His hand was clammy, cool to the touch, and damp with sweat as he wound his fingers with mine and led me, stunned, down the hallway to the living room. He sank into the plush, cushioned fabric of the couch, his shoulders sagging, his mouth in a tense downturn. I gingerly sat next to him, turned a little so I could see his face, look into his eyes-dark, with heavy eyelids and puffy bags underneath. I was in the middle of the worst nightmare ever but I couldn't wake up.

JC opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, so he closed it, instead inhaling sharply through his nose, chest barreling. The house was quiet and still, painfully so. I was vaguely aware of holding my breath, waiting for some kind of hammer to fall.

"It's been a long time for me, you know. Since I like... let myself be open like this."

JC seemed to cringe, his voice small and timid. He spread his hands open in front of him, as if perhaps the words he wanted to say were written on them.  There was no help for him written on his hands, so he clasped them together again.

"My last relationship... well, you know how that ended and I don't ever want to go through that, again."   

I felt a crease spread across my forehead at the mention of her-- Eva. We never really talked about her. He wouldn't stand for negativity about her-wouldn't stand for much talk about her at all, really. He never brought her up, and if anyone else did, he brushed over it and changed the subject.

All I knew, from comments in passing, was that he felt something for her. Something big and important and he felt blindsided by how it ended. On the outside, he didn't seem bothered by how quickly she fell right into the arms of someone else, easily, as if he meant nothing. As if the words he'd finally made himself say and the feelings he'd finally let himself feel were just worthless, random pieces in a mismatched collection of ‘stuff you have', and not something special, to be cherished and nurtured-and returned. Even though he had to set it aside so it wouldn't eat him up, so he could go to industry events and watch TV and read magazines and not fall into despair, he didn't really seem over it. Over her. The abrupt ending left him changed, more guarded, and for a time turned him into someone that sought temporary thrills and momentary pleasure in the arms of anyone he could convince to say yes.

My encounter with him-meeting him on that flight, going out with him that night, spending the weekend with him--was no different than meeting him at a party and going home with him. I considered myself lucky that I was more than a good lay and he was interested enough (and maybe in a better place) to keep coming around. I tried not to really think about it, seeing as how we were so far past that night.

I watched him, sitting on my couch, waiting for him to say something that made sense or shed some light on why he looked so distraught. He sucked in his bottom lip, bit down on it and let it go, willing himself to keep talking. I tried to stop my mind from chanting 'please God, no' over and over. Right after we had the most amazing weekend, and then came home and had the most amazing night, and then laid in each other's arms, staring the ceiling, talking about all the things we planned to do once I was there-- this wasn't happening. There wasn't much my dad could say to alter the road that the last nine months had paved. Was there?

"I want you to know," he was saying, in a voice so coarse and broken that it sent shivers up my spine, "that I do love you, so much. More than I thought I could, because I thought... I mean... I didn't think I could love anyone. Not like, the right way. The good way. I wasn't sure I could even let myself like someone again. So, don't think this has anything to do with me not loving you. I do. It's not about that."

"This? It? That?" I shook my head, confused. "JC, what? Just spit it out."

He took my hand in his and held it, wrapped his hands around it, stroked my skin with the pad of his thumb, that damned callous working its magic. That would normally make me feel better, and by better I mean really good, but it didn't. I was terrified of what he was trying to say. 

"My meeting with your dad kind of threw me. I went for a drive, after. To clear my head. Got lost and found my way back but it gave me a lot time to think. And well... this weekend was cool, you know? I liked meeting your family, and the kids and everything and... uhm..."  

He paused again, which was driving me crazy. I wanted to grab him by the face and scream at him to just say it, so I could hear it and deal with it. WHAT?! 

"I feel like people are expecting something more--I don't know-serious maybe, about you moving. I was thinking, you know, it's a big family weekend and everyone's all coupled up, and it's feeling really cozy. And I just started thinking about stuff, like... like that we don't ever talk about forever. You've never brought up marriage."

Shocked, I recoiled. "What are you, crazy? Hell no, I've never brought it up.  We're so not there." I tried to play off the ‘m' word with a haughty chuckle, but inside my knees were turning to jello and my heart was slamming around in my chest. What would make him bring that up?

"Honey, I think I got asked about seven times if there were plans for the future or if there was a proposal coming and..." He gulped, the sound desperate and audible, and glanced away, and then back at me. "Sweetheart, I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything but... it's not coming."

My right eye twitched as the eyebrow lifted. He was still holding my hand, the pad of his thumb still stroking my skin. He was looking right at me, searching my face for some kind of reaction. I felt like I was under a high powered microscope. I didn't much like the experience.

I blinked back surprise and tried to come up with something to say in response. "Ever?" I choked out, after I swallowed the heart stuck in my throat.

"Well... I can't say I've never thought about settling down. Of course I've thought about that, in passing, you know. Way, way off."

"Oh," I responded, and then looked away, found some point in the backyard, through the blinds, to focus on.  The thought had been creeping into my mind lately, but I hadn't been letting it blast full force all through my brain and infiltrate my dreams and make me want it. I wasn't there yet, and I wasn't expecting it from him quite yet-- but the words hurt all the same, in a ‘just in case you were expecting this.... don't' kind of way.

"So. You've thought about it, but you don't see that with me.  You want to settle down, way, way off in the future. Just... not with me."

"Serena, don't-" He leaned his head on the tips of his fingers, closed his eyes and shook his head, huffing out a quick breath. "I don't mean it that way," he continued, calm and controlled. "I'm not avoiding thinking about it. I just haven't got there yet. I'm not breaking up with you, but I'm not planning on asking you to marry me before you get to LA."

My head was shaking, wagging, even, before the thought even processed. "When did I ever ask for that, JC? You said yourself-- I've never brought it up. I've never said anything about you marrying me."

"I know, but after today... it sounds stupid, but I was really hoping you weren't trying something underhanded with your family. To push the subject, bring it up, get me to start thinking about making the move. I'm feeling a lot of pressure, from a lot of sides, and I... I can't handle this." 

"Pressure from who, JC? Me? Okay, I mean, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't at least thought about it, you know? Because what we have is amazing. It's the best thing to ever happen to me. Times ten. I know you agree with me, there."

He nodded, his eyes still closed, his head still balanced precariously on fingertips. I gripped his hand, wrapped around mine, tighter. He squeezed back in response and his eyes fluttered open, just barely, and rolled in my direction.

"This has been the best, scariest, most wonderful, most terrifying thing ever and I love it. I love ‘us'. I love being with you. I have thought about what it would be like to be with you forever. The idea doesn't suck." I shrugged a little, smiled and added, "And I'm not gonna lie. I tried on Serena Chasez for five minutes. Just to see if it fits. It does."

He dipped his head and laughed, for the first time all night. It was such a nice sound.

"On the other hand, every time we see each other practically, we have a fight about something. We're still getting to know each other. We don't even live on the same coast. You can't even get me to agree to live with you longer than three months. Do I seem like I'm expecting a proposal? Come on, now."

His eyes opened fully and darted about the room as a pink flush rose to each cheek and the smallest, shyest smile started to spread across his face. "Well. No. Okay, but your family--you've been through a lot and you deserve to be happy and they don't want you to be with someone that's gonna jerk you around like Robert, or be a drain on you like Regina. They want someone for you that makes you happy. And I want that too. I just... I'm-"

"Not ready to get married," I finished, matter-of-factly. "Me either."

"I know, but-"

"JC..." I pressed a hand to his chest. "Stop. I'm a big girl. I make my own decisions. So, what did my dad say to you ? You look like hell."

JC rolled his eyes but was starting to relax. He looked so tired, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He settled back against the couch, his jaw finally losing that clench he got when he was upset.

"So, I get there and it's this big, glassed-in, corporate kind of place. I get in the elevator, go all the way up to the 26th floor and I'm feeling kind of uncomfortable, right, cause it's covered in marble and like.. quiet. So quiet. Your dad is waiting by the elevator and we go in and sit down. We're making small talk and he's waving and saying hi to random people. A little business talk, or whatever, and I'm starting to relax, because I think it'll be easy to blow him off, you know? Like you said, if he handles your money, I don't want him handling mine.

"So we order, right, and we're waiting for lunch and he sits forward and his face goes stone cold. You know what I mean?"

I nodded. That face was a familiar staple in our home that said Dad was serious and we'd better listen.

"And he says to me, ‘So it appears my daughter has lost her damn mind'. Right then, I'm like holy shit, I'm in trouble. I'm sitting there and I'm sure I have that deer in the headlights look, and he gets real quiet and he starts talking about how much he loves you, and how hard they fought to get you and to adopt you. And then he starts asking me these questions about my intentions. With you.

"He's talking about sending his daughter off to California and you being in my care, because you trust me and he wants to know if he can trust me. And the more he's talking the more I figure out that he's not just talking about you moving." He shook his head, intently staring as he spoke.  "He wants to know when I'm gonna pop the question. And he wants to know when it's coming and he wants to give his approval. I just couldn't breathe."

My eyes slid closed, a dark curtain against this conversation. "Other people" were going to kill this relationship-- if it wasn't Melissa giving advice that that didn't work, it was my Dad levying veiled threats that scared the living shit out of someone I wanted to stick around.

"Let's... let's not worry about my dad. Okay? I'll handle him."  I slid my hand up his arm, over a bulging bicep, across his chest, then down to wrap around his side as I laid my head on his shoulder.  "And let's agree between us that we're not ready and we don't need to talk about it just yet. You don't want to ask and I don't want to answer."

I felt him nod, and breathe out a tiny, muted sigh. Probably relief. I'd be relieved, too.

"Don't rule it out forever, though," I said, poking at his side with the tip of a nail. "Serena Chasez has a nice ring to it."

I felt him smile as his cheek pressed against my forehead. "Or maybe I'll take your name. I'm a feminist, you know."

I giggled, relieved that he could joke about it. "I don't care what name you take. I'm changing mine to Chasez."

He laughed, his chest rumbling with the sound. "Well. I guess I won't rule it out. We'll just see what happens, take it day by day. I have a lot I want to do, before I even think about that. LA isn't a place I want to settle down and raise a family. It's a nice enough place but not for that."

"Really?" I sat up and leaned an elbow against the back of the couch. I knew he wasn't committed to staying in California--he'd lived there since 2002 but still held a Florida driver's license and vehicle registration.  "Where would you go? Back to Orlando?"

"Anywhere else," he answered with a dramatic eye roll. "But yeah. Probably back to Florida. My family is still there. Slower pace, a lot less press. Once I get there, to that point in my life? I want to have nothing but time."

"Mmmm," I mused nodding. "I don't want to have to work this hard while I play world's sexiest wife and best mommy ever. I'm good..." I shook my head and sighed. "But I'm not that good."

He nicked my chin with his knuckle and grinned. "So humble."

I tipped forward, toward him, and let his stubble tickle my lips I scraped them across his chin. "Are you okay, baby? Or did my dad scar you for life?"

He moved his head so our lips met in a soft, slow kiss. "I'm alright," he mumbled against my lips. "I didn't want to let him down. I don't want to let you down."

"I wouldn't worry about that. Right now, so much is going on with me and with us and seriously-- I'm not thinking about marriage, right now. That's not to say I wouldn't love to join you way, far off. I'm sorry my family pushed that on you. I wish you would have just talked to me about it, JC. Don't you yell at me, like all the time about that?"

"Yes," he answered, more quickly than I expected him to. "I want you to have what you want. I want to be ready to give it to you, though."

I gave him a reassuring pat on his thigh, then slid my hand across his lap. He twitched a little, sensitive to touch especially below the belt.  "You're a sweet man. I love you. All I want, today, is for you to love me back. A lot. For a long time. And if, at some point, you love me enough to think about forever with me then that would be cool. You got yourself all worked up over this?"

"I did," he said, slouching into the couch, stretching out his legs, breathing a little easier. The worry lines that creased his face were gone. The tense, uptight strain to his voice and the hunched shoulders were gone, as well.

I lowered my voice to my most sultry tone and lightly stroked him with the back of my hand through his jeans. "You know what I hear is... really relaxing?"

"I could maybe guess..." He was smiling a cocky half grin, eyes half open but focused.

I leaned into him, captured his bottom lip between my teeth and teased it, pulling at it before I released it and engaged him in a passionate, needy, whimpering kiss. Almost as quickly as I took possession of his mouth, I pulled away. He groaned and his head fell to my shoulder. Hot, wet lips and tiny prickles of his beard stubble danced along my skin.

"Let me just make a suggestion," I said, leaning to whisper in his ear. "You should go upstairs... and take off your clothes... and then put on your painting clothes and help me finish the hallway."  I was giggling before I even finished the sentence, accompanied by a groan from him in the crook of my neck and shoulder.

"Fucking tease. That's what you are." I squealed and curled away from him as I felt teeth in a gentle, teasing nip on my shoulder. "I guess we gotta finish though, huh?"

"Mmmhmm," I mumbled. "Painting was your idea, baby. But then later we can both take our clothes off and have sex until we pass out."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Invigorated, he hopped up from the couch and bounded up the stairs like he was climbing air. I made a mental note -talk to Dad! - then, proud of myself for averting another possible crisis in the saga that had become my relationship with a celebrity, pushed myself up from the couch to head back to the half painted hallway.

###

"Tilt your head down a little, and now lean into the fan, so your hair catches that air-yes. Beautiful. Hold that."

Snap. Snap snap snap. Snap. The camera clicked and whirred in the hands of a gangly man in baggy jeans, a long t-shirt, and a mangy, disheveled goatee. On first glance, one would never think he was a renowned photographer, but Dean Grady been recommended to me as the best.  The best was what I wanted.

One of the things I struggled with-had been struggling with-in my relationship with JC was the other side of his life. The side he wanted me to put away and not consider and not get caught up in. He was simply JC to me now, but my mind often traveled back to our first weekends spent together, when it had been such a struggle to look at him and not see JC from *Nsync or JC the pop star or JC the celebrity. It was hard to separate him from his public persona and we wrestled, on more than one occasion, with my definition of him.

Sometimes, though, it was hard to set his celebrity aside. To not look at him and think that he could probably buy and sell me all day and most especially that there wasn't much I could buy him that he couldn't buy himself. I drove myself (and my friends) up a wall trying to think of what to get him for his birthday. He was picky about clothes, he already had a hundred necklaces and I'd be embarrassed to hand him a gift card. Whatever I got him had to be personal, just for him. Special.

One night, shortly after we'd come back from New York, we were chatting on the web cam, a random conversation of flirting and jokes back and forth. He said something to me, something that sparked an idea. The more I thought about it, the more I loved it, and the more I was scared of it.

It would take a lot of nerve. I thought I might be able to scrape up enough nerve to pull it off.

And so, a few weeks after I returned from my trip to LA, I was in a private studio, being photographed by one of Atlanta's best in artistic photography.

Nude.

Tangled up in creamy silk sheets on a King sized four poster bed under bright lights and the pop pop pop of the flash from the digital camera.  Melissa and Jen, along for moral support, were curled up in the corner of the room, whispering to each other.

"I feel like Faith Hill in that video for Breathe.  She said her mom hated that video. Didn't understand why her very intelligent daughter was rolling around on a bed in sheets".

"Faith's got nothin' on you, honey," Melissa called from across the room. "I bet Tim McGraw loved that video. Just think of the look on JC's face when he sees them!"

"You should do the Shakira rolling around in mud thing," Jen offered. "He'd think that was awesome."

"Don't spoil his Christmas present," Melissa said, and then burst into a loud cackling laugh. 

Dean hid an amused grin and nodded at me. "Okay, so we're going to move to the completely nude, no sheets shots, if you're ready?"

He was all business, checking his camera, adjusting lights, placing me precariously on the edge of the bed, pillow strategically placed, just enough to make no mistake that I was unclothed. I was going for seductive and sexy, not pornographic. That did nothing to stop the catcalls from the corner.

"I'm gonna kick you guys out, if you don't behave. Now shut up, I have to look sexy for this picture."

I tried to erase the smile, focused on the camera lens, and imagined it was JC in the room, gazing at me with those eyes, deep pools of blue, sometimes blue-green, sometimes grey, with that flash of a smile on his face-the one that made you wonder what he was thinking, and then blush, because you knew.

"Yes, very sexy. Good look there. Lift your head, very slightly... yes." Snap snap snap. "And now turn your head to the left, and look down. You're thinking of him, missing him, good." Snap snap snap.  

He climbed a ladder and took a few shots from above, then laid on the floor and had me leaning over the bed and snapped a few more. I took hundreds of photos in dozens of costumes-and some completely nude-and using multiple props. I wanted a lot of variety to choose from-and I kind of wanted to shock JC with something he would never, in a million years, imagine that I would do for him.

Two hours later, I was pulling a terrycloth robe over my shoulders and sitting next to the photographer looking at rows of color and surprisingly artistic black and white prints on the oversized monitor.

"They look pretty good, I think. I'll clean up certain spots here and there..."

We flipped through pages and pages and rows and rows of shots, Melissa and Jen offering their thoughts and opinions on the final bunch. I thought I would have trouble finding the shots I liked, but it was quite the opposite once we started going through them. My body had changed dramatically in the past few months. With all the work and travel, and with Regina doing just fine out in Denver, and having met the other half of my DNA, and finally being overwhelmingly happy with JC, I wasn't sitting at home in front of the TV or the computer every night anymore. I was active, or at least not eating as much, and it showed.

I picked my favorites for Dean to touch up and turn into prints to be bound into a book. In between each photo would be a song or poem selected especially for JC. I hated to miss his birthday for last minute trip to Boston, but a digital replica of me would be there to keep him company. I couldn't wait to hear from him when he got it.

"I'll take the rest of them untouched," I said, as I stood. Dean nodded and made a note.

"The way he looks at you with clothes on, he's not gonna be able to handle these, Serena. Hot!"

Jen and Melissa giggled behind me as they followed me to the dressing room. I ignored them and started pulling my clothes back on.

"God, I'm so nervous. I hope he likes it, the whole thing, you know?" I sat in one of the cushy chairs and slipped my sandals on, rambling to anyone who was listening. "I looked better than I thought I would. Not to be on an ego trip or anything." 

"Honey, you looked great," Melissa reassured, thumbing through the fashion magazines stacked on the low table next to a velvet covered settee. "Really good. He's really going to like them. I promise."

"Well, there's nothing I could buy him, really...but he couldn't buy these photos if he wanted to, so I'm hoping he thinks it's a good present."

"He will love it. Really, don't worry. " Jen rubbed her growing belly, her round face glowing. "Can we eat, now? The baby wants Italian."

I stood, hefted my bags over either shoulder and gave her belly a pat. "Then the baby gets Italian. Let's go."

Three weeks later, holed up in a hotel room in Boston, I was bored.

The air was thick with a steamy, sticky hot, the kind of hot that made clothing stick to skin and make me offer my left arm for a cool breeze to waft through. Instead I was stuck in a hotel room with an A/C unit blowing warm air, fanning myself with a Telecommunications Standards manual, flipping through TV stations, waiting for a phone call. When it came, I snatched the phone up from the table.

"Happy Birthday!"

His laugh, rich and deep from his chest, came over the line, wrapped itself around me. "Hey, baby. Whatcha doin'?"

"Sweatin'." I panted into the phone and fanned harder. "This hotel is a shithole. I miss the Sheraton. What are you doing?"

"Uhm, I'm looking at a big, brown package with my name on it. You know anything about this?"

It came! My heart skipped a beat as soon as he mentioned it. I couldn't wait for him to open it-I'd spent more than a month putting it together and bared my soul on film for him.

"Yeah, that's the stripper I ordered for you for your birthday."

"Is she gonna pop out of this little package?"

"She's a pop up stripper," I answered, laughing. "Are you alone? You want to be alone when you open it."

"Ohhh?" He said the word with an upturn at the end that made me smile. I could feel his grin across the airwaves, and it tugged on my heart. I missed him. I wanted to be with him. I knew it was coming soon.

I wanted soon to be sooner. 

"I'm by myself. I brought it up to my room."

"Okay. Wait!" I sat bolt upright and dashed across the room to the laptop. "You should turn on the webcam so I can watch you open it. I want to see your face."

"Honey, I don't-"

"Just do it! Damn. I want to see you open it. I won't save it or send it anywhere. Please?"

I heard a sigh on the other end, and I could just see him roll his eyes. "Hang on."

In the background I heard rustling, and the sounds of his laptop coming to life, and then he picked up the phone again. "Okay log in. I'm broadcasting live and in living color."

"Yay!" I opened the connection and there he was, his face all scrunched up in the camera, eyes clamped shut. "See, when people go on and on about how handsome you are, these are the faces I remember. That's why I laugh."

"You love that face," he said, laughing and backing away from the camera. More of the room came into view and I saw the large, brown, oversize package laying on his bed, unopened.

"Okay, so, before you open it... what do you think it is?"

"Uhm..." he rubbed his chin, stared at it, tilted his head one way and then another. Then pretended to measure it. Then picked it up and shook it. "I have no idea, honey. Can I open it already?"

"You take all the fun out of these things, you know. You just can't handle not being in control. Yeah, open it."

"Yay!" He clapped twice and turned the package over, carefully tearing long the tape, unfolding the flaps along the side, and then tearing the tape down the middle to reveal his gift. The light in his bedroom wasn't particularly bright, but I could see his grin clearly, so wide the side of his eyes crinkled up the way I loved.  He carefully picked up the spiral bound book and sat on the edge of the bed, in front of the camera.

"So, this looks awesome already and I haven't even opened it."

He held it up in front of the camera and stared at the cover, one of my favorite prints of the shots from above, tangled up in the sheets. My hair was teased into a wild, tawdry mess around my face, eyes a smoky, seductive grey. Dean had done a perfect job touching it up and softening the edges-the moment I saw it, I knew it had to be the cover shot. I titled the book "Pieces of Me", the shots becoming progressively more suggestive and the songs and poems more meaningful to us and our relationship toward the end.

"JC, I've already seen it. Open it."

"Okay,okay. I was just trying to savor it. Damn." He tossed his head with attitude and flipped the cover open. His eyes lit up and his jaw dropped at the first few pages, all shots of me in costume, dramatic makeup, using the props I had bought. I hoped each photo would show off a different side of me-maybe some sides he'd never seen before.

"This is... oh my God..." He muttered as he flipped from page to page, smiling at one page, rubbing his chin while he read a page, smiling again when he got to an increasingly more revealing shot. "You got some Shakespeare in here, I like him. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "How Do I Love Thee", classic. Lord Byron, "She Walks in Beauty"-I had to recite that for a class, once..."

"Do you like the pictures?" As if I had to ask, but I wanted to hear him say it.

His head popped up and he seemed surprised I would ask. He blinked a few times and then said, "I love them. I'm just... I'm really surprised."

"Good surprised, or oh God I wish she wouldn't have done this, surprised? You can tell me. It'll help me to do it, or never do it, again."

"No, I-honey I'm pleasantly, very, very pleasantly surprised." He turned another page, getting closer to the end, shaking his head slowly, grinning like a fool. "I might uhm, crawl into bed with this tonight, seriously."  He held the book up and stretch his arms out, then tilted his head to the side. "You're very limber, honey."

I chuckled and he grinned in to the camera. "Alright, alright. I just wanted you to like it."

"Well you said you were getting me something awesome. I kind of thought it was a new game for the Wii but this is much better." He closed it, then opened it again, and then closed it and set it next to him on the bed. "Thank you. I can tell it really came from your heart, I appreciate it, really. I love it. I love you."

"I love you too. Happy Birthday. And get your ass ready for when I come down for Labor Day. I've got your spankings all ready for you."

"I can't wait. You know I'm a freak." He smiled and made eyes at me into the camera. "So, you hangin' in there?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just hot." 

Right then, the air conditioner finally kicked into gear, humming and rumbling. I felt the first wisps of cool air fly through the room and sat back, still fanning myself, hoping to catch some of it and propel it near me. It was a good thing I forgot to pack the webcam, because I was surely not very sexy-sweating like a stuck pig, my hair up and off of my neck in a messy, haphazard ponytail, lounging in the lightest thinnest clothing I could find and even still considering taking them off and just hanging out in my bra and panties. The idea was sounding better every second.

"I wish I would hear something about those interviews. At least the one from the environmental company. I thought I did really well on that one. I was sure they would call by now."

"Patience, sweetheart, patience," he soothed, his usual positive affirmation lately." You'll hear something soon. And if you don't, you'll find something. Worrying about it won't make it happen faster."

"I know," I whined. "I just feel like I'm in limbo and waiting for some company to feel like I'm good enough to pay me to do some stuff for them. I hate the waiting."

"Yeah. Me too."  I wasn't sure if he meant for himself, or for me. Or for both. Either way, I we both tended to have an impatient streak, used to making things happen, not sitting around waiting for things to happen to us. It was an uncomfortable turn of events.

"Let's change the subject," I suggested, and tried to perk up. It was his birthday-no whining, no pulling on him to be a support for me. Let him have this day. "Tell me about the show. How's it going?"

"Oh, it's going good. I'm excited about this season." 

He was laid out across the bed, his feet, clad in spotless white socks, one arm tucked under his head. I propped my feet upon on the ottoman in front of me and continued to fan myself, listening to JC talk about the dancing hopefuls that he would be judging. The second season was in full swing and plans for his mini-tour after the season was over were just beginning to take shape. He was more excited about it than he was letting on. He was also more scared than he was letting on. January would come faster than he expected it to and he wanted to be ready.

"I can't wait until you're here," he said suddenly, his voice kind of pouty. "This is getting hard. If you weren't already moving, I'd ask you to move."

"I'm trying to get there. It's hard for me, too. At least the house looks nice."

"Yeah? Thanks."

He sounded proud, and with good reason. JC worked hard and tirelessly on the house, inside and out, armed with unsolicited advice from both of our fathers, our brothers, friends and HGTV. The wood floors gleamed, the carpets were plush and refreshed, every ceiling fan had been dusted, every window washed. My dad and brothers lent a hand in replacing the countertops and re-facing the kitchen cabinets-it didn't even look like the same kitchen anymore. The shrubs that lined the perimeter of my property had never been so expertly shaped. The lawn in front, along the sides, and behind the house was a perfect length and a gorgeous green. I was following his exact instruction on watering and mowing and it was thriving-even Mrs. Rhodes was impressed with the transformation.

All I needed was a reason to put the house up for sale.

"Okay, birthday boy, you're not sitting around talking to me on the webcam all night. What are you doing to celebrate?"

"Uhm, I'm going to the studio in a little bit," he said, rolling up his sleeve to check his watch, then letting his arm flop back down to the bed. "Then, depending on what time we finish up, probably will do some dinner, some drinks. I don't plan to get too crazy."

"Well, I hope you have a good time. Your birthday only comes once a year."

"Yeah, but I want to remember what I did on my birthday. I'll have a good time, I always do." His mouth stretched wide in a loud yawn and he stretched each arm out in front of him. "I gotta get up from here, or I'll go to sleep."

I fought a sympathetic yawn, myself. "Yeah, I need to get to bed, I have an early meeting. Thanks for letting me see you open your present. Happy Birthday, handsome. I love you."

"Love you, too. Thanks for the present. I love it. I gotta hide it, though."

A brief flash of horror raced through me at the thought of someone seeing something so intimate, something just for him. "Joshua Chasez, if someone finds that, I will beat your ass. You better hide it."

"You'll do it, too. You could take me, as demonstrated in this photo here." He flipped to a picture toward the end where I was leaning up against a dresser, arms flexed so that the few muscles I'd managed to build were profiled. In contrast, I wore a frilly pink lace lingerie set. I liked that photo, since it represented my soft side and my strong side.

"Put that away somewhere safe and you won't have to worry about it."

He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, stood, and stretched again. "I'll hide it in the same drawer as the sex swing," he said through a yawn and a laugh.

"Shut up, you don't have a sex swing."

"You don't know that. I gotta go. I love you. Call you tomorrow."

"Have a good time. Be good."

"Always. Bye, honey."

I pressed ‘end' on the keypad, slid the phone onto the side table and leaned my head back on the chair. As I did every night, I whispered a prayer to the heavens.

I just want to hear something, God. Yes, No, Hell no, something. I just need an answer. Please

I listened, intently, for a minute, but no answer came.

Take your time, God. I'm just hanging out in limbo, over here. Good thing I'm limber.

*

I put in a full day with clients, shuffling my laptop from meeting to meeting during the hottest part of the day in the hot, muggy northeastern summer. My final meeting drew to a close and I slowly wandered my way back to the hotel. I hadn't even had the chance to explore Boston, I'd been so busy. No matter-if I didn't get a job offer soon, I'd be back. A lot. My heart sank at the prospect.

I made it to my room and collapsed into the chair, enjoying the coolness and the quiet. The room wasn't so bad, once it was cool, and the air had been working fine since it kicked in the night before. I began peeling off clothes and was looking forward to a shower when my Blackberry alerted-an IM was coming through.

Hopefully that's JC. I hadn't heard from him since the night before and I wanted to know how his birthday celebration went. I picked up the phone and scrolled through the screens, but the IM was from Melissa.

‘You there?'

I tapped the keys with one hand while unzipping my skirt with the other. ‘Yes, here. Everything okay?'

 It was rare to hear from Melissa in the middle of the day, especially by IM. She was a talker, she'd just call.

‘I need to tell you something. Email you something actually. But I want to talk to you before you read it.'

Confused, I shrugged at the phone. ‘Okay, well call me.'

‘Emailing. Don't open it yet.'  A second later, an email arrived and the phone rang.

"What's up? Why are you being so cryptic?"

"Uhm." She hesitated and lowered her voice. "I just saw something and I wanted to make sure someone you knew showed it to you before you saw it yourself. It's about JC, last night, out in Hollywood."

"His birthday party? There are pictures?"

"Uhm, no not really, just... someone was talking about the party, or actually the after party out at the house. Well, log in. Read the email I sent."

I followed her instruction, completely annoyed at the cageyness. Melissa was a blunt, open person. Not saying what she meant to say went against every grain within her. It was practically against her religion.

My system trudged along on the slow wireless system, and eventually Gmail popped up for me and I opened the last email received, a copy and paste from a gossip blog. I'd received tons of them since I started dating JC. Most of them turned out to be lies wrapped around a tiny shred of truth. After awhile, I stopped reading them and told people I didn't want to see the emails anymore. They'd all but stopped, so it was odd for Melissa to send me something and be so guarded about it.

From: mwren@healthycorp.com

To: swills@gmail.com

Re: FW: Isn't this your friend's boyfriend?

            JC Chasez single and on the prowl!

            Filed under: jcchasez

Former *Nsync front man JC Chasez has been cruising L.A. and other cities around the country with a steady companion on his arm, rumored to be a woman from Atlanta that he met on a flight to LA last fall. We heard rumblings of a wedding date approaching, but if last night was any indication, this handsome hunk might just be single again!  Ladies, start your engines!

One third of MTV's Dance Show judge panel, Chasez turned 33 yesterday and celebrated the occasion at Villa Nightclub. The party raged until the wee hours of the morning and it's being reported that a small group of guests gathered at Chasez's West Hollywood mansion for an after party-and that's when things got steamy!

A source tells us that she was a guest at last night's rowdy shindig and recounted stories of wild partying, loud music, raunchy dancing between Chasez and his female guests and enough alcohol to poison a horse. Our source says Chasez and a special guest were "very cozy" as they lounged together on a couch, tossing back shots until JC nearly passed out, and when they thought they were alone, joined at the tongue and lip locked. LUCKY!

Our source also confirms that JC's supposed girlfriend was nowhere to be seen and she was not mentioned at all during the entire evening. Chasez seemed relaxed and happy, so perhaps the breakup has been a long time coming?

A little old for wild parties, but being single looks good on you, Chasez! Keep it warm for me!

My jaw hit the table as I read through the short article that had been forwarded to Melissa, and she passed along to me. Most of it seemed patently untrue-JC wasn't much of a partier or hard drinker. He liked light beers and wine, and while he would do shots, he wouldn't do them until he was passing out. Raunchy dancing wasn't his style. Even when he danced with me, he was close but he wasn't a grinder.

"This whole thing sounds so made up," I told Melissa, reading through it again. "This is stupid, it's obviously some chick trying to make a name for herself. They didn't even name their source. I bet so no one can track her down and call her out for the liar she is."

"All the same, I wanted you to see it before anyone sent it to you so you'd know it was out there."  

"Thanks I appreciate it. I'll just call him and ask him. He was so tired when I talked to him last night. No way was he up till dawn, lip locked with some girl."

"Alright," she said, sounding relieved. "Well, if you're not worried, I'm not. I gotta go, Annette is due home tonight."

I pressed end and immediately scrolled to JC's number in my phone. He wouldn't think it was as funny as I did, since he hated gossip blogs, but I wanted him to know I had seen it and it was apparently making its way around. The line rang and rang and just before the call rolled to voicemail, he picked up.

"Hey." His voice was clipped and short. He sounded busy.

"Hi there. Did you have a good birthday?"

"Uhm... yeah," he answered, after a heartbeat of hesitation. "What I remember of it yeah, it was okay. I actually had some drinks but I think I kept it together most of the night."

"Well someone thinks they're a story teller. There's an article going around about your party at Villa and the after party at your house."

"I uhm... Yeah, I just heard about that." He sounded strange, not even annoyed, like he usually sounded when I mentioned gossip blogs. "So, did you... did you see it?"

"Mmmhmm.  Melissa sent it to me."

"Shit," he said under his breath. "I was hoping to catch you before you saw that."

"Don't worry about it. You taught me well; I'm not taking this seriously."

"Listen, I... Serena, I gotta tell you something." 

I paused, wondering what was the shred of truth that this web of lies was built upon.

"What?"

"Okay," he started, after a breath. "Uhm, so last night the party was at Villa and I don't think I got wasted but I was pretty lit. A few of us came back here, and there wasn't a lot of loud partying or anything but I had some people here, including uhm... well... this girl I used to hook up with, before I met you. I hadn't seen her in awhile so were just talking. And uh..."

"JC," I interrupted, my voice shaking, but already beyond my control. "You're not saying what I think you're saying. You're not."

"I was gonna call you-"

"We're talking now, no need to call me. Just tell me, yes or no, did you kiss her?"

"Serena if you give me a minute-"

 "Yes or no?"

"--- I'll explain what happened...."

My face was hot, despite the coolness of the room. I watched a red glow creep from beneath the skin of my arms to the surface and then climb up, virtually setting me on fire. The tears threatened, but weren't quite flowing. I swallowed, hard. I had to maintain control.

"I don't care for an explanation, JC. Did you kiss her? That's all I want to know and then we can drop it. Yes or no?"

"It's not that simple-"

"It is that simple. Yes, you were kissing her, or no, you weren't."

JC exhaled a short, frustrated burst of air. "I can't do this, right now, Serena. I promise I'll call you back. Can it wait?"

"What, got a hot date? It doesn't take that long to say a word. Yes or no?"

"You don't understand-"

"You don't understand! I don't care why. I just care if you did. Were you kissing her?"

A heavy silence hung on the line. His refusal to answer the question told me everything I needed to know, but I wanted to him to admit it. I wanted to hear him say it.

"Answer. the fucking. question, JC. Yes. or NO?"

The other end was so quiet I almost thought he hung up. Then I heard him breathing, quick, rapid breaths.

That's right. Freak the fuck out. You got caught.

After a few seconds of silence, I heard, "Yes." So quiet it was almost a whisper. "But... Serena it's not like it seems. She--"

"What isn't like it seems? It wasn't an accident. You don't trip and fall and your tongue lands in some girl's mouth. You made the choice. It was a... what do you call that?  A mistake. Isn't that the word you used before? The one that made you seem so humble for owning up to cheating?"

The line hummed in the silence on both ends.

"That's what I thought. I have to go."

"Serena. Honey, come on. I don't get a chance to explain myself?"

"Explain yourself?" I scoffed. "Forgive me if I just can't think of one thing you could possibly say that would explain anything. I don't care about excuses or anything you've been thinking of all day to tell me. I just don't care. I can't even stand the sound of your voice right now. Don't call me."

I slammed my finger down on the end button so hard I almost shoved a hole in the phone. The room was blurry and although the a/c was chugging out cold air, I was burning up, sweltering hot, and my throat was closing up. I stood to move to the bed, to just lay down and think, but the room spun around me in a tight circle. I tripped over my own feet on the way to the bed and fell to the floor.

The minute I hit the floor, the floodgates opened. I had no strength, no will, no energy. I laid there for hours, until well after the sun had set and the room grew dark. Across the room, the phone laid on the floor, facedown in the exact spot it landed when I dropped it. It had been lighting up every few minutes, likely JC calling over and over.

By that point, I had no voice left-I'd screamed it out-so picking up would be pointless. A fresh swell of tears flashed over me. I turned my head away from the phone and cried and sobbed and even though I had no voice, screamed some more.

I wish I could say it made me feel better. It just made me feel hopelessly alone.

I woke up on the floor, in the dark, around 4 am. My flight was at 9, devastated or not, so I pushed through a raging, blinding headache and puffy yes, and raw throat, hurried to pack the last of my things and caught a cab to Logan Airport. I was a complete zombie, and sure that I looked awful. I didn't care. I didn't even care enough to be afraid on the flight. As soon as the plane took off and reached altitude, I closed my eyes and went to sleep. At least during sleep, there was no pain.

I couldn't shut off my mind. Endless, raging, revengeful, evil thoughts ran through my brain. I was afraid of some of them, afraid I might actually carry some of them out, if JC were to come near me at any point in the future. I was sad, I was hurt, I was angry.

Most of all I was embarrassed. I felt like a fool, immensely more stupid that I would have felt in the beginning of our relationship. As I drove home from the airport, I started to wonder how much of ‘us' was real, and how much of it was some kind of game for him.

He said he loved me, and I believed it-was that a sham?  

He had been there for me, done things for me, pushed me to do things that no one else had been able to convince me to do-- was that a ploy to earn my devotion?

Was I part of a carefully selected few, who thought she was exclusive? And if so, how dumb can a person be, to fall for that?

I'll tell you how dumb. Really dumb. God, I'm so fucking dumb.