A loud, shrill ring punctured the stillness of the morning, tearing me from a deep sleep and yanking me into consciousness.  By reflex and habit, I reached behind me to tap JC. If a phone rang early in the morning, it was likely for him.

"Not mine," was the mumbled response, muffled by a pillow.

I grunted, forcing one eye open, feeling along the knotted wood surface of the table next to the bed.  His phone had some kind of art as the home screen. Mine was the default. His was worn and a little scratched from being dragged everywhere in his pocket.  Mine was still sleek and glossy, since it was nearly new. His wasn't ringing. Mine was.

Mumbling and cursing under my breath, I grabbed it, if only to yell at whoever was calling so early-so what if it was nearly 11 am?-- when I was on vacation.  I blinked at the Caller ID display, trying to figure out who Taylor was. And then it hit me.

"Oh my GOD!"

Instantly awake, I threw the covers back and bounded out of bed, tapping at the touch screen, but it wouldn't pick up. The caller id just screamed at me: TAYLOR MANUFACTURING.

"Fuck this phone!"  I slammed my finger down on the touchpad and the line finally picked up. Breathless, I all but screamed, "Hello!?"

"Uh... hi." A male voice was on the other end, sounding hesitant and a little scared. "This is Chuck, from Taylor Manufacturing. I'm calling for Serena Willis?"

"This is her!"

Panting from all the activity, and the excitement, and the frustration, I headed for the door, to take the call in the living area of the suite. I poked my head back into the room before leaving. JC hadn't moved an inch. He was still sprawled across half of the bed, on his back, arms spread eagle.

"This is Serena," I almost whispered into the phone, pulling the door shut. "Hi, Chuck. Good to hear from you."

Twenty minutes later, I exploded into the bedroom, throwing the door open and leaping up onto the bed, landing on top of JC.

"Wake up wake up wake up!"

JC only groaned and moved deeper into the bed, pulling the covers up over his head. I yanked them down, just far enough to see his face.  There he was, both arms over his head, curls shooting out in every direction, cheeks and chin dark with overnight hair growth and a serious pout on his lips.

"Guess who that was, that called?"

"Mmmmm," he growled. "I don't know. Who?"

"Taylor! It was Taylor!"

One eye opened and then blinked. The pout deepened into a sleepy frown. "Taylor who?"

"The environmental firm! The... the uhm..."  I flapped my hands, so flustered I couldn't even think of the words I wanted to say, let alone get them out.  I gave up, grabbed his face, and planted a big, wet smooch on his cheek.  "I got a job!"

Both eyes were open, finally, and sort of focused. He started to sit up, slowly. Wiped his cheek, like always. Cleared his throat. Smoothed his hair down.  Scratched his chest a few times. Yawned, wide and loud. Then looked up at me and said, "What?"

I smiled, so wide it was annoying. I didn't care. "Honey, I got the job."

He blinked several times, his lashes fluttering. He was starting to get it. A smile started to tug at the corner of his mouth as fought to keep his eyes open. "You got a job?"

"I got a job! I got the job!" I nodded, bouncing a little on the bed. "I'm not a deadbeat! I start in January! I'm so happy!"

JC's head bobbed with my bouncing, only mildly amused at all the noise and movement. He piled the pillows up behind him and leaned back, obviously not ready to be fully upright, yet, and gave a pat to the mattress next to him. I scrambled around and slid under the sheet with him, snuggled up against his warmth, fresh from a deep sleep.  

"Okay. Details. You start in January, doing what?"

I dove into the conversation that I had with Chuck, and the reason the phone call had gone so long. I was now the Director of Marketing Innovation, managing the course of biodegradable products through the market and tracking their impact on the environment for the EPA.

"So, basically it's my job to protect Taylor's image, and to promote product testing and making those results public, especially to the Government."

"That sounds... complicated." His voice was still gritty from sleep and his eyes were a little droopy, but he was at least trying to smile. "But you're happy? Is this the one you wanted?"

I sighed, and couldn't help a little squeal and raising clenched fists in the air. "It's only my dream job! I'll get to do so much more than I could at StarTel, and I'll have a team, it won't just be me, anymore. Oh! And maybe I'll get to speak at some conferences, and maybe get published..."

I moved so I was facing him and could talk to his face, babbling for a good five minutes before he cracked a smile, and then started laughing. I froze, mid-sentence. "What's funny?"

He shook his head, a residual smirk on his lips. "Nothing."

"You weren't laughing at nothing." I smacked him on the only bare skin within reach at the moment-his chest. "What?"

"Ow!" He frowned at his chest, rubbing the red handprint developing in his pale skin. "It's just... I have no idea what you're talking about, but you're so cute, I just want to let you keep talking forever."

"Well, now you know I feel." I felt my face grow hot and watched my skin turn a deep red. "Fine, I'm done. I have a job! I'm happy. The end."

"Well, I'm proud of you. I never had a doubt."

"You sure didn't. Thank you." I grasped his chin with my thumb and pulled his head toward me, planting a kiss on his lips. They turned up slightly under mine, and then he tipped his head and came forward, prolonging the kiss.  Just when it was getting good, he pulled away and rolled out of bed.

"Let me brush my teeth and pee. Be right back."

I watched him stalk toward the bathroom, the dimples in his lower back, just above the band of his briefs, tempting and teasing me before they disappeared.  Since he was using that bathroom, I grabbed my toiletry kit and went to the second bathroom in the suite, combed through my curls and tried to restore some order on top of my head. And well... at least try to look sexy. He was brushing his teeth and everything.

When I got back to the room, the comforter had been tossed aside and was hanging off one corner of the bed. Our clothes from the night before, which had been scattered across the foot of the bed, were piled into a chair near the window. JC's long, shiny dress shoes, alongside my small black pumps, lay under the chair in a haphazard jumble. JC still looked sleepy, but he was awake, lying in the bed on every pillow he could find. And by the looks of a clearly defined outline under the sheet, the briefs he was wearing were gone.

I slid my toiletry kit across the floor, near my suitcase, and slowly made my way across the room, up onto the bed and across the sheets on all fours until I reached him. He didn't move an inch or a muscle as I leaned down, my head tilted just so and let my lips land on his.

"Mmmmm." I felt it more than I heard it, a growl and a vibrating sound up through his chest.

I saw his moan and raised him a shuddering breath as I pulled back briefly, and then leaned into him again, teasing his bottom lip with the tip of my tongue until he smiled,  his tongue slipping through his teeth and meeting mine in a swirl that tasted like mint. I longed to kiss him-needed to kiss him, deeply, but he kept the kiss light and airy. My body responded with an uncontrollable desire to be near him.

I pulled the sheet up and climbed in under it, plastering myself against his warmth and solid build. I tipped my head up to lay on his shoulder, dragged a finger down his jaw line, and then across his lips. He puckered up to the tip of my finger and kissed it, then rolled his head toward me. He had this look about him, that said he was trying to be stern and serious, but it wasn't really working.

"You know, you woke me up out of a really good sleep."

"Yes, I know." I smiled, sweetly. He could never resist a sweet smile. "I'm sorry. I was excited."

"And I'm happy to hear that. I'm excited, too. But now I think you owe me something."

"I do?"

He answered by rolling to his side and then leaning over me, a hand buried deep in my hair, his mouth on mine in a wild flurry of tongue flicking and swirling and deep breaths sucked in through his nose. While his chest was pressed against mine, it occurred to me that this was a wonderful way to wake up. I had no idea what he was complaining about.

When he'd had his fill of my lips, he pulled back, smiling from the crinkle in his eyes all the way down to his upturned lips, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

"Green."

An eyebrow rose and his head tilted, slightly. "Green?"

I nodded and ran a hand down his face, my thumbs lingering just under his bottom lip. I loved that lip. "Your eyes. There's green in them."

"Well, I'm not surprised. I'm pretty happy right now."

"Hmmm. Is that all you are? Happy?"

"Nope."

In seconds we were all over each other, kicking the sheet off, laughing and giggling and rolling around in the bed. In a swift move, my tank top and panties were off and tossed across the room. He moaned as his lips floated over my skin, the vibration adding to the ticklish sensation and radiating from the tips of my toes to the small of my back to the spot between my shoulder blades that made me shiver. My palms slid over his skin, following the ripple of muscle as he moved to hover over me. And then he stopped.

I sighed in mock frustration, trying to maintain control. Bank the fire. 

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

He chuckled a little, his belly bouncing on mine. "Hey. I...have questions."

He dipped his head to the side of my neck and nibbled his way from my ear to my shoulder before coming up again. I trembled at the sensation, willing him to just drop down a few inches, to lay on me, to let me feel him, before I went crazy.

"What questions?"

"Well like..." He raised his head, so he could see my eyes. Unfortunately he had to stop nibbling at my neck to do so. "Okay, you're employed, now, right? You can stop freaking out?"

I burst into laughter, which he found amusing but didn't laugh along. "I stopped freaking out in Orlando. I told you. I trust you. I'm really just relieved. This job hunt has been madness."

"Mmmhmm. Really long," he said, finally laughing a little as he said it. "But we got to see each other a lot, because of that. I could have just been your holiday boyfriend."

My what? "My holiday boyfriend. What's that?"

"Yeah, your holiday boyfriend," he answered. "You know, the guy you only see when a holiday rolls around. Labor Day, St Patrick's Day, Columbus Day..."

"Arbor Day," I giggled. "I don't think we would have made it, if it wasn't for Qwest."

"Mmmm..." He stared off into space for a few seconds, watching the sheer curtains move gently against each other in the light air of the room. "I don't like to think about that stuff." His eyes found mine again, serious and exacting and somber. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of bad thoughts. "If we would or wouldn't have made it. We did. We are making it. And now here we are." 

Finally, he moved again, the weight of his body sinking onto mine. My legs circled his waist, my hips rose to meet him, my head raised toward his lips, pretty much on their own. "Here we are," I whispered into his mouth, moments before his lips plastered themselves to mine.

My heartbeat quickened, slamming against my ribcage, constricting my breathing as I felt him fill me. JC always seemed to breathe a sigh at that moment-- relief or erotic elation, or whatever it was; he released so much energy into the air between us. I didn't feel like it was really happening until right then, and when it did, there was no turning back.

We rocked together in a gentle rhythm, quietly staring into each other's eyes until the momentum built so high that our eyes slid closed and our mouths fell open and our throaty moans and satisfied sighs filled the otherwise quiet room.

My hands traveled his body, touching, feeling, riding the waves. I loved to feel him using his entire form-there wasn't just one part of his body working. It was a symphony of movement, from his shoulders to his back to the twist of his waist to the push of his hips. It was more than sex-had always been more than sex--with him. It was an experience, a dance in which his body requested mine to follow his, graciously took the lead and then, at the right moment, set me on the edge of the cliff and let me fall over.

He moved slowly, at times stopping to kiss and suck and lick and bite. My skin, my breasts, my nipples and neck and shoulders and stomach all fell victim to the rasp of tongue and the gentle nipping of teeth. My body yearned for his, craved him and his warmth and his sweaty skin next to mine, slicking and slipping against me.

Gasping a desperate breath, since I was actually frustrated by that point, I shuddered and raised my hips to him. "You keep stopping, baby. Don't stop."

"Don't stop?" Dammit. I knew I said the wrong thing when he sat up, and then sank back and grabbed my hips, one hand on each side. He pulled me forward and held me there, my hips lifted completely off of the bed. I laughed, not thinking he could hold me there for very long, in that position.

"Hmm-mmm," I said shaking my head, holding onto his arms, fingering the veins popping out. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I caught a glint in his eye, that sparkle that I saw that day when he arrived in Atlanta-mirth laced with pure evil.  Sometimes he was so gentle and loving and sometimes he was so forceful and passionate. But sometimes, when he was in a really good mood and playful and relaxed, he was this deliciously sexy being that dragged everything out to the far reaches of pleasure, stretching every ounce of restraint until it was just shreds of thin, brittle pieces. Then, at the last possible moment, he would give in, creating this completely heady, overwhelmingly drunk, overdosing effect. He loved doing that to me. I loved having it done, truth be told, but the process was torture.

"Tell me," he panted, shaking a little, usually the only telltale sign that he was just as close as I was. I shivered, feeling him pulse inside me, his hands holding me tight against him, his hips beginning a slow revolution, rubbing right up against the center of my Universe at that moment.

"Don't... don't stop because..." My breath caught in my throat and my eyes started to roll backward, the lids so damn heavy. I just wanted to close them and sigh and sink into climax. JC was having no such easy ride into the sunset.

"Because..."  He prompted, and slowly, ever so slowly, the slowest ever, he pulled back, and thrust forward.

"Because...." I let out a tortured whimper, welcoming that familiar feeling crawling up my spine. I exhaled, my head becoming so weighted that I let it fall back against the pillow. "Because... I'm already coming..."

I couldn't hold onto him anymore. It took too much energy and effort and concentration and strength, all of which was being sapped from me in one fell swoop. My arms fell limply next to me as the most incredibly juicy, electric feeling rushed through me, taking over my body and sending me into convulsions, working my hips against him, around him, prolonging the sensation.

An intense spasm and a violent jerk rocked my hips, which I think caught JC by surprise. I heard a deep breath being sucked in through clenched teeth, then felt his weight on me again as he fell forward, releasing my hips, thrusting wildly, groaning loudly into the space between my shoulder and neck. His breath was so hot, his strokes were so long, the grit in his voice as he let out one long, strong grunt and then had his own series of shakes and convulsions was just... the sexiest thing, ever.

When he finished, his legs slowly slid out from under him and he lowered fully onto me, panting heavily, swallowing audibly, gulping for air. "Ha," I said simply, sliding my hands through beads of sweat up his arms and over his shoulders and around his neck. Laughing and coughing, he laid his head on my chest, riding the rise and fall as I caught my breath.

"I bet..." He coughed a few times, his head raised, and laid back down again. "I bet you think you got me."

I laughed into the air, up at the ceiling, and wrapped my legs around him. "You can argue all you want. I know the truth. Your little game totally backfired."

"No, I meant to do that."

"Mmmhmm, you meant to drive me over the edge before you could tease it out of me. Guys always say that. I meant to do that."

"Girls always believe us."

"We pretend. We know better."

"You should wake me up like this every day."

"Don't tempt me, I'll do it."

JC rolled over, off of me and onto his back, wiping away sweat, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me, leaned over and kissed me. "Consider that an attempt at tempting you."

"That's the best way to get you to do something, you know. Tell you not to do it."

"I'm a rebel to the core, honey."

He slid down in the bed, grabbing at the sheet with his foot and kicking it up so he could catch it, spreading it out and letting it float down over the both of us, then laying back down, facing me, one arm tucked up under his head.

His hair was everywhere, crazy and wild from my fingers in it. I smoothed it down, over the crown of his head, around his ear, along his temple, dragging my nails lightly across his scalp. He closed his eyes and let me do it, a long, low growl coming from his throat every few minutes.

"How you doin' over there?"

His eyes popped open and he grinned, snaking a hand across me, his fingers curling around my waist. In a worn, sleepy voice, he said, "Fucking fantastic."

"Good," I said softly, my own voice cracking. "I like hearing that. But I mean, like... about yesterday. You feel okay?"

He sobered, averting his eyes, breathing deeply, but then seemed to force them back to mine. "I'm not looking forward to talking to some stranger about it. You know? But you did it. So can I. And I think I need to. But being out there kind of..." He shook his head, rubbed his chin, the hairs of his light beard going every which way. "It kind of exorcised some demons, I think? I came to terms with things out there. I'm good, today."

I was leery of showing it, not wanting to embarrass him over it, but inside, I was so happy my heart was almost beating out of my chest. Happy for him, happy for me, happy for us. More than being exposed to his pain, what hurt me was the idea that he'd have just continued living with it, dragging everyone else through it, being stubborn about taking the steps to become a whole person. I was excited for him, and, thinking back to my own process, a little scared for him, too.

"Thank you for taking me there and sharing that part of your past with me. You didn't have to-"

"Wait," he said, a finger to my lips. "Yeah, I did. Remember? We share everything. I want you know who I was before I became a celebrity, and the real me that's behind the big name, behind the flashbulb and the TV screen and the magazine cover. Because if you're gonna love me-- I mean really love me-- I want you to know, for sure, who you're loving. Get me?"

I nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened, sucking on my bottom lip. I did love him. Really love him. All of him, and every version of him that had introduced himself to me, and that I had learned about since the beginning of our trip.

He pulled at me, at my waist. He was so clammy from sweat-- warm but cool, wet but dry, but he wanted me close to him. I wasn't going to argue. I let him slide me the short distance across the bed, then plastered myself against him, chest to feet.

"When we met, you kept saying how you were fucked up. And I would just laugh inside, because you just didn't know that we're the same person."

I smiled against him, my head on his chest, my fingers tracing swirls in the light patches of hair. "I'm starting to see that. And I appreciate you showing me your inner Serena."

His chest bounced with his laugh while his hands rubbed my back, squeezing me tighter up against him. "Love you," he mumbled from above me. Like always, so simple, not fraught with emotion or flowery or wordy. Those two words were just about all I would ever need from him. I loved to hear them from him.

"Love you, too." I sighed, feeling happy and content. I could have gone right back to sleep, but I was worried about time. "When do we have to check out?"

"Mmm... whenever."

"Okay, but...I mean... when do we have to be wherever we're going next?"

I felt him shrug a shoulder, heard him throw out another nonchalant, "Whenever."

I tilted my head so I could see him. More so I could glare at him. "Could you be a little more specific?"

JC stared down at me, expressionless. Inhaled deeply, glanced around the room. Clearly not in a rush to answer me. Obviously unafraid of my glare. "Honey, I... I really just wanted yesterday to happen, and I wanted to be with you when it did. I sort of have a plan for the rest of the trip, a couple places we have to hit, but we don't have to go anywhere right now if we don't want to."

"Oh." I sat up, gathering my hair and pushing the ball of sweaty curls out of my face. "Okay. Well, you know what I want to do, then?"

"Nope, but you're gonna tell me."

"I am," I said with a smile. "I want you to show me more of this place. This is your hometown--show me around. We've been all fancy and emo. Let's go hang out. Have some fun."

JC laid there in the bed, just staring, making me reconsider my request for a minute. Maybe he was actually in a hurry to get out of the Maryland/DC area. Or maybe he couldn't really just go hang out.

"I mean, if you can. Can you do that, here? You must have a pizza joint or a sports bar or something you like to go to, where you're not a big shot. Right?

"Uhm..." He paused, scratching his temple. Stalling. "Uhm, yeah. There's a couple places I go when I'm here. But they're like...dive bars. I don't really want to take you to someplace seedy."

"Oh, please," I said, with a roll of my eyes. "I'm hardly delicate. Come on. Corrupt me some more."

"You're sure? You really wanna just... hang out."

"Positive." An idea sparked and I tapped his bicep with the back of my hand. "Pick one with pool tables. You've never had the pleasure of me kicking your ass at pool."

"Mmmhmm. Yeah, okay."  He sat up and stretched, drawing it out, lazing his way up and out of the bed.  His slow movements let me watch the muscles stretch across his skin. My eyes travel down his back to two small but perfectly formed cheeks. I would have pinched one but I wasn't in the mood to be pinched back.

"Are you saying I won't beat you?"

He twisted around, mid-stretch, catching my leering stare at him. I didn't even pretend to not be looking, just shrugged and smiled. "But I'm the pervert," he said, shaking his head, his cheeks turning a little red. "And yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying."

*

"I have boobs in my face."

"You like boobs in your face. Hold still."

"I'm just saying. I have boobs in my face."

I laid a hand on top of his head, careful not to muss his carefully sculpted hair do, and tried to ignore his hands gliding up and down my waist, around to my back, down over the curve of my hips and back up. I bent closer to his face and my tweezers went back to work, methodically plucking at his eyebrows. He was flinching and wincing like I was pulling patches of hair.

"Feels like you're yanking a lot out. If you give me an arch I will kick your ass. I'm serious."

"I'm not giving you an arch, JC."

Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Little by little, he was looking less like the Jolly Green Giant and more like my handsome man with the pretty blue eyes and the sexy swagger. I stepped back, checked out my quick and dirty grooming job, and nodded. "Now you can be seen with me." 

His eyes rolled slightly, and then he turned his head toward the mirror so he could check himself out. "God forbid I have some stray eyebrow hair."

I laughed and pulled a t-shirt over my head, smoothing it down over the band of my jeans. "Oh babe... there was a serious Sesame Street Bert Alert going on in your brows. I let you wear that ugly Fedora and those hideous aviators and 4 layers of clothing, but no way in hell were you getting out of here with those brows."

He stood up from the straight back wooden desk chair where I'd plopped him before attacking his face. "Can I wear the Converse shoes, or do you not like those?"

"The Converse are fine. Don't be annoying."

"Just checking.  You seem so invested in what I look like." He smirked as he slid his feet into the worn black and white shoes he wore everywhere. He said they were his most comfortable pair. I took his cue and slipped on some comfortable shoes as well. There was a chance we'd be doing a lot of walking and standing.

"You're making it very easy to beat your ass, tonight. I hope you know that."

"You know what?" He slid his wallet into his back pocket and picked up his leather jacket from the back of the desk chair and slipped it on. "I hear big talk from a little girl in this room. Care to make this interesting?"

My eyes narrowed and I sauntered across the room to stand in front of him, crossed my arms over my chest and up at him. "Name your wager."

"Mkay..." He stood in the middle of the room, thinking, rubbing his chin, then snapped two fingers together and pointed a finger at me. "Okay. We're four hours from New York right now, give or take an hour or so. You win, we go to New York."

My heartbeat sped up at the mention of New York. I loved it when he took me there, and hated that we didn't have time to see more. I needed to win, so we could go back. "And if you win?"

"Ha," he chuckled. "If I win, more of the Shittiest Shit you've ever seen. And you can't complain. At all. Deal?"

On the other hand, I was a little rusty at billiards and long overdue for looking at a Giant Ball of Twine. He would certainly use the fact that this trip had been pretty much a fairy tale so far, and insist that we had to ‘live the road' or whatever senseless term he had coined recently that came to mind. The only joy I got out of those stops was complaining about them.

JC's hand hung in the air, extended and ready to strike the deal. "So? Do we have a bet?"

I sighed, heavily, suddenly not so confident in my billiard skills. ‘Here goes nothing', I thought, giving him a firm shake and a nod.

"Alright," he said with a clap, and then rubbing his hands together. "This'll be fun."

"Wait, can we talk about the terms? Best two out of three? Four out of six?"

It was the middle of the day, broad daylight, but you couldn't tell by the dim, dark cavern that was the inside of The Rocket. The theme, from what I gathered from the interior, hadn't been updated since the 60's. The retro blues and greens and oranges seemed to be designed to light up the place, aided by hanging orbs decorated with psychedelic swirls and outfitted with low-watt bulbs. The entire place reminded me a little of a kitchen from the 60's, from the harvest gold bar seats to the avocado green tables to the sunshiny lemon yellow bar.

The Rocket was, however, a pool hall, as evidenced by the seven pool tables grouped together in the middle of the rather large underground bar. Behind those were shuffleboards, darts, a few arcade machines, a jukebox and a long table where a noisy party of younger people was playing a board game. From overhead, the speakers crackled with the tune of an 80's alternative band-couldn't place it, but it sounded familiar.

"Well, shit!"

The gruff outburst came from the furthest corner of the bar, out of a short, stocky man, 80's mullet and handlebar mustache firmly in place. I would have thought he'd finish off the ensemble with a white sleeveless t-shirt and acid washed jeans, but he wore a simple black t-shirt with the bar logo-a rocket-screen printed in the center of his chest. From what I could tell his jeans were black and loose. He was drying his hands on a towel as he came around the long bar, a wide grin on his face, heading right for us.

"Oh, this Cat. You'll love him." JC mumbled into my ear, and then stuck out his hand to the approaching man. They hugged, sharing a few shoulder pats and finally stepping back into a vigorous handshake. 

"Man, it's good to see you," he gushed, delivering a few loud slaps to JC's back. "You look good! How long have you been in town?"

"Uh well..." JC laughed a little, almost avoiding the question. "We're just blowing through..."

"We?"  He asked, angling a thumb in my direction. "So, is this your girlfriend?"

JC slid an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. "Yeah, this is my girl. Serena, this is Kevin, he runs this place. He's been around forever. Or at least as long as I've been coming here."

Kevin nodded politely, still grinning, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Glad you guys stopped in. First round's on me. What can I get you?"

After making sure we had prime seats at the bar-defined as being able to see most of the flat screen TV's mounted above it-Kevin poured JC a foamy light beer while I tried something new from the 12 taps behind the bar. Before JC, it would have been hard to find me drinking a beer. Since meeting him I'd learned to relax a little, explore a little, open my mind to possibilities. As I sucked down swallow after swallow of rich, crisp ale I mentally added to the count of times it actually paid off.

JC glanced at my half empty glass, and then glanced again, frowning. "Honey, you better slow down. I'm not carrying you anywhere tonight."

I waived him off. "I'm in control. I have to have my wits about me so I beat the pants off of you."

"Big talk. I'm already planning our trip to an exhibit of the Largest Collection of Watermelon Seeds."

I glared at JC over the rim of my glass. "Don't even joke about that. I will win, even if I have to cheat." He laughed, but I was seriously starting to regret making the stupid bet. "So this is an old haunt for you? It's not very seedy or dive-y. I was expecting a rougher crowd."

"Well..." He looked around, peering over his shoulder at the darkened room and the clientele that was a mix of men in black leather, college aged young people, and tired nine-to-fivers shuffling in for a quick stop before heading home or to dinner. "I guess it used to seem seedier, back in the day."

"Either that, or everything is seedy compared to the lounges you go to now."

He turned around again, large hands wrapped around a frosted glass.  Almost without thinking, he plucked a napkin from a dispenser and meticulously wiped the condensation from the outside of the glass, and then wiped up the ring of liquid on the surface of the bar. "I don't really go to those lounges all that often. Haven't been to one since the last time you and I went to one. I told you-- I was just trying to impress you."

"Yeah, yeah I hear you." I smirked and tapped his arm, teasing him. "There's nothing wrong with admitting to being a little prissy, JC. How is this stool working for you, Princess? A little uncomfortable? That spoiled ass of yours likes real Italian leather, doesn't it?"

"Okay, you know what? That's it." He drained his glass and slid it away from him, twisted in the chair and hopped down. "Kevin, can we get a pool table? I got a mouthy one over here."

JC stood on one side of the table, watching the multicolored balls clack against each other and spin around the green felt surface. He gave an appreciative nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he came around to take aim at the nearest striped ball. With little effort and a lot of suave, he leaned forward, positioned the cue and popped it against the ball, sending it careening around the table. Thunk thunk thunk went ball after ball as it fell into random pockets around the table.

Damn. He's good.

He smirked and stepped back, gesturing me toward the table with a wide swing of his arm. "Smartass," I said, snickering. "Get out of my way, before I poke you with my big stick."

"That's my line."

I bent forward, aiming for a ball in particular, my game plan forming in my head. "I knew that was coming."

"And yet you said it."

"Stop-" I took aim, executed my move flawlessly and watched the balls fly across the table and roll into respective pockets. "-trying to distract me. It won't work. Your turn."

"Honey, if you can't talk and shoot pool, you might want to brag less about how good you are." Aim. Shoot. Thunk. Dammit!

"I can talk and shoot pool with the best of them. You're not talking, you're teasing. What do they call that, in football?"

I bent over the table, positive he could see down the V of my t-shirt.  If he could tease, so could I.  The smooth wood slid between my fingers as I took my aim and made the shot.  Satisfied, I straightened and smiled. "I think the term is unsportsmanlike conduct."

"Pool isn't a gentleman's game, though. I'm not required to be sportsmanlike."

I smiled across the table, the globe light above it casting a yellow pallor to his skin, but unable to mask the sparkle in his eye. "Well then you're not gonna get very far, are you? You're the nicest man I know."

"Thank you, honey." Way too easily, he aimed, he shot, he scored. FUCK! "But don't try to compliment your way out of this vicious beating you're getting."

"Hey, I still have a chance." I brushed by him, making sure to touch him as I passed-close enough for him to smell my perfume, slow enough for him to feel my body sliding past his. "Don't get too ah...cocky."

JC laughed, the sound getting lost in the din of the room but audible enough to tickle my ears. "I gotta say, sweetheart..." He paused to tip the bottle of beer to his lips and take a long, sultry swallow. "This is the hottest game of pool I've ever played."

"So far, you mean. This won't be our last game, I hope."

"Yeah. So far. Who's turn is it?"

"Go for it, babe."

There were just a few balls left on the table, an uneven matching of solids and stripes. JC was winning, but not by a whole lot. If he didn't make this shot, I had an even bigger chance at winning. He paced, up one side of the table, around the end and then down the other side, eyeing and planning and measuring.

"You shootin' sometime tonight, Chasez?"

His head popped up momentarily, the brim of his Fedora lifting just enough to reveal two baby blues rolled up to glare at me, then back down to the table. In one fluid movement he lined up his shot and took it, knocking two balls into the corner pocket.

"God, you're pissing me off. I have to sink this or I'm gonna be closer to looking at Elvis' half eaten pork chop."

"I heard it's awesome. For good luck," he said, removing his hat and setting it on top of my head, then bending under the rim to brush his lips across mine. "You look cute."

"Don't try to throw me off with kisses, sneaky."

"Well then. By all means, missy. Have at it." He stepped aside, planted his feet shoulder width apart, and piled his hands on top of his cue stick. He balanced his chin on his hands and as I turned around and faced the table, I could just hear his smug smile behind me. "Good luck."

"Shut up," I shot over my shoulder, a hand on a hip and my mind on this shot. If I lost this game, there was no way I'd win the other two. JC was better than I thought he would be. And I was more out of practice than I thought I was.

"Fuck it. I'm just going for it."

Without even really looking or planning or scheming, I took aim and shot. I was almost ready to claim victory when it rolled toward a pocket but at the last moment ricocheted off of the side of the table and spun back toward the center. My eyes rolled, too. The second I turned around, there would be a large amount of gloating. There was no way I could win, now.

"Two out of three, right?" I heard from just over my shoulder, in my ear. An arm crept around my waist, under my shirt, across the skin of my belly as he pulled me back toward him a little and took a nibble at my neck. "You want another beer?"

"Yeah, but take your shot," I said, gesturing toward the table. "You're pretty much the winner."

"Nah," he said, stepping back and backing toward the bar. "Set ‘em up. I'll refill. Maybe if you drink a little, you'll win the next one." He winked at me and turned around, waving at Kevin over the counter. I watched him walk away, more than a little confused.

‘Weird, weird man.' I thought to myself, gathering the balls and piling them inside the plastic triangle in the center of the table. ‘I'd definitely take my winning shot. But maybe that's the difference between him and me. I'm hell bent on being better than he is. He's just having fun.'

When JC returned, bearing two full bottles of beer and a satisfied smile, the table was ready for round two. The balls were in perfect formation, ready to be spread apart and knocked around for another game. He handed me a bottle, the glass dark and heavy and wet with condensation, and set his on the edge of the table.

"Alright, alright. Time to get serious." JC broke the tight triangle of balls and the game was on.

"How come you never told me you were good at pool?"

He chuckled, stepping aside and taking my bottle so I could take my turn. "You never asked. I didn't really think I was that good. I just play to have fun."

"Well, you're pretty good," I admitted, sheepish as I bent to take my shot. No planning and scheming. Taking his lead and just having fun with it. "I'm surprised. I mean, not surprised that you're good."

"Surprised someone plays as well as you do?"

"Way to make me sound like an ass, JC."

He laughed, handing my bottle back to me, then picking up his own and taking a swig. He studied the table while his tongue flicked out of his mouth to lick his lips. "You know I never played pool with a girlfriend before? Poker, maybe. Hanging out in a dive bar in the middle of Bowie, Maryland? Walking around downtown Annapolis?" He shook his head, a wry grin on his face, his brows squinting toward the center of his face.

"I'm one of a kind, I guess."

"I guess you are. I kind of can't really believe I came up with this road trip thing. Usually I'd be in a big damn hurry to get back. I haven't been away from a studio this long in awhile."

"Starting to miss it?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Sort of. Just thinking about everything waiting for me when I get home."

A sick feeling was in the pit of my stomach. I was starting to feel guilty for taking him away from his world, his livelihood, his comfort zone and safe place. We were bumming around the East coast like we didn't have a care in the world. I had only been employed for 7 hours-I really didn't have a care. But every day that JC didn't work, he didn't make money.

"You shootin'?" His voice interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the pool table and our game.

"Honey, do you... are you wanting to go back to LA? I mean, cut the trip short and go home?"

His head tilted as his eyes traveled around the bar until they came to me. "No... no, where'd you get that from? Did I say that?"

"No. Just. I thought, when you said you had things waiting for you when you got home..."

"Serena... " He sighed, shaking his head, walking away. "Take your shot," he called, from the other end of the table. I took it, sinking several balls at once, grinning as I pumped my arms into the air.

"The bitch is back! Look out, baby."

"I'm lookin'. Trust me, I'm lookin'."

I ended up winning the second game, and dominating the third until the last few balls were left on the table. It was anyone's game by that point, so if either of us was going to win, we had to devise strategy. JC stood on one side of the table, while I stood on the other side, staring at the formation, sizing each other up.

"You know I could win this, right?"

I nodded. "As could I. You know that, too, right?"

"Mmmhhhmm." He lifted his beer to his lips, sucking down the last of it, and then grabbed his cue stick. "Come this time tomorrow, we could be staring at a bronze statue of The Fonz. Or maybe a stuffed horse from the Revolutionary War..."

"Or we could be at Times Square. Something tells me those things actually exist. I hope I beat the shit out of you."

"Get all of your complaining out now, honey. After I win, there'll be none of that." He made his shot-a good one, dammit-and stepped aside.

If I made this, I had it cinched. If not, he would definitely finish me off.

*

"Don't be a sore loser. Either of us could have won."

"I'm not being a sore loser. I'm not mad that I lost." I stomped up the steps from The Rocket up to the street level, fuming inside. "Okay, I'm mad that I lost, but not as mad as I am that the ball went flying off of the table and landed across the room. That's like... that's a rookie mistake."

JC laughed, his arm curling around my neck, our bodies close as we wandered down the street in search of food. It was already dark and the air was cold, but the streets were crawling with people rushing around, ducking into warm restaurants and storefront shops.

"You must have just got nervous or something, honey. Too much pressure, maybe."

"I've never done that-" I was interrupted by the light buzzing of my phone, vibrating against my thigh in the pocket of my jeans. I dug it out and my eyebrows rose at the display-it was my mom.  "Hey, mom," I answered, cautious as I picked up. She so rarely called that I was afraid something was wrong.

"Hey honey!" I was encouraged by the cheer in her voice and relaxed. JC stepped in front of me but reached behind him for my hand. I let him pull me through the streets of Bowie while I talked with my mom for a few minutes about holiday plans. I forgot it was December, and shopping was in full swing. That explained all of the people out and about, probably.

"Everything okay?" 

I nodded, sliding the phone back into my pocket, squeezing his hand wrapped around mine. "It's all good. She wanted to make sure I was still coming out to Vail this year."

"Oh, yeah. You go out there every Christmas."

"I'd so rather go to Orlando with you, but the grandparents are getting old. Grandpa's in a wheelchair already, though he's still pretty sharp. They just like to hold their age over us, I think."

"Well, you'll see the kids, too. Right? I'm sure they miss their aunt Serena. I sure miss you, when you're gone."

In the split second before I gave him a flippant roll of the eye I realized he was serious, and stopped myself.  Instead, I smiled and stepped closer to him, sliding my arm between his jacket and his shirt, and my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "I miss you, too, when we're not together," I said, squeezing a cheek through his jeans.

He chuckled a little, looking around us, then lowered his voice and his head and said, "See, this is what's so wrong. If I sling my arm over your shoulder and give your boob a squeeze that would be bad, but you have your hand on my ass."

"Okay, wait, so I can't wake you up with sex, I can't walk down the street with my hand down your pants.... and it's not even in your pants. It's in your pocket. You complain a lot. You want me to move it?"

"Don't even think about it."

I giggled and squeezed again. "Anyway, yeah, I miss the boys, and I feel like I'm not even getting a chance to know Chloe, you know? So, it'll be nice to see everyone. And I was planning on swinging through Denver for New Year's Eve. I haven't seen Charles or Regina in awhile." I angled my head up at him, trying hard to frown. "And poor you, down in Florida, on the beach, going to parties and drinking with your boys."

He grinned down at me, and then tipped his head toward a restaurant across the street. Chinese. Of course.  I nodded and followed his lead, dodging cars to the other side of the street. 

"I don't have to be in Miami. I could come see you."

"Don't start, JC. That's your time with your boys. I'm just talking about my plans."

"And sounding jealous that you can't go."

"Honey, you could be going to the North Pole and I would be jealous that I can't go with you. It'll just be weird to be without you for a few weeks after being with you every day for so long. You know what I mean?"

JC reached for the door, holding it open as I walked through, and then coming in behind me. The scent of rice and onion and chicken and spice hung thick in the air and as soon as it hit my nose, I was instantly ravenous, almost lightheaded from hunger. We'd showered, dressed, had lunch, walked around the neighborhood for awhile and then spent a few hours at The Rocket. By then, lunch was a distant, faded memory.

The hostess showed us to a small table with a view of the street. A feeling of déjà vu hit me pretty strongly as we slid into the booth and she laid two large paper menus on the table, offered tea and water and bounced away.

The restaurant was nearly full, the din of conversation, forks against plates, cooks in the kitchen and the regular bustle of doing business filling every open space. The lighting was low and romantic, a single luminous bulb hanging over the table. It gave off a soft glow, wrapping the table in a warm ambiance.

I glanced across the table at JC, studying the menu, his arms casually resting on either side of it. "Does this remind you of anything?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Mmmhmmm. Our first date. You're even staring at me like you were, that night."

I groaned and slid down in the seat. I hadn't remembered that-I was surprised that he did. "I couldn't help it," I said, laughing, my head just above the edge of the table. "I thought I was dreaming. I wanted to take it all in, you know? Just in case I really was dreaming."

"I was just mad that I couldn't sneak a stare at you. Every time I looked at you, you were looking at me."

I sighed, staring at the menu but not really reading it. Remembering those days, way back when. Things were fun and new and exciting. The unknown was usually scary, but I remembered just being in the moment and throwing caution to the wind (for the most part) and never, ever regretting it. A year later, I was still with him and things were still new and exciting and I was still throwing caution to the wind (for the most part). I still never, ever regretted it and it seemed I would have even more to look forward to.

"So, you're sure you don't want to head back to LA?"

"Yep."

"You're not concerned about all the money you're losing?"

JC looked up briefly, eyeing me, then shook his head a little and went back to his menu. "Not really," he said, finally. "You're doing enough worrying for the both of us."

"Well... I mean... whatever. I just don't want you to go poor or anything, trying to show me a good time."

"Doesn't work that way, honey."

"Then how does it work? Educate me, maybe I don't get it." I slid my menu to the edge of the table and crossed my arms in front of me, leaning in. He did the same, mindlessly picking at a crease in the arm of his jacket.

"Well, this is the kind of job where you'll do a lot of work for a little money before you'll do a little work for a lot of money. Right now I'm doing a lot of work, for a little bit more than a little money. I can write a song all day for three days straight-I'll only get paid for that song if it makes an album. I'll only see royalties if that album sells and I won't make big money unless it's a smash."

"But you... already have money. Right?"

"That's what I'm saying, though. A few million doesn't go as long as it used to, so if you get paid, you put it away, because it could be months before you see any more money, before you break into something. You don't run out, like these kids do, and buy cars that'll look ridiculous in five years. Diamonds and Bentleys, off of your first hit?" He shook his head, his eyes rolling to the ceiling as if to say ‘young people'. "Better put that away, because in six months when your little song falls off the charts, if you're not ready, you'll have to sell that thing to eat."

"I see..."

"As far as missing out on money goes... I'm always working on something. And I save, for the rainy days, when there's nothing going on and I'm not getting paid. And there's always little projects going on, things I can get involved with-"

"Like the MTV Show-"

"Like the MTV show," he agreed, nodding. "Like the tour. Like websites and organizations and charities and functions. You can stay busy, if you want to. Or you can lay around and watch Saved by the Bell and eat Cap'n Crunch if you want. I like to stay busy."  He laughed and shook a finger at me. "Being bored is a good way to find trouble."

"I get it. It's like... working for contract and not salary. Except the hours are salary and beyond."

"Basically. That's why you have to love it. You have to not be able to do anything else, because your first dry month, you'll quit. And do something else. It has to not be an option."

"So is it? For you? Not an option?"

Sheepish, his hand crept toward his scruff, smoothing it down, rubbing just under his bottom lip. "Uhm..." He quickly glanced down at the table, and then back up. His hands dropped to the table again and he seemed to sit up straighter. "I can't imagine doing anything else with my life, right now. Honest truth."

Our waitress appeared at our table, all smiles and cheeriness. She took our orders and set glasses of water in front of us before slipping away, again.

 "So, what's the next uhm... you know. Attraction?"

Blank stare. "Attraction?"

"You know... more of the Shittiest Shit I've ever seen. What's next? I want uhm... something to look forward to."

"Oh, attraction." A hint of an evil smile crept from the corner of his mouth. I groaned inwardly. Since I wasn't allowed to complain. "Wouldn't you like to know? Hey, I just noticed you're still wearing my hat."

"Yep. Do you want it back?"

He shook his head, sipping water, crunching ice. "Nope. You still look cute. I'm gonna sit here and stare at you like I wanted to stare at you the night we met."

"Okay. I'm gonna stare back. So? Our next stop?"

He laughed and glanced out of the window, watching people stroll by. "We're going to New York," he said finally. Quietly.

My jaw dropped. Literally just about hit the table. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, nodding once, his head tipping forward and then back. "New York."

"But I lost... remember? Our bet? I'm not even complaining. I'm being such a good sport!"

"You sure are, honey. But we're going to New York, anyway. We have to celebrate the new job. And I know you love it there. We're too close not to head up for a few days. And there's a lot of shit in New York we can look at." He winked and sat back, his arms stretched across the top of the seat, tapping a beat against the leather.

I didn't know whether to scowl or smile, to laugh or cry, to glare at him or gaze at him with all the love I could muster up. I settled for staring, expecting him to say he was joking, or something. He wasn't one to be cruel with teasing, though... so it had to be true. We had to be really going back to New York!

"Thank you. Even though New York was probably always on the destination list."

His eyes shot from the window over to mine. "It wasn't. But it is, now."

"Well. Thank you, anyway. Looking forward to it. I'm excited to be going back."

"I knew you would be."

Two steaming plates came out of the kitchen and were set in front of us, still sizzling hot.

"I'm also looking forward to this. I'm so hungry!"

JC laughed, digging in, already shoveling rice into his mouth. "Of course you are, honey."