"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.