The quiet was the first thing I noticed. It was much too quiet, it seemed. My eyes popped open and slowly traveled the room, over the large chair in the corner and the heavy oak desk and the oversize TV tucked into a cabinet against the opposite wall. There was something… different about the room.

It was still, not even the central air whispered above us, stirring the sheer curtains over the windows. The sound—or lack of sound, rather-- was familiar to me, if that makes any sense. I freed myself from a heavy arm and crawled out of bed, creeping to the window, peeking behind the curtain and the heavy drapes. I knew it!

It was light, just flurries, and not sticking, but the air was filled with teeny, tiny snowflakes, floating down from the sky, swirling on the wind around the buildings and cars and people walking around downstairs. I laughed to myself at the kids standing in the middle of the sidewalk, heads craned back, mouths open wide, catching flakes on their tongues. I was half tempted to run outside and do the same thing.

“Honey, it’s snowing!”

The only response was a deep inhale. JC laid on his side, one arm tucked under his head, the other flung cross the spot where I would be laying if I was still in the bed. His dark hair was a mess, standing on end, in stark contrast to the blinding white of the pillowcases under his head. His eyes were clamped shut, lush lashes resting against pale skin, his cheek dark with the growth of a few days of hair.

I returned to the bed, the warm bed with the warm man slumbering peacefully in it, sliding under the covers and back under his arm. I scooted close, right up against him, tucked an arm around him and planted a kiss on his lips, soft and light. His lips twitched, but he was fighting the process of waking up.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I whispered, and kissed him again. “Honey, wake up.”

A deep groan rolled up from his chest. His brow furrowed deeply as his eyes opened, and then closed and then opened again, blinking rapidly against the daylight.

“Serena… can I sleep in at least one day, on this trip? Fuck!” He sat up halfway, flopped over onto his back, and then laid back down, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. “What?!”

I shrank into the mattress, watching him. I hadn’t realized he would be so annoyed at being awakened. The lessons I was still learning amazed me. “Uhm. Never mind.”

Mumbling under his breath, JC sat up again, tossed the covers back, swung his legs over the opposite side of the bed, then stomped toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him, a loud, shocking noise in the otherwise quiet of the room. The sounds of his morning routine seeped through the wall—toilet, sink, toothbrush. Silence while he flossed and smoothed his hair down from the wild formation it took while he slept. The door swung open again and he walked out, stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, glaring at me with a pissy look on his face.

“So… what? What did you want?”

I hadn’t moved since he stormed to the bathroom. I was in the exact same spot-- on my side, hands tucked under my head, my eyes on him, watching him watch me.

“Oh, we’re not talking, now? You woke me up. You woke me up yesterday, too. I don’t think I’ve been able to sleep in once since we left Orlando.”

“All of that’s my fault? I woke you up two days out of the weeks we’ve been together! And I had a good reason, yesterday. I thought you would have wanted to know I got a job.”

He rolled his eyes and flicked his fingers in a ‘whatever’ gesture, then reached for the handle of his suitcase and dumping it onto the bed. “So, what’s your good reason today? Or were you just being a bitch because you couldn’t sleep, so I can’t, either?”

In a flash, I was up, shooting fire at him as I walked past the bed toward the bathroom. I hissed a “fuck you, asshole” in his general direction before I took my turn slamming the door. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the bathroom. I didn’t need to be in there, but since I was in there, I started the shower. And paced.

Did he really call me a bitch? Really? Because I woke him up? I mean... I knew he had a lot of trouble sleeping, lately. And yeah, I could have waited to tell him about the snow… but I wasn’t the one stomping around, calling people names and snapping at people. Well. Not until he did.

I didn’t have anything I needed—soap, shampoo, razor. I stood at the door, willing myself to go back out there, with JC being a grump. You know what? I’m not scared of him. Fuck him, big baby. Steeling myself, I yanked the door open and barreled right into a patch of hair and a muscular chest.

I hopped back a few steps, startled, but quickly regained my attitude. “You have to be standing right fucking there. Move!” He stepped aside, his toiletry bag dangling from two fingers. I rushed past him in a huff.

“I was coming to take a shower with you. We should get on the road, soon. Where you going?”

Really? Are you that fucking clueless? You can call me a bitch and then want to come shower with me? Seriously.

I dug my toiletry bag out of the pile of my belongings in the corner, shooting an icy stare as I passed him on the way back to the bathroom. He tracked my every move with his eyes—he didn’t even seem upset, now that he’d had his little tantrum. Well, good for him. It was my turn to have one.

“I think I’m too much of a bitch to share my shower with you. I might do something you don’t want me to do and you might go off again, so you should probably just wait.”

“Serena. Honey.” A tight grip on my arm stopped me in my tracks and I whipped around, getting angrier by the second. Until I saw his eyes. Soft, gentle, apologetic, almost jovial, gorgeous baby blues. Dammit. I was melting.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled me close, and closer still, drawing his arms around me. I pouted but leaned into him, my head against his solid form, my arms circling his waist on their own. “I shouldn’t have said that. I knew it when I said it. Sorry. I was pissed that you woke me up. You know how I like my sleep.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I mumbled back, muffled by his chest. “I forgot that it’s been hard for you to sleep, lately. I could have waited. I’m sorry.”

He laughed lightly, kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back in long strokes. “We almost made it a week without a fight.”

“I know. Kind of a record.”

“We probably needed to be up, anyway. What did you wake me up for?”

What did I wake him up for? I couldn’t even remem—Oh. “Just… it’s snowing.”

“No way.” JC pulled back and rushed toward the window, sliding the curtains open, pulling the heavy drapes back. He exhaled and leaned against the window frame, watching the snow fall. “Shit, it is snowing. I didn’t plan for this.”

I came up behind him to stare out of the window, too. “What? It’s not heavy. It’s not even sticking.”

“Right, but…” He straightened and hung an arm around my neck, turning us back around toward the bathroom. “We’d better get going, before it does start to stick. Mkay?”

I had no problem with getting on the road to New York. “Okay.”

“So… I can share your shower with you?”

“I guess,” I sighed, grabbing his arm from around my neck and pulling him behind me. “No playing around, though. We’re in and out.” I knew him well enough to know that wasn’t happening. Especially since we’d had a fight… he would want to make up. And he did.

We dressed and packed, and while JC piled our luggage onto the luggage rack and wheeled the cart downstairs, I checked us out at the front desk. The same chipper young woman was working the counter, and was much more amicable the second time around, smiling and completing the transaction without any questions. “We hope to see you again soon,” she said with a wink, sliding the carbon copy of our receipt across the counter.

“Thank you,” I said, returning her smile. “We had a great time.” And I meant it. My memories of Maryland and DC, seeing his hometown, sharing some special times and places with him were going to be hard to top. I smiled to myself, thinking about the concert and the tour of the city and especially the pool game the night before. I was learning so much more about him than I ever thought I would. Every time I thought I knew him, he showed me something else.

“What are you doing?”

The car had been pulled around and he had been at the back of the car, loading the trunk. I stopped at the driver side door, turning to find him suddenly behind me. “Getting in the car?”

“Nuh uh.” He frowned, his brows drawn together in the middle of his forehead. He pulled at my elbow, trying to get me away from the car door. “I’ll drive. It’s starting to stick, a little.”

“I’m fine to drive. Really, I’ll be okay.”

“You live… lived… in Atlanta. Do you even know how to drive in the snow?”

“Do you? I’m only from Denver. I only go there every year and drive in the snow. When’s the last time you even had to drive in the rain?”

“You know what? I’m not gonna argue with you.” Smart man. Instead, he tossed up his hands in defeat and walked around to the other side of the car. “Just be careful, and don’t be afraid to pull over if you get scared. Alright?”

“No wonder they called you ‘Daddy’. I’m not going to get scared. Get in the car.”

I ducked behind the wheel, waited for JC to get in and get adjusted, fasten his seatbelt and issue his warnings, like I didn’t know how to drive—stay in the slow lane, don’t worry about what other cars are doing, brake slowly and with steady pressure. Blah, blah, blah.

“JC,” I said, interrupting the impromptu driving lesson. “Why don’t you catch up on your sleep? You know, since I woke you up? I got this.”

He stared at me, unblinking for a few seconds, shook his head, his jaw twitching. “I’m not sleeping while you’re driving in snow. If we’re going, go. Just be careful.”

Northbound traffic on I-95 was thick but moving steadily. So were the snowflakes, growing bigger, heavier, and wetter, and as the temperature dropped, the road was slick with a thin sheet of slush. Despite the weather, we were making great time and the trip so far was uneventful. The road was open before us, the music was on, the car was warm and I was happy. We were going to New York!

“Oh, I love this song.” I turned the volume up, bobbing my head to the smooth R&B tune as a mid tempo beat filled the car. “Have you heard this one?”

“I don’t know,” JC muttered, his eyes focused on the view outside his window, bottom lip wedged between his teeth. He mindlessly chewed on it as he leveled a concentrated stare up at the sky. The flakes just kept falling.

“So sexy… it’s basically like a love letter to his woman, telling her all the reasons she’s the best he’s ever had. You know, she’s cool, she’s stylish…she gets him off…” He leaned in, toward the speakers, smiling at the forward, risqué lyrics. “This song makes me think of you.”

“Really. What part??

I smiled over at him and sang along to the repetitive, catchy chorus. “Baby, you the fucking best, you the fucking best, you the fucking best, you the fucking best. You the best I ever had, best I ever had, best I ever had, best I ever had’…”

JC laughed ducked his head, hiding his blush. His attention returned to the road and the weather. After song ended, he turned the volume down and leaned onto the armrest, cleared his throat, and said, “So…that part reminds you of me, huh?”

“The best I ever had? Fuck, yeah.”

He grinned, kind of beaming with pride. So cute. “You’re just saying that because you’re with me, though. Right? I mean, isn’t the guy you’re with always the best you’ve ever had?”

I glanced over at him with a ‘you’re crazy’ lift to my eyebrow. “Is every girl you’re with the best you’ve ever had? I think not. Right? I’m serious, though. About you. The best.”

He sat back in his seat, deep in thought, rubbing a finger under his bottom lip. “Hunh.”

“Oh, here we go. What? You’re about to put on the humble act and say something like ‘girls always say that, and I don’t know why’ aren’t you?”

He laughed again, and shook his head. “No. No, I wasn’t. I’m… I do okay, I think. I know I got skills.” He sighed and smirked in my direction. “I’m well aware that I rock your world. I was just thinking.”

“About?” He answered with a shake of his head and a shrug. “So, I’m just gonna keep asking until you tell me. About?”

“About…” He hesitated and cleared his throat, again. This had to be good, if he was scared to say it. “Well, if you’re the best I’ve ever had. I can’t decide, honestly.”

“Oh.“ I almost regretted asking. That wasn’t what I thought he was going to say. And that wasn’t something I really wanted to hear, out loud. “Okay, well thanks for sharing that. That only hurt my feelings a little bit.”

“You asked. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I really love being with you.”

“Well, then what puts someone at the top of the list, for you? I mean, if she’s a freak, or if you… I don’t know, climb the walls or make animal sounds?”

“Well, no, it doesn’t have anything to do with—“

“Wouldn’t it be the one that makes you hop a plane to Atlanta to say you’re sorry, or the one you prefer to travel around the country with, looking at the shittiest shit, ever?”

“Serena, I don’t mean to say we don’t have something good—“

“I mean, Lord knows what being at the top of your list means, but what keeps me from being there? Because if you want to talk about worlds, I think I do a damn good job of rocking yours. Is it what I do, how I sound, how I move? I mean, you don’t think of anyone else, when you’re with me, right? You don’t think, like, you wish I did something like someone else did it?”

“Honey, just… stop. You have this habit of asking questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

“I wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to that one.” I was determined to fight with him all day, apparently. He started it.

“Serena… I don’t want us to change a thing. Okay? I’m happy. I like us, the way we are. The way we do things. It’s just different. That’s what I was thinking about. You’re different. I’m different. We, together, are different. This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in, so it’s automatically better than anything else. But you know I had some pretty wild times in my younger days. I would love to say that everything we do now totally tops like… my 20’s. But I can’t.”

I sighed, contrite. He was right, of course. And I knew I was wrong to be jealous and upset over it, but couldn’t he have just lied, to save my feelings? Pretended like there wasn’t a time when he could just point at a woman and have her, offer a hint or two and get what he wanted? Like getting sex wasn’t easier than ordering a pizza? his answer was what it was, though. It wasn’t up to him to make sure I wasn’t insecure about his past. That was my job.

“Okay. So. You enjoyed your 20’s. So did I. And maybe our younger days play a part in why we’re so good. I mean, when you’re young, it’s all about the ‘now’, and about the sex. We just get really good at that one thing. But when you’re older, even if the sex is good, you need way more than that to sustain a good relationship. At least, I do.”

He nodded, his head bobbing in agreement. “Exactly. We take lessons from our pasts. Sure. But I mean…I wouldn’t go back to that time, when it was just sex. I don’t know that those times were better, just different. I thought I wanted that, when my relationship fell apart. I thought it would be easier, but—“

JC gripped my thigh, his hand tensing, his arm flexing as a jet black Tahoe barreled past us, weaving in and out of cautious travelers. The car fishtailed and swerved to avoid his rear bumper. As soon as the truck was a few cars ahead, he relaxed, but if the crease across his forehead was any indication, he was still annoyed.

“I hope that guy doesn’t get too cocky, in his four wheel drive tank. Gonna be an accident out here. Drivers like that are why.”

“No kidding. Asshole.” I went back to my music, skipping through songs I didn’t feel like hearing. I shot an annoyed look over the passenger seat. “Would love to hear some Chasez right now, but I can’t.”

“Honey, just worry about the road. It’s icy and people are driving crazy, out here.”

“I’m paying attention to the road.”

“No, you’re not. You’re messing with the music.” He snatched the iPod from my hands and set it in his lap. “I’m starting to see what Melissa warned me about. Both hands on the wheel. Eyes on the road.”

I moved both hands to the wheel, if only to pound out my frustration on it. “You know what? I know how to fucking drive, okay? Enough. Take a break, go to sleep, read a book, stick your head out the window and pant. I don’t fucking care, just get off my ass.”

The music was off, since JC had unplugged it from the stereo system when he yanked it out of my hands. The only sounds were the swish of the windshield wipers. JC was sulking in his seat, leaning away from me, against the door. “Just trying to help,” he said calmly.

“I know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and low and rational. “But I hate when you treat me like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m perfectly capable—“

It happened so fast I barely had time to react. Rubber screeched against concrete, sending smoke up into the air. Brakes squealed and the sick crunch of metal on metal and glass exploding reached my ears as the SUV that had rushed around us not even a minute before slammed into the back of a compact sedan. A chain reaction formed, cars weaving and swerving to avoid the pileup. I was one of them, almost standing on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel, involuntarily screaming in terror as the rear bumper of the car in front of us rapidly approached.

With inches to spare and no air left in my lungs, I managed to narrowly miss the car in front of us, which barely missed the mess in front of him. I heard more squealing as cars around us tried to stop without adding to the damage.

The quiet in the car was eerie, now. Like we were stuck in some space in time. My hands still gripped the steering wheel. My eyes were stuck wide open. My heart was pulsing in my ears and I was heaving like I’d run a mile.

“Pull over,” JC said, directing me toward the shoulder. “Uhm…just pull over, right here. Let’s get off this road.” For once, I did as he told me, collapsing against the steering wheel as soon we were safe.

“Honey……… okay?” He sounded so far away, instead of right next to me. Tired. I just wanted to sleep. I felt fingers digging into my shoulder, shaking hard, and then I heard him clearly. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

My head was so heavy and cloudy, but I sat up, ran a hand across my forehead and through my hair. Both were damp with sweat. My hands were twitching, they were shaking so badly.

JC unsnapped my seatbelt and grabbed me, pulling me across the console, his arms around my shoulders. I couldn’t tell who was shaking more—me or him. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. It was all I could do to hang onto him.

“We’re okay,” I heard, over and over, mumbled into my hair. Strong, warm hands soothed my back and my arms, like that would calm the tremors wracking my body. “You can’t drive like this. Let me drive for awhile. Okay?”

I managed to get out of the car and inch my way around to the other side. JC made sure I was in and my belt was fastened before rushing around to the driver’s side and readjusting, starting the car, and slowly crawling slowly past the pile of mangled metal and intertwined bumpers, steam rising from the wreckage. I was breathing easier, just so amazingly tired.

I leaned back against the headrest, inhaled slowly and sighed, exhaling. I repeated that until my heart stopped trying to claw out of my chest and my hands stopped twitching and my knees stopped knocking and I stopped seeing a deadly accident in my mind.

“You okay, over there?” I felt his hand on my thigh, the warmth seeping through my jeans. I laid a hand over his and squeezed. It was so comforting to have him right there… I couldn’t stop thinking that I could have hurt him, or worse. It made me sick to think about it.

“Thank you for taking over,” I said quietly. “And for not rubbing it in, that you told me to be careful. That’s exactly why you wanted me to pay attention.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Just relax.”

I nodded, my vision blurring as I watched the road before us and the trees alongside the highway racing past the window. I swiped at a tear or two and sniffled before he noticed I was crying. When he did, he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lap, winding his fingers between mine and held it, tight.

“You’re okay,” he kept saying. Soft and soothing, bringing our hands to his lips then gently rubbing the back of my hand with this thumb. Dear God, what that man could do with just a thumb was way beyond what any man had ever done with his entire body. He was, most definitely, the best anything—friend, lover, caretaker, boyfriend, confidante…whatever-- I’d ever had.

We drove steadily north, crossing through Pennsylvania and New Jersey and finally over the bridge, into New York. It was early afternoon in the busy city. We cruised toward Manhattan, past skyscrapers reaching toward the sky and shopping plazas decorated with wreaths and lights and bows for the holiday. I was feeling better, calmer, able to breathe and think. The near accident was almost a memory.

We finally arrived at a hotel in the heart of Midtown Manhattan, blocks away from Broadway in one direction and Central Park and upscale shopping in another. The blue canopy above the sliding glass doors flapped in a light breeze. The brownstone exterior was festive with flashing lights and bright red bows above every window.

“I stayed here once, right after it opened. I just remember it had a parking lot.” JC turned off the ignition and popped the trunk. “You know the drill. Go on in.”

I stepped out of the car and through the sliding doors into the small but comfortable lobby. The concierge smiled and directed me toward the front desk for check in with one hand, snapping the fingers of his other hand at the porter, who was already on his way out the door with a luggage cart.

Check in was a breeze, even with an AmEx that wasn’t mine. I still shook my head at the debacle that was checking in, in Annapolis. I waited for JC and the porter, who led us to a studio suite decorated with in shades of blue and cream and white. A King size bed took up most of one side of the room. The other side was a cozy sitting area in front of a flat screen television mounted on the wall. It was nice, not uncomfortably upscale.

JC was arranging our luggage in a corner of the room. I tested out the couch, sinking into it, finding it sturdy and firm but very comfortable. “You know what I want to do, tonight?”

“Nope. What?”

“I want to get drunk.”

His head popped up and he stared at me for a moment, and then went back to his task. “Well, we haven’t done that since last week. I guess it’s about that time.”

“You got drunk last week. I wasn’t drunk. One of us had to be sober, so we could remember where the hotel was.”

He straightened, checking out his work. The suitcases were now lined up against the wall—mine and then his—in an orderly fashion, even though they’d be messed up again in an hour. Satisfied, he joined me on the couch, dropping an arm to the cushion behind my head.

“So you’re saying it’s your turn to get drunk and I have to remember where the hotel is?”

“No, I’m saying we take a cab to wherever we’re going…” I angled my head up, so I could see him. “And we both get fucked up.”

“We could do that, if that’s what you want.”

“What? You don’t want to drink?”

“We’re gonna fight all day, aren’t we? Did I say that?”

“You like making up. Honey, I’m asking if you want to. Why do you always act weird when I drink?”

“Because you always act weird when you drink.”

I would have argued more, but he had a point. Weird things did happen when I drank. Things I never meant to say fell out of my mouth, things I wouldn’t regret feeling, but would regret blurting out to him, at least without thought or planning. Things I never meant to do, I did. Things I wouldn’t regret doing, but without the bravado of alcohol egging me on, I wouldn’t dream of even trying.

“I promise nothing weird will happen. I just need to blow off some steam from today. You know?”

I felt fingers in my hair, massaging my scalp, moving down to my neck and shoulders. Both were still a little tight, but his hands felt so good on me, kneading out the kinks. “Besides, you get all talky and lovey when you drink. I could handle some of that.”

He snickered. “You mean after yelling at you all day?”

“You didn’t yell at me all day. Just… a lot of it.”

“I was kind of grumpy, huh?” I shrugged, not answering, but agreeing in my mind. “Well so… do you want to hang here, or go see something? Go shopping? What do you want to do?”

“Actually, I need a laundry room. You think they have one here?”

JC almost snorted, his laugh came out so hard. “Where do you think you’re staying, Motel 6? Call the Concierge guy. I’m sure there’s a laundry service here.”

“Well, but…” I paused, cringing. “People. Touching my clothes, my… unmentionables. I just… I know, I’m crazy, but I don’t want people touching my clothes. I’ll do yours, too.”

“I don’t want you to do mine. I want you to send them to the laundry service. You could hand wash your… unmentionables…and send the rest out.”

I didn’t like that idea, something I’m sure he could sense from the stiffness in my shoulders to the scowl on my face. He huffed a frustrated breath, stopped kneading and massaging, lifted his arm from around me and stood up.

“Okay… I’m not driving you to some dark, dirty coin operated laundry place in New York. I’d have to leave you there, because I’m not sitting there while you do laundry. And we both know I’m not leaving you there. Send it out, or deal.” He raised his hands, as if to say he was done, and let them flop down again, slapping his thighs. “You wanted to come to New York. Pick something to do, that isn’t laundry.”

God, he was moody. And pissy. He was kind of sexy when he was pissy, though. All dark and brooding and quiet. Hot.

“You’re supposed to be showing me some shit I can’t complain about.”

“Plenty of time for that, tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder, on the way to the bathroom. “I got our day all planned out. You’re in charge of today.”

I picked up one of the magazines spread across the coffee table, a tour guide booklet. Nothing looked all that interesting, to me. Shopping? Blah. We could maybe catch a matinee on Broadway, but I wasn’t in the mood, really. We did the tourist thing on our first trip, so I’d already seen Tower Records, and MTV, and Rockefeller Plaza.

The toilet flushed and the sink ran and then the door opened. The couch rocked with his heavy flop next to me, again. Both legs swung over my head and behind me as he stretched out on the couch, his head on the armrest and his socked feet hanging off of the other end.

“Anything pop out at you?”

I leaned back against him and squirmed. “Something’s popping out, alright. Uhm…I don’t know.”

“Better pick something before I fall asleep.” To prove he was sleepy, I guess, he yawned, wide and loud, and settled into the couch, his hands over his midsection, eyes closed.

“Your grumpy ass probably needs a nap anyway, before we go out. I’m not putting up with you all night.”

“You’ll put up with me and you’ll like it,” he mumbled.

“I will do neither,” I argued, but smiled to myself. Sometimes the bossyness was cute.

I thumbed through the booklet, looking for something, anything we could do. “Hey, how about this art gallery, in Brooklyn? They have a Degas exhibit right now. And then there’s this cool restaurant close by. It’s all enclosed in glass, and it’s right on the river. It says you can see the Statue of—“

I glanced up at the sound of a deep inhale and a light snore. Just like that, he was passed out. Eyes shut, mouth slack, chest rising and falling in rhythm with heavy breaths in and out.

“Okay grumpy,” I whispered, closing the booklet, then reaching above him to snap off the lamp burning brightly above his head. I scooted down on the couch and tried to lay next to him, sort of half laying down, half sitting up, my head on his chest. He woke up long enough to wrap an arm around my shoulder and tuck the other under his head.

“We’ll take a nap, first.”

*