nice to meet you's.

"This family needs to come up with nicer nicknames. Nice to meet you guys," I answered with a smile, then squatted in front of the dog. "What's his name?" I asked, looking up at Allison.

"His name is Kahuna."

"Hi, Kahuna," I said softly, offering a hand for him to sniff. Like magic, he lifted a paw and set it in my hand, then licked my face.

"No way! Did you see that?" Tyler sat up, his mouth open. "He did it!"

"You have to be gentle, Ty. You can't scream at the dog and expect him to obey. Respect him and he'll respect you." I smoothed down the fur at the top of his massive head and scratched behind his ears. He let out a loud yawn and sank to the floor, where he stretched out and promptly fell asleep.

"My story has become tiresome," I said with a shrug.

"So, how long are you in town, Serena?" I opened my mouth to answer Tyler and frowned at the couch.

Tyler and Allison were curled up together, squished into the corner of the small three-seater. His friends, for some reason, were squeezed in next to them. There was plenty of room and other surfaces to sit on, so why they all wanted to sit on the same couch puzzled me.

A critical, judgmental ‘young people,' ran through my mind before I could stop it, then dismissed it as memories flooded of my younger, more carefree days. Before I became older and mature and judgmental of the energy of the youth. Melissa and I did a lot of things that made no sense, like grocery shopping in our pajamas and wearing matching hats and t-shirts with nonsensical phrases on them.

"I fly out Wednesday. I have an interview Tuesday."

Tyler's eyebrows shot up toward his headline, his brown eyes big as saucers. "Seriously? A good one? You're really moving out here, huh?"

I nodded, unable to hold back my grin or the excited little squeak, or the way my shoulders hunched up and my body shuddered with anticipation. "I'm trying to. I wish I could get a damn job already, you know? Limbo sucks."

"I bet."

"So how are you doing? I heard Allison was cracking down on you on the Bar Exam. You taking it?"

Tyler's head bobbed with his nod and he slung an arm over Allison's shoulder. "In the fall. Finally. Ali said she'd dump me if I didn't so..." He shrugged and blushed, his cheeks growing redder if possible "Plus, it's a condition of my job that I have to take it within a year of getting hired."

"I didn't say I'd dump you," Allison protested.

"You said you were tired of dating an 'almost attorney' so I should get my ass in gear."

"That sounds more like what I said, yeah."

He stuck his tongue out at her and then tightened his arm around her neck and pulled her closer. He kissed her, right near her ear and she beamed, then closed her eyes and sighed.

My heart hurt to watch them-they made me miss JC.

"Well, I'm happy for you. I think you'll find it's not as bad as you're making it out to be in your mind."

"Maybe not. Maybe not."

His attention turned to the TV, where some movie, loud and full of action and foul language, had Dumb and Dumber in a trance, mouths open, eyes unblinking.

"So, I'm gonna take my bags upstairs."

I stood and stretched, still a little tense from the flight. I'd made great use of my time, studying up on Taylor Manufacturing and the entire industry itself. I would have to convince them that though I was coming from a completely different angle, that the methodology was the same-- make the product shine.

No one moved an inch as I wheeled my bags out of the hallway toward the stairs, squeaking all the way. 'Young people', I thought again as I trudged the staircase, suitcase and carry-on in tow. As soon as I hit the third floor, the phone in my pocket buzzed-couldn't be anyone but JC, who I hoped was calling to tell me he was on his way home. I left the bags at the landing, dug the phone out of my pocket, walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey sexy," I said, in the most sultry voice I could muster. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Oh," was the response, with a tinge of surprise. "Uhm, a shirt and some jeans."

"Mmmm," I purred. "What kind of shirt? Which jeans?"

"Uh." He cleared his throat, usually his sign that he couldn't talk because he wasn't alone. "The kind you like. Hang on a second, okay?"

"Mmmhmmm...."

Faint sounds of papers shuffling, a brief conversation and a door opening came through the phone before he picked up again. "So, about that conversation we were having." He stopped to laugh a little and added, "I can be wearing less in about an hour, if that interests you."

I couldn't help but smile, a low chuckle falling out of my mouth. The mere sound of his voice did weird things to my insides, made my heart race and my stomach flop and the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. I couldn't wait to see him.

"That does interest me. I'm very interested, in fact. Hi."

"Hi. So you made it to the house and everything?"

"I'm in your bedroom, right now."

"Soon to be our bedroom."

I glanced around, realizing I hadn't even looked at it since I walked in. It was clean, as usual, simple but elegant, cool and calm and always inviting, but very clearly a man's room. We would have to come to some sort of agreement on softening the room a little. I almost felt like there should be deer horns or something on the wall, it was so rustic.

"We''ll see about that," I answered with a laugh. "Any chance we can move downstairs? I had to lug my shit up three flights of stairs."

"Fuck," he grunted, loud in my ear. "I just talked to Tyler an hour ago. He and his friends were there. No one brought your bags up for you?"

I winced-- I didn't mean to get Tyler in trouble. "No, but... don't worry about it. I handled it. I'm strong."

"That's not..." He sighed, and then seemed to let his frustration go as quickly as it came. "The-I would have taken care of that for you. I don't understand why that doesn't just jump to his mind."

"Mmmm... chivalry is so sexy. Your momma raised you right."

"Tyler was raised by rude wolves, apparently." I could barely hear him over the noise behind him-- people talking, cars driving by.

"Where are you?"

"Leaving the studio, right now. Should be back there in about an hour, maybe more. Depends on traffic. Do you need anything? I mean, that I can get at a store, before you get all smart ass on me."

"Just you. I've got some other things I need you to take care of."

I heard the car door slam and all the noise disappeared, save the metal tinkling of keys on his key ring. "You're feisty today. I like it. See you in a bit. Love you."

"Love you, too." The engine of the car purred to life, idling softly in the background. "Hey, drive safely, okay? I need you in one piece."

"So you can tear me apart?" In my mind I could see that smile of his, the evil one, with the matching eyebrow lift and head tilt that almost made me scream.

"You got it. Hurry home."

"As fast as I can."

I tossed the phone to the side and climbed further up onto the bed, gazing and daydreaming into the ceiling fan. I wanted to stay there. Forever.

I must have fallen asleep waiting, because one moment I was plotting to never go back to Atlanta and the next moment I was coming around to the sensation of something heavy on my stomach. My eyes fluttered open as whatever was heavy shifted. A deep chuckle filled my ears and the familiar scent of tea tree extract filled my nose. A smile automatically began to spread as I realized the heavy thing on me was JC.

"Hey," I whispered. "You smell so good. I missed you."

"Hey," he whispered back, scooting up the bed so he could lay next to me, facing me. "I missed you, too. How you doin'?"

"Mighty fine right now, sir. Mighty fine. Can I have a kiss?"

"Oh, you may, madam. You may."

He bent to kiss me, his lips lightly brushing mine, more of a tickle and a tease than a kiss, but then came back again for more, deeper, stronger, more passionate. He sucked in a long breath through his nose and let it out in a moan, halfway muffled by his mouth covering mine, his tongue playing with mine. When he'd reached his fill of my lips he tipped his head to the side and found his favorite spot to nibble. His chin was prickly with stubble. I felt a rash developing as he kissed and nuzzled-- I didn't care. I'd live with a big red rash on my neck everyday if it meant it was him giving it to me.

After a few minutes, he sighed and pulled back, leaning on one elbow. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon so the room was darkening, pretty with the rosy glow of dusk from behind the blinds covering the door to the patio. He was handsome in any light but that light in particular made him seem irresistible to me. I found myself hoping he didn't want to go out. I longed to just hang out with him, to lay around and listen to his inane stories and useless facts about everything.

"So. Everything okay?"

I nodded. "Everything is great. Why?"

"I mean, with Regina and stuff. You guys aren't fighting or at odds again or anything, are you?"

"Not at all. She's doing great, working in one of her dad's hotels, getting ready to go to her first college class in the fall. We talk about once a week. I talk to Charles about as often." I couldn't resist anymore-- I had to touch him, stroke his face, smooth down the hairs on his cheek. "Why do you ask?"

He reached across the small space between us, smoothed my hair down and tucked it behind my ear. His fingers dug in and pulled through to the ends, bringing it over my shoulder. "Your hair is straight. I haven't seen it that way in a long time."

"Oh, yeah. My hair." I laughed, subconsciously running a few fingers through it. The day before, on a whim, I walked into the salon I usually frequented and treated myself to a sleek new look. I'd been wearing the curls for a long time and was ready for something new. "I told you I went to the salon, last night when we talked."

"You didn't tell me you got rid of your curls."

My head tilted with confusion. "You don't like it straight?"

"I didn't say that," he answered with a laugh. "Stop reading into what I say."

"I'm not, JC. You said-" I stopped, then, and took a breath. Way to pick your battles Serena. Just... stop picking every single one of them. "I had it straightened because it's getting so long that I was starting to look like a poodle. Do you like it?"

"I like what you like. Honey, you're beautiful either way. I was just asking." He smiled and dropped a kiss on my forehead. "Thank you for stopping yourself," he whispered, then dipped his head to kiss my lips.

"I'm trying," I sighed. "So, please say you don't want to go out, tonight."

"Uhhh..." He swallowed, his eyes darted right then left, then back at me. "I don't want to go out tonight?"

"Nope." I shook my head and slid my hand down his face and his neck to his chest, and then around his ribcage to his back as I rolled to my side and scooted closer to him. "No, you want to stay in and watch a movie, and annoy me by pointing out continuity errors and crunching popcorn in my ear."

"Hmmm," he mused. "I do like annoying you..."

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I guess my mind is made up, then. Sounds like fun, I'm glad I thought of it."

"I'm excited to hang out with you."

"It's been awhile, huh?"

He sat up and offered his hand to help me up. After I was on my feet, he curled a hand around my waist and pulled me to his side, pointing to my bags standing neatly just outside the closet. "I almost fell over your shit in the middle of the hallway, by the way."

"I'm sorry. I was distracted by the sexy guy on the phone."

"Oh, see," he said, grabbing both hands and pulling me behind him toward the door. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Let's go find a movie. And see if I have popcorn. I have no idea."

We searched the pantry for popcorn, found a few bags and popped them, then dumped it into a bowl, and took over the now empty den. JC moved the couch that was previously holding way too many people out of the way and pushed the overstuffed ‘chair and a half' into its place.

"Hold on," he said, a finger raised. "Don't move." I waited while he rolled the matching ottoman in front of the chair, then sat down and scooted all the way back, making room for me to sit with him.

"Plant it, right here, mama," he said, smacking the space between his legs. I crawled up onto the chair, the bowl of popcorn in my lap, two tall glasses of Pepsi at his elbow on the table next to us.

With a flick of his wrist on the remote, he dimmed the lights, turned on the surround sound, and pulled up the DVD inventory. "What do you want to watch? Have you seen Garden State yet?"

His chin was on my shoulder, an arm around my waist, his heartbeat thumping rhythmically into my back. As long as we didn't have to move for a good, long while, I didn't much care what we watched.

"I haven't. Sounds okay."

I relished the feeling of his stubble rubbing against my temple and settled back against him. ‘Yep,' I thought to myself. ‘This is home.'

*

"Honey, they don't bite."

"I know. I'm... I don't know. I'm nervous."

I picked at my breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, contemplating the plans that had been made for the evening-JC's friends wanted to take me out. But he wasn't going.

I wasn't so much dreading it as I just... wasn't looking forward to it. I still had my suspicions about them, but I had promised, months ago, to try to relax and be more social with his friends. I couldn't let my promise become empty words that I uttered in the heat of the moment because they sounded good. I was going to have to actually live them out.

"What if I don't dress right, to go out in LA?"

"You dress fine," JC answered, absentminded, distracted by the newspaper. He reached for his coffee cup, blew into it to cool the steaming hot liquid and sipped it. His eyes lifted to mine as he set his cup back onto the saucer. "You'll be fine. Don't worry yourself sick about it. And don't say you're not, because you have a wrinkle across your forehead that scares me."

Instinctively, I rubbed my forehead, willing the wrinkle and the worry away. "Okay. I'm just... Okay, I'm not gonna worry about it. I'm just. Okay."

"Okay."

I shot him an annoyed glance. "Don't mock me."

"You'll know when I'm mocking you. Do you want to go to the studio with me, today? I have a short session and I can play you some of the new stuff."

He was so nonchalant and casual, picking at his nails, asking if I wanted to go to the studio with him, like he did it every day. I couldn't believe he just asked, out of the blue. I'd been begging so long and he'd been saying no for so long that I gave up. After he played a few snippets for me in Atlanta, I'd been craving music from him, especially another listen to ‘Last Night'.

"Yeah, I'll go," I answered, trying not to betray my excitement. "Sounds fun."

"Alright. We need to hit the road, soon." He finished the last swallows of his coffee and winked at me over the cup as he lowered it. "What do you say we conserve water by showering together?"

I chuckled. "I say we don't conserve any water when we shower together. Let's just call it what it is."

"Okay. Let's go have sex in the shower."

I shot up so fast I nearly knocked the chair over. "Thought you'd never ask!"

*

"So, I should tell you something before we go in," JC announced, pulling the car into a spot near the front door of a nondescript stone building. The lot was empty, the street barren of cars. He seemed to be the only one working early on a Saturday morning. A plain white sign with black block lettering hung over the entrance that said ‘Paramount Recording Studios'.

"I promise not to touch anything." I was kidding, but anticipating the speech anyway.

"Not that. Well yeah, be careful, but uhm..." He stopped and waved at the van that pulled in next to us. My jaw dropped to my chest when the door opened and the driver stepped out.

Dark hair, goatee, silver chain around his neck, thinner than I remembered seeing him last, but the same impish grin and warm smile. I'd know Chris Kirkpatrick anywhere.

"Oh. My. God." He wiggled a few fingers at me and smiled as he stood next to the van, waiting for his passengers. I waved back, and smiled, sure that I was blushing a radiant pink. I turned back to JC, who was grinning, himself. "Are you gonna spring them all on me?"

JC laughed and reached for his door handle. "I was trying to think of a way to tell you. He's early. Chris is never early. Come on, I'll introduce you."

Yeah, let me just try not to fall out of the car so I can meet the third *Nsync member in the span of a year.

I popped the door latch and got out, but stayed near the car as JC came around the back toward the van.

"'Sup, C!

"Nothin' much man," JC answered, stepping easily into one of those ‘handshake into hug' gestures that men do. The other three passengers in the van came round and they all shook hands and made small talk.

"So, you brought me a present?" Chris tipped his head toward me and winked.

"Uhm, no she is mine."

JC laughed a little then looked over at me, I guessed making sure the joke was okay. "Come over here. He doesn't bite, either." He waved me over and I stood next to him, nervous as shit for really no reason at all.

Chris squinted into the bright morning sunlight and grinned. "Yeah, I do."

"This is Serena, the girl I told you about. She was a fan." He glanced at me, his expression puzzled. "Was? Is? You're still a fan, right?" I just laughed and offered a hand to Chris.

He took my hand and gave a firm but gentle shake, but held it and didn't let go. I noticed his hands were soft and he and JC had matching calluses on their fingers. Shivers didn't shoot up my spine, shaking Chris' hand, the way that they did when I met JC.

"A fan of what? Of me? Or the band? I'm sure you know what the right answer is."

"Both," I said, finally finding my voice. "I'm a Nigels fan, too. Are... oh!" I perked as I looked from Chris to the other three men leaning against the van, to JC, and then realized JC was working on music with Chris.

"This is why you asked if I wanted to come today!"

"Guilty," JC said, nodding his head toward the door. "Hot out here. Let's get to it."

*

JC's head bobbed in rhythm to the music, the driving beat shaking the room from the floor to the ceiling. His fingers seemed to move on their own toward buttons and knobs, tweaking and adjusting. I could always tell when JC was deep into something. He didn't move at all, and he brought his fingers to his mouth and pulled at his bottom lip or just pressed them to his lips while his concentrated stare fixed onto something.

Months ago, I would have probably been like an excited puppy, curled up in the corner of a chair or a couch, just happy to be in the room. Well, let's face it, I was still that way, mostly because of who was in the room and because JC was letting me into a place I'd wanted to be, for a long time and I was so enjoying the experience.

"I wouldn't mess with that at all, man. That's perfect sound, right there. Don't you think?"

"Yep, I like that." Chris tapped a finger against the wooden railing of the soundboard and looked over at the other three, who were all nodding. He spun around in his chair and pointed at me.

"What do you think?"

"Uhhh..." I shrugged and laughed at being put on the spot. "I think I agree with the professional."

"Good answer. So she agrees with me," Chris said, spinning back around. "That doesn't say much for you, C."

JC laughed, shook his head and went back to scrolling his list. "Okay, let's do the last one."

He clicked the mouse and the room was full of sound again. Five heads gathered around the board, tossing ideas back and forth, making adjustments, rewinding, fast forwarding, and playing over and over. I was amused the amount of bickering between JC and Chris.

"We thought about bringing the bass out a little more..."

"I think it's fine. You don't want to overpower everything else with a heavy bass line. It's not jazz."

"Well, no, I just think it's really light and we could bring it up just a little."

"You can, if you want. Doesn't need it."

"I think we should, though."

"Well, then do it."

"But you're saying not to..."

"You asked me to listen and give my opinion. You know just as much as I do. If you want to bump up the bass a little, do it. It doesn't need it, but it won't hurt it."

"Alright, that's all I wanted to know."

"You didn't say that, you said you wanted to bump up the bass."

"Whatever, man."

"It's always whatever when you know I'm right."

"Shut up."

"You shut up. We done?"

"I guess." Chris sighed and held a hand out. He and JC laughed together, their hands pumping in a vigorous handshake. "Thanks, man. I appreciate your ear."

The relationship dynamics between men was fascinating. They reminded me of my brothers, who could yell at each other for an hour and then go to lunch and laugh about it. Men were so much more laid back about disagreements, letting the majority roll off their backs. Women were much more emotional and passionate and could hold onto the smallest thing forever.

Chris stood and stretched, his arms reaching toward the ceiling and then pulling his t-shirt down over his belly. He turned around and smiled at me again. "We scare ya, with our little fight over here?"

I shook my head. "Nah. As long as you're not throwing punches, I know it's safe."

"Serena has brothers," JC said from behind Chris. "And she's been in the same room with me and Tyler. She knows how this goes."

Chris and his band members filed out of the studio after a few minutes of small talk and goodbyes. The small room fell eerily quiet, considering how loud it had been for the past three hours. JC swiveled around in his chair and nodded me over to the console, pulling out the chair next to him that Chris had been sitting in.

"Have a seat. Welcome to your own private listening session."

I couldn't hold back a squeal, which he laughed at. "Sorry, I'm excited."

"Don't apologize for being cute. It makes me happy to hear that sound. You ready?"

I nodded and he clicked the mouse,then sat back as the music began to swell. "This is a good show opener right here. Sets the mood, I think-"

I reached over and put a finger to his lips."Just... shhhh. I want to hear it. Please?"

He nodded, his small, half a smile speaking volumes to me. He was so used to having to explain himself, his style, his choices, that he did it automatically and subconsciously. It wasn't necessary-not with me, not with anyone who was a fan of music, his or anyone else's. All he had to do was let the music stand for itself and let the story unravel.

And boy, did the stories unravel. Infidelity. Heartbreak. Soaring love. Depths of fear. Loathing. Anger. Fire. Passion. It was all there, woven into every lyric, riding on every note, embedded into every measure. It was a powerful collection of music with a wide range of genres-a lot of eclectic, alternative sounds but he dabbled in a little bit of rock and some soulful, jazzy sounds as well. We had listened to about eight songs in a row before he lowered the volume and spoke again.

"What do you think?"

"I love it," I answered, instantly. I didn't even have to think about it. I was in love with it and I hadn't even heard the entire collection yet. "I just... I do. I think it's great. I think it'll do great on tour, I think the label will love it and sign you and you'll get to do what you were born to do, again."

"What if..." JC paused and stared into the soundproof booth, dark and empty. He chewed on his lip a little, blinked a few times and then continued. "What if this, right here, is what I'm born to do? What if recording and touring is nice but it's not me anymore?"

I sat back in the chair and pondered his question, but it was hard to imagine him never singing again. "Do you really think that's where you are?"

He shrugged and pressed his lips together in a slight down turn. "This process, it's just grueling. It's hard on the ego. Not that I really had one, but... I feel like I'm groveling to this label, crawling on my knees for a deal and I don't have to do that."

"What about going on tour to play your new music for fans is groveling? They want you to test your audience, right? Didn't Sony roll Mariah Carey out like that? Jessica Simpson?"

He nodded and smiled a little. "I guess. I heard that. Yeah."

"So, Dallas told me something, back when he was sticking his nose into our business? He said, ‘you know that saying that pride goes before a fall? Don't let your pride trip you up and find you ass up in the middle of the street.' I gotta repeat those words right now, sweetie."

"He said that?"

"He said that. And forgive me but I think they apply, here. You've waited what... five years to release something. In between this and your last album you have left a label." I leveled my stare at him. "You think people are just going to say ‘oh JC Chasez, yes. He's completely relevant right now. Hand him a giant damn record contract for seventy bazillion dollars and don't make him prove that we're not wasting a penny of that'. From a marketing standpoint, I get their approach to you."

Silence, except for the low volume on the music playing from the speakers in each corner of the room. "Bazillion isn't a number," he said from behind a hand stroking the growth of hair on his lip.

"Then fill it in with a number that exists. You know what I mean."

He looked away, toward the monitor, and tapped his fingers on the console. "The label is Sony," he said quietly. "There's some politics because of the Jive contract, since they're essentially the same company, but they're willing to elbow through it, if I can prove I have a fan base." He paused and took a deep breath and then sat back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"And honestly, all this hesitation is about not knowing if I have that-this tour won't be about me and my music. I'll have to fight the entire time."

"Okay. Let me remind you about the Janet Jackson tour, with *Nsync. Remember that? Booing for the first 3 songs, and by the time the set was over, the crowd was cheering and demanding encores. You can win over an audience. There is precedence, JC. Stop it with the excuses."

He laughed, staring off into the distance, as if he was remembering, way back when. "So you're saying get over myself. You really think it'll be okay? That these songs are good? I'm asking as a fan, not as my girlfriend that loves me."

"Mmmm... how can I say this? As a fan, you need security, because I could jump you, this music is so good."

He burst into loud, sudden laughter and stood, kicking the chair back. It rolled until it hit the edge of the couch at the back of the room. "I love you so much right now. I gotta get you home and out of my hair."

I swiveled back and forth in the chair, listening to the annoying squeak it made as I moved. "So, is there... any chance I could get a copy of-"

"No," he said, stern and abrupt, shaking his head, ejecting the disc from the machine."I'm not even going to let you finish, no. Because it'll leak and I'll be pissed off. No. Sorry. Exclusive."

I expected that answer. I'd have been surprised if he said yes. "Okay. Doesn't hurt to ask."

"Sorry I have to say no."

"Stop, it's fine. I'm okay. So we're leaving? Can I turn everything off?"

*

I stood in the bathroom, under the bright fluorescents, shaking my hands out, trying to relax my entire body and stop the flush from crawling up my neck toward my forehead. Three of JC's friends were on their way to pick me up and take me to dinner and then some club in West Hollywood, where a larger group would be waiting. To hang out-dance, drink, eat, chill. Alone with them. All night.

"I wish you were going," I said for the fiftieth time.

"I know," he answered for the fiftieth time. "You'll be fine. They'll take care of you. And I'll try to meet up with you guys later."

JC passed behind me, his cologne wafting into the room. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, jacket and tie, but wore his regular jeans and sneakers. MTV was filming a special episode of the Dance Show and JC would only be shown from the chest up. "May as well be comfortable," he said, when I questioned his fashion philosophy for the evening.

He checked his hair, and his shave job, brushed his teeth and walked back out of the bathroom, hooking a hand around my waist and dragging me with him.

"Lara will be here any second. Grab your purse and your shoes-come on, you can do this."

"Alright," I grumbled, stealing one last glance in the mirror and adjusting my halter top blouse. I looked good, if I said so myself, but not out of vanity. I didn't want to look like the tourist, the sore thumb, the under or overdressed one in the room. I crossed my fingers that all my effort would not be in vain and I wouldn't look like I tried too hard.

"You look fine. You look great, very nice. Don't worry. Let's go."

He pushed me out of the room, toward the staircase and followed me down. I never heard anyone come into the house or a doorbell ring or a car honk, but Lara, a statuesque brunette with emerald green eyes and jet black hair was perched on the edge of the couch in the sitting room, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as we came down the stairs and smiled.

"Hey, Serena. You look great. Are you ready? The other girls are in the car."

"Yeah, I guess." My heart was about to explode-I couldn't believe I couldn't calm down over this one evening out!

"Hold on a second."

JC grabbed me and turned me into his arms. I held onto him longer than necessary but finally stepped back. I felt something being pressed into my hand as he squeezed it. "In case you need it," he whispered. I looked down and he had slipped me a few bills for the evening. I kissed him and braced myself for the night, then followed Lara out of the door and out to her car.

Lara did most of the talking on the way to the restaurant, a short drive from JC's house. I met the other two girls in the car but both were relatively quiet. We bypassed the line at the entrance and were seated at a patio table so that one of the girls, Alera, could smoke. I fidgeted with the water glass and contemplated getting something to drink, just to calm my nerves.

"So, what is it that you do? I mean, why are you in LA all the time?"Alera took a drag off of a freshly lit cigarette, the tip a glowing red ember.

"Uhm. Well let's just say I'm in Marketing. It's complicated to go into."

"Try me." She stared at me with cold brown eyes, her dark brown hair framing her face, giving an illusion of softness where there was none.

"Alera..." Lara muttered.

"What? I'm just asking what she does. I'm interested." She turned her attention to me, again. "So? Marketing. What do you market?"

"Phone systems," I answered. "Not the equipment--the software, the programming, the technology. For right now."

"You're looking for a job here, though, right?" Lara eyed Alera and sipped her iced tea, then glanced over at Yvonne, who hadn't said more than five words all night-maybe because she was busy sucking down drinks. She downed every glass like it was trying to run away from her.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I keep coming out here, not really for work but to interview. I have an interview Tuesday-"

"Good luck with that. So how long have you known JC?"

"Alera-"

"What?!" She spat at Lara, adding a bitchy stare. "I can't ask a question? Did I interrupt your ass kissing session in the car? No. So, butt out." Her stare turned to me, just as bitchy, to my surprise. "So?"

"I've known JC just about a year, now."

"Mkay." She blew out a plume of smoke and set her elbow on the table, her cigarette dangling from long thin fingers, adorned with black nail polish. "And so, you think that you've stolen his heart or some romance novel shit like that?"

This was exactly what I was afraid of. I was a deer in the headlights and Alera was the oncoming car. My eyes went from Alera to Lara, who was slouched in her chair, elbow on the armrest, forehead in her palm.

I was starting to pick up a vibe and a clue. Alera's attitude, her entire demeanor smacked of jealousy. I had to wonder why she was even invited to this night out-maybe she wanted to check out her competition? Against my better judgment, I compared myself to her. We had the same build, were the same height, the same length of hair. I had grey eyes and she had brown, I was part Greek and she appeared to be Hispanic. The biggest difference between us? I wasn't a bitch.

"You know what? Uhm... I don't really think anything. I like LA and I want to live here. I love JC and I want to live near him." I glared at her, gaining strength by the minute. "Did I... say or do something to offend you?"

"Let me just tell you this..." She stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray and exhaled a long trail of blue smoke. "Whatever you think about JC, from your encounters with him, or whatever... you're in for a rude awakening. Once you live with him, you'll realize how moody he is and how he gets bored with women really quickly, really easy. Just don't plan on living with a rich man in a big house in West Hollywood forever."

Lara must have kicked her under the table, because she jumped and screeched,"Ouch, you fucking bitch!"

"Knock. It. Off," Lara seethed, through her teeth, her eyes on fire.

"I didn't agree to be nice to this year's new girl. That's all on you. I've been about as nice as I can stand to be. This is lame, I'm gone." She nodded at Yvonne and they both rose and marched out of the restaurant toward the line of taxis that waited just outside the restaurant entrance.

"Shit," Lara said, sighing loudly, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. "Serena, I'm... I'm so sorry about her. She'll come around. And even if she doesn't, she's such a bitch JC doesn't let her in the house half the time." She smiled, trying to ease the mood. I smiled back at her, suddenly way over my fear about JC's friends. Lara, at least, was alright with me.

"She uhm... well, she thinks she's JC's type." She rolled her eyes and continued. "He tried-he's equal opportunity, you know? They just didn't click and he never asked her out again. She's crazy about him... he's not checking for her. She's pissed because...well I'm sure you noticed that you two kind of look alike but he wants you, instead. She's jealous, but harmless. She'll get over it. She always does."

Lara folded her arms and leaned onto the table, surveying the mess of plates and napkins and glasses and silverware. "Well. Of course they stuck me with the bill." She began to rifle through her purse, mumbling something to herself about ‘always happens, and they never leave a tip or anything'. I pulled one of the bills JC gave me and slid it across the table.

Lara looked horrified. "Oh, no. No. This is my treat!"

"JC gave me this, please take it. Consider it a gift from him."

"Tell you what." She picked up the small black folder as soon as the waitress dropped it at the table and slid her credit card into the slot. "I'll get this. You get the first round of drinks at Villa. It'll go a long way toward warming everyone up. So, put your damn money away, woman!"

I laughed and slid the folded bill back into my evening bag and sucked down the rest of my iced tea. Finally, I could relax.

Lara was snappy and sarcastic, fun and open. She reminded me a little of Melissa. I could see why she and JC were close friends, had been for years. And, though she was obviously attractive, I didn't detect anything more than friendship between them. Maybe I was going to be able to wrangle my jealousy and hold it at bay, after all.

Damn that JC for being right. I hated it when that happened.

He showed up later, well into the evening. I didn't intend to get drunk, but was on the edge of tipsy when he arrived. He slid in next to me, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek before I noticed he was there.

"Hey!"

"Hi." I was so happy to see his face, smiling down at me that I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head toward me and kissed him. He laughed and said, "Looks like you're having a good time." He nodded at the waitress and asked for a light beer as she passed our table.

"Yep, I'm fine. How was your taping?"

"Good, it went well. How's your evening?"

I shrugged and bobbed my head, side to side, indicating a so-so experience. "A little bit of a sluggish start, but Lara so fucking rocks. I love her already."

"Yeah, she's great. Let me guess, Alera?"

I nodded.

His eyes rolled to the ceiling and took a long swallow off of the amber bottle that was set in front of him. "She'll be fine. She'll get over it."

"That's what Lara said. I'm okay. We had a good time together anyway."

"I'm happy about that." He glanced around the table at the group that had gathered, a loud conversation going back and forth between each side of the table. "What are they talking about?"

"Who would beat who in a fight. Right now, Chuck Norris versus Optimus Prime. Chuck is losing, sadly."

"What? Chuck always wins. Chuck is the man!"

"Well." I leaned against him, pointing down at the table. "Ricky said Chuck is old and he shaved his beard, so he lost his powers. Then Adam said it didn't matter, Chuck still wins and Ricky wanted to know how, because the power is in the beard, and now there's a big argument over it."

JC laughed as the argument went back and forth. He bent his head to mutter into my ear, "Why did I want you to meet these people, again?"

"I have no idea." I tipped my head back and kissed him, my lips lingering on his just a second longer than usual. "But I'm having a great time."

###

JC and I spent most of Monday, the holiday, out in Malibu at a party. One of his friends hosted an annual barbecue at his beach front house. The common area of the house was void of furniture, except for chairs lining the walls. The music bumped loudly from the stereo system, a mix of old school r&b and pop alternative. I met more of JC's friends and realized that pretty much everyone JC had ever met, he considered a friend. It was hot, the sun beaming relentlessly on the party most of the day. By the time we headed home, I was exhausted and JC was pink.

"I should have put some sun screen on," he mused, glancing at his arm as he drove, navigating the highway from Malibu back to West Hollywood.

"Rock Lobster," I joked. Then laughed at his glare.

"You ready for tomorrow?"

I nodded, exhaling a long, slow breath. I wasn't nervous, anymore. I just wanted it over, so I could breathe, and stop practicing the interview over and over in my mind. Stop anticipating questions and reviewing my portfolio like there was something I could change, to convince them to hire me. The days seemed to drag toward Tuesday, but then Monday was flying by so fast. I needed Father Time to work with me, a little.

"I hope this is it, really. I hope I get this and I get to move. I'm so sick of StarTel and their politics. I've gone from the Savior to some kind of pariah. When I got here Friday, all I wanted to do was cancel my return flight and not go back home. I want to come here, and stay here."

JC was quiet as he drove, his eyes hidden behind the large lenses of his sunglasses. His jaw twitched like he wanted to say something but wasn't saying it.

"What?" I finally asked, just to get it out of him.

"I think you should quit, and move here."

A hard chuckle escaped, a haughty ‘HAH'. "Don't tempt me. That idea sounds so good right now."

"So do it. Quit and move here. I'm serious."

I stared at him for a few seconds and then rolled my eyes at the entire ridiculous proposition. "Move here, and do what?"

"Look for a job. Settle into life in LA." He glanced at me, and then back at the road, and then back to me, and then back to the road. "Be with me."

It wasn't like I hadn't considered doing just that. He was reading my heart, but my mind had other plans.

"You must know I can't do that, and why. Don't tease me, JC."

"What do you mean, you can't do that? And why? What must I know?"

"For one, I can't abandon my job right now. I need to still produce good work, so that when people call for references, they can give a good one. I still have a house payment and a car payment. I have money saved, but who knows how long it could be before I find something? When that runs out, then what?"

"Serena..." He shook his head and looked over at me again, and then back to the road as he took the exit toward the house. "I would take care of you, you know that. Whatever you need, you got it. I'm serious about this. I'm serious about offering my help."

I said nothing, despite wanting to scream ‘Yes! I'll take your help, just get me to LA!' I couldn't let myself do that.

JC pulled into the driveway, waited for the garage door to open and parked in his spot. He turned the engine off but left the keys in the ignition and turned himself so he was facing me.

"What?" he asked, lifting a hand and letting it drop back into his thigh. "What are your thoughts? What are you thinking? What's your argument?"

"I just... what would people think? I quit my job and move to LA and turn into your stay at home, live in girlfriend."

"You wouldn't be that, you know that. I know that. Your family knows that, and so does mine. So?"

"So, you, me, and our families aren't the only people on the planet, JC."

"What other people's opinions do we need to consider? Who is it that you're in love with, me or people?"

I sighed, and answered, because he wouldn't let it go, if I didn't. "You."

"Who are you going to live with, and fall asleep next to every night, and wake up next to everyday? Me, or people?"

"You."

"So, who matters more to you-me, or people?"

"Obviously, you."

"Okay? So..."

"So fuck people. But still-"

"Still what?"

"Still, I want to do this for myself. I want to come here with earning power and contribute to our life together, here. I don't want to come here because you bring me here. You're so sweet to offer and I love you for it, but you can't fix this with your money."

JC's head rocked back with the shock and impact of my words. I knew, instantly, that it was the wrong thing to say. Shit! I was trying so hard to not start a fight this weekend and I walked right into one.

"I'm-" His voice shook as he tried to formulate words to respond to me. Under the pink of the impending sunburn, a deeper red glowed around his neck and crawled up his face, over his tight, trembling jaw line, up and over his cheeks to his forehead.

"Sometimes you bug the shit out of me, Serena. I'm so tired of having to defend myself. I'm not trying to fucking fix anything with my money."

He popped the latch on his door and climbed out of the car, slamming it shut. He stomped into the house and slammed that door, too. I sat in the car for a full minute before getting out of it and going into the house.

JC was in the kitchen, gulping down a bottle of water. I walked in, leaned my hip against a counter, but said nothing. He finished the bottle, tossed it into the recycling bin, and leaned against the opposite counter, shaking his head.

"I don't care, anymore, what you do," he said, his voice low. "If you want to stay at StarTel, fine. If you want to tell them to take their job and shove it up their asses, fine. Whatever you want to do, decide to do, okay. What I don't want to hear about, anymore, is you complaining about what's going on there, and not doing anything about it when there are good options for you-" He held a finger up and walked toward me. "One very good option for you, which you won't take because you're afraid of what people might think."

He stepped back, just a step, but still close enough to see how agitated he was.

"Take this however you want to take it. You're very lucky that I love you more than anything. Otherwise, I'd have given up a long time ago. I offered because I want you to be happy. I said, before, I want you to have what you want and if I can help, I want to do that. I'm hurt that you think I'm throwing money at you, or at this, to solve a problem. If I was doing that, I would have offered it sooner."

"JC, I know, and I'm sorry-"

"I know," he interrupted. "You always are. You're always sorry. You're scared and I realize that, but being scared is no reason to do nothing. Brave people do what they have to do, in spite of being scared. Figure out what you want to do. Do it. Let me know."

He stepped back, then and walked out of the kitchen and headed downstairs to the studio. I felt like a heel. Not only that but I felt lightheaded and shaky. My heart was pounding out of control as I clung to the counter, my head reeling with thoughts and decisions and complications.

"Thought I heard someone come in."

Tyler swept past me and opened the refrigerator, rifling through drawers and opening containers of leftovers I had cooked over the weekend. He glanced at me and then did a double take, his brows knit together and a wrinkle in his forehead. "You okay, Serena?"

"Yeah," I think I said, feeling flush. "I uhm..."

I couldn't get another word out before I burst into tears. Tyler stood there, in front of the open refrigerator door, Rubbermaid container in his hand, frozen in place. I felt my way along the counter to the table and pulled out a chair, landing heavily in one of them, then propped my elbows onto the table, sank my face into my hands and let the waterworks take over.

I heard the refrigerator door close and felt the table shift as Tyler sat across from me and leaned onto it. He slid a few napkins across the table and I took them, using them to wipe my nose and cheeks.

"What's going on? Something up with Josh?"

"We just..." I hiccuped, and stopped to take a breath. "We just seem to be fighting all the time. And it seems like it's always me that's starting it and I feel like I'm making this hard on him and... I love him so much, and I don't know what I would do if..."

"You guys always make up, though right?"

I nodded, the tears still flowing. "It's just so damn hard, you know? I've been alone for a long time and I've never had someone like him in my life and I don't want him to go away but damn, I seem to be driving him away all the time."

"Serena... don't you have people in your life that, you know-are hell bent on taking care of you? That you can always depend on?"

"My dad. And my brothers. But they're family. It's different."

Tyler blinked, and reached across the table, grabbed both of my hands and held them. "JC wants to be your family. He wants to take care of you, like family. It's just how he is. How he's always been. Get used to it, or you'll lose it. And I know you don't want that."

JC stayed in the studio until well after sunset. After I calmed down, I considered going down there, but decided to give him his space. When I was ready for bed, I showered and dressed in my nightshirt, set the alarm and crawled in on what had become my side. Just as I was on the verge of sleep, I heard the bedroom door open and then close.

"You up?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be right back. Don't go to sleep yet."

I heard him slip into the bathroom and saw the faint glimmer of light from under the door, heard the shower come on and then go off a few minutes later, and then heard the door open and smelled the scent of his shower gel and steam billow out. He climbed into bed beside me and laid there, on his back, one arm tucked behind his head. I laid next to him, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you love me, Serena? I mean really love me?"

"Yes. I really love you, very much."

"Like, how much? Would you give me an organ, if I needed it? Like a kidney or somethin'?"

"In a heartbeat, if you could use it."

"Do you trust me? I don't mean with other women, I mean in general. In our relationship. Do you trust me?"

"More than anyone in my life."

"Okay. So. You love me. Enough to give me a piece of your body. Enough to offer your whole body to me, time after time. You trust me, more than anyone else in your life." He flipped over, turning on his side to face me.

"Don't I deserve some credit, or the benefit of the doubt, about the help I'm offering? Why do I have to stand by and watch you struggle, when I can help? Why can't you let me help you get where you want to go?"

"Because..." Yeah, why? Suddenly, I felt ridiculous and like my argument lost its steam. It didn't make sense to keep plugging away, never knowing when I was going to make the move-not when I could bypass the waiting and the worrying and have his support. If people wanted to criticize me-or us-over it, there wasn't anything I could do about it. People would criticize anyway, but he was right. None of them were in this relationship.

I flipped to my side, facing him, and moved closer, found his cheek and stroked the tiny hairs growing back after his shave earlier in the day. His arm slid across my waist and around my back. The heat from his hands, his body, radiated out and enveloped me in warmth and comfort. This was the feeling I missed when I was at home, alone. This feeling of safety and security and of being with someone that just wanted the best for me, and was putting up with an awful lot of shit to prove it.

"Because my pride is finding me ass up in the middle of the street, is why." I turned my head and buried my face in the pillow so it would muffle my laughter. He was laughing out loud, in my ear, the sound echoing from his chest.

I laid there, stroking his cheek and listening to him breathe. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see his eyes, open and watching me.

"I want to say yes," I whispered to him. Like it was a secret. I was so afraid, for some reason, to say out loud that I wanted to accept his help.

"So do it," he whispered back. "It doesn't have to be right away. Let's say... let's say by Thanksgiving. You can come to Orlando, meet my parents, we could come back to LA together. That gives us like... a month together to get you settled before I'm gone for six weeks on the tour. I want to spend that time with you and I can't be in Atlanta."

I was shaking- nervous for no reason at all-and my heart was thumping in my ears. All I had to say was that one word but I couldn't get it out.

Instead, I nodded.

"Okay?"

"Okay," I said, finally.

JC let out the loudest breath of relief I think I have ever heard in my life. He rolled to his back and wiped his face with his hands, breathing deeply, and then sat up.

"I'm thinking road trip," he said.

I sat up, puzzled. "Right now?"

"When you come out here. The show will be over, and I won't be rehearsing. We'll take our time, drive through the country, see some sights. What do you think?"

"I think the true test of a relationship isn't living together. It's driving across the country together."

He turned toward me and though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was giving me that look that said ‘whatever'. God, I loved him.

I laid back down, grabbing his arm and pulling him down next to me. "Fine, road trip but I'm telling you right now, I'm not looking at a big ass ball of twine."

"I'll plan the whole thing. It'll be fun."

"Okay. Can I go to sleep now? I have an interview in the morning."

We moved into our usual sleeping formation, my back to him, his arm over my waist, him pressed up against me from chest to feet. He kissed the back of my head and settled into the pillow. In moments, his breathing deepened and slowed-he was on his way to sleep and I was right behind him.

Right before I drifted over the edge of sleep, I heard, "You won't regret it. I promise. I love you."

###

The bar at Cheesecake Factory was hopping, for a Thursday night. The stools at the sprawling counter and numerous two-person tables were packed, full of wanna-be socialites out on the town, shoving down some food and a cheap drink before making the trek down the street to the brightly lit strip of nightclubs and lounges. There, they would nurse expensive drinks and stand around looking seductively bored enough to catch someone's eye. I didn't miss the meat market at all.

I watched the subtle dance of men and women- glancing and flirting and smiling and laughing- from the lobby, where I waited for Melissa to meet me for dinner. I had it all planned out, in my head. I'd arrange for a nice dinner, just the two of us. The atmosphere would be relaxed. The food would be good. The mood would be light. And then I would drop the bomb.

I spotted Melissa's war torn Ford Explorer, the rainbow sticker peeling off the back bumper, pulling into the lot and heading toward a parking space. Minutes later, she was bounding up the sidewalk, still in her crisp white blouse with her security tag clipped to the pocket, rushing through the doors toward me. I held a pager so that they could buzz me when our table was ready. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. As soon as I stood up to greet her, the buzzer went off in my hand and the hostess led us to our table.

"Sorry I'm late," she huffed, sliding into the booth across from me. She dumped her purse in the spot next to her and brushed her hair back from her face. She was flushed red, out of breath and flustered.

I waived her off and set my purse next to me. I had fidgeted and sweated so much that the leather on the handles had rubbed a little soft spot. "Relax, I wasn't waiting long."

"Great." She settled back against the booth with the enormous book that was the dinner and drinks menu, flipped through to the drinks and browsed the selection with the tip of her finger.

"So... treating me to dinner out, on a weeknight. Must be a special occasion. Or you have news. Which is it?"

My eyes shot up from my own menu, the one I wasn't really reading because I already knew what I was eating - and because I was too nervous to concentrate. I closed my menu and slid it to the edge of the table. She did the same and sat forward, clasped her hands in front her of her on the table.

I blushed and smiled and lowered my eyes to the table. I was more nervous than I thought I'd be. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. "I can't get over on you, huh?"

"Never could. I've told you, you get this look when you need to say something. Did something happen on your trip?"

"Uhm..." I hesitated, longing for a drink, just something to wet my throat and give me some courage. I considered it for a half a second but decided against it. This would not be that big of a deal. At least, that's what I was telling myself.  "Well, sort of. Yeah."

Her eyes opened wide and she perked up. "Did you find out about the job? Did you get it?"

"Uh, I don't know... yet. The interview went really well. It was long... I met with a couple of people, took a tour of the plant. It's nice in there. I want to work there. I won't know for awhile." I stopped and nervously scratched my temple and played with the ends of my hair as I continued, plowing forward. "But uhm... something else happened. Between JC and I. We--"

Melissa's eyes opened wider, if possible and she sat forward and hissed, "Are you pregnant?"

I laughed, maybe a little too loudly, because she glared at me and glanced around. Her question was almost comical, as much as she preached about safe sex and as careful as I was with JC. Things happened-- things that were out of human control sometimes-- but I would have been completely shocked and unprepared if I turned up pregnant. At the moment, I wasn't even sure if the word "forever" existed between us. The last thing I wanted was for it to be forced there by a human being that we created when we weren't being careful enough.

 "I'm not pregnant, you twit," I said, still laughing. "Can I talk?"

"Well, spit it out. I don't have all night."

"Uhm so-" I was interrupted again by the waitress, who placed tall glasses of ice water in front of each of us and took our orders. I sucked down a gulp of water, took a deep breath and tried, again, to push the words out of my mouth. 

"Well, JC and I were talking this weekend about things going on at StarTel-you know how bad it is there, now. And these interviews and flying back and forth and missing each other a lot. We're both ready for me to be there full time, we think and uhm...."

I heard a gasp and looked up. Melissa's arms slowly slid off of the table and into her lap. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped her eyes to the wood grain of the table.

"You're leaving early," she said, in a near whisper. I'd been prepared for a sarcastic, annoyed, even angry tirade. I wasn't prepared for the deep crimson color that was developing in her face and the two lone tears that rolled down each cheek.

"I mean, I knew it was coming." Her voice wavered with the shake of an impending sob and though she did her best to maintain control, the sob was winning. "I knew you were going. I just thought...I thought I had more time with you. It's... the end of an era."

I nodded again, pressing my lips together to avoid crying with her. One of us needed to stay strong, to hold the other one up. I slid a napkin across the table to her. She just stared at it and let the tears drip into her lap.

"We haven't not lived in the same city for... well I've known you since I was 19. We've shared all these experiences together over those years-you've always been a part of my life. I never thought I'd have to live here without you."

"It was a really hard decision to make, Mel. Honest. But we knew it was coming, right? It's just...the distance doesn't make my heart grow fonder anymore. Being with him spoils me beyond belief. Being without him is like missing a part of me. I'm-we are at a point where we just want to be together. Not everything is worked out, but I'll do what I have to do. JC will help, if I need it."

"Okay," she said with a sniffle, looking at everything but me. "I mean, I'm happy for you, of course. He's great for you. I couldn't have picked a better match. I'm just..."

She shook her head and glanced out of the window at the cars on Peachtree, crawling through the early evening traffic.  "Annette is gone for weeks at a time and I don't have family here and I don't trust anyone like I trust you. I just feel like Atlanta will be so empty without you. I'm not looking forward to waking up the day after you're gone."

"Oh... honey." It tore me apart to watch her cry, to listen to her bare her soul. It was rare for her to be so vulnerable and emotional. So open. So sad. My heart was breaking for her. For us.

"I called it, you know. You remember?"  That day in my backyard, after I had come back from LA and I announced my plan to move was at the forefront of my mind. ‘She says that now, but just wait.  She'll be packing up her shit and changing her address to West Hollywood, California.'  How naïve I had been, at the time. And how wise and all knowing she had been.

"I remember," I said, laughing a little. "I kind of didn't want to tell you, ‘cause I knew you'd bring that up."

"Well, I only said it because I know you love him and there was no way you'd wait. And I've seen how he looks at you-if I looked at a woman like that, I wouldn't want to wait either." She sighed and finally picked up the napkin and dabbed at her cheeks and eyes. "Wow, you got me to cry. That's amazing, hasn't happened in a long time."

I sniffled with her and swiped at my face, catching a tear before it streaked down my cheek. "And probably never will again right?"

"Damn straight." She laughed but her eyes were still sort of sad. I appreciated the brave front she was putting on. We would have a lot of time for crying. Better to pace ourselves.  "When is the big move, then? And what are you going to tell everyone, if anything?"

"Uh... well, the plan is that if I haven't got a job offer by Thanksgiving, I'll go to Orlando with him to meet his parents and drive back to LA with him."

"So soon. Damn." Melissa giggled, and then fell into full on laughter. "Wait, what? Did you say drive?"

I knew full well what she was laughing at. One summer, she and I decided a road trip would be a great idea. We each took ten days off from work and drove to New Orleans. Two strong-willed people should not be alone together for a long period of time-- we almost didn't come back as friends and we haven't been on a trip alone together since.

I cringed a little, and then laughed with her. "I know, I already told him we may not still be dating by the time we get to LA. I'm sure I'm destined to be looking at the world's biggest bale of hay or something. But... he wants to do this road trip thing. He seemed really excited about planning it."

"God help him, because you are annoying on the road."

"I know. But we went away for a weekend and had a good time, so... maybe I've changed?" I shrugged and winced, knowing that probably wasn't true. "I have a ton of shit to do, though. I can count on you for help, right?"

"Are you kidding?" She said, pointing to the approaching waiter and moving her water glass and tear soaked napkin out of the way. "You're gonna have to peel me off of you from now until you leave. I'll be around."

God, I loved that woman.

My club sandwich and fries seemed to disappear before my eyes. I hadn't eaten much in the days after my return to Atlanta. My mind was reeling and my to-do list got longer and my worries were mounting. Anxiety, not giddy happiness, was ruling my life at the moment-which was annoying JC more than he let on, but he was being understanding, at least.

"I don't even know what to do first. I guess I have a reason to put the house up for sale, now."

"Mmm!" Melissa chewed, one finger raised and waiving. She swallowed, took a sip of her water and smacked the table. "Problem already solved!"

"What are you talking about?" I shoved the last fry into my mouth and slid my plate to the edge of the table, then plucked the cheesecake menu from its holder.

"Jen just told me... last week? Two weeks ago?" She stared into the lighting fixture above the table and tapped her fingers. Counting, I guessed.

"It doesn't matter when. What did she tell you?"

"Oh.  She said that she and Brian decided to start looking for a house! Maybe to rent first and then buy later.  You know they live in a third floor walkup and they don't want to have to lug the baby up and down those stairs."

"Ohhh." I sat straight up, kind of excited. But scared to be excited. I mean, they had to agree to buy it, first. "They love my house!"

Melissa nodded. "Especially since you made JC do all that work. Who loves you, baby?" She wiggled her brows and finished off her sandwich, popping the last of it in her mouth.

"You do! Oh my God... I could sell my house without really selling my house! I should call Jen."

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone, in it's case.

"What the hell is that?" Melissa pointed, her brows scrunched together.

I glanced at the thin touch screen mobile phone that I hadn't even learned to use, yet. "Oh. Let me tell you a story." I rolled my eyes and set the phone down, leaning into the space between us.

"Picture it-Los Angeles California. Tuesday morning. I'm getting ready for my interview, and I'm looking through my work email account and out of the blue this tall, handsome, blue eyed hunk of a man-who happens to be the love of my life-asks me, ‘is that your phone or StarTel's phone? I mean, when you quit, do you have to give that back?'  And I'm thinking... you know, it's probably theirs, because I didn't pay for it and I don't really want to buy it from them. So I told him that, and I went off to my little interview."

I stopped to sip on my water, smiling at Melissa, who is paying rapt attention to my story. "So I go to my interview, which went great. I got back to the house, couldn't wait to tell him about it. He interrupts my interview story to say ‘there's a bag on the counter for you.'  So I look over and sure enough there is a bag on the counter. From the Apple store. He looks so damn proud, you know? So I try not to roll my eyes and I go over to the bag, and I open it and..."

I picked up the slim device, a smirk on my face.  "iPhone."

"He bought you a phone?"

"He bought me a phone. He bought me an iPhone! He put me on his account. Do you know how expensive iPhone plans are? I was kind of pissed!"

Melissa laughed, her head bending toward the table so her giggles echoed off of the surface. "You're such a weird girl. Why?"

"Because! You know how I am about him buying shit for me. And he didn't ask me if I wanted him to buy me a phone. He didn't ask me if I wanted an iPhone. He didn't ask me if I wanted him to put me on his account. He just did it!"

"So?"

"So..." I started to laugh, so hard I couldn't finish my sentence. "So, I didn't want an iPhone! Now I have to pretend to love this piece of shit phone until I accidentally-on-purpose run over it!"

Melissa laughed harder. "That won't work. He'll just replace it. I think it's cool. Let me see."

I handed it over and she played with the screen, opening and closing applications, oohing and aaahing over everything. "It's already got a ton of stuff in it."

"Uhm, yeah he loaded it up with all sorts of shit I have to have." I rolled my eyes as she handed it back.

Melissa's expression was full of mock sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing. Your boyfriend bought you a phone, paid for the service and set it up for you and everything. You'd better dump him."

"I know, right? Fucker." I glanced at it and scrolled through the menu, looking for Jen's number. "I love that asshole," I added with a smile, and then proceeded to leave a message for Jen to call me when she had a chance.

I slid the phone back into its case-also new, and put both back into my purse. "You know... it's like fate. Or kismet. Or destiny... or whatever. So many things keep coming up and just working themselves out or falling into place, for us. I'm starting to think the Universe wants us to be together."

"That's probably a safe assumption," she said, laughing. "What else can I solve for you?"

I cringed at my next thought. "Ugh. Can you break the news to my family and quit my job for me?"

*

After dessert and some laughs and only a few more tears, I headed home with the slice of cheesecake I had ordered to go, and settled into the living room to eat it. No sooner had I kicked off my shoes and set them up onto the ottoman did the phone ring. I sighed and fumbled with it, catching the call just before it went to voicemail.

"What?!"

"Hey, grumpy." JC chuckled, a sound that magically tickled my ears and sent a shiver down my spine-from across the country. I heard music and conversations and announcements over a PA system in the background. I guessed that he was at the MTV studios, either taping or rehearsing.  "What's your problem?"

"This damn phone," I grumbled. "I don't know how to work it, yet. I was pressing the button, but it wasn't picking up the call."

"You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out. What are you doing?"

"I'm sitting in my living room, getting ready to eat a slice of cheesecake."

"What kind?" I just barely heard him, over the noise.

"You're not getting any, so it doesn't matter." I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder and sliced into the dessert, shoving a forkful of creamy decadence into my mouth. "Mmmm, it's so good, too," I moaned, around a mouth full of cheesecake.

"My girlfriend, she is mean. How did tonight go? Did you tell her?"

"I did. It went better and worse than I thought it would." I popped another bite into my mouth, smaller this time. "She cried."

"Chew. Swallow. I can't hear you over the stuff in your mouth."

"I can't hear you over that noise behind you. We're even. I said, she cried."

"Wow. Really?"

"Mmmhmmm.  I cried, too. It was a tearfest. But then we laughed. At you. And ate, and laughed some more and cried some more. She's fine."

"Are you fine?" 

Fuck him and his intuition.

"I will be," I answered after a few quiet moments. I set down the empty container on the coffee table in front of me. I was picking up bad eating habits from JC-I didn't remember inhaling the entire piece of cheesecake.

"Aww. I wish I could be there." He paused and then added, "It'll be okay. It will."

"Mmmhmm. No big deal. Just moving away from my best friend of 15 years is all."

"Sweetie..."

"I know. I'm sorry, I know. I'm fine." I sighed and leaned back, slouching into the couch and gazing up at the ceiling. "It's fresh."

"Yeah. How will telling your parents be? Harder? Easier?"

"I have no idea. I would think it would be harder, except they took the news that I was planning to move a lot better than I thought they would. Then again, you were there and I'm convinced they were being good on your account."

"Do you want to wait? Do you want me to come out, and we can tell them together?"

I shook my head, though he couldn't see it. "No. I'm a big girl. I can do it. Just... keep the phone on."

"I will. When are you telling them?"

"At dinner on Sunday. God, I'm so nervous."

"It'll go fine. I'm sure-" JC was interrupted by a loud announcement over the speakers. He must have been standing directly in front of or underneath one, because the staticky scratch at high volume hurt my ears. "I gotta go. I'll call you, when I get home."

"Hey!" I sat up, so ready to go to bed. As soon as I hung up, I was heading upstairs.

"Honey, I gotta go. Really fast--what?"

"I love you," I said, making sure he could hear my smile. "How's that for fast?"

I could just see him stop in his tracks, smile and bob his head in that cute ‘aw shucks' way. "That's awesome for fast. I love you, too. I'll call you in a bit. This is gonna work out fine, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Go judge." 

The call ended without another word. I pushed myself up off of the couch and trudged up the stairs, yawning. I was spent, emotionally, reaching the end of my rope. I was so glad he thought everything was going to be okay. I wasn't really quite as convinced, so one of us needed to be sure. I supposed this was what he meant by ‘you just have to have faith in us'.

###

Sunday came slowly, easing it's way forward. It must have known I wanted to get it over and done with-time seemed to creep by and I found myself sitting around waiting until I could leave and drive north to my parent's house.

The drive was easy, in light afternoon traffic. Tourist season was just about over and the roads belonged to the locals again. I pulled into the driveway and took a moment to breathe and review what I was going to say.

"Well, look who it is! Terry! Serena is here!"

I planted a kiss on my mom's cheek and stepped past her into the house and my father's open arms.

"Hey sweet pea." My dad's goatee tickled my cheek as he bent to kiss it. "We haven't seen you out here in awhile. Everything okay?"

"Everything is great. Wonderful, in fact." I knew I was beaming but I couldn't help it. "I uhm... well, I came to talk to you guys about something. Can I horn in on dinner?"

"Well sure, there's always plenty to go around. I'll set you a place, come on in."

The dining room table was the same table from my childhood. Sturdy, heavy, dark walnut. If I looked hard enough, I could still find the pencil indentations from many nights of homework done there, and the rings from the mugs of cocoa and coffee from Sunday morning breakfasts and late night talks with my mom.  Now that it was up at the lake house, it was put to good use in the informal eating area off of the kitchen. 

I sat in my old spot, to the right of my dad, wistful at the memories of eating at that table every evening growing up. Dinner was always at 6pm sharp, and it was a family affair. Unless it was for school or sports, we could do nothing until after dinner. We did not watch TV or read the paper at the table-- we talked about our day and current events and activities. As adults, my brothers and I were not just siblings, but friends. In a way, being forced to discuss the invasion of Kuwait over pot roast with my younger brothers gave me a respect for them that I don't think I would have had, before.  It was a tradition I hoped to carry on with a family of my own.

My parents and I chatted and made small talk as we ate. I caught them up on happenings with StarTel, and the most recent trip to LA, including the interview. Mom and I talked about her work at the Women's Medical Center, Dad and I talked about new clients at his Accounting practice. Try as I might, I couldn't find a way to fit ‘So, I'm moving to LA in November' into the conversation. They could tell, though, that something was on my mind, so after the dinner dishes were cleared, we retired to the patio to talk.

I sat in one of the painted chairs scattered around the patio, breathing deeply, willing myself to just go for it.   

"Uhm, so I've made a pretty difficult decision. And... I came to let you guys know that I'm planning on leaving Atlanta. Well, you knew that but... uh... sooner than I planned on leaving before."

I held my breath and stared at my hands clasped in front of me and waited for the fountain of questions and arguments and ‘have you considered...' suggestions that would no doubt be coming. My parents, sitting in chairs across from me, glanced at each other and then back to me.

Mom said, "How soon is sooner?"

"Probably after Thanksgiving. Well, he wants me to come down to Orlando with him for Thanksgiving. Meet his parents and then... head out to LA."

Both seemed to rear back at the announcement of an actual date.  I picked up a wayward napkin from the table and twisted it, just for something to do with my hands.

"Well. That's... that's..." My mom sputtered and blinked and glanced at my dad. "That's pretty early."

"Well. I mean, you know..." I stopped to breathe, and relax. I closed my eyes and started again.

"Okay... I've been interviewing, flying back and forth.  It's getting expensive, especially when I know I'm moving there eventually. So, I can stay until I secure something and then move but it's so frustrating.  The limbo is awkward, and things at StarTel aren't good. I don't really have a future there." I grimaced and tried to look sad. Truth be told, I couldn't wait to kick that hellhole out of my life.

"Or I can just take the leap and go, and accept JC's help and make the best of it until I find what I'm looking for. If I do it right, I should be okay on money for awhile. Jen and Brian want to buy my house, so that makes things even easier."  I ran out of words and shrugged, gripping the napkin and holding on for dear life.

My dad eyed me over his bifocals. "And you want our blessing? Or permission?"   

"Maybe." I blushed and looked at my hands, subconsciously shredding the paper I was clutching. I dumped the strips onto the table next to me. "I guess I expect you guys to be really upset that I'm leaving without a job and something secure, and have all these arguments against it."

"Well..." my mom started, moving forward to sit on the edge of her chair. "If we refused to give our blessing, would it change your mind? Would it make you stay here in Atlanta, until we agreed with you?"

She had a point. "No. I'm way more stubborn than that."

"Exactly. You sure are," my dad agreed, nodding. "So, what can we do? What can we say? We'll have to live with it and if it's a mistake, it's yours to make. You can always come back. Yes?"

I smiled at him. At both of them. "You know I'll never admit failure. I have to make it work."

My mom sighed, squinting and smiling into the horizon. The sun was just beginning to sink and my favorite time of day - sunset at the lake-was fast approaching.

"I remember when I met your dad. We were 17. Well, I was 17. He was in his 20's. Handsome as the day is long. Strapping young man-had just started working on a construction crew." She laughed a little and gave him a sideways glance as if to ask ‘remember?' He blushed a little and tipped his head to the side-modest but not in disagreement.

"You could not keep him from me if you tried. And my parents-they tried. ‘He's too old for you!' they'd say. ‘What does he want with a 17 year old?' they'd ask. I didn't care. I loved him. I knew we were meant for each other. And I still know today." She reached across the small patio table to lay a hand on my dad's arm. He covered it with his and grinned at her.

"You remember that night, out in Vail? When I accidentally eavesdropped on your conversation with him?" I nodded, the memory a fond one.

"We talked about him a little and I could tell you were playing it safe, but I saw it, in your face. And when I met him, I saw it in his face, what I felt in my heart when I was 17 and your father was 22. You have loved him longer than you know you have. I saw it when you came back from LA the first time." She nodded.

I rolled my eyes, laughed and turned away, crossing one leg over the other. "Mother, you did not!"

"I did, too!" She smacked the armrest of her chair in protest. "I did. Ask your father. I saw it. I said, ‘Serena is different. Something happened. And she's going to a therapist? Why on earth, all of a sudden, is she seeing a therapist when she's been fighting it for years? Something happened, Terry.'  Why do you think we were so excited to meet him, the man who made you smile, and made you want to be a better person?"

She shrugged her shoulders and threw up her hands, letting them fall back into her lap. "We saw this coming a mile away, Serena. Doesn't make us necessarily happy to see you go without having the way paved for you, but... maybe you need to pave that path yourself."

It was all I could do to stop my mouth from falling open. It wouldn't do any good. I was speechless-no words would come out, anyway.

"Let me be honest with you, sweet pea," my dad added quietly. He removed his bifocals, folding the stems and clutching them in his large hand. His mouth was taut, drawn into a thin line across his face.  "We think it's early. We're... concerned. But we also know that arguing won't make what you want go away. We don't want to be at odds and we don't want you to leave against our blessing. We want you to be happy. You obviously love him. This is something you need to do. Go do it."

There wasn't much more I could say than, "Thank you. And JC thanks you for your trust and your support, I'm sure."

"It will always be here. And so will we. Let us know if you need anything. Anything."

My mom stood, mumbling something about dessert, but I saw her take a swipe under her eyes as she walked into the house. I looked over at my dad and the look on his face made me proud to be his daughter.   We threw ideas back and forth, made jokes and plans and then had coffee and pound cake out on the patio, the September evening air full of crickets and sounds of the lake splashing onto the shore.

*

"It was so easy, honey. So easy. It was like pods took over my parent's bodies. They hardly argued at all... I still can't believe it."

"I told you, nothing is as hard as you make it in your mind."

Yes, JC was always right. He never failed to remind me. I stuck out my tongue at the camera and JC grinned and flapped his fingers at the screen. "So lucky you're not here. You'd have lost that tongue."

I admired his smile but noticed the bags under his eyes and the few days' growth of hair on his thinning face. He'd been working nonstop on his show for the tour, the MTV show, and his writing and producing for other artists. Every time I came to town, he had to move things around so he could be available, which always set him back a few days. It was the only reason I felt guilty about going to see him.

"Mmmhmm. Big talk from across the country. So, when and where is the first tour date? Do you know yet?"

"No, I just know it's ending in LA. Sometime in March. I'd love for you to come to that."

"I would love to come to that. I so wouldn't miss that. Can I tell you how proud I am of you?"

His tired face broke into a shy smile. "Thanks honey. If I can just get something out of it, I'll be proud, too."

"Without killing yourself. You look so tired, love." I longed to reach out and caress that cheek, to pull him to me and let him rest his head on my shoulder. Since I couldn't, I reached up and touched the screen. He did the same, our fingers virtually touching for a few seconds. It was the best we could do.

"I am pretty tired. I've been pulling some all nighters. And then working all day." He stretched, twisting his neck and shoulders around. I could hear the joints popping through the tiny speakers. "I think I'm gonna knock off early, go to bed right after we talk and get a good night in. Some rest will do me good."

"Yeah, don't make yourself sick."

"Yes, mommy." He sent me a kiss over the airwaves. I smiled and sent one back.  "So, now that you broke the news to your folks, when are you telling those sumbitches at work that you're outta there?"

"Tomorrow." The shakes and flutters rose anew at the thought of walking into Gary's office, sitting down, and just telling him plainly ‘I quit.'  I was actually kind of excited to say the words, hand over my typed resignation and walk out. "They've been grooming someone to take my place, so I kind of hope they'll just tell me to clean out my desk and leave."

"We can only hope."

"Yeah. Hope for that."

 "Okay." He yawned and sank lower into the chair he was sitting in. His eyes were just barely open but I could see them, rolling around. "So I don't see you until when? When I come to get you?"

"Something like that. Unless you feel like flying out to Atlanta. Which you won't because you have work to do."

"Don't tell me what I won't do," he muttered. "You don't know. I could surprise you."

"Do it, then. Surprise me."

"Well, I can't agree to surprise you. Then it's not a surprise." He sat up, and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his face close to the camera and nearly filling the screen. "So, if you quit tomorrow, and they tell you ‘thanks for the memories, now get out', then you'll have free time, right?"

I nodded. "In theory."

"Well, if that's how they react I think you should celebrate by coming out."

Lord knows I wanted to jump at the chance to go see him, be with him. Part of me felt like it would be hard to leave again, though and that it would be better for me to stay in Atlanta until I was actually leaving. I had a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it.

"I kind of just want to relax at home," I said slowly, wincing and not looking into the camera. "You know... hang out with my friends, especially since it looks like I'm leaving them. Maybe start packing." I braved a glance up the screen. "Are you mad at me?"

He shook his head, slightly, his eyes closed. "Not at all. You're right. I just thought I could see you sooner. I'm wishing you the best of luck in getting let go."

"Aw thanks. I've never wished for that so hard in my life."

"I've wished for stranger things." He yawned again, his mouth opening wide. He sounded like a lion. "So, you know what I think?"

"Hmmmm?"

His eyes opened, just enough to see the screen in front of him. His lips curled into a slight smile as he stared lazily into the camera. "I think you should take your shirt off."

I rolled my eyes. "Goodnight, JC.'

"No no no, don't go. I just haven't seen them in a long time." He bit his bottom lip and gave me puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, whatever. You saw them last night. And just a few days ago, in person. Horndog."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Like you haven't benefitted from my... horn...dog...ness." He laughed, his chuckle slow and low and seductive. He was such a fucking tease. "I think I remember a lot of moaning and yelping the last time you were here."

"Oh, no, no. I'm quiet as a church mouse, now because of that time Tyler could hear us. I still can't look him in the eye."

"Oh. Honey. I have to tell you something." JC glanced around, as if someone would be around and listening, then leaned forward and spoke in a low, secretive tone. "The other night, I happened to pass by Tyler's room and... holy shit. I thought he was gonna knock plaster off the walls. It was scary. I was thinking, either he's killing her or she's being overly dramatic." He stopped to catch his breath, laughing as he told the story. I giggled, more at him than with him and kind of in embarrassment for Tyler.

"So how long did this go on?"

"Couple hours. And it was like, once I heard them, I couldn't stop hearing them. I heard them wherever I went."

"A couple of hours? Shut the hell up."

"Honey, I'm not kidding. Finally, I left and I went to that little coffee shop down the street and went back around, I don't know, around 5 or 6 in the morning? I guess she was gone, to go get ready for work. Her car was gone. I went down there and like, pounded his door down."

"You woke him up? He obviously needed his rest. Hours, JC!"

"I just... I know sometimes we get loud, and I'm not the sex police or anything, but that was ridiculous and we're never that loud for that long. I told him if he was gonna keep dating her, they could do that at her house. Then I just walked out. He came and apologized later on." He was still laughing as he sat back in the chair again.

"Wow. Go Tyler. Go Allison. I didn't think she had a couple of hours in her."

"She had somethin' in her..."

"Oh my God, JC."  We laughed together for a minute and settled into a lull, which I filled with, "So...hours?"

"Well, it was off and on but I passed by around one, and at three I was still hearing her."  JC looked so unamused and irritated that I couldn't help but laugh. The more I laughed, the more irritated he seemed to get.

"I'm sorry; I know you're probably pissed. But that is the funniest thing I've heard in awhile."

"Well, I'm just saying, I think you can look him in the eye now." JC laughed, and then checked again to see Tyler wasn't around.

"Well. Maybe I can't. Hours? Have we ever had sex for hours?"

"You're getting hung up on the wrong thing, honey."

"Hours. Do you know how bad I want sex right now? A couple of hours would do me so good."

I recognized a spark in his eye and then a glint of something almost sad and longing. He scratched at his temple and ran his thick fingers through his short hair. "I... have to go. I have to finish up and get to sleep. Early day. Love you, talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye babe." I sent a kiss to the screen and disconnected.

Hours.  Go Tyler.

###

Unlike Sunday, Monday morning sped ahead, screaming its arrival with a bright burst of sunlight right in my eyes.

This was it. D-Day.

Updating every other person in my life, combined, was going to be easier than walking into the same office I'd been walking into for seven years, sitting in the same ratty, uncomfortable chair across from Gary, the only manager I'd ever had at StarTel, and handing over the short, two paragraph typewritten resignation letter. It was brief, to the point, terse even in its statement that my final day of work would be the 20th of November and that I hoped the plentiful notice would give them time to make a seamless transition to our clients.

I had no idea how he would take it. I didn't really care, truthfully.

My main concern was the thought that I didn't really have a plan, after November 20th. Besides, you know. Moving. To California. With no job. I'd never not had a job before. And after the house sold, I had no idea what I was supposed to do with myself. I hoped JC had plans, because... I was clueless.

But before I could float on the wings of unemployment, I had to actually become unemployed. I tried to dress normally but couldn't help snazzing myself up a little-a new blouse, a nice pair of slacks, my hair shiny and bouncy and sleek,  and the earrings JC bought me for my birthday glinting from underneath. I felt great for the first time in awhile, not really worried about the future. At least for the moment.

I had decided to wait until later in the day to request a meeting with Gary. Mornings were too rushed, with back to back meetings and conference calls. I put my all into my work that day, with a smile on my face and a friendly disposition. I felt like I was walking on air, like the sun was shining brighter and the fall air was crisper and the birds were chirping a song, just for me. By the time I walked into Gary's office, closed the door and sat in the chair across from him, I was feeling like a million bucks.

"So, what's up? You seem different, today."

Gary was dressed in his usual uniform of short sleeved button down shirt, loose slacks and beat up penny loafers. I think he'd been wearing the same shoes for the last seven years. I never wanted to see those shoes again, after November 20th. He leaned back in his chair, one ankle propped up on his knee and swiveled his chair back and forth. I don't know how he was so oblivious. It seemed obvious, to me, that I was leaving and had been preparing to leave for awhile.

"I feel different, today."

I smiled slightly and slid the single, folded piece of paper across the desk. He eyed it, his mouth turning down a little and reached toward it, sliding it off of the table and unfolding it. He read it, and then seemed to read it again. Then lifted his mud brown eyes to me and read it again.

"Wow."    

I nodded, once. "Yeah."

"Uhm...so..." He seemed at a loss for words, a feeling I completely understood. "So... the new guy?"

"He's not exactly new, but no, not really the new guy." I dipped my head and smiled, but not too wide. No sense in gloating-not that day, and not in his face anyway. "When I went out to Qwest, I had a great time. I liked being there. It made me want to live there. Barker asked me if I ever thought about moving west-- I hadn't ever thought about it, before then. And okay. Sort of the new guy. I'm in love with him and he lives there, so... yes but no." I laughed at my nonsensical explanation, but he seemed to get it.

"I kind of figured, but in this economy, I thought it would be awhile. I have to say, I'm really going to miss you, Serena. Is there... anything I could do to keep you on?"

"Open an LA office?"  I laughed and was relieved when he did, too. "You know, if you need a consultant, give me a call. Otherwise, I'm leaving to move to California, not just because I really hate working here."

"Okay. Alright." Gary folded the letter again and tapped it on the arm of his chair. "So...where are you working, out there? Not Qwest..."

"Not Qwest. I don't have a job yet." I caught a double take from Gary. It was ever so slight. Why, yes. I am crazy, to move to a new city and not have a job. "I have some great prospects. It'll just be easier to secure something from LA and not fly back and forth." I nodded, falling into silence, feeling like I was volunteering too much information. Gary just seemed so... shocked. Again, I wasn't sure how.

"I guess I should have seen it," he said with a sigh, leaning back again. He clasped his hands behind his head and spoke at the ceiling. "Barker called, right after Qwest ended, just... singing your praises. I took that as a sign that they wanted to do more business, maybe pass our name along. Not that he was encouraging you to move on."

"He didn't talk me into anything. Just something he said made me remember that I'm not chained to Atlanta, or to StarTel. I'm ready for the next level."

He sighed again, heavily, his eyes kind of droopy as he righted his chair. His cheeks took on a light pink glow as he stood and extended a hand. "You're gonna kick ass out there," he said, as he shook my hand. Firm, like he meant it. "I feel like we haven't treated you right, here. I hope you find a place that does."

"You can count on it. Can I count on a recommendation from you?"

"It'll glow so bright, it'll set fire to their inbox. Just send them my name."

I laughed and reached for the knob to leave but stopped when he called my name. The tone of his voice made me turn on my heel. He was standing, behind his desk, hands in his pockets, face beet red, eyes glassy.

"This company ...we are where we are, who we are, because of you. I couldn't ever replace you. Don't get me wrong, I'll try." He chuckled and swiped a finger under his nose. "But we both know there is only one you. I'm jealous of the next company that gets you."

Dammit. I was doing fine, until right then. My throat was closing up, my nose was flaring, and I felt my internal temperature rising. I had to get out of there.

"Thanks, Gary. I really...really appreciate that. Thanks, so much."  I headed for the door and slipped out before he could say anything else, bowed my head and marched to my office, walked in and closed the door before anyone could see the tears sliding down my cheek.

###

"Going? Staying? Serena?"

"What?"

"Going? Yes or no?" Melissa jiggled a large textbook at me and balanced precariously over a box.

"Uhmmmm. I don't know. Going. I guess. Yeah, going. I want all of my books." She nodded and placed it in the box among the other ‘keepers'.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. I really should have been doing this awhile ago. I owe you my life."

If there seven circles of hell, at least five of them are packing. The other two are moving. I had a moving company coming to box up dishes, my garage and other items but some things I wanted to pack myself, like my books, my bathroom and my clothes. In the whirlwind of time between giving my notice at work (I lasted about two weeks before they told me I didn't need to keep coming in) and trying to get ready to move and travel to Orlando and then LA, my life was a series of boxes and suitcases and Subway sandwiches.

"Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can relax, and just think about living with the pretty people in LA."

Bent over a box of books, Melissa's face was red and sweaty, but the bookcase was nearly empty and a neat stack of boxes lined the wall-all perfectly labeled. Another stack of boxes, intended for Goodwill, sat in the middle of the room.

I handed her a bottle of water and fell into the nearest chair, surveying the damage. There were boxes everywhere, in every room, seemingly in every corner of the house. The walls were bare, the shelves empty. Every little nuance of what made my house... mine...was secured and packed away, safely tucked into a dark box and stacked on top of another box, full of me. All that remained was the skeleton of the house, the furniture, the books, the incidentals. I planned to be out by November 15th to make room for Jen and Bryan to start moving their furniture in before their apartment lease expired at the end of the month. I would be staying with Melissa and Annette until JC flew in, and then we would be on the road to Orlando.

Following that, what might be classified as the most interesting road trip, ever.

"I just don't know how I'm gonna pull all this together. I'm so tired. Maybe I shouldn't go to LA after Thanksgiving."

Melissa frowned at me and took a swig of water. "Do not have your boyfriend on my ass. You're going, and that's that."

I pouted. "I'm getting tired of being bossed around."

"I'm not bossing you. I'm protecting you. JC will be hot, and not in the good way, if you're not going back with him. You know this. Are you scared, honey?" Melissa pushed me over on the chair and sat next to me.

"Kind of," I admitted. It felt good to say it aloud. It wouldn't change anything, I was still going, but saying it felt good.

"We've been saying this whole time that we're looking forward to there not being a countdown to when I'm going home. I'm... there. What if we fall into some really boring rhythm and he's like...'wow this so isn't what I thought it would be'?"

Melissa snorted in laughter. "What the hell are you talking about? You've been with him a year and you haven't realized that you two could watch grass grow together and he wouldn't be bored?"

"No, but..." I huffed a breath in frustration and sat up. "Okay, when you're dating, isn't the sex and the relationship much different than when you were living together? Don't you feel like when you're just visiting that you have to get in all you can, because you have to go ‘so long' without any? So then, once you're there with each other all the time, don't you lose some of that urgency?"

She pondered my question for a few seconds, then looked back to me and shrugged. "I guess. But it was also much better when we moved in together, because we didn't feel like we were stockpiling or making up for lost time, being greedy with each other. It seemed to me that we had much more foreplay and did more making love than having sex."

She paused, thought some more, opened her mouth to say something and closed it. I elbowed her, my eyebrows scrunched in curiosity.  

"Well...you don't... don't you feel like you guys take your time more when there isn't a rush to go somewhere? Like when he came and stayed for a couple weeks. Or when you were there for a week? Or three months? Didn't your sexual relationship with Robert change over time?"

I snorted. "No. Robert always seemed to be trying to climb inside me. He was all about getting off, and once he was satisfied, that was it. That's what I thought sex was until I met JC. I've never met someone so... it's like, I could tell by the way he kissed me, the way he touched me, the way he said my fucking name..." I whimpered and sighed and melted into the furniture, the memory of that evening overtaking me.

"I knew he was different. It was sensual and not animal. And... I know it sounds cliché, of course he's had a lot of experience, so he knows what he's doing. But I had built it up so much in my mind, you know? Over the years, with fantasies and dreams about him. And then to actually meet him in person and spend so much time with him, and he was just so sweet to me. Shit, by the time we got down to actually having sex, it was like... like he touched me, and I came."

I blushed as Melissa shot out a loud belly laugh. "Laugh if you will but that orgasm was one hundred times better than any orgasm Robert ever gave me." I laughed with her until we both ran out of breath, slouched side by side in the large, overstuffed chair, surrounded by boxes and the dust of uprooting a life.

"Anyway... I guess it is different when we know we'll see each other the next day and the day after that but it's still awesome. I guess I'm worried about nothing."

"Exactly.  Stress is worrying about things you can't change. Just take it one day at a time, and wake up every day determined to make that day a good one. You guys have something really good. I know you know that. You've got him. Stop worrying about losing him. It's annoying. And get your ass up, you have clothes to pack."

"Like I said, I'm tired of people bossing me around." She got up and turned to glare at me. I returned her glare, standing up and stretching my limbs, tight from all the activity the last few days. In the distance I heard the familiar chime of JC's ringtone on the cell phone.  "Saved by the bell. That's my man."

Over the next few days, I watched my house grow empty, room by room, floor by floor. Each piece of furniture had been wrapped and padded and loaded onto a moving truck and footsteps and voices started to echo. The last item to be loaded was the couch. As it was lifted off the ground and carried out, I saw an envelope flutter inside through the mail slot.  I walked over and picked it up and then realized it was a card. The return address was JC's P.O. Box in LA.

I broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a plain card with a fuzzy colored pencil drawing of lilies on the front, autographed with JC's signature in the corner.  I opened the card and in neat handwriting was a message:

Serena,

I'm hoping that this card makes you smile. I wish I could be there to see it. I just wanted to send you something, hoping this would be the last piece of mail you get at this house. 

Awhile ago, I was kind of scared about something and in my fear, I said I wouldn't mind it, but that it was way, way, far off in the future. I know you know what I mean. I guess I wanted to say that maybe it's not as way, way far off as it was before. And I was kind of hoping that you meant it, when you said you'd love to join me, whenever that time comes. I'm not asking soon or anything but... you know me. I like to be prepared. :)

I hope I am worthy of being trusted with your heart. I know it's pretty fragile and I haven't done a real good job taking care of it. I'll do better, I promise. You already have mine, and you're taking care of it really well. I love you. I will always love you.

Looking forward to a new beginning for us.

JC

I sniffed and looked around, finding myself oddly alone. The house had been crawling with people for days, but at that very moment, I was by myself. I stepped out onto the back patio and took a deep breath, overcome with emotion.

"Serena we're just about done, the couch was the last thing to..." Melissa stopped as soon as she saw my face. "Oh no. What? What's wrong? Did JC call? Tell me!"

Silent, I handed her the card. She opened it and read it and looked up again, her eyes wet. "When did he send this?"

"I just got it. In the mail, just now." 

She shook her head and handed it back to me, swiping at her cheek. "I can't believe how much you worry about your relationship with him. Why can't you see how very special you must be to him?"

"You know, Mel...I'm standing here, and I'm looking at my empty house and my packed suitcases and I'm freaking out. I look calm, but I could lose it, at any second." I turned around to face her, unmasking the fear on my face and in my eyes, removing the brave front and the steady hand to reveal the absolute terror and the shakes that had been plaguing me.

"It's so much change. All at once. I'm so worried about this not working out and I keep feeling like I have to protect myself, because what if, what if, what if. And on the other side of the country, he... he so doesn't seem worried. He's so sure that this is gonna work. It's like he's known and planned and orchestrated all of this to happen, this exact way. I wish he could send me some of that confidence he has."

She rubbed my back and stood with me on the patio, barren of the usual furniture and decoration. "I don't mean to rush you but the movers want you to walk through and make sure they got everything. Come on, JoJo Dancer. Your life is calling."

###

I'd swear I was dreaming, if it wasn't so real.

If I wasn't really standing at baggage claim at the Atlanta airport, nervously clutching a printout of JC's flight number and arrival time, the paper damp and smudged from the sweat of my palms. If I wasn't trying to control my breathing, to take full breaths and not pant in anticipation of seeing him come up the escalator and saunter over to the carousels with a huge smile on his face and a sparkle in those blue-green eyes.

I hadn't seen him in almost two months but it was more than missing him, more than wanting to see his face and feel his arms close around me and smell his cologne and kiss his lips. The second that I saw him, this whole ‘selling my house and quitting my job and moving my life to the other side of the country' thing was real. It was actually happening. More than that, the moment I saw the top of his head and then his face and then his chest and then his legs glide up from the floor below would mark the end of long spans of time without him. We would-officially-- be together for the foreseeable future. Or at least the next few months.

Just when I thought I was about to pass out, I saw him, but he wasn't my same handsome, sexy guy with the swagger and the smile. This guy was gaunt-- tired and thin and haggard and looking so ready for a break. My man had been reduced to a physique that was almost bony, a pallor that was pale except for the disheveled stubble and the dark circles under each eye, and a gaze that was so distracted he almost didn't see me until he was right up on me.

When I caught his eye, the furrowed brows and the tired expression softened into a smile. He seemed to exhale and his eyes closed, ever so briefly, as he stopped, set down the bag he had slung over his shoulder and opened his arms. His smile grew wider the closer I came and then in a rush of excitement I was in his arms and he was holding me so tightly and his chin was digging into my shoulder and I never wanted to let go. He was mumbling into my ear, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. "I'm so happy to see you. So happy to see you."

We stood holding onto each other for what seemed like hours but what was probably just a few minutes, oblivious to people around us. By the time his arms loosened and he stepped back, he already looked better, to me. His cheeks had color and his smile was bright and his eyes, framed by those long, lush lashes I loved so much, seemed to sparkle.

"It's been a long time," he said, cupping my chin, his fingers curling up behind my ear, into my hair. Gently, he pulled me up and toward him and covered my mouth with his, sucking in a breath through his nose, making the most delicious sounds as he kissed me. I rose up onto my toes and clawed at him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling him toward me until we were plastered up against one another. He grunted as he ended the kiss with a smack, sucked in his bottom lip and pulled back so he could see my face.

"This face is a sight for sore eyes."

"Same here," I breathed, beaming up at him. "I'm so happy you're here. You look worn out. Are you okay?"

He shrugged and reached down to pull the strap of his bag over his shoulder again. "Didn't sleep last night. Last minute stuff before I left town. I caught a few hours on the plane, so I'm alright." He nodded his head toward the baggage carousel that was beeping loudly as the motor rumbled to life and bags began to tumble out of the opening.

"I'm looking forward to having someone in the bed with me tonight, though."

"And every night. For a long time."

"For a long time," he repeated, an arm casually hung over my shoulder as we watched the bags begin to circulate. When his oversize black suitcase came around, he lifted it off of the belt and extended the handle. I reached for the bag on his shoulder and slung it over my own before leading the way out of baggage claim to the parking lot.

After dumping his bag and suitcase into the trunk, we piled into the car and headed out of the airport and out to the freeway. I had to consciously direct myself to the exit going in the opposite direction as normal. It felt strange and out of place. I still wasn't used to not living in my house.

"It's weird to be going this way."

"Yeah, it is. Sometimes after work I find myself just automatically driving home, you know? One day I got all the way there and pulled into the driveway before I realized I don't live there anymore."

He laughed, and then leaned back against the headrest. A heavy hand landed on my thigh, just above my knee and squeezed. "I'm gonna miss that place. We had some good times, there."

"We sure did," I said. Nodding. Remembering.

I wondered if he was thinking, like I was, back to all of his trips to that house. Like the first time he came to see me. I was so nervous to have him at my house. I felt inferior, like he was going to judge me for having a nice-but small-house, and driving a nice-but not luxury-car, and living a nice-but not exciting and star studded-life. I remembered being pleasantly surprised at how well he blended into the scene with my friends and my family and my life. Never once was I reminded that he was a millionaire, that he lived a life that was much higher caliber than mine.

Or maybe he was remembering the night just after New Year's when I drunkenly confessed that I loved him. He took the confession in stride, like he was expecting it. Or maybe was just so used to girls getting drunk and saying they loved him, but he didn't seem surprised to hear it. I was still embarrassed about that night and still avoided alcohol mostly because of it, afraid that I would confess other things I hadn't intended to say. I wasn't harboring any more secrets, but sometimes I wondered what lurked in the shadows of my mind, like random questions about his past that I didn't mean to ask-they just fell out.

My fondest memory of our time in that house would be him braving the kitchen to make breakfast for me. I always cooked for him-it was something I enjoyed and I found I rather liked being domestic and taking care of him. Turning the tables like that showed me that he wanted to take care of me, and tried to tell me so in a language I would understand.

That house was a part of our past, a part that I thought I would really miss, but I didn't. Once I packed up all of my things and moved out, it was a mere shell. A skeleton of a life I used to live. I didn't really see it as the end of anything except the beginning. My present and my future were entirely more interesting.

I turned into the driveway at the modest Morningside house that had been home for the past week. We'd stay there for my final days in Atlanta before heading to Orlando. Melissa and Annette had finished the guest suite just in time for me to test it out.

A four poster bed took up most of the space on one side of the room, tastefully covered in a dark bedspread and coordinating light sheets and a mountain of pillows in matching pillowcase. After removing the adjoining wall, the bedroom next door became a sitting room, outfitted with a TV, sound system, and the most comfortable futon I have ever sat on. The bathroom off of the bedroom rivaled the master bath in my own house and the entire suite was so far away from Melissa and Annette's bedroom that it was like we were in a whole separate house and not one end of it. Melissa made no secret of the fact that she expected us to stay there whenever we came back to town.

"Anyone home?" JC was quiet as he stepped inside the house, pausing in the foyer.

"Nope, at work. We're this way." I led him down the hall to our end of the house and let him get comfortable and freshen up a little.

"So... what's the plan? Is there a plan?" His voice echoed off of the tiles of the bathroom, a sound I'd dreamt of hearing and almost couldn't believe was greeting my ears. I leaned against the doorjamb, watching him splash cool water on his face and brush his teeth.

"We're kind of free today and most of tomorrow. I thought I would take the car in for a last minute service. Close my PO Box. Things like that. Goodbye party at Luckie tomorrow night."

He straightened, wiping his face with a hand towel and haphazardly tossing it up onto the towel rack. "I finally get to go to Luckie? You've been keeping that place from me."

"I didn't say when I'd take you to Luckie. I just said I would."

He turned to leave the bathroom but I refused to move, blocking him by gripping the edges of the doorway on either side. He stood in front of me for a second, backed up a step and tried to step forward again. No go.

His jaw twitched in his effort to not smile or laugh. "Is there a toll at this house?"

I nodded. "Uh huh."

"Really. I wonder why I wasn't informed before I showed up?"

I blinked, slowly. "Because. I... just made it up."

"We can do that? Good to know. So, what's the toll?"

"A kiss."

"A kiss? Easy." He bent toward me, slowly, and then stopped and straightened again. Fucker! "Wait, like a peck, or a kiss, kiss?"

"Ooh, good question. A kiss, kiss."

"Like an open mouthed, tongues fighting, moaning, groaning, gettin' all hot and bothered up in here, kiss, kiss?"

I giggled at his clarification, but stood strong in the doorway. "Yeah. One of those."

He bobbed his head side to side, as if he was contemplating and considering. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to not laugh at him. He was so damn cute sometimes.

"That's kind of a high toll for getting out of the bathroom, don't you think?"

"It's not for getting out of the bathroom."

"Really. Hunh." He crossed his arms and stepped closer to me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He bent forward, coming even closer, and asked, "What's it for, then?"

I swallowed, pretty sure that I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. My arms never wanted to drop onto his shoulders, my breasts never wanted to be pressed up against him, my body never wanted to be one with his so badly in all my life. I felt warmth spreading through me, a feeling that I hoped was mutual.

"It's just a general levy. I require them, at regular intervals."

"Hmmm. Seems excessive. But..." he sighed, very dramatically. "I suppose there's nothing I can do. Taxes are taxes."

Before I even blinked, his arms were uncrossed and his hands were sliding around my waist. My thin blouse was short, and with my arms raised, my midriff was bared. The rough skin at the tips of his fingers scraped across my skin as he dragged them around to my back, up under the soft cotton material. His large, warm hands splayed widely, gripping my waist and pulling me toward him. The sudden movement knocked me off balance and I fell forward, into him. My hands let go of the wood I had been gripping so tightly and my arms dropped to his shoulders.

I had been giggling but stopped as soon as I glanced up at him and saw his serious expression, the fire in his eyes, the twitch in his jaw as he seemed to move in slow motion toward me-- head tilting, mouth opening and then warm and soft and supple comfort as his lips settled onto mine. The kiss was gentle at first but built quickly into something hot and passionate and so heavy, I didn't feel like my legs were going to hold me. I was having a hard time breathing, I was pressed up against him so tightly, but I felt like I wasn't close enough to him. I needed to be closer.

JC read my mind, because in three quick little steps I was being turned and pressed up against the wall and he was stepping even closer, as if that were possible. He made the sexiest, most erotic sounds while assaulting my mouth with his tongue and lips, occasionally breaking the kiss to rub against the skin of my cheek with the stiff stubble of his beard, licking at my neck, and then reclaiming my mouth like he just couldn't get enough.

Under my shirt, his hands never stopped moving, gliding along my skin in tight little circles that were sending nonstop shivers up and down my back. I felt his hands travel around my waist and between us, cupping and kneading and pressing and flicking before he gripped the band and pushed the thin bra up and over. Cool air hit my nipples and they hardened, standing at attention. His thumbs rubbed over the tips, light as a feather as he teased them. Lightning bolts shot to my toes and my hips convulsed.

"Shit," I moaned, when his lips left mine for a brief moment. "If you don't stop, I'm gonna come, right up against this goddamn wall!" My heart was beating in my ears, matching the thumping pulse I felt at my core.

"You don't wanna come right here? Right up against this goddamn wall?" He mumbled against my neck, the vibration adding to the convulsions and shivers. I was shaking, head to toe, trying to keep my climax at bay until that perfect, blissful moment when I could let go.

"No. No I don't," I breathed, panting, trying to catch a breath before my mouth was occupied again.

"Too bad," he growled. "I have a toll of my own."

I tossed my head back and laughed, which gave him great opportunity to nip at my neck again. The fingers of one hand left the breast it was kneading and reappeared at the button of my jeans, working it loose, pulling down the zipper and sliding down my lower belly. Thick fingers found their mark and began a slow, circular rub through the fabric. My knees just about gave out on me-had I not had an arm around his neck and one hand full of his hair I would have slid right down the wall onto the floor.

"Oh... my God! Do not stop!"

"Can't," he said. And he didn't. His fingers kept moving, driving me crazy. "Gotta collect the toll, mama."

My hips began an uncontrollable rhythm of rotation and convulsion, working with the speed and cadence of his fingers until he decided the clothes were too much of an obstruction. His fingers left me momentarily while he yanked the jeans down my hips. My panties went with them and then there was uninhibited teasing and flicking and rolling.

"Mmmm... I missed this..." He moaned in my ear, breathing heavy, his warm breath making chill bumps rise on my skin.

I gripped his hair tighter and pulled so his head came up. "Open your eyes," I demanded, breathless. "Watch me."

A flash of something sparked in his eyes and they narrowed as his fingers moved faster, rougher and my hips matched his speed and fervor. "Do it. Come for me."

"I am. Watch me, I'm gonna ... ooohhhhmyGod..."

I felt my eyes start to roll back into my head and my lids flutter, trying to keep them open. White hot fire streaked through my body, curling my toes and arching my back and stealing my breath except for a long squeal that physically hurt when it flew out of my body. My hips would not stop moving and my stomach muscles would not stop twitching as long as his fingers did not stop moving-- and I had the feeling he was trying to milk every last drop out of me before I collapsed to the floor.

"I can't... I can't stand up," I mumbled, soaked with sweat and starting a slow slide down the wall.

I was uprighted by an arm around my waist and lifted off of my feet as we made our way down the short hallway, where I was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. My jeans, dragged along by one foot, were pulled off and tossed aside. I sat up and pulled my t-shirt and bra over my head and let them fall. I didn't care where they landed.

One moment I was reaching for his t-shirt and the next moment he was bare except for a pair of baby blue boxer briefs, his arousal outlined in the tight fabric that hugged his slight hips and showed off every inch of his assets very well.

"Those are sexy, but they have to come off." I pointed at the briefs and he looked down at them and back at me.

"These?"

"Yeah, those. Off. Now."

He shook his head, a low chuckle coming from deep in his chest. "Impatient little thing aren't you?"

I blushed and rose up on my knees. "Do you need help?"

"Are you offering?"

"If it will get those off of you? Yes."

I crawled on my knees toward him while he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. My head tipped up to his as he bent to kiss me-gentle, softer this time.

"You know something?" I whispered, when he pulled back. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.

"I was thinking, a few weeks ago, about how... different things are, with you. Like, compared to anyone I've ever been with before. And I was thinking about how I liked that you were more sexual and sensual than animal and forceful but... I have to admit I really liked the you that was attacking me up against the wall, over there."

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying not to smile. His eyes were giving him away, though. "Yeah? You like him?"

"Mmmhmmm..."

"I like him, too. He gets the job done. You want more of him?"

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

I nodded, then braced as his hands gripped either side of my head and pulled me toward him. His lips crushed mine, and then I felt his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. He let go of my head and grabbed my hands and placed them on him. I wasted no time rubbing him through the fabric from the tip of his head, down the thick, veiny column and back up. He shuddered and groaned into my mouth, then pulled away so he could tip his head back.

I pushed the briefs down his hips and let him kick out of them. And then he was bouncing and erect and...there. I took that as an invitation and pulled him toward me. He let out a deep breath as I lightly grasped him in my hands and ran my tongue up and then down. Slow. Teasing. I looked up and his eyes were closed, his tongue licking along his bottom lip, almost trembling in anticipation.

I took him in, sucking lightly, very lightly. His eyes flew open the moment I touched him. I moaned, full of him, and caught his eye as I began to move. Up, down, faster, slower, deeper, more shallow, more pressure, less pressure. He couldn't seem to draw a full breath-instead he was whimpering and almost panting, his hips beginning a slow thrust. His hands moved to my head and curled up into my hair.

"God, you feel so good," he managed to whisper, in between groans so deep they seemed to come from the soles of his feet.

I moaned in response and sped up. His breath caught and he thrust with more energy. Harder. Faster. I struggled to maintain control, but he had all the telltale signs of an impending climax. I wanted to take him there, lead him to the edge and let him fall over. I kept my eyes open and on his face, watching him watch me, his face growing pink and his breathing becoming labored.

He let out a heavy grunt, his hands digging into my scalp, his mouth grimacing and twisting and his eyes shutting tight. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was in pain, not in the throes of a release that was making it hard for him to stand upright. He was swaying a little, falling sideways, shaking as I sucked him in deep, just in time to feel the hot splash hit the back of my throat. I didn't move, letting him work out the last of it, thrusting until he had no more to give.

He glistened with sweat-beads of it were dripping from his forehead onto mine. His skin was pink, but the flush was fading as the wave subsided. He heaved and panted, unable to catch a breath and when he finally pulled away, falling out of my mouth with a flat slap against his thigh, he just barely caught himself tipping over.

I moved aside so he could crawl up onto the bed. He collapsed onto his back, still breathing hard, wiping sweat out of his eyes and his hair. I laid next to him, my head on his chest, riding the rise and fall of his breathing. He curled an arm around me, his hand at the small of my back, working those circles again.

"If you don't stop that, with your fingers, there's gonna be another toll."

He laughed at that, the sound echoing through his chest. "You're so sensitive back there. I love that."

I drew an arm across his midsection, just to have a reason to touch him. He laid motionless for a few minutes, breathing deeply. I thought he was on the way to sleep, but his free hand found mine and moved it down his body, toward a slowly reawakening mass of flesh and muscle. His hand formed mine around him and let go. I gripped him loosely, slowly rubbing back and forth, up and down, adding a twist and a tease here and there. In minutes he was fully erect again. Pulsing.

I rolled over, toward the edge of the bed and opened the bottom drawer, where I kept a box of necessities. I plucked the small black square from a container and glanced back at him when I felt a finger trickle its way down my side and over the curve of a cheek. He was holding himself up for me with one hand, beckoning me with the other, an evil, devilish grin on his face.

"I recognize that look," I said, laughing. "It's that one that means I'm in trouble."

"Uh huh. I haven't been with you for awhile. Got a lot of time to make up for."

I ripped the package open and rolled the thin film over him, then tossed the wrapper aside and laid next to him again. He rolled over, crawled over me and then stopped.

"So the tolls don't count for anything?"

"Child's play," he mumbled, lowering himself onto me. "Teasing. Nothing more."

I sighed at the feeling of his weight sinking onto me. I did always love that feeling. I had missed it. No matter how many webcam and white hot phone sessions we'd had, they didn't compare to being with him.

"Teasing? That was teasing?"

"Mmmmm," he hummed, hovering. "Ready?"

"Ye-" I didn't get the word out before he was inside me, moving deeply but slowly, drawing out the experience. My hands found their way under his arms and around his back, so I could feel the muscles ripple as he moved. When he moved. He seemed to not be moving at all, but balancing us precariously on the edge of titillation.

I laughed, nervously anticipating. "You're so evil to me. Why? I'm so good to you."

He pulled back, so slowly it made my teeth grate. "You're real good to me. That's why I'm so bad."

"That..." I shuddered as he pushed in again. "...doesn't make sense."

"Sure, it does. You love this." He pulled back again, slow, slow, so fucking slow. "You pretend to hate it, but you love." Thrust. "Every." Thrust. "Second." Thrust. "Don't you?"

"Fuck, yeah. I love it."

He pulled back again, painstakingly slowly and then didn't move for what felt like forever. He stared down at me and I stared up at him, writhing and twisting and gyrating my hips, trying to make him move. He was amused by my desperation, smiling and then chuckling and getting joy out of being just out of reach.

"So, you want it?"

I nodded, on the edge of tears, unable to take my eyes off of him. "Yeah, I want it."

His eyes were ice blue and so piercing I felt like he was looking straight through me. X Ray vision to my soul. I wanted him. I wanted to want him for the rest of my life.

"I missed you," he said, in almost a whimper, just short of a whine. "I missed your body. I missed touching you. I missed the way your hair goes, like, everywhere and sticks to your face. I missed the way your eyes go all dark and the way you squeal when you come."

He moved his hips, grinding into me, driving me just a little more crazy. "I missed making love to you. I missed seeing you come right in front of me and moan in my ear and breathe on my skin." He sucked in a breath and shuddered. "I need you. I need to fuck you. Hard. You want me to?"

Uhm... "Yeah."

He smiled. That one evil smile, that he smiled when he was teasing me so very badly, making me want him more. Fucker. "Yeah, what?"

I started laughing, out of frustration, and because he really was funny, when he was trying to be a tease. He was shaking as badly as I was-I could draw out the game forever, driving him just as crazy as he was driving me.

"Asshole."

"Tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

I grabbed his face and found his eyes and I was never more serious than when I said, "Fuck me. Hard."

His expression went cold as he braced himself and slid inside, deep and deeper still, working his hips, unrelenting and machine-like, steadily pounding, driving higher and higher until I was begging him not to stop, never stop, don't ever stop. My throat was dry and closing up, my lips chapped red and cracking, my hips and legs cramping and still he pounded, never slowing or stopping, no more teasing until I hit the wall. My hands gripped him, nails digging into the skin on his back, hips thrusting up at him at a pace I didn't think was humanly possible. I clutched at him, practically screaming despite not really having a voice.

"SHITI'MGONNACOME!"

"Do it. Let it go."

I stiffened head to toe as the shocks coursed through me, my body jerking with the force. Then, feeling every ounce of energy sliding away with the subsiding wave, my entire body went slack. My legs fell and my arms fell and my head fell back and lolled to the side. I felt far, far away from my body, lingering somewhere above us. I was vaguely aware of JC still moving, grabbing a leg and wrapping it around his waist, his moans loud in my ear as he dipped his head to my shoulder.

"Help me, baby," he was whispering. Ragged. Heaving. "Help me."

The sounds of a man who wants desperately to climax, coupled with the slapslapslap of sweaty skin against skin and the steady rhythm of the bed banging against the wall gave me a second wind. From somewhere deep within me, I pulled some strength and wrapped my limbs around him again, my hips working with his. Against all odds, I felt another fire building.

"You're gonna make me come again," I said, laughing.

"Good," he said, laughing with me, breathing hard. "Then I can come with you."

"Better hurry up, I'm halfway there, already."

A strangled cry gurgled up out of him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy!"

I moved my hips up and into him, sending shivers up my spine and a spasm and a clench down below, squeezing him. He let out a low, lustful moan and shuddered.

"Holy...I'm really gonna come again!"

"Wait. Please wait for me. Wait."

I moved my hands to his waist and he pumped harder, moaned louder, and then a wild, loud flurry of movement, a violent jerk, a throaty, rough yelp and he stiffened. His skin was beet red, his eyes clamped shut, his teeth clenched. I could feel the force of his climax ripping through him, painful pleasure making him cry out over and over, the sounds and feelings of which sent me over the edge, again, my cries and moans and grunts mingling with his.

And then... just like that... it was over. Spent, he lost all strength in his arms-they buckled and he fell onto me. I kept my limbs wrapped around him and let him lay there, catching his breath, dripping sheets of sweat on to me, trying to find the energy or the strength or the will to move.

"Serena?" His throat was raw, his voice torn. I hoped he didn't have to sing any time soon.

"Hmmm?" I wasn't doing much better.

He cleared his throat once and then again before he could speak. "Let's never go that long again. Because otherwise you're gonna kill me."

I smiled. Victory. "Aww. I thought that was fun."

"Best sex ever."

I felt him smile against me, and then roll his head to kiss the breast he was laying on. "Still. I'm old. And you're older." He laughed and did his best to block my fingers crawling his skin for an inch to pinch. "I missed your old ass."

"Yeah, well... your ass is only a few months younger than mine, so I missed your old ass, too."

We chuckled at each other and sighed simultaneously, and then chuckled some more. Somewhere in there, my stomach growled, in protest of not having had any food all day. I had been too nervous to eat that morning, and then way too preoccupied with having my fill of him.

"So, we should eat. I guess I'm hungry."