"So, I'm thinkin..."

A few hours outside of Orlando, my silver Jetta was zipping through traffic on I-95, headed north toward Jacksonville. The only thing I knew about our first destination was that it was in South Carolina. Everything else-what we were doing, where we were staying, where we were going after that-was the world's biggest secret. JC had planned this trip so meticulously that he wasn't even letting me drive except to specific destinations. We had a schedule to keep and I ‘slow-poke my way through traffic', he said. Whatever.

"What are you thinkin', honey?"

I turned down the music that had been blaring through the speakers-Big Band, to my surprise-so I could hear him. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap, shades in place, short, prickly hairs on his face and a look of contentment that I loved to see. If a few days of nothing but highway in front of him was what it took to bring that look, I looked forward to regular time away once we settled into our LA routine.

"I'm thinking that I'm not in that big of a hurry to get back to LA."

He paused, tapping a finger on the steering wheel, slowly turning his head toward the cars around us. Totally waiting for me to say something. When I didn't take the bait, he laughed quietly and looked at me over his shades.

"You don't even want to know why I'm not in a big hurry to get back to LA?"

Smug, I faced forward, not giving into his teasing. "I already know why."

"Oh, do you?"

"Mmmhmmm. The minute you get back, it's work, work, work on the tour and music and writing and everything else you can't say no to. This is the only real alone time we'll get. I don't blame you."

"Right. So. I was thinking..." he shook a thick finger at me while his other hand skillfully managed the wheel, bobbing and weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. "Maybe we could just take our time. I mean... let's go a few days and see what's up. If we're getting on each other's nerves, we'll go home. If we're feeling good we'll stretch it out. Sound okay?"

I adjusted my shades against the bright midday sun and glanced over at the driver's seat. "I'm homeless and unemployed. I have all the time in the world."

"Honey, you are not homeless. Don't say that."

"Okay, fine. I'm unemployed and... in transition. How's that?"

"Better. So..."

It didn't take long for me to decide. With so much behind us, I felt like there was nothing but good times coming ahead. It sounded more than okay to kick back and relax, not be tied to any time constraint and see the world. Or, at least the country. Some of it.

"Sounds like fun. I say we go for it."

He gave a solitary nod, his head bobbing forward and then back and that was it. The prospect was exciting to me, at this point in my life. I had no job I had to rush back to, no work I was trying to stay caught up with. I didn't need an excuse to hop a plane to LA to see my man, anymore. I had never not had a job. Never not had responsibilities. Never not had Regina to think or worry about, or people pulling on me from every direction. Right now, it was just me and JC. It felt great, but it was weird to be so... free.

I couldn't wait to see what he had planned and what surprises would pop up along the way. Even more, I was looking forward to having days and days and days on end of JC, all to myself. I practically squealed inside, my stomach did flip flops just thinking about it.

The six hour drive between Orlando and South Carolina went quickly-lightning fast. Between funny conversation and loud, upbeat music and the both of us being relaxed and taking it easy, Florida and then Georgia disappeared and we were, all of sudden, in South Carolina. We arrived in Charleston early in the afternoon, the crisp autumn air of the coastal town a welcome change to the muggy heat of Orlando.

Charleston was already a city after my own heart, rich with well-preserved history from its city streets to the houses to the businesses on the main drag. The buildings looked centuries years old, steeped in culture and packed with memories of the generations that had called the area home-and even more that were like us that had traveled from afar to take part in what Charleston had to offer.

We crawled along King Street, one of the main roads through downtown. My eyes were glued to the view outside my window. Though the streets crawled with tourists, the city just looked so delightfully charming and laid back.

"So, of course I have plans for us, but what do you want to do first? Do you want to see some stuff, or see where we're staying?"

I tore my gaze away from what must have been a two hundred year old building, still standing as pristine as the day it was built. People poured out of it-maybe it was some kind of museum, or something?

"May as well get the seeing stuff out of the way," I said, not even trying to hide my sarcastic tone. "I know you have a list of the World's Shittiest Shit I just have to see."

He laughed, especially at shittiest shit. "See now, you don't sound excited at all," he said, tapping through screens on the GPS.

"Oh no, honey. Seriously, I'm totally excited to see the World's Largest Bale of Hay."

"Such a smartass."

I leaned my head back against the headrest and rolled my head in his direction. "Please console me by saying something like ‘I promise you won't be looking at a goddamn bale of hay'. Please."

JC laughed, switched lanes, and turned right. "Can't promise you that, sweet girl."

"Fuck," I said, groaning.

*

"You know? I knew it."

JC and I stood side by side next to the car. He had his hands shoved into his pockets; my arms were folded across my chest. Both sets of eyes traveled up and were fixated on a giant replica of a dairy cow. Standing next to a giant bottle of chocolate milk.

"Well..." he shook his head a few times, set his hands on his hips, glanced down at me, back up at the cow, and back down to me. "It's not a bale of hay."

"It's... a giant cow."

"It's a giant, rotating cow," he corrected, twirling his finger around, his head joining in on the movement as well. "I like cows."

"Okay. So what is it about this cow? What are we here to see?"

The cow and the large bottle of chocolate milk were soldered to the roof of Coburg Dairy. The motor that turned them was loud and grinding, discordant against the peaceful air-which coincidentally smelled like milk. Like spoiled milk and cream and butter. I made sure my breathing stayed shallow, or I was going to be sick from the stench.

"Nothing really," JC answered, after a few moments of staring and watching it turn. "I just figured you'd rather see a giant, rotating cow instead of, say... the Serpentarium."

"The what?"

"The Serpentarium. It's about... twenty miles that way," he said, pointing southwest. "It's uh.... you know. Snakes. Crocs. Scaley things. Critters." With two fingers he crawled up my arm and across my chest, laughing a little, making... critter sounds.

I shuddered and swatted at him, something I knew JC got a kick out of. "No. Giant rotating cow is just fine."

He was mesmerized by the movement, the slow turn around and around. He leaned against the car, crossed his arms and just stared at it some more.

"I wonder what it's made of. Like what material do you use to create that? Plaster, maybe?"

I stared at it, trying to guess. I wasn't an artist, so I really had no clue. "Dunno. Not concrete, I'm guessing."

"Nah," he shook his head. "Too heavy. Not moldable." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a few pictures of it, then grabbed me by my elbow and pushed me a few steps ahead of him. "Go stand over there so I can take a picture of you."

"With a giant cow?"

"With a giant cow, just get over there."

I obeyed and posed for several pictures with the sound of the motor grinding above me. Then took a few of him standing there, hands in pockets, the cutest grin on his face, his eyes rolled up to living, moving sculpture.

It occurred to me that he was having fun, in his own special way. As ‘cool' as he seemed to come off to a lot of people, he really was a big nerd that thought a trip to see a life-size rotating cow was completely worth it. I loved that about him.

"I got it," I called out to him, flipping through the photos we had taken. "You look so cute. You and your big damn cow."

"Thanks." He stood next to me and slid an arm around my waist, balancing his chin on my shoulder as I flipped through the ‘Giant Rotating Cow' Photo Album. Tyler would love them as soon as he saw them. "So, had enough of the big damn cow?"

"You know, I'm okay with the cow, but this place stinks. Let's go, if we're going."

"We're going, before I throw up."

We dove back into the car, rolled up the windows and closed the vents as he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the two lane highway.

I'd had months and months to think and imagine and worry about this road trip. I didn't know what to expect and JC wasn't very forthcoming with information. He loved to keep me in the dark, loved to surprise me with things. All I had to go on was my imagination, which automatically went to the worst before it arrived at the best.

So when I imagined this road trip, I had steeled myself for looking at nonsensical things (like a giant, rotating cow) and staying at questionable hotels to save money. I figured he wouldn't want to do more than sleep in a room for a few hours and then get back on the road, so when he pulled up to the door of a breathtakingly beautiful oceanfront resort, my jaw nearly dropped to my chin.

It was... simply gorgeous. A sprawling resort spread out before me on one side of the car-the buildings painted in bright colors, large spacious balconies on every unit as far as the eye could see. On the other side, a boardwalk that led to white sand that led to beautiful blue waters.

My head tossed from one side to the other as we made our way up the long entrance driveway to the front door of the resort.

"We're staying here?" The tone of surprise in my voice amused him. I could tell.

"Yep."

He left the keys in the ignition and popped the latch, stepping out of the car. A husky, bulky young man came bounding out of the sliding glass doors with a rolling cart and a bright smile.

"Welcome to The Dunes!"

It wasn't a trick, then. We were really staying at this place, with the ocean waves crashing in one ear and gulls squealing in the other. With the scent of fresh fruit and coffee weaving out of the doors as they opened every few seconds. With the white sand and the colorful flowers and the upscale feel. I stepped out of the car and looked around, feeling a little out of place in my plain shorts and t-shirt. But not too much.

Somewhere deep inside, I was jumping around. This was gonna be a great vacation.

Behind me, JC was taking care of business. He unloaded our baggage onto the cart, picked up my purse and dumped it on top of the pile of baggage and then ducked back into the car. The window behind me slid down and he leaned over the center console.

"I'm gonna park. Go check us in." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed me an American Express card. "It's under your name. Okay?"

I nodded and he drove off, and then I was standing there on the sidewalk, a little lost.

"Ready, ma'am?" The Porter, with our cart of luggage, stood waiting, smiling, ready. I chuckled a little and rolled my eyes at myself.

‘Get a grip,' I thought, and walked inside.

JC caught up with us as soon as I had finished checking us in, so we followed the Porter to our assigned suite on the fifth floor. It was near the front of the hotel, so there were no buildings in front of us, no obstructed views, nothing between us and the ocean. From the moment the door opened, I was impressed-but then again, I suppose I am easy to impress.

An expanse of blue stretched before me as soon as I stepped into the room. One wall was almost completely floor to ceiling glass doors that led to a balcony, overlooking the beach and then wave after wave crashing onto the sand. I headed right for the view, knowing I should probably help unload our baggage or something, but I couldn't help it. The breeze, the smell, the air, the sounds-all were intoxicating and I was, in that moment, completely happy.

I heard the door slide open behind me, and then, "So, what do you think?"

JC appeared next to me and leaned forward onto the wood railing that surrounded the balcony. I hadn't even noticed a little two seat wrought iron bistro table over in the corner, standing ready for us to have our coffee and breakfast and for JC to spread whatever local paper came everyday all over it.

"I think this place is beautiful," I said, in almost a whisper. I was completely in awe of the view, of the hotel. Of him. "I think I'm surprised. I totally expected to be at Motel 6. Or Super 8. Or Howard Johnson. The Marriott, if you felt like splurging."

He laughed, deep and hearty, his eyes crinkling up on the side the way I loved. The wind whipped through his hair, billowing our t-shirts out a bit, carrying with it the scent of fried seafood. My mouth watered at the thought.

"I love how everyone makes fun of how cheap I am."

I glanced over at him, to make sure he wasn't hurt by what I'd said, but he was smiling. "I just don't spend money unnecessarily. So then I have money to stay places like this hotel. And do things like go on this trip. And show my girlfriend a good time." He turned his head toward me and smiled. "Because I love her."

I was pretty sure that he kept things in his ‘Chasez Arsenal of Things That Drive Women Wild', and saved them up for the most unexpected, inopportune moments. Then he'd bust them out and act so humble and cute but on the inside was thinking ‘yeah, I got her with that one. She's totally hooked.' Well, I was. Totally hooked.

I leaned over and kissed his temple, right next to his eyebrow, then smoothed the lip gloss mark away. "I love you. And thank you. After the cow, I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Well, I figure this..." He straightened, flipped his shades up so they rested on top of his head, dividing his hair into two halves. "If my ass has to be a car for eight, or ten, or even twelve hours a day, I want it to lay in a comfortable bed at night. And I figure if you have to look at some of the World's Shittiest Shit with me, then we should do something you want to do, too. So, come in here and let's pick something."

He led me back inside the spacious room and plopped onto the large wicker couch with thick padding and an abundance of pillows. On the table in front of the couch was a hotel brochure, which JC picked up and began leafing through.

"There's a bunch of stuff going on, here," he mumbled, reading. "We can golf, because I know you're such an avid golfer.... Or play tennis, because your hand-eye coordination is really spot on..."

"Are you picking on me, Chasez?"

"Nope," he answered, not even looking up, but smiling into the book. "A little. You'll get me back, I know it. Okay." He set the book in my lap and pointed to a list. "Pick something. We can do anything on this list right here. "

My finger crawled the short list of options. Horseback riding? Nah, too late in the day. Walking tour of historic homes? Maybe. Fishing? Fishing. JC would love that and I would love to get out on the water. He was pretty romantic on the water.

"That one," I said, pointing.

He looked and then looked again at my choice and then his eyes rose to meet mine. His were wide, and blue and his brows were raised as he asked, "You serious?"

I nodded. "I'm serious. I'd love to get back out on a boat with you. Let's do it."

The smile that crossed his face made my heart leap out of my chest and back in. He jumped up from the couch, dragging me with him toward the bedroom portion of our suite, babbling about how he hadn't been fishing in years and it was just going to be so much fun. What was going to be so much fun was watching him have fun. I couldn't wait.

We freshened and changed and just barely caught the last charter before it left the dock, hopping over the threshold of the 43 footer just in time. Along the perimeter of one end of the boat were fishing poles, standing upright in holes drilled specifically to hold them, just waiting for someone with sweaty hands to grab them and toss a line out into the water. Around the other side was a grouping of Captain's chairs, in case you just wanted to sit and watch the ocean float by and the land grow further and further away.

There was only one pole left, on the left side of the yacht, so JC and I would share the experience from the single station. After listening to instruction, introductions, and the distribution of bait, the yacht sped up and moored to a place about 45 minutes out, and then the motor cut and we were drifting. I stepped aside to let JC make the first cast. He laughed and pulled me back toward the pole and stood behind me.

"You picked this, so you get the first one. Do you know what you're doing?"

"You know I don't," I said over my shoulder. "That's why I was going to let you go first."

"Let's do it together. Pick up the pole."

JC stood behind me, teaching me how to stand, where to stand, how to hold each arm, practicing the movement of casting and the flick of the wrist I would need to send the bait far enough out. We were supposed to do it together but at the last minute he let go, and let me do it myself. The line ran and ran and I watched the bait drop into the ocean much further than I thought it would.

"Uhm. Yeah, you have a really good arm, honey."

"Told ya." I giggled, kind of amazed at myself. "Was that okay? Should I reel it in, some?"

"It's fine," I heard from behind me. The Captain and Charter Guide, a short stocky man with a dusty blonde head of hair and beard to match, was making his way around to check on everyone. His belly almost hung out of the bottom of a too small polo shirt with a fading ‘FinStalkers' Logo on the chest.

"Most people just land a few feet out. Great cast." He tapped my shoulder and walked past us, checking out other patrons, helping an older woman with her rod and reel.

‘Well. It appears that I know what I'm doing, after all."

"Lucky shot, I think. If you get two out of three-" Out of nowhere, came a strong pull on the rod. The tip of the pole bent forward severely.

"Oh my God! I have something! Here! Take it!"

I shoved the rod into JC's hands and stepped aside. He reeled and reeled and reeled, grunting against the force of... whatever was on the end of the line. I was starting to get a little scared-the tip of the pole looked like it was about to break.

JC was just barely holding onto the rod, his forehead creased with concentration, his mouth in a grimace, his arms flexed, his legs spread apart. Was it wrong to be really attracted to him, right then?

"Get the... get the guy," he grunted. "Get the guy!"

I waved down the Captain, who rushed over and offered a hand in reeling in the catch. All I saw under the surface of blue ocean water was something hulking and black and not small but not huge. It was fighting every inch of the way, flopping its way up the side of the boat and didn't stop once it was dumped onto the deck. I jumped back, as the thing was flinging water everywhere. A group gathered around the convulsing creature, its spasms slowing as it flopped around. The captain, who preferred to be called simply "A", grabbed the fish by the tail and held it up.

"Nice catch, little lady. Marlin. Good size. First one of the trip. He's small, but heavy. Gonna say about thirty, forty pounds." He nodded at me, then at JC, and then carted the fish off toward the cooler. Halfway there, he stopped. "Ya'll be taking this with you? You need it on ice?"

"Oh... no," JC answered. "We're heading out, tomorrow. But thanks."

"Suit yourself," said "A", shrugging and climbing up toward the front of the yacht.

I was impressed with myself and let it show in my smile to JC as he turned toward me. He gave me a slappy, sarcastic grin, a roll of his eyes, and then relented and laughed, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me close to him.

"I am surprised by you, everyday," he said. "You know that?"

"Mmmm," I hummed, completely content. "And I, you."

Despite the crowd of people around us, I rose up onto my toes to meet his lips and kissed him. When I was flat on my feet again, I said, "Your turn. And don't try to outdo me. I'm pretty damn awesome."

"I wouldn't dare, sweet girl." He picked up the pole, baited the hook, and cast the line out.

After about an hour of drifting, it seemed my catch was a fluke. No one was catching anything, including JC. Not even a bite. After we switched places, I got no bites, either. Most people were giving up and just leaning over the railing of the boat, talking and laughing, enjoying a beer or two and the shocking orange sky as the sun was setting. We joined a small group on our side of the yacht, making small talk, sharing a beer and a few steamy sunset kisses, our arms around each other as the color disappeared from the sky and the evening turned to night.

JC held out a hand to help me step down from the boat, just after it floated up against the dock outside our hotel. He hooked an arm around my neck as we pounded through the sand toward the boardwalk and up the hill.

"What a nice afternoon. Good choice, honey."

"Yeah, that was fun! I can't wait to tell my dad I caught something. I've never really been fishing, before."

JC laughed, tightening his arm around my neck, pulling me closer. "Your parents live on a lake, honey. You should really try it."

"I know. It just always seemed like a touristy kind of thing to-"

"Shhhh," JC said, stopping in his tracks and cocking his head. "You hear that?"

I stopped and listened and heard what he was talking about. Music. Reggae music. And it was close.

"Where is that coming from?" He turned around and pointed toward a crowd of people gathered down the strip of beach. He looked at me and I looked at him, we shrugged at each other and started walking toward the commotion.

The closer we got, the louder the music became. Outside a ramshackle hotel, speakers and a stage had been built, a large vinyl sign hanging above it announcing a Summer Concert Series-sponsored by The Piggy Wiggly.

"Awesome," said JC, as he read it, pointing and laughing. The area was brimming with people dancing, or standing around talking, holding bottles or cans of beer or the red plastic SILO cups that usually meant some kind of hard alcohol. Vendors were selling some great smelling food, and cute little souvenirs. We looked around for a few minutes, taking it all in, and then migrated toward the food.

"You hungry?"

I nodded, starving, but not even trying to speak over the music. He pointed to two empty seats at the edge of the crowd, and then headed toward a vendor who was dishing up large bowls of something that smelled delicious. I grabbed the seats just as the band took a break, grateful for the simple sounds of the ocean and the crowd around me.

After a few minutes I started to wonder where he had disappeared to. Then I saw him, stumbling through the sand toward me, a bottle tucked under each arm and a steaming bowl in each hand. I caught his eye and he smiled, showing off his talent.

"In my previous life, I was a waiter, I think."

I took one of the bowls and slid one of the bottles out from under his arm. "Or a member of the circus."

He tipped a hip toward me and said, "Fork?" In each pocket was a plastic fork, tines up. I giggled, plucking one out. He pulled the other one out and said, "Glad I remembered I put those in my pocket. That would not have been fun, later."

I dug into a heaping, steaming bowl of jerk chicken and white rice, cooling down the spice with long swallows of a locally brewed and bottled ale. It tasted pretty good, though I wasn't much of a beer drinker. JC liked it too, and when he left for a few minutes to get more, I was surprised to see him come back with an armful.

"They were shutting down, so I closed ‘em out." He laughed as a few bottles tumbled into my lap, clinking together. "We can take them back to our room. Have some fun. Or something."

A familiar scent was wafting past us, every few minutes. I recognized it from college dorms and later an apartment building full of students with nothing better to spend their money on than beer and weed. I was trying to ignore it, but the pungent scent tickled my nose.

I leaned into JC and almost whispered. "Do you smell that, or am I just sensitive?"

He picked at his teeth with his tongue and sniffed the air. "No, I smell it. You'll smell a lot of that, in LA."

"Great." I wondered if he meant around town or... in the house? I was afraid to ask.

"You ever tried it?"

"Nuh uh." Shy, I ducked my head, a little embarrassed at how lame I was as a college student. "Not my specialty, too much of a nerd. I drank and dated men just over the questionable line."

He nodded, slowly, picking at the few grains of rice left in the bottom of his bowl. His shoulders bounced and his head bobbed to the Calypso rhythm of the music that had started back up again.

"So, did you ever want to?"

I looked over at him, almost laughing because I thought he was joking, but he was serious. "I wasn't ever really into anything I could take or smoke or snort or inject. That stuff scares me."

"If you could try it, and be safe, would you?"

I paused, my eyes narrowing. "Joshua Scott, are you trying to get me to smoke pot?"

"No, Serena Joy," he said, laughing, scraping the bottom of his bowl. "Just asking. Making conversation."

"Uh huh."

JC picked up our bowls and tossed them into a nearby garbage can and took his seat again, opened another bottle of beer and slouched down in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. He smiled a little, his head bobbing slowly, his eyes on the band. Either he didn't notice me staring at him or he was so used to it that it just didn't affect him anymore. I just couldn't help but watch him. Happy JC was a delight to be around.

"JC..."

He sat up a little and leaned in my direction, swallowing a mouthful of beer. "What's up, honey? Are you getting tired? Wanna go back to the room?"

"No, I was going to ask you something." He relaxed again, tipping his bottle up and draining the last of it. "Are you tempted? Like if you could get some, would you smoke it?"

He swallowed, balancing the empty bottle on his thigh, sticking his finger into the hole and spinning it around and around. He sat up and then slouched again and then sat up again and leaned over onto the arm of the chair. His bottom lip was tucked into his mouth as he slowly raised his head to look at me.

"So... you know I have, before. Right?"

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, annoyed. I had never been under the illusion that JC was innocent. I also knew that pot was about as illegal and conscious-altering as he was going to get.

"Uhm, yeah. I knew that."

"Right. Uhm." JC leaned away from me, dug into his pocket and pulled something out, then grabbed my hand and dropped it into my palm. When he pulled his hand away, two long, thin, white cigarette-like sticks were laying there.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at them, laying in my palm, and then looked at JC, who was staring at me. I snapped my fingers closed over my palm and shoved my hand under my arm, sitting up and looking around.

"Don't break ‘em," he hissed at me.

"I'm not," I hissed back. "Here, take these." I dropped them into his waiting palm and back into the pocket of his jeans they went. "That's what took you so long, when you went to get food?"

He nodded, glancing around us. Maybe buying pot made people paranoid, because all of a sudden I felt very, very watched, even though a lot of people around us were openly smoking.

"Gimme a beer," I sighed, reaching for the bottles under JC's chair. "This is gonna be one of those nights."

JC and I drank the rest of our beers, danced a little, swaying as best we could to the beat of the music until the band ended their set and the crowd started to break up. We remembered then that we still had to stumble down the beach toward our hotel and make our way to the room.

"Did we... we had a lot of beer." JC led the way down the hall, slowly shuffling, weaving back and forth across the hall, searching his pockets over and over. "Do you have the room key? I think I lost mine."

"You always lose yours. I kept both of them. Careful," I said, as he bumped up against one wall and then another. "People are sleeping, honey."

"Sorry. My feet... don't know what they're doing. What room are we in?"

"572, right here."

I slid the key into the card slot and it beeped. The door popped open and I grabbed JC by the arm and pulled him inside. He headed right for the wicker couch and collapsed onto it, leaning back so his head hung over the edge of the armrest.

"I feel really good right now, honey."

"I bet you do. You had a lot of that beer. I wish we had read the label, or something. I bet it's like... over proof something or other."

His head lolled from one side to another and he was making odd moaning noises. I hoped he wasn't a sick drunk. "I feel really good right now, honey."

"You said that, baby. Let me get you some water."

I pulled open the refrigerator and my shoulders sagged. It was empty. Completely. I slammed the door shut and paced the small kitchen area. As much as JC was paying for us to stay here, the kitchen wasn't stocked? We got better service at the Marriott.

I grabbed my purse and fished out a few dollar bills and some change. I saw a vending machine near the lobby and prayed that it had water in it.

"Okay, sweetie? I have to go get some water. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, because you don't have a key."

"Yep. Don't go anywhere. No key. Love youuuuu."

I didn't really want to laugh. But I did, and enjoyed my giggle as I walked down the hall, to the vending machine, stopped by the front desk to ask them to bring some water up, and then back up to the room. But JC wasn't on the couch. I checked the bedroom, and it was empty as well.

"JC?"

I heard a muffled "out here" come from the other side of the patio doors and something glowing red, out there. Holy. Shit. He lit up on the patio?

"Oh my God! Are you crazy?"

"Nope. I'm drunk. Sit down. Relax."

He gestured toward the other chair as he kicked back and propped his feet up on the ledge of the balcony, in the middle of a long drag. The tip glowed a bright angry red as he breathed in, and then darkened when he removed it from his mouth. He eyed the joint, held delicately between his thumb and middle finger.

"This is..." he paused to cough a little, his voice high and tight. "... this is some okay stuff. Wow." He blinked a few times and then shook his head. "You want to try?"

"I... I don't think so."

"You hesitated," he said, pointing a finger at me, eyes half open, speech slurring. "You want to say yes. You think I'll think bad things about you, if you try it?"

"I don't want to think bad things about me."

"If you don't want to, then don't. But if you want to, it's here. And you're safe. I'd never let anything happen to you. I'm not that far gone. I promise."

He held it out to me, one end of it emitting a thin curlicue of smoke that rode a light breeze and lazed its way around the patio. The scent of it burned my nose, the smoke tickled my throat, but the curiosity was overwhelming.

‘Come on, Serena. What the hell? Live a little.'

I took a deep breath and reached for it. And then I was holding it. It was... light. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was different than I thought it'd be. I kind of felt like a dunce-- I didn't even know how I was supposed to hold it, as evidenced by JC's laugh as it dangled loosely between my thumb and index finger.

"You're gonna drop the thing," he said, taking it back. "Come here. Come over here."

He sat up, swinging his legs down from where they were propped up on the railing and waved me over to his side of the table, in the corner, away from the light. I slipped into his lap and he kicked his feet up again, leaning us back in the chair. One hand slid around and rested on my stomach. The other held the smoking ember next to us.

"Just relax. Look up at that sky. All those stars, twinkling up there. See ‘em?"

I nodded, my head resting so comfortably on his shoulder, lost in the night sky. I felt it in his chest, heard it in my ear when he took another hit, his throat squeaking a little, and then the almost desperate gulp of fresh air that followed. He offered it to me then, and without saying a word, I took it.

"Just breathe it in, take it easy, don't swallow or do anything fancy."

Before I lost my nerve, I shoved it between my lips and tried to do as he instructed and just breathe the smoke into my lungs. What felt like a flame seared my throat, burning my lungs all the way down. I handed it back to him and sat up, coughing violently.

"Calm down, calm down," JC was saying, twisting open a bottle of water and handing it to me. "Here. Have some. Drink it, relax."

"Fucker," I choked out, and punched him in the chest. "That hurt like a motherfucker! Corrupting me, goddammit. I'm gonna tell my-" I didn't finish my sentence, because I was coughing up a lung.

"Stop yelling at me before you die. Drink the water. Lean back, here."

I settled back against him, a few residual coughs bubbling to the surface. In about ten minutes I started to feel a little woozy, a little light headed. A little happy.

"So... am I... high? Or something?"

"Maybe. You took a good hit. You have a nice arm and nice lungs." He laughed, breathing in, holding, breathing out. "How you feelin'?"

"Just. Light. And... I can see the air. Kind of. It's cool. I just feel relaxed. And I want an entire pizza."

He laughed, tightening his arm around me, digging his face into my neck, leaving a loud noisy smooch. "I love you, sweet girl."

"I was just kidding, about the pizza."

"I still love you. You want the last hit?" A nub appeared in front of me, smoking and enticing. I was tempted, but decided not to take my chances.

"Hell, no," I said, pushing it away. "I've done enough drugs for one night. I just wanted to say I've tried it, I guess."

"Don't you dare tell your dad we did this. Even if that one gun doesn't shoot, he could break it over my head."

"I can't tell my dad half the things we do, JC. Why would I tell him this?"

"Just making sure."

Breathing, holding, breathing. Fingers in my hair. Lips on my cheek. A hand clawing at the hem of my shirt, scrambling to get under it and play along the skin underneath, glide over the thin lace bra, caress the soft breasts spilling out of the cups.

I didn't think it was the pot... or maybe it could have been... but maybe not, because JC turned me on anyway, but I was instantly on. Way on, very on. I sat up and rose to my feet, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to his feet, through the slider and into the living room area and to the bedroom where I closed the door and pressed him up against it.

I tried to kiss him but his head was bobbing everywhere. He was floppy and not really in control of himself. He tasted like beer and pot and chicken. I stopped and pulled back, grabbing his face and lifting his head up.

"Are you awake? Do you want to do this?"

He giggled, his eyes not even half open. "Are you planning on taking advantage of me?"

"Maybe," I said, staring up at him. "How gone are you?"

"Kinda...‘m okay. Really." Shit. Not even close.

I pulled him by the hem of his shirt toward the bed, making him sit so I could take off his shoes. He fell back onto the mattress, arms splayed, spread eagle. I untied his shoes and tossed them in the direction of his suitcase and went for the button of his jeans next.

"Are you horny?" He was saying it, over and over, in a terrible imitation of Austin Powers. "Do I make you horny, baby?"

"I'm really just trying to get you ready to get in the bed. I'm leaning toward you being too much of... something... for sex to be fun. I haven't decided-" I huffed, pulling his jeans off. Dammit, he wore them tight! "I haven't decided if you're still drunk, or too high."

"A little of both. And some tired."

"Yeah, me too." I left his briefs on and tried to take off his t-shirt but I couldn't get him to sit up. I gave up, and started pulling my own clothes off.

"I wanted to do that," he mumbled, watching me pull my blouse over my head, my shorts down my hips. "But I can't move."

"That's what you get. Did you smoke both of those?"

"No, I have one left. We can share it."

"Oh no, buddy. You can have that to yourself. Come on, scoot up. Get in the bed."

Somehow he managed to sit up, remove his t-shirt and crawl into the bed behind me. I'm sure we stank like fishing boat and jerk chicken and Jamaican beer and some kind of ‘really good shit', but I didn't think he would survive a shower. It was all I could do to hope he would wake up coherent the next morning. Which wasn't more than a few hours away.

JC snuggled up against me, our bodies gravitating toward each other by habit. His arm slid across my waist and I grabbed his hand and held it. Felt the tips of his fingers and the tiny electric shocks that his calluses always gave me.

And laid there. Fuck. I really wanted sex but there was no way JC was sober enough. Maybe in the morning.

"I love you, honey," was mumbled into my ear.

"I love you, too baby. Go to sleep. We have to drive tomorrow."

"No, I mean. I love you. Like, a lot."

"I know. I love you a lot, too."

He snuggled closer, his breath gruff in my ear. "Well, I mean a lot, a lot. I want to love you forever. My whole life. I don't want to love anyone else."

I smiled, rolling my eyes at him. He wouldn't even remember saying these things in the morning. "You're one of those loving potheads, aren't you?"

"I've been wanting to say that all day."

"Oh. Really?"

"Seriously."

I remembered a conversation I'd had with Melissa, shortly after my drunken admission to JC that I loved him. Something about how alcohol doesn't create things that we never mean to say. More that it removes the filter in our minds that tell us not to say things. Or make us afraid to say things. The problem was that while alcohol might help someone tell the truth, the person that spoke the truth probably wouldn't remember telling it. It was just as useless as not saying it.

"JC, are you still drunk?"

"No. Coming down, too. I think. So I thought I should just say that, before I lost my nerve."

I gave his hand a pat, our fingers woven together under the sheet. "Thank you, sweetheart. I hope I love you all my life... isn't that song?"

"Daniel Bedingfield," he muttered, then sang a few lines.

And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I pray in you're the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life.

He laughed, his muscles rippling up my back. "That's where I got that from."

"Sneaky bastard. I knew I heard that somewhere."

He finished his laugh off with a ‘hmmm' and then grew silent. His breathing slowed, and deepened, and steadied. I finally felt like I could relax a little, and started to drift off to sleep myself.

"Serena."

"What, JC? Go to sleep. Fuck."

"You know where we're going, next?"

"Where?"

"Guess."

"Tell me."

A few moments of silence, and then a deep breath and then, "Bowie."

"What's Bowie?"

"Bowie. Maryland. Is where we're going next."

My eyes popped open. Bowie. As in where he grew up, Bowie? As in his hometown, his old haunts, maybe old friends and family, Bowie?

"Serious?"

He nodded, his head swishing against the pillow. "You need to know where I'm from. Don't... can't... know where you're going until you know where I've been. Or... whatever."

"Oh. Wow. Well. I'm excited to see where JC Chasez was born and raised."

"On the playground, was where I spent most of my days..."

I giggled, squeezing his hand and scooting back a little, closer to him. "You're funny when you're kind of drunk and high."

He yawned a long, loud, lion-y kind of yawn, his lips smacking against my back.

"I'm nervous," he whispered. "That's why I got drunk. And high, maybe."

"What are you nervous about?"

"Because. I'm gonna take you to some places I haven't been in a long time. I've been thinking about it for awhile and... thinking always makes me remember things I kind of don't want to remember. I wanted to forget, for a little bit."

What he said-the words, as much as how he said them, how they just spilled out of his mouth, almost accidentally, struck me right in the heart. It hurt, for him. Terribly so.

I guess I had always known that he hid things from me-feelings and experiences, especially anything about his life before he lived with Roy and Karen. But, in my naiveté, I had figured he'd simply gotten over it. JC wasn't really one for regrets and living in the past. He didn't dwell on things, especially negative things.. At least he hadn't seemed to.

But maybe some things, as I'd learned, were hard to let go. And while I was busy meeting my father and making amends with my mother and being happy about my life being on course... he was silently suffering. Maybe waiting for his chance to become whole. To heal. I wish I had known, but I didn't know how I could have.

JC finally fell asleep, heavy against me, breathing deeply and evenly. I laid awake for awhile. Listening to him and feeling him against me, clutching his hand close to me as tear after tear slid down my cheek, into the pillow.

###

I was alone in the bed, when I woke up. According to the clock, it was a few minutes after seven. We hadn't slept long-we were up pretty late. I tossed the covers back and got out of bed, shivering. The sun hadn't been up long and it was freezing cold in the suite. I ducked my head into the bathroom, but it was empty. The living room was empty as well, but far off in the distance, on the beach, I saw movement. I went back to the bedroom and rifled through my suitcase, throwing on a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt and went back to the living room and out onto the patio.

JC was standing on the beach, the tide rolling between and around his legs, his sweatpants pulled up above his knees. He stared into the surf, letting miniature wave over wave wash past him, onto the shore. As if he could sense me watching him, he turned around, and then lifted an arm in a tired wave. I waved back, and he started to walk toward the beach, rolling his sweatpants down his legs as soon as he was clear of the water.

A few minutes later, he was at the door of the suite. He moved slowly, his eyes so very red and droopy, the bags under his eyes so enormous, they had to be painful.

"Hey," he said, shuffling around the kitchen, his voice gritty.

"Hey," I answered back. "How's the beach this morning?"

"Cold. But nice." He sat next to me on the couch, landing heavily, slouching into the seat. "I like a cold walk on the beach, actually."

"Sounds nice. Did you sleep any?"

He rubbed a hand over his hair, then down his face, then rubbed his eyes. He yawned and then took a deep breath as his hand dropped back to his lap. "Uhm...I feel like I slept hard. Not sure if I moved all night. Still tired, though."

I nodded, unsure of what to say, next. I didn't know how much he remembered of the night before.

"So, last night..." he started, reading my mind. He reached for my hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. "I hope I didn't like, scare you or anything."

"Nah," I said. Shrugged it off. "It was fun. I saw a completely different side of JC Chasez, last night."

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

I had really expected to feel awful-- cotton mouth and headache and whatever comes with drinking too much and doing one hit of pot, but... I felt great. It was a good thing. JC didn't look good at all.

"I feel fine, actually. I'm surprised."

"Good. Happy to hear that," he said, seeming relieved. "You know...I don't get like that, too often. I just wanted you to know. I'm not like... irresponsible."

"No, I know. I know. We're on vacation, so... you should be able to let loose."

"Also, I said some things. I know what I said, and I meant to say it. Okay?"

Mystery solved. "Okay."

"I just... I wanted you to know that they weren't like drunken ramblings, or whatever."

"Okay." I smiled and squeezed his hand, still holding mine. "I liked what you had to say."

On the one hand, I was happy to hear he remembered saying those things. On the other hand I wondered why he couldn't just say them. Why did he have to get drunk to say it? I supposed I would figure it out, eventually. Or the answer would make itself known, at some point.

His head dropped back against the pile of pillows behind him, his eyes closed, those long lashes dusting pale skin, his mouth forming that cute pout I loved. Suddenly he sucked in a deep breath, through his nose, and his eyes popped open. Bloodshot but pretty baby blue eyes.

"So, you want to get some breakfast? We need to hit the road. We have about eight hours ahead of us."

My stomach rumbled, coming alive at the mention of food. He smiled for the first time all morning and smacked my thigh with the back of his hand.

"There's my girl," he said, standing up, reaching for my hand to help me up. Instead of letting go, he wound his fingers with mine, grabbed our room keys from the counter and led us out of the suite.

A few hours later, the car was packed up, we were checked out, and the Jetta was pointed north again. JC was stretched out in the passenger seat, already knocked out, snoring a little. I actually hoped he slept for a good, long while.

I glanced at the GPS device, our next destination practically screaming at me: Bowie, MD!