He always knew he was going to end up in trouble. Always knew that being the good, helpful man was going to get him in trouble. Especially when it came to matters of curiosity.

He snorted slightly from his spot in the chair, shaking his head in disbelief. Trouble, well, he was in it. No … not trouble; if this was trouble, then he wanted to continue being in it. Or her.

But that was a different aspect of his thoughts. He needed to keep them clear.

Curiosity definitely killed the cat. Well, the certain thoughts that he’d never, ever read anything focused on him. Well, or the guys. ‘Cause, let’s face it – it was gross. Who wanted to read about Justin getting it on with some hot chick in the dressing room or Chris getting a blow job from some random chick that ran up and just told him she wanted him?

Not him. Certainly not him.

He fidgeted slightly, closing his eyes tightly. He wasn’t even one to want to read about himself. But, in the pinnacle of his celebrity-status, a mass amount of things written about him had begun to appear and still float around in cyberspace, waiting for him, taunting him to read them.

What he didn’t know what that these sort of things: fictions, blogs, poems and the like were still being written.

And that was where his trouble began.

"Have you updated your Facebook page? Twitter? Myspace?"

He activated the speaker on his iPhone, setting it down as he typed in the address to his Facebook account. Not lately. I thought that was what my publicist was supposed to do, isn’t it?"

The voice on the other line laughed. "Jace, it’s not that hard to go to twitter, write a 140 character summary of your day, your week, whatever and click ‘submit’. Even the smallest update will have people happy you are still being active within the music community."

"All right," he smirked, "woke up and took a long-ass piss. That work?"

"You’re shitty."

"I’m aware of this, Kristy. That is my name. And that summary is the reason why I don’t update. I never have anything to say –" He stopped when she began to laugh hysterically, "well, cyber-wise, anyway!"

"Just write some bs about being in the studio. Write that you are reviewing scripts. Let them in on something, crazy."

He grinned, exiting out of his Facebook account and into his twitter. "You know, I wish I could have just been JCChasez instead of JCChasez1. It’s like, I’m the fake one or something."

"But you have more followers than the other."

"I guess." He signed into his Twitter, it still actively collecting followers at around 14 thousand, plus some. "How about this: "excited to be back in the studio after a good while. New music coming soon!". Not a total lie. I’ve already got some music demoed."

"Or you could just tell them that your inspiration has been lacking."

"Way to break all of their hearts."

He smirked, clicking on the "@JCChasez1" link and letting the messages to him fill up the screen, ignoring what Kristy was saying.

listening to ‘Come to Me’ by @JCChasez1 – sexy!

#Nowplaying ‘All Day Long …’ by @JCChasez1.

@JCChasez1 on #ABDC is sexy! Miss him singing!

You know who I want to serenade me? @JCChasez1. The man can move, the man can sing and he’s just sexy! #Swoon

@JCChasez1 seems lonely. Who here wants to give him some love? I know I do!!

He laughed, clicking the ‘more’ link and letting more pages load. He paused when a mass amount of links directed at him appeared.

Hey, @JCChasez1, I thought you’d wanna see this #ThingsYouNeverExpectedFromSomeoneYouKnow
http://bit.ly/realityandfiction
One hour ago on TweetDeck in reply to LaLaLaLauren

Bet you never saw this coming @JCChasez1 http://bit.ly/realityandfiction
One hour ago on TweetDeck in reply to LaLaLaLauren

He clicked the link, almost afraid that it was going to be a virus or worm invading his hard drive. Shockingly, as the page loaded, he was greeted with the face of his best friend’s sister from back home, Lauren. Lauren dressed only in a pair of short shorts and a tank top that clung to every curve on her body.

He swallowed. She had always been gorgeous. Brown hair to mid-shoulder, gray eyes, fair complexion. Gorgeous and the little sister that was untouchable.

"Jace? You hear me?"

He startled, looking down at his phone. "Kristy, I’m gonna have to call you back." He hung up with her, scrolling down the page slowly, not wanting to take his eyes off of the photo above.

He had nearly forgotten how to breathe. The sudden rise of panic in his chest signaled for a deep inhale as he let the words settle. The blog was written in the middle of the night while he lie in bed, worrying about where his life had come to. She was spilling her heart out and he was trying not to let his own fall to the floor in regret of the past 33, almost 34 years.

He never regretted a single decision he had made regarding his career. That, that was never a question.

But what had she been thinking? Maybe she knew that he was rarely on twitter and it was a way to vent out her emotions, knowing that the entry itself would be deleted by the end of the day, anyway. Had she even wanted him to read it in the first place?

He reached for the mouse, aiming the arrow at the small printer on the right-hand side of his screen and clicked it, pushing away from the desk waiting for the printer to kick on. Tucking his phone into the waistband of his lounge pants, he walked down the hallway towards the stairs.

He froze, looking at photos that his mother hand hung just above eyesight. A few of the family, a few of the group, some of he of friends. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But one photo, encased in a deep mahogany frame, made his heart pause a moment or two.

There, tucked underneath his arm and cradling a bouquet of lilies, smiling as widely as she could without hurting her cheeks, stood Lauren, graduation cap on top of his head, his arm lazily wrapped around her shoulders with a smile that matched the casual draping of his hand. Her hair had been longer back then, a lighter shade of brown with big curls and half clipped up. He remembered when he put his cheek to the top of her head before the photo, it had tickled. He remembered that when he inhaled, he smelled only the lilies and the mixture of blackberry, vanilla and amber. The lilies reminded him of standing outside in a meadow, enjoying the sun beating down on him while at the time, the scent of the young, graduated woman beside him brought his hair on the back of his neck to stand on end; he wasn't sure why. It wasn't a bad, prickly-feeling, either; he just didn't know what exactly it meant.

He touched the frame with his fingertips, a sad smile forming on his face. He had read that you can never really capture the moment you fall in love with someone, though many know - but here, for the last ten years, he's had the proof of someone falling in love with him resting in a photo that he passed every day with or without someone joining him. That his past loves may have came and went, but he still had the girl, no, woman who had (keyword, had) been secretly in love with him all along just hanging out, waiting for him.

He couldn't think straight. His head felt as if he were fighting a downward spiral, slightly nervous feeling, mostly dizzy; his heart was beating at an almost panicked rate; why was it, that in regards to her, he never knew what he felt?

She had been right though; she was 'the little sister'. Her older brother Lucas had been his best friend since they were 8 after he and his family moved a little more into the heart of Bowie. She was the average annoyance at four, dressed in whatever floral dress her mom had decided on, pigtails and bows and jelly sandals. She was sugar, spice, sweet and sassy. With a hand on her hip and her lip jut out, she had everyone under her spell.

He couldn't lie, though; he noticed her. He noticed her a lot once puberty hit and she followed shortly behind. Of course, Lucas, in the prime of his puberty and voice changing, threatened any and all who dared look at his little sister. The same little sister who suddenly had breasts at 13.

Suddenly, she was changing, evolving into her own kind. He noticed when she was 16, 17 years old. She was rarely around, always having a different boyfriend and always having girl friends. She drove her father's handed down Jeep Grand Cherokee, hunter green to the black of his own Cherokee (not Grand) had been.

When she became as independent as she had during her junior and senior years, he came to the realization that he missed seeing her around, missed hearing her soft voice in her room talking on the phone and laughing.

He definitely did not miss the boyfriends.

He sat down on his couch, pulling his phone out of the waistband and held it in his hands. Dialing out, he sighed as he put the phone to his ear.

"Yes, JC?"

"Kristy." His voice was quiet, unsure. "I gotta ask you something."

She laughed. "What is it that you need to ask me, Jace?"

"When was the last time you updated and checked my messages on Twitter?"

"I checked your messages earlier this morning; why?"

He grew quiet for a moment, letting the words run through his head. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm -

"JC?"

He licked his lips, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "You saw those messages, then."

"The birthday ones? Which, by the way, Happy Birthday ..."

"No. The ones with the link."

This time, it was Kristy who became quiet for a moment. "Yes, I saw. She and I didn't think you would -"

"Wait. Wait a minute; you saw it?"

"I ... I was actually the one who told her to do it. We both knew that you didn't ever go on there."

"Yet, you had every intention of telling me to check my account, anyway."

"It had to be said, Jace. She was miserable. Just broke up with yet another guy, misses you ... it was better this way."

He closed his eyes, immediately flooded with images of her behind his eyelides. "I've gotta go," he said softly. "I'll talk to you later, Kristy."

He set the phone down, lying down on the couch and staring at the blank television screen. What was he supposed to do? He obviously cared about her; she had been in his life for over 20 years. She wasn't just some random woman who came and went just like a one-night stand. This was Lauren he was talking about - the only woman who seemed to be permanent in his life, regardless of where it took him.

He got up quickly, grabbing his cell phone and typing out her number. He needed to talk to her. Seeing her was impossible; she still lived in Bowie and he was still in Los Angeles.

She picked up within five rings.

"Hey, Josh. Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks, Laur," he managed to said softly, pausing as he looked to find the right words, "Listen ..."

It grew still on the other end of the line. He usually heard her multi-tasking as she spoke, but he knew she had stopped doing whatever she had been doing to focus all of her attention he and his words. "You saw it, didn't you?"

He frowned, hearing her disappointment. It saddened him that the thought of him reading what she wrote did not make her happy. "Uh, yeah, I did ... and I was just wondering something ..." When she didn't speak, he had worried she hung up on him. "Lauren?"

"I'm here," she said softly. "What did you want to know?"

He licked his lips, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear as he wiped his suddenly clammy hands against the cotton of the pants. "What you wrote," he began, clearing his throat nervously, "was it, was it true?"

She sighed. "Every word."

"Lauren -"

She stopped him. "Look, Jace, it's okay. I'm a big girl. I can take a hint. No harm done. Just go on about your life in California and I'll go on with mine back home. Forget it was even written, forget I even felt that way. I know that I'm gonna wanna forget that it even happened."

"Lauren, c'mon now, can't we at least talk about it?" He leaned forward, hand over his forehead and rubbing it back and forth. All he could picture was her form, sitting on her own couch at home with her knees tucked up underneath her, a look of defeat on her face. It killed him. All he wanted to do was rid of her it. "You just told me you loved me, for crying out loud ..."

"Technically, I didn't; the computer did."

"No, your words told me. Lauren -"

"Look, I gotta go, Josh. I'll uh, I'll talk to you later, okay? Happy Birthday."

"Lauren -" he sighed, hearing the dead air after she disconnected the call.

He wasn't sure why, but upon the realization of her hanging up on him, his heart plummeted to the ground. He pictured her trying her best to contain herself as she did whatever she had been doing before he called and finally giving up, retiring to her room as she often did when she did not want to face the world.

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to be standing on the other side of that door, demanding she open up; that she face the world again. With him.

He suddenly realized why his emotions were always bubbled up and confused when he thought of her, thought of her smell: he had been falling in love with her, too.

In love for ten years (give or take a little) and never knew. He really took the description of 'clueless' to another level.

He grabbed the phone once more, dialing another number. He had to fix this. "Kristy, I need you to do me a favor ..."

His ass hurt. The seats felt like he was sitting on springs. He had to piss. He was too nervous to even get up and relieve himself. Not only were his hands sweaty, but so was every other part of his body.

Sweaty, uncomfortable and nervously waiting for the plane to land, as the pilot had announced, only moments ago.

After he had hung up with Kristy, pleading for her to work her magic and book her a flight out to Maryland as soon as possible, he took nearly three steps at a time and packed at supersonic speed, not even caring if he missed something. There were stores, he could grab what he had missed. That, could wait. She, could not.

He felt an immense pressure in his chest when he thought of her now. It wasn't a bad pressure; it was more like, the pressure someone would get when the person they cared about most walked in and you just wanted to explode in pride that yes, that person is yours and no, you will never have them because like you, they felt the same way towards the person anxiously waiting for them.

It was fast. Ten years of loving someone and not knowing but suddenly coming to the realization that he didn't want to live without waking up next to her and smelling whatever scent she wore now everytime she leaned into him enveloped him just like her sweet scent and he couldn't get on that plane fast enough.

He didn't bother calling her to tell her he was coming; he knew she wouldn't allow him in her home after their small exchange of confusion and admittance. She was a true fluster of emotions. She would never be able to face him again if he didn't force it upon her, he knew. He knew that when she had hung up, her cheeks were flushed, hands shaky, knuckles white. He knew that he wanted to be the one to remove it all.

Kristy called within record time to tell him that she had booked him a flight one-way to Maryland with a rental car waiting for him in the parking lot. "You owe me a big raise, Chasez," she stated as he eagerly agreed, hanging up and picking up his messenger bag, throwing it over his shoulder and picking up his duffle. He was going to do this.

Hat tipped low and sunglasses high up on his nose, he walked quickly through the terminal about a half hour after landing and looked for the man waiting for him with the rental. He could only laugh when a man holding the sign up with his first name and last initial stood, hand on the handle of the 1995 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Green, just like hers had been. Same year, too. If that hadn't been a sign like the one with his name written across it in black ink, he wasn't quite sure what would have been.

He accepted the keys, tipped the man and soon was making the two hour trip into Bowie. Normally, the scenery around him would make him feel a sense of peace, but reoccuring thoughts of her turning him down in fear of being hurt riddled his mind. "I wouldn't hurt you," he thought, "I'm just afraid of getting hurt myself," he said aloud.

And maybe that was why the feelings had tangled into a clusterfuck. Fright always had a way of messing shit up. He wasn't going to let it happen this time. Not now, not ever again. Not with her.

He knew she made a decent life for herself as he stood in her driveway, jet-lagged and drained, staring up at the old-style Victorian, it's two stories dressed in a grayish-white paneling, porch matching the white shutters and short fence that ran all along the backyard. She had planted flowers all along the sidewalk from the driveway to the porch steps, freshly-cut (maybe bought) lilies sitting on the rail.

He gripped the object in his hand, walking slowly up the sidewalk and walking over the creeking steps to the front door. A screen door, locked, was held in front of a large white front door, decorative glass shaped into an oval gracing it. He pressed the doorbell slowly, with purpose. A dog barked. The ticking of his watch echoed deafeningly in his ears (since when was it so loud?). Footsteps echoed in the distance, a voice (her voice, her voice!) soothing the excitable animal. A click and turn of a deadbolt lock alerted him that she was only inches away from him, the gentle grind of the doorknob turning to open the door bringing on the clamminess of his hands, slipping while holding what he had been literally holding against him tightly.

"Calm down, Wilson," she said, head still down as she pushed the mid-sized Labrador away. "Go, go!" She urged him away, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and finally looking up, freezing as he stood, frozen. "Josh -"

He licked his lips, gesturing back to the bags that sat in the middle of her driveway, he not caring if they had stayed there forever. "I had been looking locally for doctors to speak to for a while now ... had a lot of things on my mind and someone recommended me to you. You see, I've got this ache deep in the darkest part of me and I'm not quite sure how to get rid of it. It's been settled there for a while now and my temporary relief was when this girl, this woman told me that she loved me. Maybe not so much in her own voice, but nonetheless, it was her. It made me feel better until I called her to speak about it and she hung up on me."

"Josh, I'm not a psychiatrist. I've still gotta get my Master's and work my way into my own practice and -"

"And it made me realize, even when she's trying to correct me, that feeling in my chest isn't there when she's around. I suddenly feel like I'm standing in a happy commercial, where every one of my senses are in overdrive. I hear the birds, I feel the sun, I smell the flowers' when she's not around, everything just moves along. I don't wanna just move along, Lauren. I can't do that anymore. It may have taken you ten years to say what you said, but it's taken me just as long to realize that I can't live without you - I don't want to."

She blinked slowly, a lone tear falling from her eye. "You don't mean that." She stood behind the screen door as if it were shielding her from him, her hand gripping the arched doorknob for dear life. "You can't. This isn't what is supposed to happen."

"What, someone in real life actually getting a 'Happily Ever After'?"

"That's just fiction," she said softly. "Make-believe."

He released a hand on the object, turning it away from his body and showing her what he had been holding. He heard her gasp slightly, watching as her eyes slowly fell closed again before returning to what he had been holding. "Then, in my make-believe world, I'm standing next to the woman that I'm meant to stand next to for the rest of my life in this make-believe picture."

"That's my graduation day."

He nodded, watching as she pushed open the door, stepping aside as it fell closed before stepping in front of it. "Why do you have that?"

"The day you left for college, your mom gave it to me," he stated. "Said I'd need it more than she did. That she had plenty of reminders of you in her home and it was meant for me to hang. Of course, I did no such thing to it; it actually sat in the guest room for a while but once my parents arrived and my mother got a hold of the photos I had in there, she put that picture right on the wall along with every other photo I had framed like you belonged there all along. And you did. You do. You belong there. Just like you belong with me."

He watched as she fought to keep the smile from forming on her face, she crossing her arms and gesturing towards his bags in the driveway. "It's supposed to storm later; might want to bring them in. How long are you staying?"

"Staying?"

She nodded. "I can't let a friend stay in a hotel when I have plenty of rooms for them to stay in."

"Lauren -"

"Get your bags, eh?" A gentle breeze blew around them, the sudden scent of the vanilla, amber and blackberries filling his nose. "Lauren, stop." He reached forward, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to him, pressing his lips to her own. She was tense, he releasing her hand as she lifted hers up, pushing him away. "Better bring them inside before it rains."

He opened his mouth to speak, dumbfounded as she opened the screen door up and disappeared into the foyer and down the hallway, her dog in tow.

That hadn't been quite the reaction he was looking for.

Still, going by her suggestion, he jogged down to the driveway, grabbing his two bags and tucking the picture into the front pocket of the messenger bag. He walked quickly back up to the porch and into her house, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of tomato and meat. She was making spaghetti. "Do you want any help?"

She turned from stirring the sauce, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine."

He frowned. "Well, I'm not."

She set the wooden spoon down on the napkin, reaching up and wiping her hands on the hand towel. "Why?"

"Because I drop everything to take a seven and a half hour flight and a two-hour drive here to tell you that I love you, too and you pretend that nothing was ever said from either of us!"

"I told you I wanted to forget it," she said, he watching as her breath hitched in her chest, she trying to keep her composure. "To just forget anything had been written and said -"

"I don't want to forget it."

She shook her head, turning back around and reaching into the sink, grabbing the head of lettuce that had been resting in the water. "I can't take back what I wrote but I can take back what I meant."

He stepped forward, inching closer to her as he watched her hands, shaky and clumsy, try to rip the lettuce apart. "You wouldn't take back what you said. You've never been like that and you aren't now."

She stopped tearing the lettuce, placing her hands on the countertop. "How do you know anything about me anymore, huh? I was just the kid sister in the beginning, let me continue to be that now."

"Lauren, look at me," he said softly, stepping into her personal space as his hip bumped hers, he urging her to turn to the side so that he was looking directly at her. "You may have been the kid sister all those years ago, but you aren't now. You're Lauren Fitzgerald, a beautiful woman that I've known since we were both kids. The woman that I happen to have realized I loved back after ten years of her feeling that way for me ... and never said a word."

"I blame it on alcohol and wrong decisions."

"I'm trying to tell you, for the third time, that I love you, too; is that not clicking?"

She hung her head, nodding slowly. "Of course it's clicking," she said softly, "but it's also clicking that even if this would take off, it could have a very bad landing and I just can't see myself saying goodbye to you forever."

"Regardless of the outcome, you've got me until the day I die in whatever relationship we've got by then. I'm not gonna walk away from you, from our friendship, if this relationship would not work out." He watched her shoulders slump, unable to resist reaching out to touch her bare skin there. She jumped slightly, he letting his hand glide slowly up her arm and over her shoulder to her neck, cupping it and lifting her gaze to him. "Trust me, all right? You just gotta trust me."

She met his gaze, slowly nodding as she lifted her own hands to his shirt, gripping the fabric desperately. "Please don't forget you said that, all right? I trust you, you know I do, but I can't trust emotions and feelings -"

"I know." He pressed his lips to her forehead, letting his eyes fall closed at the connection of her skin to his mouth, letting his head tilt downward until it was resting at the top of her forehead. "I'm sorry it took me ten years to realize this."

She laughed slightly. "I'm not. I'm sorry it took me ten years to say it if I had known this outcome."

He kept his head to hers, smiling slightly. "You were worth the wait."

They stood there in silence, she letting him hold her as she gripped his shirt, her forehead to just below his chin. All he could smell was her and the faint scent of the sauce that was simmering on the range. He was pretty sure, that although he had never been fond of just spaghetti, it was going to become a favorite, or at least one of the lingering memories that, years from now, would make him smile.

He felt her shift as a gentle breeze blew from her propped open back door that had let Wilson out to sniff out the backyard, his hair, slightly longer, tickled his forehead as she reached behind him, turning off the burner. "What are you doing," he asked softly, "it's gonna get cold if you don't let it simmer."

She let her hand that was still gripping his shirt release, pushing her body away from his as she studied his features. He had a lopsided grin on his face, his eyes going back and forth from her eyes to her lips as she sucked in her bottom lip, biting it gently before releasing it and just going for broke, hand sliding up his chest to his neck, bringing his body closer and his mouth to hers.

He reacted instantly. With a hand at the small of her back and the other weaving through her hair at the nape of her neck, the kiss was slow and deliberate, moving with a certainty and reason. Her hands were holding his face, thumbs gently rubbing at the skin of his cheekbones and pressed up against him intimately. Slowly pulling away, she dropped her hands down, lacing her fingers through one of his hands and tugging, pulling him along with her as she walked.

"Lauren -"

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him as he gave her a warm smile, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You sure you wanna go, you know, up there?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm a big girl, Josh; I know how this works."

"Yeah, but it doesn't need to happen now. We can at least wait until after dinner."

She released his hand, shrugging as she slowly walked past him. "If you want."

He snorted. He was a man, he didn't want to wait if sex was promised to him. He was also a man in love, with the idea of making love to a woman who was letting him make the decision as to whether he got it now or later. Nownownownownownownow. He grabbed her hand as she squealed, throwing her body of his shoulder as he took the stairs as quickly as he could without dropping her. "Which door," he asked, eyeing every single one, wishing at least one of them would be open and be her bedroom, giving him a quicker answer than she was.

"Second one on the left," she said, her voice slightly masked from her face being mere inches away from his shirt. "It sticks a little, so you have to -" she paused, feeling him push hard on the door, "play with it a little. Well, never mind at that one," she laughed, watching as her world began to flip right-side up again, she now back on her feet. "I'll be right back, all right? Make yourself comfortable."

He nodded, watching as she disappeared across the hall. He took a moment to survey her room, smiling as it reminded him slightly of her room back home but more, womanly. She had one dresser directly across from her bed, large enough to be a King, a small tv on top of the dresser. He smiled as he recognized the full-length mirror from her old room directly across from him in the corner, pictures still littering the frame. Her desk was directly parallel to the mirror, a few pictures in frames set on one side, while a deskside lamp and books rested on the other. The walls were a light beige, even more pictures hung there.

He smiled when he stopped his surveying directly beside her bed. There, on the nightstand, rested the exact same picture he came with in the same frame he had. He walked towards it, touching the frame gently and smiling back at the smiling people in the photo. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

"Hey," she said softly from behind him, he turning and looking at her. He reached to take her hand, pressing his lips to it.

"Hey."

She smiled at the softness of his tone, gesturing towards her bed. "So are we really going to do this, or is this just one of my vivid imaginings?"

"Only if you want to," he said softly, watching as she let the gears shift in her head, unable to surpress the shit-eating grin from forming as she reached down, crossing her arms at the hem of her shirt and lifted up, tugging the shirt off of her body. "All right, I say that's a good answer, but from now on, let me take the clothes off, all right?"

She laughed, nodding slightly as her hands went to the hem of his shirt, lifting it as he brought his hands up, she tugging the shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere beside them. He turned them slowly, waiting as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the ground as he stepped out of them, her own pants following suit.

Gently, he pushed her towards the bed, letting her lie down as he came down on top of her, holding his body up with his hands. Downstairs, the kisses were slow and deep with the purpose of showing her that he was there for the right reasons; now, the kisses were hard, passionate and hungry; if she didn't know the reason for that, well, he was in trouble.

He moaned when he felt her bite his lip, sucking it into her mouth as she rocked slowly against him, no barriers between their bodies. "Lauren, you gotta stop that; if you don't, there isn't going to be much left ..."

She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking at her ankles and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her so that her lips where grazing his as she spoke. "I don't care," she said softly, pressing her lips against his briefly before continuing, "I've got the rest of tonight to really see what you're about."

"No, you've got five days," he smirked, "and even then, you still will have no idea."

"Cocky, are we?"

"Just a little," he smirked, nudging at her entrance as her body arched, pressing up against him with every single part of her body. When he slid in, it was electric, his entire body stood on alert, the hairs on his arms raised as goosebumps appeared and he felt a wave of relief flow through his body. Her groan as he filled her completely brought him back to reality, watching her as she moved with him in a slow, deliberate dance. They may not have had foreplay, but he was going to make it last as long as he possibly could.


After, they lay next to each other, spent in nearly the same position. His eyes moved around the room as the last bit of sun illuminated it, settling back on the picture frame next to him. "I'm glad I came."

She nodded, her hand sliding down and gripping his. "Me, too."

"Think it's better than what you thought it would be?"

Chuckling, she lifted herself up, holding the sheet to her chest as she nodded. He got up, angled at her and leaned in, kissing the tender and flushed skin of her collarbone and down to her breasts, tugging the sheet away. "Reality was always better than my imagination."

With a chuckle, he lifted his mouth to her neck, gently sucking as she scratched gently through his hair, sighing in contentment. "I'm glad you wrote that, Lauren."

She smiled, waiting for his lips to make their way to hers. "Me, too." She kissed him softly, head dropping back as he began his assault on her neck once more. "You know what else?"

His murmured response vibrated against the column of her neck, her grin widening. "I'm hungry."

He laughed, placing his forehead at her collarbone. Suddenly, he was, too. "I think we can fix that."

She nodded, watching as his naked form slid out of the bed, reaching for his pants that were resting just at the side. "I think afterward, I'm gonna want dessert."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, turning as he buttoned up his pants, slowly zipping the fly, careful not to hurt himself. "What'd you want?"

"You," she stated simply, watching as the grin slowly formed on his face once more, he crawling across the bed and kissing her deeply.

"I think I can arrange that."

She smiled, watching as he headed for the doorway, leaning up against the frame and watching her slowly dress. "Josh?"

"Hmm?" He watched her as she slowly pulled on her shirt, pulling on her boyshorts shortly after and walking slowly towards him. "What's up?"

"Thanks for making my dream a reality."