I was smiling before my eyes were even open, coming to in the most blissful way possible. A scrape of stubble across my shoulder followed by warm, wet lips, a roaming hand down my back, over my curves, cupping a breast and pinching a nipple lured me out of sleep much earlier than I'd planned. Not that I was complaining. And I wasn't nearly as grumpy as someone else was at being awakened before noon, especially since we didn't get to bed until almost 4am.

"What do you want?"   

"Mmmm..." JC hummed, smiling as his eyes rolled up to mine, watching me watch him make his way up my body, climbing higher until we were face to face. "Time to get up. The sun is shining...there are no clouds in the sky... the birds are..."

He lifted his head, tilted a little, like he was thinking. "Well, there are no birds, because it's winter. Besides the pigeons, but those aren't really birds. More like rats with wings..."

I giggled at his rambling, stretching my arms up and out, then dropping a hand to his hair and clutching a tuft of it. His lids fluttered closed and he groaned, the sound rumbling from deep in his throat as my nails dragged across his scalp.

"Mmmm... don't start that. I like that, and you know it. C'mon." He sat up, climbed over me, and crawled off of the bed. Then he pulled back the covers, exposing my naked skin to the cool air of the room.

"Hey! I was gonna snooze for like, five more minutes."

"Nope. Things to do. Let's go, mama. Chop chop."

I heaved a tortured sigh and sat up, leaning back on my hands, enjoying my view of him--naked except for a pair of boxer briefs, in a squat in front of a suitcase that was packed full to overflowing and bursting out onto the floor next to it. "Can we shower together, at least?"

"Okay. But no fooling around. Really. Seriously."

"Uh huh."

He turned to give me ‘the look' over his shoulder. That one that said ‘I'm serious'. "We're on a schedule."

"Yeah, okay. I hear you." I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, wincing at the cold tile floor. "Let's go," I said, reaching behind the curtain to turn on the shower.

He was such a sucker.

"I don't believe you woke me up and rushed me out the door to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I just really don't."

A welcoming blue and white striped awning flapped in the breeze as we climbed out of a taxi and stepped inside the small shop with simple décor but homey atmosphere.  

"No complaining," JC chided. "This is part of our day. And this is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich you'll ever eat. Besides yours," he added, after I gave him the eye. He plucked a menu from a collection of them in a holder near the door. "Check this out. You could get the Elvis-"

"Does that say bacon? Peanut butter, honey, bananas and bacon? Oh my God, that sounds-" JC elbowed me, one eyebrow arched. "Delicious. That's what I was going to say."

"Sounds disgusting. Pick something."

I browsed the menu over his shoulder, trying not to frown. "Well, they serve other things here. Thank God. Maybe I'll get a turkey sandwich."

"Serena, you're at a shop that serves gourmet peanut butter sandwiches. You are not having a turkey sandwich. Boring!" He chuckled and shoved the menu into my hands. "Come on. Live a little."

Ironic. That was what I always told myself when I had the choice to do something I'd never do. Hadn't failed me yet. Sighing, I handed him the menu.  "Fine, I'll try that Spicy Chicken Satay thing. And hope for the best."

"Sounds good. I'm gonna have the Elvis."

"You are not."

"No I'm not." His eyes traveled the menu, perusing each item, slowly making his way around. He punched the thin plastic menu with his finger and leaned over to me. "Maybe this one-- freshly ground peanut butter, kissed by a chocolately layer of Nutella. Haven't had that in awhile."

"I want a bite, when you get it."

"Okay. Go find us a seat."

The small storefront shop was sparsely furnished with picnic tables lined up in rows down either side of the room, which was crawling with people. Parents sat with their children, cutting up sandwiches and doling out chips, dipping straws into cups and trying to keep little hands from digging into the food and little feet from running around.

I found two empty spots, one across from the other and sat down to wait, watching the action around me, engrossed in the people. The family life seemed idyllic--people who had to be at least my age with their offspring, spending a day out in the city. Waking up every day with a greater purpose in life, a responsibility to teach and nurture and love and care for these tiny little helpless people.

My mind was drifting off, to somewhere maybe way, way far off into the future. I could almost see them-little boys with eyes the color of the ocean and a mop of curls, or little girls that were carbon copies of me, and Regina and Ana....

I sighed, trying to turn off the spigot that seemed to be turning itself on, lately. Not that my clock was ticking--I had plenty I wanted to do before I settled down--but I definitely wanted that, someday. With the man I was in love with.

"Hey, you in there?"

Startled, I looked up to find JC sitting across from me, sliding a Styrofoam cup across the table. "I got you some iced tea. It's not sweetened, like it is down south, though."

Too late, I took a swig and scowled, and then because I had no other choice, swallowed. "Coulda told me that before I took that monster gulp."

"Sorry." A pile of sugar packets were tossed across the table. "It's make your own sweet tea, I guess."

I ripped open two packets and poured them into the cup, stirring with my straw.

"No, really. Are you in there? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I answered, blinking up into his eyes, really surprised this time. I wasn't even thinking about anything. Except how I wanted to have his babies. "I'm in here. Where's our food?"

"Comin' up." He played with a table marker with the number ‘44' painted on it and shook it at me. "Listen for our number."

"Okay. Well, since we're sober, do you want to talk about it? The... tour, non tour, going out on your own tour thing?"

"Uhm, I guess so." His hand crept up to scratch at the back of his neck, smooth down the tiny hairs at the nape. Nervous habit. "I don't have much set in stone, right now but I don't think it'll take much, really. I'm trying not to plan while we're on this trip. I want to focus on us, right now. I might have to, though. I don't have much time."

"I don't have a problem with that. You think you're ready for another cross country trip, selling your wares to the townspeople?"

He laughed, his head tipping to the side. "We'll see. I gotta get it out there, somehow. I'm grateful, you know. For Randy-"

"44!"

"I'll get it," I said, already standing. "Relax."

I picked up the marker and weaved through the tables to the front counter to pick up our tray. Two hot and freshly made sandwiches on wide slices of bread were arranged on bright colored plastic plates. A side of deep fried potato chips was piled next to each sandwich. My stomach rumbled at the scent of hot, spicy chicken and peanut butter. This might be better than I thought it would.

"Here we go." I set his sandwich in front of him, set mine in my spot and slid the tray to the edge of the table. "So you were saying, about Randy..."

JC was all about his sandwich, one half lying on top of the other. He picked up one side and bit off half of it. "Good," he said, around a mouthful of peanut butter and hazelnut-chocolate spread. "So, Randy...hold on... peanut butter." His face stretched and pulled, working the peanut butter around in his mouth. Watching him try to chew and swallow was like watching a circus act.

"Man, that's thick. Yeah. So. Anyway, I appreciate what he was trying to do. He gets it, you know? I guess I should have realized it sounded too good to be true. I need to get my music heard. I can do that without compromising just about everything I want."

"You said you did it before. For Schizo, right?" He shook his head, chewing slowly, and didn't answer right away.

"Kate," he finally said plainly, sucking down iced tea. "Or, what would have been a single off of Kate. Just me and Eric, pounding the pavement."

"How did that go? I mean, how was it, out there?"

"It was an interesting experience, for sure. Meeting people face to face. Talking about something new. Going to places I've never been. Or hadn't been in a long time. That's what I liked about it."

"So what didn't you like about it?"

JC picked at his teeth with the tip of his tongue, crossing his arms and leaning forward onto the table. "Well. Doing a job someone else should have done, for one. Lots of travel, different hotel room every night, without even having the bus I was used to being on, for two. No one with me but Eric and some strangers, day in and day out, for three. It was still weird, to be myself."

He grew quiet, and sullen. His eyes dropped to the table, and then lifted again, but narrowed and more hostile than I expected. "And it was a waste of time and money and did absolutely no good at all, for four. Is that what you're getting at?"

What? I was suddenly deep in a hole that I hadn't even dug myself into. "I'm not getting at anything," I said. "I was just asking because-"

"Because I've thought of that. Over and over and over again. I didn't even decide I was going do it, until last night. Until I was sitting there, thinking about it, talking about it with you. I was hoping you would be supportive."   

"Don't you da-" I reminded myself that young ears were just tables away, leaned into him and lowered my voice.  "Don't you dare pull that shit out and throw it at me. I am supportive. One hundred percent.  We both know that this could be just as hard as the MTV Tour would be. Don't make it sound like it'll be a church picnic, JC."

"And I think I have my eyes wide open, right now. As wide open as they can be." He looked up and around, glancing over the heads of oblivious sandwich shop patrons, and then back to me, his voice low, his lips not even moving, brows drawn so tightly together that his eyes seemed hooded, casting a dark shadow over his face. I didn't like this look. Not at all.

"I never said it would be easy, but I think it's the right way. And because it's the right way, it'll be easier to do this on my own. I don't need you to remind me of how well it didn't go, last time. Of how it didn't work. You don't have to point out that this could be another waste of time and money, and this album or whatever could flop just like the rest.  You don't have to pretend that you don't think I'm a failure, and that you think I'll fail again, like last time. And the time before."

I blinked, listening to this rant fall out of his mouth, my heart beating out of my chest, mouth wide open. "How... JC, how does this turn into how I'm not supportive and I think you're a failure? At what point have I ever said anything close to that? Really, point out the time that I said I thought you were a failure."

"Look, I just don't need you to keep telling me how hard it will be. I'm reminding myself of that, everyday."

I had to pause, and take a breath. A few of them. A few deep ones. This wasn't about me, or what I said or what I asked or what I meant. I was a convenient punching bag for him to let out his insecurities and fears.  His second and third thoughts about taking a step and not knowing if he was ready to take it. A little fear of the unknown, a repeat of the past, hoping for a better outcome. Hoping he wasn't insane, doing the same thing, in the same way, all over again.   

"Okay...stop listening to what you think you hear. All I'm saying is that you've been here before. It doesn't have to go the same way. You know what you're doing and what this feels like and what you're looking at.  You know that I could not be more supportive of you. I want this to go well. I want it to work, dammit! I want you out there worse than you want to be out there."

I slid my arms across the table, palms up. Slowly, reluctantly, grudgingly a hand moved from the crook of his elbow and crept across the table, settling into mine, soft and warm and heavy. I stroked his palm, extending out to his fingers, toying with the calluses at the tips of them. JC's face betrayed turmoil and frustration, and bubbling just under the surface, insecurity. That he was letting me see it, at all, touched my heart... but I couldn't let him go another second thinking I wasn't standing right next to him, ready for whatever came at him.

"You know what I don't want, though? For you to be disappointed. God, I hate when you're disappointed. I hate that look on your face, and that tone in your voice when you want something and it doesn't come through. Because, to me, that makes you afraid to hope. Maybe if you pin too much hope on it, it won't happen, so you just toss it out there and try not to care. And when it doesn't happen, you're not as hurt over it. It breaks my heart to see you live that way."

A long, slow sigh escaped him as JC completely deflated, the crease across his forehead subsiding, his brows relaxing, his mouth softening. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I'm sorry." I squeezed his hand, looked for his eyes, and locked in on them. "Let me just say it, first. I'm sorry if you thought I was trying to point out anything about the past. I wasn't. I do not think you're a failure. I wouldn't be a fan, if I did."

He smiled, though he seemed to not want to. And then broke into quiet laughter. "Me too," he said. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to jump all over you like that. I'm just... there's so much going through my head. I don't want to repeat the past."

I didn't know what to say, so I offered a simple smile from across the table. He returned it and went back to his sandwich. We ate in silence, not doing much more than smiling at each other.

"So, our next destination calls for us to not be pissed at each other. Are we okay?"

I smiled back, sheepish. Stop fighting. Check. "We're okay."  I stared at his empty plate, void of any food except for scattered crumbs of bread and a few weird looking potato chips. "Where did your food go?"

He shrugged one shoulder and shoved the straw protruding from his cup into his mouth. "I didn't even save you a bite. I'm sorry. I was hungry."

"Obviously."

"Eat up," he said, gesturing toward my half eaten lunch. "We're on a schedule."

It was time to venture back out into the blistering cold. He held the door open, looking up the street, and then back down. It was pretty sparse, save a few people walking around, strolling without direction or purpose.

"Well, we can wait for a cab, or we can start walking. I know it's cold, but it's not far. We'll freeze to death waiting."

I pulled at my sweater, over a long sleeved shirt, underneath one of JC's jackets. "I'm dressed to walk. Lead the way."

A brisk half hour walk brought us to a marble stone building, a giant pink Lotus flower covering most of a billboard above the entrance. I stopped, reading a large sign out loud: "Please do not touch, lick, stroke or mount the exhibits."  And underneath, etched into the window in a stylish uptown font was ‘Museum of Sex'.

"Wow." I said, looking everywhere, at everything. Oh, my. "This must be your Holy Land."

"Smartass," he quipped, opening the door and nodding his head inside.

The interior of the museum was decidedly pink. On purpose, I imagined. Photos and paintings and sculptures of people in various stages of copulation covered the walls, stood in corners, adorned surfaces around the lobby. I was having a hard time not laughing. And not being immature.

"JC, honey....is that a ring of penises?"

"Uhm. Yeah," he said, staring at the bronze statue with the same expression I was. "Yeah that's... what that is."

"You could put that in your house. Next to your front door. Put your keys in it."

He reached behind him for my hand, headed through the doorway of one of the exhibit rooms. "I have a feeling my girlfriend wouldn't like that very much."

"Yeah," I muttered, letting him lead me into the next room. "You're probably right."

"Well, look at that," he said, coming to a stop in front of a wall that was covered top to bottom with multicolored cylindrical shapes with bulbous ends, each covered with a condom. "It's a wall of condoms."

"So it is. So it is."

We browsed the exhibit, reading up on the history of the condom. Every model, variation, and color that had ever been produced was on display, in every size from small to beyond Magnum. JC and I stared at the largest size condom ever manufactured, both kind of dumbfounded.

"So, are men jealous of that, or..."

"Nuh uh." He shook his head, slowly, unable to take his eyes off of the display. "It's not much of a blessing to be that big. It's basically just good for porn."

"I'd think it'd be bragging rights or something."

"Put it this way, honey. I wouldn't want to date a girl that could take that." JC shoved a hand in his pocket, and moved on, his eyes traveling up the wall, over and down and back up again. "So, I was wondering something."

I was a few inches away, trying to figure out how a linen sheath worked. How could you feel anything, through that? "Hmmm?"

He turned around, peeking around the corner, making sure we were alone. "This is just making me think about last night. When you didn't want to use one?"

"Right."

"Well. So..." He made a gesture at me, like I was supposed to fill in the blanks. I laughed at his nervousness. Now was a hell of a time to be nervous about it.

"If you're worried about pregnancy, I'm taking care of it. Have been, the entire time. The condoms were because uhm... well because you are who you are."

I braved a look up at him, bracing for anger, or offense in his face but neither showed. There wasn't a nice way to say ‘you sleep around some, and I didn't want to catch anything'.   

"I understand. That protects both of us."

Touché. He didn't know me either, when we first met. I could have been anyone, with anything. It was hard to be shy, standing in front of a wall of penis-like objects, sticking out from the wall, sheathed in latex, but I managed, dipping my head and hiding a blush.

"I mean, we've said it, so many times. I never expected to keep sleeping with you. I wanted to be protected against... whatever. After a while I didn't want to use them anymore but it was so automatic for you to put one on. And then..."

I swallowed, brushing over his indiscretion. So what, if he didn't sleep with her? If he had, I was happy we'd been using condoms all along.

"After that, I thought it would be good to keep using them. Last night, I realized that I didn't need them for peace of mind anymore. And I was tired of having to stop to put it on. Once I get going, I just... want to go." I flashed a flirty smile at him. He caught it, and smiled back. "If you're worried about it though, we can go back to using them. If it's up to me, I'd rather not."

"Doesn't matter to me." JC was as nonchalant as if we were talking about coffee, leaning against the railing that blocked us from touching any of the exhibits. "I like it better without them, but I'll use them if she asks .As long as you wanted to, I was cool. If you don't, I don't. I'm clean. I'll prove it, if you want."

"I don't need proof, per se. And I'm clean, too. But we should, you know, be safe and responsible people and share our results. Just because."

"Guess so. Add it to the list of stuff we need to do when we get back to LA."

Subconsciously, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a nagging thought for a few months. I didn't feel like I could say I loved him if I didn't trust him, but it was hard to ask someone to prove they weren't giving you something nasty.

"Come here for a second." JC pulled his hands from his pockets, slid them around my waist and pulled me to him. My lips met his halfway in a short, sweet, soft kiss. He pulled back, his eyes dark, his face full of emotion. "Do you remember me asking you, back then, to let me know when I had earned your trust back? You did that, last night. Thank you for that. I will never risk that, ever again."

I didn't remember, really. Hadn't even thought of it, but he was right. He had earned every ounce of trust, and more. He'd done everything he said he was going to do. Kept all of his promises. I stretched up, onto my toes, and kissed him again. "Good. Because I can't worry about that anymore. You give me so many other things to worry about. Like this museum. And this wall o' condoms. This latex stinks."

He chuckled, his laugh low and sultry. "Stop complaining."

"You'll know when I'm complaining. I'm having fu--" My eyes caught something as I hugged him, something that almost scared me out of my mind. "Ohhhhh my God..."  I stared down the hall, incredulous. And kind of cringing. JC turned around, his eyes following mine, and when he found what I was staring at, his head rocked back and his eyes bugged out.

"What the fuck is that?" We walked down the hall toward it-the statue that looked like a pygmy with an enormous member jutting out from him. It was so realistic, it was scary. Veiny and erect and gigantic.

"What the fuck is right."

"Take a picture of it. Send it to Melissa."

I giggled and dug the camera out. "Yeah, she wants to look at a gigantic penis. Okay, get over there."

JC took a giant step back. "Oh, no. That's all I need is for that to show up somewhere, right before I'm about to hit the road. Don't need the bad press." He reached for the camera and pushed me toward it. "You do it. Act like you like it. Bend over or something."

I posed as best I could with the pygmy, trying not to appear afraid of the giant penis in front of me. "Just take the picture, pervert."

JC and I were like teenagers, laughing and snorting at just about everything, from a display of the earliest lingerie to 1915 pornographic film.  We rounded a corner on our way out of the museum and JC poked his head into a room. He looked back at me, his face lit up like Christmas.

"Look," he said, pointing at a rudimentary contraption, bolted to the ceiling and swaying in front of us. The second I saw it, I had to control my eye roll. "The one I have is like this, except the straps are leather, and instead of tying it, it's like a buckle. You climb in from the back--"

"Here we go again," I said. "Okay, you do not have a sex swing!  If you did, we'd have used it already, because you're way too excited about it to actually own one and not bring it out."

His eyes were literally sparkling with laughter, his grin impish as he fingered the loops and straps. "I keep saying, you don't know if I have one or not. It's more of a novelty, than something I would seriously use. I mean, I like for my lady to have fun with me. This..." he pointed at the jumble of straps and steel rings and velcro. "This doesn't look fun."

"I agree. But we're adding another item to the list. When we get home, I want to see it. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." He wiggled his brows and shot a smug grin in my direction. "So, are you okay about heights?"

I stared as blankly as I could, not letting that film reel even start rolling. I could only imagine. "You mean...hanging me from somewhere?"

"No," JC answered, his face contorted in confusion. And then relaxing into a smile. "I mean like tall buildings." He shook his head and walked away, tossing over his shoulder, "You freak."

"If you don't want to do this, honey, we don't have to. I'm serious."

"I'm okay. Just... don't leave me."

On the second floor of the Empire State building was a small theater with stadium seating in front of a giant IMAX screen. JC and I chose two seats near the middle and settled in. "So, this is like a virtual tour of New York, without having to visit all the places. It'll take off from the Empire State Building and like, fly around the city."

"Mmmhmm," I answered, a little nervous about the flying part, chewing a hole in my bottom lip. I tucked my arm under his and reached for his hand. His fingers wove between mine and he squeezed gently. As long as he didn't let go, I would be okay.

And then the room sort of... moved. Or maybe it was just the seats we were in. Something definitely moved, and I felt like I was actually flying, the rolling and bobbing of the chairs synced with the images on the screen. That familiar, sick fear was creeping up, as hard as I tried to fight it. I swallowed hard, trying not to freak out, trying to breathe, trying not to get up and walk out. I wrapped both arms around JC's arm and hung on.

"You okay?" he whispered. "Do you want to go?"

‘Okay, you need get a fucking grip,' I told myself. ‘You are not even off of the ground. Relax!'  

I shook my head ‘no' and stoically sat up straight, forcing myself to inhale and then exhale and keep doing it until the movie was over. It was an unbelievable tour, but so, very long. By the time the lights came back up, I was more than ready to get out of that room.

JC‘s arm was at my waist, his voice in my ear as soon as we stood up. "Are you okay? I didn't know that would be an hour. I'm sorry...."

"I'm okay," I said, waiving him off, masking my relief at being outside of the theater, where I could finally breathe. "That was trippy. I loved the history of New York. And seeing everything we don't have time to see."

"Yeah, that's what's so amazing, not that we still couldn't go. What was cool was when it swooped around the Statue of Liberty, you could practically see inside the crown. It was like waving at all the tourists hanging out up there. And then was so surreal to see the Brooklyn Bridge from that angle. Oh, and when they shot the subway tunnel, like speeding along the tracks, just like one of the trains..."

I had tucked my arm back under his and my hand back in the crook of his elbow, so it was getting thrown around as he talked and waved and gestured madly. He rambled incessantly, often not making much sense, but just listening to him made my heart happy.

JC slowed down as we got closer to the elevator, letting a crowd of people go ahead of us. He grabbed my hand, looping his pinkie finger around mine. "So, I know I almost killed you back there, but do you feel like going upstairs? I got tickets for the view from the Deck."

I was still a little lightheaded from the flight simulation, and in no way did I really want to hang out, 50 stories up in the atmosphere. But he really seemed to want me to say yes. And, well... he'd planned this day, for us to do things together. And did I think he was going to fling me off of the edge of the deck and let me tumble to my death? ‘Get over yourself, Serena. Live a little.'

"We don't have to go up if it's too much."

 Deep breaths. Nerves of steel. Smile. You love him. Go. "I'll be okay. Let's go up."

JC had to hold me, with both arms around my shoulders, while we stood at the wall, nothing separating us from the world around us but a fence and a line of viewfinders. It was windy and cold, clear and crisp, the view of the day a breathtaking scene. Skyscrapers and historic buildings and metro lines that screamed urban city mingled with barren trees and manicured bushes and rooftop gardens standing by for spring. 

Like everything else JC had shown me since I met him, it was an unforgettable experience.

"So. We had gourmet sandwiches made with fancy peanut butter. We looked at some sexy stuff. I liked that. That was fun. We took a ride and, now we're hanging out, enjoying this awesome view." He sighed, breathing deeply, his chin balanced on top of my head. "I'm about ready for a drink. How about you?"

"Hell, yes." In fact, I was craving a little something to help me forget that I was hundreds of feet up in the air. "It is drink-thirty. Lead the way."

*

It wasn't quite what I had in mind, when he suggested a drink. I thought we'd find some upscale, quiet lounge to whittle the afternoon away, maybe talking more about his tour, except we wouldn't fight, this time. Or maybe some low-key blues joint where we'd kick back over a couple of bottles and watch the people walk by.

This... this wasn't at all what I had in mind.

"I've wanted to come here for forever, but it's kind of geeky and none of my friends would come with me."

I didn't have to wonder why. Never had I ever wanted to go to Mars, but if I had... well, the space themed restaurant that I found myself standing in would be exactly what I imagined Mars to be like. Red, red, red. Rustic. Crawling with people in space costumes and rubber masks. This was going to be a different kind of unforgettable. JC was going to owe me. Big.

"Kind of geeky, JC? I am honored to be the lucky one. Not complaining, by the way. Not at all."

At Mars 2112, we couldn't just walk in and sit down. We had to wait for the shuttle that would take us ‘through space' to the restaurant, bar, and arcade, otherwise known as ‘Mars'.  And it wasn't just a train, it was a train designed to look like a space shuttle. Along the way, the walls were covered in murals --planets and nebulas and stars and moons. As we neared closer to the main attraction, Earth had been left behind and we had ‘landed' on the Red Planet.

Okay, it was a neat ride.

After the shuttle landed, we had to navigate our way across a river of molten lava, where a creature in a mask and costume offered to take us to a table.

"I'm gonna need a drink, pretty quickly," I mumbled under my breath. The whole place reminded me a little of Star Wars. Or more specifically, the weekend JC forced me to watch the entire series in one sitting.  I was never the same, after that.

We took seats at the far end of the bar, which really looked more like a cave, and pored over the menu, trying to decide which space-inspired cocktail we would try first.

"You could get a ‘Cosmos-politan'. Or a ‘Mars-tini."

"These names are hilarious. ‘Molten Lava on the Rocks'. Ooh, look. I'll have that." I pointed at what was called a Meteor Shower-- apple liqueur and Absolut, garnished with an apple slice.

"Sounds martian-y." He laughed a little and folded the menu closed, sliding it back across the counter, where he found it. "I guess I'm gonna go for the Molten Lava thing. Hell if I'm gonna be caught drinking a Cosmopolitan."

"And here I thought you were secure in your masculinity."

"Oh, I am," he said, nodding. "I'm just not drinking a Cosmopolitan."

The Bartender was at the other side of the bar, but making his way around. While we waited, JC played science teacher, pointing out how the restaurant was so realistic. I guessed, on Mars, that there were Arcade games and pool tables and lots of kids running around, celebrating birthdays and eating pizza.

The longer I sat there, though, the more I wasn't very annoyed by it anymore. The open air ceiling itself, with a beautiful rendering of space and the moons, and-way far off behind us, Earth-was worth the time I had to spend there.

"You think this place is stupid, don't you?"

I looked around, taking in the ambience and the atmosphere. Beyond the cheesy surface was something interesting and fun, for those who were into that kind of thing. It was part museum, part amusement ride.

"It's not so bad," I said, shrugging, cracking a smile. "Once you get used to it. As long as my space nerd is having a good time, so am I."

"And as long as you get a drink."

His phone buzzed again. It had been buzzing off and on throughout the day. He pulled it out, checked it, sent off a quick message and slid it back into his pocket. My attention was on the frothy green cocktail in front of me, in a signature glass with a thick wedge of apple speared on the side.

"How pretty." I tested it, closing my eyes, sighing in bliss as a sweet apple flavor washed over my tongue, followed by the kick of alcohol. "Oh, this is so good."

"Here you are, sir," said the Bartender, a tall man in spandex, a costume that had to be a relic from Star Trek cast member's closet and enough stage makeup to choke a Broadway star. He set JC's drink in front of him, rich and deep and brown in color, in a short glass.

"What did you get?"

"Uhm, I think it's like a... lowball? There's a Godfather, which is a scotch and amaretto. This is with vodka instead, and amaretto. I'm manly, but I don't drink scotch." 

I picked up my new best friend, this yummy, frothy drink and got comfortable. "So, I know I don't dare ask, but what other surprises are in store, today? Specifically, am I going to be leaving the ground again?"

JC's head tossed back, his laugh loud and happy. "Scared, honey?

"A little." I laughed with him, but really, I was freaked out at the thought of another flight simulation. "I just want to be prepared."

"You won't have to leave the ground again unless you want to."

Relieved, I nodded. "It was fun. I don't mean that it wasn't. The sensation of flying is what freaks me out. And the heights, thing."

"No worries, my sweet girl." His arm lifted to lay across the back of my chair. He leaned close to me, his lips near my ear. "I'm sorry I took you up in that thing. I wasn't even thinking. There's more to our day, but let's just relax. Enjoy some drinks. Take a breather."

"Okay," I sighed, already relaxed, already enjoying my drink. "I can't get a hint about the rest of the day, though? What are we doing tonight?"

"Mmmm..." JC pursed his lips, squeezing them together, his eyes darting back and forth. "Nope. I can't think of a clue that won't give it away. Sorry." He sighed and went back to his drink.

Argh. The surprises were starting to wear on me. "When did you get so mean?"

"I'm not mean. I am evil." His phone buzzed again. He checked it, smiled, sent off another message, and slid it back in his pocket.  

When he could hold back no more, JC spilled a hint about our evening. All he would say was that we were going to a show. I was forbidden to search the internet to guess which one. Try as I might, I couldn't get another hint. I just had to wait and see. The waiting was torture.

Curtain rise was 8pm sharp. I was ready. JC was the one holding us up, preening in the bathroom.

"You really like the grey? I don't look old?"

I leaned against the counter, watching him try to tame his hair. "No, you don't look old. You look hot."

"Okay, take the girlfriend blinders off, and look at me."

"I don't have girlfriend blinders on."  With a sigh, I pushed off of the counter and moved around him, standing next to him. "I see... someone who gets better looking every day he's alive. I see gorgeous eyes and high cheekbones and strong, classically handsome features. Not to mention the most awesome nose in the history of noses." He tried not to laugh. It didn't work.

"I'm not saying I think I'm ugly." He turned his head left, then right, dragged the comb through his hair a few more times, looking more frustrated than pleased at what he saw in the mirror. "It's not that. I'm just not old. I don't want to look it."

"You want to not look old? Don't wear anymore of those sweaters you wear. You look like my Uncle, in those."

He stared at his hair for a second, and then attacked it again. I checked my watch and sighed. "JC, it looks fine, baby. Can we go?"

"Yeah, just a second," he said, putting the finishing touches on the waves on top of his head. "I need a haircut. I can't do anything with all this hair."

"Who are you primping for? I already think you're hot. I'm the only one that matters."

"You know what, Serena?" He tossed the comb down, grabbed me by the waist and pushed me back, back, back against the wall. In a sweet moment that was over in a flash, he pressed himself against me and kissed me, feather soft, his lips dancing over mine.

When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, he was just barely smiling, his eyes so smoky and dark. He would choose that moment in time to turn up the heat-just as we were leaving.

"Are you ready? Because when I'm done in here, I'm gone."

"I've been ready." I grabbed his hand and flew toward the door, in case he picked up the comb, again. "Let's go!"

We hurried down the hall, to the elevator, out the front door. The hotel was blocks away from the theater, but in the cold, and with no suitable coat, the concierge arranged for a car to drop us at the Theater entrance.

The night sky was ablaze with flashing lights, the sidewalk and front entrance filled with people milling around everywhere, talking, laughing, singing, taking pictures. I felt a ripple run through the crowd, murmurs and a light energy as JC and I passed through on our way to Will Call. 

"Hi, you have two tickets under Willis." A thin white envelope appeared under the glass window.  JC picked it up and, without opening it, handed it to me.  "Open it. Find out what you're seeing, tonight."

A little nervous and a lot excited, I slid open the flap and pulled out two tickets. My mouth dropped my chest in surprise and it was then that I finally looked up and around, seeing the posters everywhere and the large black lettering across the marquee, practically screaming WICKED. My arms threw themselves around his neck, and the words ‘thank you' wouldn't stop falling out of my mouth. He hugged me back, his laugh in my ear.

"You're welcome. I thought you would like to see it. We better get in there, we'll miss the beginning."

With minutes to spare, we slipped into our seats, high up in the balcony with a perfect view of the wide stage. I was really, actually sitting in a theater, in a seat on Broadway, about to see my first real Broadway play. Sitting at that place, at that time, with him was not something I even ever dreamt of. Our hands fit together perfectly as the lights dimmed, the curtain rose, and the show began.

Mystery, humor, action, adventure, all backed by a perfect score-three hours flew by. From the moment the curtain rose, I was lost in the story, barely aware that JC was watching me watch the play. Then, before I was ready for it, it ended. The curtain closed, the cast was on stage for their final bows, the lights came up, and the crowd began to line up at the exits to leave the theater.

"That was great. Really well done," JC was saying, in my ear. "I wish I would have read the book, but you never know how the adaptation changes the story. Did you have a good time?"

I sighed, utterly happy. I felt like I'd been dreaming. I turned back, looking at the stage, capturing the memory. "I had such a good time. It was perfect."

Back into a car we went, this time headed uptown. To make up for the Mars bar, I guess, JC said he was taking me for a real drink at a nice place. Between the play ending and the usual evening bustle, traffic was all red lights and honking horns. We were going nowhere, and not very fast. Not that I was bothered-more time to snuggle under JC's arm, warm and happy, listening to the banter and conversation between him and the driver, chatting like they were old friends.

The car finally pulled over in front of a club that we could hear before we could see the bright, flashing lights glowing from the windows, shining into the darkness, calling out to people looking for a good time. A set of wide, winding steps, lined by tall, identical manicured bushes  led to the entrance where were two lines-one long, and one short. We stepped to the short line and after a few minutes, were inside.

You can find me In Da Club, bottle full of bub
Momma I got what you need, you need to feel a buzz
I'm into having sex I ain't into making love
So come give me a hug, if you're into getting rubbed

Bass thumping, beat driving, body gyrating, energetic music poured from every speaker from the stage to the dance floor-which was packed with bodies young and old, thrashing in rhythmic timing. Strobe lights flashed as the crowd pulsed to the beat, hyped higher every few minutes by the live DJ screaming into the microphone.

JC grabbed my hand and held it, weaving his way through the crowd, seeming to have a destination in mind. We reached the back wall of the club and traveled along until we reached a staircase jutting out from the wall. I followed JC up the steps to a section that was divided from the rest of the club by panes of frosted glass.  

"We'll be better up here," he said, sinking onto a plush, high back couch and patting the seat next to him. "I hate to be the guy that hides in VIP, but it's brutal down there. If you want to dance though-"

"I'm just fine, right here," I said, getting comfortable, sitting close, watching the room. There were already a lot of people there that seemed to know JC, but I didn't recognize right away. He introduced me to them all, so many people. I would never remember their names, not because of the amount of people, but because I was counting how many times he introduced me as his girlfriend. Girlfriend. Someone constant, more than arm candy, or flavor of the month, or flavor of the evening.

Odd how the first time I heard him say it, I was a little put off. It was music to my ears, now.

As the night wore on, we started to slow down, sliding into a large booth that curved into a half circle, the high backs plush and comfortable, and giving a sense of privacy to our table.  After our late night the night before and our afternoon on Mars, we took it easy, having just few drinks between us. He was mellow-his jacket off, tie loosened, top button undone, arm thrown over the back of our seats in that laid back, casual pose that was still so sexy. He was kind of quiet, taking in the room, watching and observing much more than he was participating.

I caught his eye and raised a brow at him, asking the question with my eyes. ‘What's up?'

He tipped his head toward me, beckoning me closer. I slid across the smooth leather, so close our bodies were pressed up against each other, so we could talk without having to shout over the music. Once I was close, his arm dropped behind me and curled around my waist. I felt the other on my thigh, creeping up under the hem of my dress. Higher and higher, he rubbed, nice and slow, stopping just shy of the point of no return. I kind of wanted him to keep going, so we'd have an excuse to leave, and go back to the hotel.

His lips skipped across my shoulder, and then up the side of my neck, and then they were at my ear. "I just happened to notice you lookin' all good, over there," he said, his voice a little gruff. "Did you have a good time, today?"

I nodded, smiling a little. "It was a very good day. You're giving me some ideas about a very good night, though. Lookin' all good over here."

I heard a deep chuckle, just a brief ‘ha', but it gave away his mood. "So, question. Were you serious, yesterday, when you said if I got talked into working, you'd hurt me?"

I sipped a very weak Martini, shaking my head, confused at the subject change. Definitely not the path I was going down. "Why? You have to work?"

"I don't have to..."

"But you're going to."

His eyes fixed on mine, never looking away, searching, I guessed, for a sign. "If you don't want me to, I won't."

Right. Like I would tell him to not work, when he obviously, so badly wanted to, and seemed to be quietly begging for permission.

"You know what, honey? This is what you do. You work when you can, so go do what you have to do. I'll be fine."

"It's just that I've been trying to connect with this guy forever, and he's here and he has some time, tomorrow--"

I interrupted, cupping his chin in my palm, and kissing him. "You don't have to plead your case. I want you to go."

"Really?" He blinked a few times, his lashes so alluring, his eyes wide. "Just... go?"

I shifted so I was turned toward him and laid a hand over his, under my dress. "Yeah, so I've been thinking a lot about this trip. I've said more things that I've had to apologize for in the last week than I think I've said in the year that I've known you. We've been together nonstop for weeks and I think maybe we're just spending too much time together."

"Yeah," he said, his head bobbing. "We've been at each other's throats a lot, especially the last two days." I wondered if he was relieved that I'd said something. And if going to the studio was an excuse to give us some time apart.

"I'm just... so used to being alone. I'm kind of a brat when I don't get my alone time. I'm sure you've noticed." I chuckled, a little nervous laughter that I hoped he caught. "So, maybe we take a day, or a few hours or whatever, and get some time to ourselves. Some time and space between us. I want to enjoy this trip and this time with you, because I know once we hit LA I won't be able to hang out with you like this. I'm not ready for that, yet."

"Yeah," he said, again. "I think that would be good. Give us a chance to miss each other?"

"Exactly. I'm not saying I don't love being with you. I do, so much that I'm scared that if we don't get some time away that we'll ruin it. I just want us to joke and laugh and talk and not fight, when I'm with you."

"It's been fun, even with the arguing. I'm not worried about us, or anything. You've had fun, right?"

"The most fun I've ever had on a road trip," I reminded him. "I've never been so spoiled. And impressed that you put together this whole trip-- this whole day. I went to Mars, today. And I saw a sex machine, today. And I flew over the Statue of Liberty, today. I saw my first Broadway play, today. You work really, really hard to make me happy and show me things I'd never have the chance to see or do without you. You're the best. Still."

He laughed, lifting his arm and curling it around my shoulder, pulling my face close to his, plying me with flirty, sexy, slow touches and lingering kisses. Making me very, very warm.

"Chasez."

His lips stopped moving and one eye opened. "Uh oh. You're calling me Chasez, again."

I pulled back a little, so I could see his face, one brow arching up. "How long have you known you might work tomorrow?" He dipped his head, laughing to himself, answering my question. "All day, huh? Is that what all the phone action was about? You're scared of me, aren't you?"

"Uh... I thought you might be mad, a little. I hoped you wouldn't be, but I wasn't afraid of that. You have no idea how hot you are when you're pissed."

"I knew you pissed me off on purpose!" I crossed my arms and glared. And then softened. "Okay, you're kind of hot when you're pissed, too. But that's not good! We shouldn't do it on purpose."

"I don't. I'm a man. I say dumb things, you get mad. Yell at me, throw some stuff, slam a door, and inside I'm thinking, ‘God she's hot'."

"You're ridiculous."

"That whole ‘fuck you, asshole' thing yesterday? And then marching around in your little t-shirt and boy shorts, like I was supposed to be bothered that you were mad?" He growled and nipped at the air between us. "Hot!"

I leaned over and kissed his cheek, relishing the feeling of stubble against my lips. "Well thanks. But I think you should quit while you're ahead, baby."

"Okay, but... I am afraid to disappoint you. I don't want to let you down. So, really. If you don't want me to work tomorrow, I can meet up with this guy in LA, later. Say the word."

"JC, if you don't go to work tomorrow, I'm running away."

He laughed, rubbing my thigh again, but higher. Then too high-- it was time to go. I tipped my head to whisper in his ear. "Are you tired?"

He looked at me, and I looked at him and in his eyes, heavily lidded with flecks of green in them, I found my answer, before he could even say it.

"No. But if I have to be away from you tomorrow, I want to be with you, tonight. Right now"