Terry and Donna Willis didn't always live in a rustic, peaceful house on a Lake. At one time they were part of the hustle and bustle of a metropolitan city, but after raising three kids and sending us all out on our own, the big family house became cold and lonely, and a perpetual summer home seemed like a well deserved gift to themselves and the family. Before meeting JC, I would drive up every few weekends and spend time there, feet in the water, head in the clouds. I was embarrassed to admit that I hadn't been up there in months.

One side of the Lake was a Resort that saw a lot of activity in summer-boaters, kayakers, swimmers and the like descended upon the tourist attraction like bees to honey. The other side of the Lake was residential-landowners who built homes on the lake's edge and woke to gentle waves lapping the shore every morning. Summer meant a barbeque, lying out on the deck, taking a ride in the boat or on the Jet Ski, or just finding shade under the big oak tree and dreaming the afternoon away. After dark, us ‘kids' usually sat around the fire pit talking and laughing and enjoying the clean, smog free air and the pleasant sounds of the Lake at rest.

The morning got off to a hurried start.  Everyone was gathering at two that afternoon. It was late morning, almost noon when I finally cracked an eye open and checked the clock, then bounded out of bed, dragging a sleepy JC with me to the shower.   

"I guess I'll just wear my bathing suit under my sundress," I mumbled to myself as I pulled on the long, flowing garment, pretty much my summer staple. Comfortable and cool. "You brought something to swim in, didn't you?"

"I was gonna swim naked," he growled, shoving rolled up clothing into an overnight bag.

"You were not. Did you?" When he didn't answer me, I turned around to find him frozen in the middle of his task, a ball of socks in one hand, his eyes meeting mine. He was somewhere, in a faraway place.

"What?" I checked my reflection, looked for anything weird. "Does this look funny? I should just pack the bathing suit, huh?"

"Come here." He held out a hand, which I took and let him pull me close to him, up against him. He smelled so good, like soap and lotion and mint toothpaste. "I just wanted to say that you're very pretty today and I like your hair."

Sometimes I wished life could just stop, and it could just be him and I, and he could always look at me that way and say things to me the way he did. Not loud and not flowery; kind of plain and mumbly, but I savored every word.  It shouldn't have, but his compliment caught me off guard and suddenly I was as shy as if we'd just met for the first time. I couldn't hide the stupid grin on my face, nor could I stop myself from nervously patting a hand down the waves of curls. I tried not to mind the blush creeping up my chest and my neck, on up to my hairline. He smiled and kissed me, feather soft. I almost wished we didn't have anywhere to go.

I couldn't wait for everyone to meet him and love him and know him like I did. And yeah, okay-I wanted to show him off. It had been a long time since I'd come to one of these family weekends with a man in tow. Someone to sit next to at dinner, or on the banks of the lake to watch the neighbors play in the waves and the setting sun, or around the fire pit, listening to the crackle and pop of the wood in the flames. I was in love and genuinely happy and I wanted everyone to see how good we were together, how good we were for each other, and how me moving to LA was going to work out just fine.

Overnight bags, a pan of my famous brownies, toys for the nephews were all piled into the backseat and we were on the road, heading north and ahead of schedule. Traffic was heavy through downtown but once we left Atlanta city limits, driving was easy and the mood was light.

"So you think you're coming for my birthday?"

I winced at the mention of his birthday. "I want to," I finally answered, stealing a glance at him. "I really want to. I'm getting you something awesome." My eyes left the road for a flash of a second, long enough to see his eyebrows rise in curiosity. "It might be hard to get the time off."

His hand as at its usual resting place when I was driving- resting just inside my thigh, the callous on this thumb rubbing back and forth. He squeezed gently, soothing. "My parents were thinking of coming out and they want to meet you. I can push them off, though, till later."

Wait months to meet his parents? That felt like torture, to me. "I'd rather get it over with sooner than later."

"They'll like you," he said with a pat. "They're easy. I'm more worried about meeting your folks, especially your dad. You think we should tell them? About you moving?"

It was a crapshoot either way, but I knew my parents. A lot of lead time would mean a lot of time to try and talk me out of it, to present the opposing side, to play devil's advocate. My mind couldn't be changed and I wasn't going to be afraid of taking this step. There was no sense in giving them time to try.

"I don't think so. I know you want to, but trust me. We want to wait."

I took the familiar exit to the access road and the residential side of the Lake. My heart beat and my breathing sped up a little. I patted his hand on my thigh. "We're almost there!"

"Great," he said with little fanfare, gazing out of the window at the Chattahoochee Forest that surrounded the lake and obscured one house from another.

A long two lane highway took us deeper into the forest, traveling along the tree line. Lake Lanier glistened in the sunlight between thatches of trees, a breeze creating tiny whitecaps on the water. We passed a few houses, some small and ramshackle, some larger and sprawling. A few turns brought us to Cherry Road, and at and the end of the block sat a modest, welcoming home with a wide driveway and brick front. Several cars were already parked in the driveway that circled around and back out to the road, in the other direction.

"We are here," I announced, unsnapping my seat belt.

"I look okay?" He checked his hair in the visor mirror, frowning at his stubble. "I should have shaved. Shit."

I reached over to stroke his face and smoothed his hair down near his ear. "You look great, very handsome. You'll be fine. Let's go in."

One of the doublewide garage doors slid open with a mechanical growl and a series of clicks. Three boys spilled out of the opening, yelling and laughing and running right toward me. "Aunt Serena! Aunt Serena is here!" Tiny voices and arms vied for my attention as I gathered them to me, planting hugs and kisses on each one of them.

"Did you bring us presents?" CJ, the baby of the group at five years old, was the image of his father, Chris, with a tall pile of curly blond hair, hazel eyes and a thick, muscular frame. He was going to look like a football player before he hit puberty.

"Of course, I brought you presents. I always bring you presents." I reached into the backseat and tossed a squishy, squeezable ball to each of them in their favorite colors. It was so easy to please children-they squealed and jumped around, so grateful for such a little thing.

"Hey you guys, I want you to meet my friend." I pointed at JC, leaning against the hood of the car, watching with amusement. "This is JC. JC, these are my nephews. Go introduce yourselves, say hi."

The boys were nowhere near shy--they marched right up to him and stuck out little hands, which he shook and smiled and said "nice to meet you," after each introduction to Matthew, Devon, and CJ. They scrambled past us both, back into the house, a loud ball of legs and arms and kid voices.

"They're friendly." He picked up the bags and the pan from the backseat and nodded at me to lead the way into the house.

"You just wait. Grandpa has a Wii. They know you play-they will want you to play with them."

"I'm totally in the mood to get beat by some kids today."

Sounds of a lively conversation spilled out of the house, the closer we came. JC lagged behind me, walking slower and slower as he checked out the well stocked garage. Every tool, every toy, every utensil and container had its place in the garage-it was designed and built that way and one of the things that made my dad's chest puff up with pride.

I flipped the latch and stepped inside and suddenly felt as if I was in one of those E.F. Hutton commercials-when E.F. Hutton talks, people listen. All chatter stopped, making the room eerily and unusually silent. Every head turned as I stood motionless and then broke into a smile.

"You guys talking about me?"

A chorus of "no, no of course not," rose from the small group standing around the center kitchen island, sharing a bowl of tortilla chips and homemade salsa and guacamole. Garret snapped a chip in half and tossed it at me. It stuck in a curl and I brushed it off. "Where's your dude? I thought you were bringing him?"

"He-" I turned, expecting to find JC, but was greeted with an empty screen door. I poked my head out and around the corner and found him admiring a wall of tools. "You can't hide out here. Come on, they don't bite."

He didn't move, standing there with one bag slung over each shoulder, holding a pan of brownies. "They don't bite you. They might bite me."

"I promise they won't bite you." I grabbed his hand and he let me pull him into the house behind me. A round of applause smattered throughout the kitchen, echoing up into the vaulted ceiling.

"Okay, okay, okay, calm down. And no biting."

I pulled him through the group, took the bags and the pan and introduced him around the room. "So you've met Chris and Garret." He nodded at each of them. "These are the poor women that got roped into marrying them. "

I pointed to Kim, a tall brunette with blue eyes and a winning smile, married to Garrett; and Andrea, a short, athletic blonde married to Chris. JC smiled and shook hands, gracious and warm with each of them.

"I am... oh my God, one of your biggest fans," Andrea gushed, her face turning redder by the second.

"Thanks, uhm... I appreciate that." JC started to blush and a few drops of sweat popped up near his hair line. "I heard about you, actually. I met your husband around New Year's and I was supposed to meet you but I ran out of time."

"I was so mad when I heard you had already left. That's okay, I've met you. I can die now." Andréa was glowing, much to the chagrin of her husband.

"Awesome," grumbled Chris. "Now I'm gonna have to like, work out and stuff, to keep up with you. Thanks, man." At that, the room lit up in laughter and JC relaxed.

On Kim's arm bounced a rosy cheeked baby girl. Chloe was six months old, her wispy hair just long enough for a pretty barrette and her light brown eyes open wide, taking in the action and the noise. She clapped and squealed at the laughter, trying to join in on the fun. After three nephews I was so ready to spoil a niece.

"Who is this big girl? This cannot be my niece."

"It is. She's a little pig lately. Here, take her." Chloe was as friendly as her brothers and fell right into my arms, her little legs kicking as I hugged her to me.

"Hi, punkin," I cooed at her. She gave me a gummy grin and a gurgle. "Do you want to meet Aunt Serena's friend?"

"This is the baby," he said softly, leaning over me, close to her face. "Hi. I'm JC. What's your name?"

"Tell him your name is Chloe, and that in about 30 seconds you're going to yank on that necklace hanging off of his neck."

One of JC's favorite necklaces, an antique silver cross hung from his neck and captured her attention. She stared, open mouthed and wide eyed as it swayed in front her, and as I predicted, a pudgy hand rose to grab it before he tucked it inside his shirt. She pouted for a second, but was easily distracted by the animated faces he was making at her. She was back to bubbling over with laughter in the span of a few seconds.

"Kids love me," he said, straightening to full height again. "It's parents I have issues with."

The sound of a door sliding open interrupted and all heads turned toward the patio off of the dining room.

"What, do I look funny?" My mom glanced down at her shorts and shirt, attire that seemed almost foreign since she wore nurse's scrubs to work every day. She shrugged and rushed into the kitchen.

"Oh, good. Serena is here. You could have called to tell us..." She seemed to lose her voice as she caught sight of JC standing behind me.

This was it, the whole point of JC's strategic visit, on this one weekend when the whole family would be there. I was suddenly nervous, stammering and feeling a little lost as to how it should go. I hadn't introduced a man to my family in years.

"Uhm, mom do you... where's dad?"

"Uh... he's..." She swallowed and shook her head, as if she needed to clear the cobwebs. She pointed in the direction of the door and said, "Out on the patio. Chris, run and get your dad," she said, moving toward JC with a wide smile. "I'm Donna, Serena's mom.  It's great to finally meet you. This has been long overdue."

JC scratched the nape of his neck and then shoved both hands into the pockets of his long khaki shorts. "I know," he said, blushing and blinking. "I'm sorry; I don't get to Atlanta very often." He swallowed hard and glanced down at me. I smiled at him, reassuring him, but the worried look hardly faded. The door slid open again and when JC looked up, he jumped back at least a foot, his eyes wide and mouth open in surprise. 

Terry Willis didn't look like a numbers guy-he was a tall, well built man, fit even in his fifties. Chris got his curly, wiry blond hair and stocky figure from him. Garrett got his height from him, nearly towering over his sons and JC at 6' 2". His brown eyes twinkled as he stepped in from the patio-one hand on the butt of a rifle, the other hand cradling the barrel.

"Someone here was talking about dating my daughter?" His voice bellowed as he stood across the room, menacing and gruff. I think I almost fainted-I'm sure I gasped and almost dropped the baby.

"Daddy!" I frantically swiveled my head from my dad to my mom and back to my dad, horrified at his hunter's stance in the middle of the dining room, holding that old dusty rifle he kept in the shed. "Mom, make him put that away!"

JC stared, his eyes wide open and subconsciously backed up against the counter. I stood in front of him, guarding him with my free arm. "This isn't funny, you guys!"

"Terry, don't scare the poor boy," mom said calmly, putzing around the kitchen. "Put that away. My goodness."

Dad's face turned a few shades of red as he laughed, a booming sound that reached the rafters. He handed the antique musket rifle off to Chris. "It doesn't shoot bullets, sweet pea. You know that. I'm just playing with the boy."

He lumbered into the room, a hand extended to JC in the corner. "Sorry, son. Sorry," he said, laughing as he shook JC's hand, pumping vigorously. As big as JC's hands were, they seemed dwarfish compared to my dad's. "Just having a little fun. It's an antique. It doesn't shoot. Terry Willis. Nice to meet you, finally."

JC seemed entirely more relaxed and relieved now that the gun was nowhere near him. "JC Chasez. Thanks for having me out here."

"Of course, of course. Serena won't shut up about how nice you are and everything, so provided she's telling the truth, our home is your home. Make yourself comfortable. You want a beer or something?"

"That'd be nice. Please." He swiped at his brow, breathing easier. A ring of sweat dampened his neck line-it was already warm in the house, on a hot day. Meeting your girlfriend's dad while he's holding a rifle was obviously enough to break a sweat.

"Well, before you all get started, can we get some things accomplished?" Mom started ordering people around, doling out tasks to everyone, including JC. "Come on now, you stopped being a guest five minutes ago. Everyone works. I need you to grab a cooler for me from the shed. Follow me."

"I guess I gotta go to work," he said with a sideways grin and obediently followed my mom out of the door.

"Okay, so I'm never washing this hand again," Andrea gushed, hand to her chest, watching him out the window. "How can you stand how cute he is? I think I might faint!"

"You're not gonna faint, ‘Drea. Relax." Kim sighed and cut her eyes at Andrea with an impatient glance before returning to forming patties out of balls of ground beef. "So, uhm...who is he, again?"

"He was in ‘Nsync," I reminded her. "He looks almost the same as he did back then. He's just, you know. Built."

"Like a fucking locomotive. Shit, look at his arms..." Andrea strained, up on her toes, practically climbing into the sink so she could stare out of the window.

JC walked up the path from the shed, lugging the large white cooler we used in the summer. He slid it onto the patio as directed, where my dad and brothers emptied bags of ice and cans of soda and bottles of beer into it, filling it to the rim. My dad dug a few bottles out of a layer of ice and handed them around. The four men stood in a line against the wood railing that surrounded the patio, twisted the caps off of their beers and took long, slow swallows.

JC fell right into step with my family-- taking his turn at the grill, watching the level of beers in the cooler, playing football with the boys and letting them tackle him to the ground. When dinner was ready, we gathered at the long picnic table under the shade of the tree in the backyard. It was a perfect spot, overlooking the lake below us, sitting in the shadow of the house above us.

"Pretty nice out here," JC remarked, passing bowls one way and then another, so all of the food could make its way around. We didn't eat breakfast, so I'm sure he was hungry, evidenced by the piles of food on his plate. It would be gone in minutes. "Really peaceful and quiet. And no cameras."

"I almost bought out here, but it would have been too far of a drive, especially in the colder months. I kind of always thought I'd retire up here, but since I'm-" JC kicked me under the table and I slammed my mouth shut. 

"Since what?" Garrett asked from the end of the table, an evil glimmer in his eye. "Since you're moving to LA?"

I stopped breathing, almost choking on potato salad. JC dropped his fork into his plate, his eyes darting around the table, first at Garrett, then my mom, then my dad, then me.

"Well you are, aren't you? You guys can't do the long distance thing forever." Kim kicked him under the table, and he jumped. "Ow! What? No one else is thinking it?"

I folded my napkin and laid it next to my plate. My parents were oddly quiet, eyes fixed on the both of us. I had envisioned this to be entirely more dramatic-and private. I looked at JC. He held my stare and nodded once, slowly, and then reached for my hand.

"So, I wasn't going to say anything until things were more concrete." I cut my eyes at Garrett and continued, breaking the news as gently as I could.  "But I am planning to move to LA. I plan to have a job first though, and I'm looking. I'm going back to LA with JC next weekend. I have a meeting with Qwest and then I hope I can squeeze in some interviews."

I glanced around the table at everyone, meeting every eye. "I have great connections and some companies are interested in talking to me already. I've thought this through, and it's what I want. I would appreciate your support."

I finished my speech and held my breath, waiting for the wailing and crying and protests and arguments, and then finally the emotional outburst and mom getting up from the table... but it didn't come. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to say something.

"Well." Dad broke the silence with a cough and a rough clearing of his throat. "I say, give ‘em hell, sweet pea. And don't take a penny less than you're worth. It's expensive to live in LA. Isn't it?"

He clapped JC on the back, his hand spread across his shoulder. "I expect you're helping her do this. Don't strand my baby girl out there. I'll find a gun that works."

"Yes, sir," JC said, his head bobbing a nod, daring a chuckle at the joke. My throat and lungs opened and I started breathing. Everyone else took dad's lead and made upbeat comments and wishes of good luck. Conversation around the table rose again, swirling around me. I wasn't sure how JC was feeling, but I was lightheaded. And giddy. 

"...Braves double header next weekend, taking the boys to out to the game..."

"... go to that baby boutique I told you about? Their girl stuff is really cute..."

"...good growth stock mutual fund, something that'll earn you 11 to 12 percent on your money..."

"... stick it on the grill and leave it, turn it once, don't mess with it..."

"...just simple accounting..."

I tried to eat, but my appetite disappeared somewhere between Garrett asking the question and my dad giving a rare thumbs up to me doing something completely out of the ordinary. I picked at my food for a few minutes, listening to my family talk around me. A foot touched mine, but it wasn't JC. I lifted my head and met Mom's eyes-warm. Soothing. She smiled a little, and mouthed, "You okay?"

I nodded and exhaled.

*

The harsh afternoon sun beat down on us, baking the boys and turning everyone beet-red. We retreated into the house, the spacious living room set up to hold us all in casual comfort. Chloe, rested from her nap, settled on my lap and against my chest. JC lounged next to me, slouched into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out, eyes half open in post -meal fugue.

I heard giggles behind the couch and giggled myself, a little. My nephews were had been following JC around most of the day, climbing him, taunting him, getting him to play with them. A tousled stack of curly hair came around the side of the couch and CJ's face peeked out from behind the cushion. JC's eyes, and then his head slowly rolled in his direction.

"Hi."

"Hi," CJ said, suddenly bashful, resting his hands on the arm rest and his head on his hands.

"Sup, lil' man?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Cool. Nothing, here either."

"Are you Aunt Serena's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. I am Aunt Serena's boyfriend. Is that okay?"

CJ nodded and grinned a gap-toothed smile. "Are you getting married?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh. JC was calm and collected as usual, not the least bit flustered.

"I don't know, man," he answered with a light shrug. "Are you getting married??"

"I'm five!"

"Oh. I forgot."

"Guess what? Grandma and Grandpa has a Wii."

"They do? I have one, too. And Aunt Serena has one. She's good, huh?"

"Yeah, she can beat me on some games."

"Did you teach her how to play?"

"Yeah. Mostly Matthew and Devon, but I teached her some, too."

"You guys taught her very well. She beats me all the time."

"Do you like Super Mario Brothers?"

"No. I love Super Mario Brothers. You need someone to play with, huh?"

CJ nodded and blushed, hiding a smile behind his hands. "I'll play with you, lil' man. Let's go."

JC's head rolled to the other side, his lips brushed my shoulder and he got up from the couch. "Excuse me while my inner five year old goes to have some fun."

"I think we're going down to the lake in a bit."

"Perfect. We'll have a victory lap. Come on, little dude." CJ's sneakers clomped along the wood floors as he bounced down the hall, JC in tow, overjoyed that he had a partner to play with.

 "It's like they have a new toy," I said to Kim, laughing as I watched CJ lead him to the Play Room. "One that never breaks and they never get tired of."

"Yeah, we should rescue him, in a couple of minutes." She yawned and stretched and leaned against her husband. "He's really good with them, though. Most adults just brush them off, you know? He totally doesn't have to play with them."

‘Score one for my man,' I thought to myself, then turned my attention to the drooling, wriggling bundle in my lap.

The sun was beginning it descent across the sky, to sink into the horizon. The blazing heat of the day was lowering in ferocity and strength-it was a perfect time to take a dip in the Lake. Kim went to the Play Room to pry the boys from the controllers and put them in swim trunks.  I went to our room so I could change.

JC was already there, pulling his swim trunks up over his hips. I was so happy to see him, to be alone with him, I practically jumped into his arms. Like magnets, we were drawn to each other, a tangle of clinging hugs and stolen kisses.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all day," I whined, hugging him tighter.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, his face buried in my neck, lips tickling my skin. Goosebumps popped up along my skin.  "I've had kids all over me all day." He groaned and turned around, angling his head so he could see me. "I think I have an Osh Kosh shoe imprint in my back."

I rubbed his back and gave him a sympathetic smile. "They're so excited to have someone new to play with. I promise you can play with the adults, now."

"It's okay." He sighed and drew me close to him again. "I'm good. They're fun, at least. That CJ is gonna be a heartbreaker." 

"I know. He's kind of obsessed with you." I winked and pulled away. I had to change, and quickly-we couldn't stay in the room much longer or people would come looking.

I slipped my dress over my head and wrapped my cover up around me. He pulled on a t-shirt and pulled it down, made sure it covered his torso completely.

"JC..." I perched on the edge of the mattress and watched him adjust himself in the mirror.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you do that?"

He twisted around, confused. "Do what?"

"Cover up." I pointed to his trunks and t-shirt. "You swim in knee length swim trunks and a t-shirt."

"I don't know," he said, adjusting his t-shirt more. Obsessively. "I just get uncomfortable with people looking at me. Makes me feel better." He gave himself the once over in the mirror, then smiled back at me. "I'm modest. Does it look stupid? Should I take it off?"

Our trip to New York came to mind-yeah, modest. "It looks fine. I just wondered."

"So, how do you think I went over? They seem to like me." I thought back through the day-my dad's practical joke, the easy way he got along with my brothers, his frequent offers of assistance to my mom, and most of all the adoring stares of my nephews and niece.

"Yeah," I said with a wide smile. "They like you a lot."

"You know, I thought your dad was gonna bring the gun back out, when Garrett brought up you moving. My heart totally stopped beating."

"Mine too! God, he's such a little shit. And then my dad was like... way more supportive than I thought he was going to be. They must be mellowing out in their old age. Or he's faking it."

"Maybe they're just being nice because I'm here?"

I shook my head. "Dad is the kind to let you know what he thinks. He doesn't care if the Pope is sitting next to you, he'll tell you that you're being a bastard."

"So, the moral of the story is, stay on his good side. Got it." JC picked up a towel, slid his feet into flip flops and slipped on his sunglasses. "I am ready for the water. There's no alligators, right?"

*

One of the best things about summer, especially a summer at Lake Lanier, was the long, hot days that stretched into pleasant, warm evenings. They all sort of went the same way--the boys took turns diving off of the dock into the warm lake water, splashing and playing, climbing on JC's back and then mine, taking rides in the boat, watching everyone zip through the water on the jet skis, the wind whipping through our hair and the force of the vehicle sending up a cooling spray. They would play until they were nearly passed out, until the sun was setting, until they couldn't see each other in the water anymore. That marked the official start of the ‘evening'-when Grandma and Grandpa took the grandkids and the young adults could do our own thing.

 "Our own thing" was making a fire in the fire pit a few hundred yards from the shore, sitting and watching the last rays of the sun sink behind the forest. The fire pit wasn't much more than a circle of rocks with a pile of wood in the middle of it, but it was the best thing ever about a weekend at the Lake.

I took my usual spot, up against a tree, settled back and let out the longest, most satisfied sigh I'd ever breathed in my life as JC settled in next to me with a bottle of beer fresh from the cooler. He twisted the cap off and offered it to me. I took it, savored the smooth taste and handed it back.

"I've never been so relaxed. It's really nice up here."

He tipped his head back against the tree and leaned up against me a little. I snaked a hand under his arm, tangling my fingers up with his. The young fire was already dancing and popping, creating shadows on one side of his face. I shuddered, watching him-in the low light, his prominent features were mysteriously shaded and as it got darker, the simple sound of his voice in the pitch black of night was seductive. 

"I'm so glad you're enjoying it. My family likes you a lot. It really says a lot that they didn't argue, about me moving. And now we don't have to hide it anymore."

"Yeah, that feels good. I hate secrets."

"Do your parents know?"

He was silent, but I swear I heard him smile. "This isn't about me, young lady."

"Well, no, but... do they know you've invited some crazy, rabid fan to come live with you for a little while?"

"I've had worse people live with me. They're used to it. They taught me hospitality, man. It's their fault." He laughed, a quiet chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He leaned against me a little more, crossing one ankle over another and took a long swig of his beer.  

"You should tell them, JC. My parents know, so should yours. Just on general principle."

"I'll tell them. I will. I kind of wanted them to meet you first..."

"... and then you could be like, oh by the way, mom and dad..." I laughed with him, squeezing his hand. "I know you, too baby. Tell them. Okay?"

"Mkay. If Tyler hasn't already done it."

"Tyler," I sighed. "How is he? And Allison? Still together?"

"Ah, man," he said, shaking his head, still laughing. "The boy has it bad. Bad, man. He won't admit it, but bad. They are together all the time. They do everything together. She's been cracking down on him lately you know-Bar Exam."

"Yeah? Good. He's been studying for the Bar Exam as long as I've known him."

"Yeah. He's... he procrastinates. And he thinks he won't pass. So he freaks out and won't do it."

‘I wonder where he gets that from.'

"Don't say it," JC said, as if he read my mind. "I'm not scared. Just... it's complicated."

"How?" I took his bottle again, stole a long swallow, and handed it back. "Tell me how you doing what you love and what you so fucking rock at, is complicated."

He sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly, taking his time. Thinking.

 "Well, you're moving to LA, right? Because you want to do something else. Do something different. You love what you do, but you just need something else, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Right. Okay?"

"Okay so why can't you do what you want to do at StarTel? Just hop on out there and do it, because you'd love it and you'd totally fucking rock at it?"

"Well," I paused, giving it actual real thought. "I could, it's just not something StarTel wants to be involved in. They kind of have a role they want me to fulfill and that's it. They won't approve me to do anything else. They don't want me to do anything else."

"Okay. So. Take you and StarTel and replace it with me and a record label."

Lightbulb.

"Hunh. I never thought if that way."

"Seriously. The music business is so not about music. It's about money and promotions and advertising and money and image and money. It's not about writing songs and reaching an audience. That was a really hard lesson to learn."

He shook his head slowly, his eyes somewhere over the water but his mind way back in the past. "It was easy, when I had four other guys who knew where I was coming from. We could lean on each other; remind each other what we're there for. If you're solo, and if your label already thinks you're lame, it's a cold, lonely world." He squeezed my hand, clasped in his. "You know? You get it?"

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "I get it."

"And when I say I'm trying, it's me trying to get a deal that's about music and not about how much money I bring to a label. At the end of the day, though, every dollar they spend on me, they want a buck-twenty-five back or the deal is a no-go. This mini tour thing I might do? If they don't feel like I have an audience, or a listening public, or I can't convert people who don't care into fans, guess what happens?"

"They get tossed into the pile of labels doing nothing for you."

"And I'm supposed to be grateful for that nothing," he spat out, shaking his head, incredulous. "That's what gets me."

I leaned my head up against his arm and looped my other hand in the crook of his elbow. "It'll be okay, because it has to be okay, because no matter what happens, you're fine. I'll always be right here, when you need me."

"Are you? Are you really, Serena?"

It wasn't so much the question but the tone that caught me by surprise. My head tipped up and I searched his face, what I could see of it in the flicker of flame. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just sometimes I wonder," he said, glancing into the dark, away from the fire. Hiding. "I wonder how long you'll want to be with me. How long I have you for. Stuff like that."

"I wonder the same thing, sometimes. I wonder if you're bored." He laughed, out loud. "Seriously, I worry that I'm boring and that once I get to L.A. you'll be like ‘oh my God, I didn't realize this chick was so regular.' I mean I'm a get up every morning and go to work, come home and make dinner and veg in front of the TV kind of girl."

"I've always wanted to meet that kind of girl."

"Liar."

"Okay maybe not," he said with a laugh. "But I still want to be with you. Because I like you, the person." He turned his head, and looked me in the eye. "Do you like me?"

"Oh, honey. I love you. As a person. I really, really do. I've never met a better person in life."

"You know there's more to me than ‘JC your boyfriend' and ‘JC the musician'," he said, using air quotes. "You know that, right? You don't get to just pick and choose the parts of me you want to like or love."

He was being all kinds of deep and mysterious. Maybe it was the fire, or the moon, or the fresh air, but we were covering new territory, things we'd never talked about before.  

"You think I pick and choose what parts of you I want to love? Where does that come from? You've never said you felt like that before."

He didn't respond for almost a full minute, watching the surface of the lake ebb smoothly. The words seemed to want to come but he couldn't make himself say them right away. His voice finally broke into the darkness, not loud or confident, but quiet and contemplative.

"I come out here, to Atlanta to see you. I hang out with your friends and we do what you want to do and go where you want to go. We eat what you want to eat, wherever you want to eat it. Serena wants to see a movie, we go see a movie. Serena wants to go shopping, we go shopping. I hang out with your friends and am charming and everything. I came out here to meet your parents and I've played with your nephews and joked with your brothers. I'm all-in. I'm all wrapped up in you, you know? I like that, believe it or not.

"When you come to LA... well, my friends think you hate them. Or that you think you're better than them, and I know that isn't true. If I want to go out, you'll drag yourself if you have to. If I want to eat out, you'll go, but not really have a good time. If I want to, say, treat you to a dance class or something artsy or fun or out of the ordinary, you can't step out of yourself for one single minute to have a good time with me, to see the benefit in whatever we're doing."

It was unintentional, what he was saying about me-I didn't set out to be that way, to act that way. I had my reasons for being that way, reasons he didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He was right, and I hurt my own feelings as I slowly recounted every example he had given. He was describing a snob. I felt lower than low and wondered how long he'd been carrying that around, letting it fester to the point where he had to say something.

"I want you all in, Serena. A part of my life. My friends want to get to know you and hang out with you and yeah, some of them are kind of foolish and some of them are tools but these people have been there for me, just like you are, right now. They're my people. I love them and I love you and I want to love you all. Together.  I don't want to choose between my girlfriend and my friends."

"Wow," I breathed. Speechless. Kind of winded. Mostly shocked. "I... you never said any of that before."

He hung his head, drawing designs and lines in the dirt beneath us with his finger tip. "I've been wanting to. I just didn't want you to dump me over it. I just want to make it better."

"God, I'm not dumping you over it." To prove it, I leaned in closer to him, gripped his arm tighter, squeezed his hand, his fingers wound together with mine. "I didn't realize I was being so stuck up. I could give you a thousand excuses and reasons, but...I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to be that girlfriend."

His eyes, shaded by lush lashes, lifted to meet mine. "Honey, I wasn't calling you stuck up."

"I was. And I want to stop it, because that's not me. I want to be all-in. And-" I tipped his chin up and toward me and dipped to kiss him. "I promise to stop complaining about the music thing. You want to do movies and TV and stuff? Go for it. I'm behind you."

"You're sweet," he whispered, and kissed me back. "I appreciate your support, and I want it. More than anyone in my life right now, yours means the most. But I mean... don't stop pushing, about the music. You remind me that there's more for me than the easy route gives me. I mean, the acting thing is inspiring; it gets me in a creative mood. I read a script and write a song, you know? Don't let me forget that I love music. Okay?"

"You know I won't. I promise."

"Counting on it," he said, with a confident nod.

We fell silent, listening to the sounds of the night-water lapping up onto the shore, crickets chirping and dogs down the river barking and howling. A rare cool breeze blew through, making the fire flicker a little, then return to popping and crackling. JC glanced around me, and my eyes followed. The other two couples were deep in quiet conversation, not paying attention to us at all.

He looked back and me and smiled. "So, what are the chances we can get some uh.... alone time?"

"Pretty good, actually," I whispered. "Follow me."

We stood, brushing the dirt from our clothes and headed back up the path toward the house, veering off toward the shed. It was far enough away and angled so that if we went around the side, we wouldn't be seen from the house or the lake. As soon I was sure we were out of view, I grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and pulled him to me and threw my arms around him. He stumbled, surprised, and fell against me.

He laughed and I giggled quietly, pressing a finger to his lips, "Shhhh... they can't see us, but they'll hear us if we get too loud."

"We'll have to be quiet, then," he said, bending toward my neck, whispering in my ear. He stepped even closer to me and pressed his body against mine, hands roaming, breath hot on my neck. He bit at my skin, lightly up my neck to my ear and back down to my shoulder. I sighed, as quietly as I could, and melted up against the wood building.

"We have to be quick," I whispered, when I could catch a breath. He moaned, tucked a hand behind my neck, up into my hair, and covered my mouth with his. His lips were firm, he tasted sweet, he felt so good, wrapped around me, up against me, all over me.

He still had on his swim trunks, dry since he hadn't been in the water in hours. My hands shook as I felt around the band for the button and zipper and finally undid them enough that I could slip my hands inside. He shuddered when I touched him and broke the kiss long enough to push his trunks down over his hips. He was erect, a solid column that I couldn't see but could feel against me, pressing itself into my thigh. My body responded to him, a hot wet shock of need collecting in the small of my back and radiating up.

I flipped up the hem of my dress, yanked down my swimsuit bottoms, and hooked one leg up and around his waist. In one fluid motion, he pushed me, hard, up against the wall of the shed and guided himself into me, thrusting with all the urgency of a man who'd been denied for days, weeks, months, instead of hours. I bit my lip, trying not to moan, not doing a good job of it.

"Holy... fuck me," I said, too loud.

"Shhhh....iiitt," he said, laughing too loud, then tucked his head alongside my neck, breathing into my hair, his gulps of air hard and fast, matching the rhythm of his hips.

I held onto him tight, clawing at his hair, curling my fingers up into it. He ran a hand along my thigh, the leg he wasn't holding against him and lifted me up so that my legs circled his waist. I moved against him with just as much urgency as he was pushing into me, sure that our hard breathing and gulps of air could be heard by anyone who might be listening for it. At the moment I didn't care. The fresh, clean air, the atmosphere, the danger of maybe being caught only added to the excitement.

"Serena. I'm..." He shuddered, his breath caught in his throat and his knees were buckling-all signs that he was close.

"It's okay," I panted in his ear, grabbing at his shoulder with one hand and a chunk of hair with the other. "Oh my God, please...please come."

In the very next instant he stiffened and groaned and seemed to almost collapse against me, pinning me up against the wall. He glistened with sweat and heaved, trying to breathe. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, eyes just barely open.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "You?" His voice was low and ragged. He looked exhausted.

"Fucking fantastic," I said, grinning at him. "Can you let me down, though?" I laughed and kicked my legs, still suspended between him and the wall. His hands circled my waist and he held me while he stepped back. My legs slid down from around him. I felt warm and drunk and dizzy, adrenalin still pumping. I grabbed him by his face and pulled him toward me in a fiery kiss.  

JC tore his lips from mine, still breathing heavy. "You didn't... I'm sorry. I wanted to wait for you..."

I pressed a finger to his lips, then replaced it with my lips. "It's okay. I had a really good time. You'll just have to owe me."

Voices-they were coming, up the path. I scrambled to pull my swimsuit bottoms back up and my dress back down. JC tucked himself back inside his trunks, zipped and buttoned up in time for us to sneak around to the side entrance of the house before anyone saw us.

I closed the door softly behind us, and then leaned against it, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "That was way too close," he whispered, laughing silently against me. "And so fucking awesome."

"I know!" I peeked around the window curtain and watched as the porch light came on and shadows of the two couples coming up the walk and inside the house reflected against the trees.

"We're safe," I whispered. "They're all upstairs. Our room is down the hall."

"Take me. I got some making up to do." 

###

"Definitely tipping the scale as one of the best weekends, ever. Thanks for having me up-I had a great time."

Dad stretched out a hand to JC, gripped his hand firmly and shook, smiling warmly. "Our pleasure, son. Don't be a stranger."

Mom stood next to Dad, waving to everyone as we began a slow caravan out of the driveway. "Ya'll drive safe," she called out. I stuck a hand out of the passenger side window and waved as we turned out of the driveway and onto the road.

I reached over to the driver's seat and rested a hand on JC's thigh. "Have fun?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at me and then back to the road. "A really good time."

"Good. I'm so happy. I had a great time, everyone loved you, I got to share the Lake House with you. What a great weekend."

He nodded in agreement, concentrating on the winding road out of the forest, back out to the highway, back to civilization and the real world, where there were still jobs to try to get and a house with hallways that needed paint on the trim and bushes to be cut back. A world where, eventually, I was going to have to say goodbye to JC again, for some indeterminate period of time. I was kind of starting to hate that world. I couldn't wait to be rid of it.

"Hey uhm...so your dad asked me to lunch tomorrow. What's that about?"

"Lunch?" I couldn't imagine why my dad would want to have lunch with JC-he'd just spent two days with him. "Did he say where? The Club?"

"Uhm...Buckhead Club?"

"Yeah, it's where he takes people when he wants to impress them."

The swanky, members only organization in the heart of the Finiancial District was where many of Atlanta's businessmen could rub elbows and socialize with community leaders and high ranking executives. I sort of giggled to myself about it-JC wasn't going to be impressed by some over glossed hyped up urban Country Club.

"Don't let him talk you into handling anything financial for you," I added, after a thought. "I mean he's great, you know? He handles my money- I would feel weird if he was handling my boyfriend's money. Okay?"

"Had no plans on that."

I gave his thigh a squeeze. "Thanks again for coming, this weekend. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

He stole a few glances at me, trying to keep his eyes on the road but watching me at the same time. He dropped a hand to his lap, on top of my hand. "I wouldn't have missed this weekend for the world."

###

An entire day had passed and I hadn't heard from JC. I knew he'd made it to lunch, but there wasn't a phone call to let me know what was up, so I spent most of the day wondering what my dad wanted to meet with JC about. I hoped it wasn't work. I prayed it wasn't about our relationship.

My dad had never been one for meddling in my relationships, not since I turned 18 ad moved out. My moving to a different state-- a different coast, even-may have changed things. He liked to assert his authority as my father, but his blessing was a courtesy, not a requirement. Still, I hated to make a move without it, and I hoped he wasn't going to make it hard on us.

JC was still gone when I came home. It was unusual to not hear from him but I decided to give it awhile. I donned my usual after work uniform, paint splattered jeans and a t-shirt, and started touching up the trim in the hallway outside my office.

I was halfway finished, and it was looking nice, when I heard his rental pull into the driveway and the car door slam shut. I breathed a sigh of relief-I was minutes away from becoming a nag and calling him to find out where he'd disappeared to.

"In the hallway," I called when the door opened, and heard footsteps in my direction.

"Hey," he said, peeking around the corner. "Looks nice over here."

"Thanks. I'm proud of it." I stood and stepped back, nodding at my handywork. "So uhm... how was today? What happened? Where've you been?"

His face held a stony, pained expression that struck a bolt of fear into my heart. He looked like he had a headache, his brow furrowed and mouth drawn in a tight pout.

"Uhm. It went okay. We uh... You got a minute?" He reached for my hand and pulled me out of the hallway.

"We need to talk."