"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.