The most beautiful time of day to me was the edge of morning, when the first bursts of sunlight began to peek over the horizon, just before the earth exploded into daylight and the sky was almost purple and I could still see the moon.  I liked to watch the light crawl across a room, chasing away shadows and darkness, heating up the world, marking the start of a new day. There was something innocent and unused about that time of day. Everything was perfect, nothing was bad, there was no disappointment or anger or hurt, in this new day.

The city of New Orleans was calm and cool and quiet. Not long after sunrise, still well within the limits of that perfect time of day, my mind began its rise from a deep, dreamless sleep. My eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times before fully focusing on the room.

As I adjusted to the light and the state of being awake, my steel grays connected with two piercing pools of cobalt blue. JC lay on his side, one arm under his head, facing me. Wide awake and apparently waiting-perhaps willing me to wake up. A smile started in the corner of his mouth and slowly spread across his face, changing the canvas upon which his striking features were set, creating wrinkles around his eyes and a flare to his nose and stretched his lips. His smile was sweet, almost shy and completely contagious. When I smiled back, his eyebrows lifted like he was excited that I was finally awake. He was the only man I'd ever known that was as beautiful in the morning as he was at night.

He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding with his breath. He closed the space between us by scooting closer and sliding an arm across my waist, working his thumb under the hem of my tank top and rubbing a warm thumb back and forth. The rough tips of his fingers sent shivers up my spine and made me giggle. He chuckled quietly, bending his head toward me until our foreheads met and his eyes bored into mine.

"Morning," I mumbled, then yawned.

"It is," he answered. "Sleep good?" I nodded, smiling. "Good. Me too."  He rolled his head up and brushed his lips across my forehead, then rolled back down again, tilting at an angle so he could get my lips.

"It would be totally okay with me if you woke me up like this every day."

He laughed, his belly bouncing against mine. "I could manage that, if I wasn't so lazy. No promises. You wanna get up, or lay here for awhile?"

"Lay here for awhile. You gonna lay here with me?"

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, then opened them again. "Would love to, but I need to clean out the car, gas it up. We have eight hours to go, to get to San Antonio. I figure we can stay there, hang out at Riverwalk, since you've never been. Right?" I shook my head. "That'll be a better stop then El Paso. From there we can take turns driving straight through, if we want. Couple days and we'll be home."

Home. In LA. For good. Finally. Oh, God.

"If you're getting up, I should get up," I said, forcing myself up on one arm. Gently, he pressed me back into the pillows and then sat up and got out of the bed, reaching for the lounge pants and t-shirt he had shed the night before. In seconds, he was dressed and forcing his feet into his well-worn white athletic shoes.

"You're driving the first shift. Relax for a little bit but try to be up in about an hour. I want to get moving before it gets hot." He pushed his wallet into a pocket of the nylon pants he wore and bent back over the bed. I met him halfway for a kiss and lay back down. He picked up the keys and headed for the door.

"Be careful. Take your phone." He grinned at me as he doubled back, picked up his phone, and slid it into the other pocket.

"Back soon," I heard, before the door opened and closed. I drifted to sleep again, lulled by the muffled sounds of the city coming to life, the room already warming up, and the most comfortable bed I'd slept in, in a long time.

I snoozed until I heard the door opening and JC's deep laugh through the sheet over my head. I braced, waiting for him to yank the sheet down, but he didn't. He moved quietly, packing away any clothing he had laying around, going through his morning routine and then packing up his toiletry bag. His suitcase closed with a rapid ‘zip' and was rolled toward the door.

"Baby," he whispered, tapping my foot as he passed by the bed. "Hey, I don't mean to rush but we need to get out of here." I groaned and burrowed further into the bed.  He grabbed at the sheet and pulled the pillow out from under my head. "Nope, come on. Get up. I'll even drive the first shift, if you want to sleep some more. We gotta go, though."

He tapped and pushed and poked and talked until I finally laughed and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress and stumbling out of the bed toward the bathroom. I had to go, anyway. "Fine. I'm up, dammit."

"I thought I was cranky in the morning," he called after me.

"Got ya beat," I called back, and shut the door.

By the time the sun was high in the sky and heating up the city, we were cruising smoothly along Interstate 10 West toward our stop for the day, San Antonio, Texas. According to the GPS, we would arrive just as the sun set. It also mirrored JC's prediction that we could be pulling into the driveway at the spacious white stone home on a California mountainside in a few days. This was only mildly freaking me out.

It seemed surreal to me that I would arrive and actually be home. No more flying back and forth. No more countdowns until one of us left again for an unforeseeable amount of time. No more hanging on from trip to trip, squeezing in as much time together as we could.

My heartbeat skipped when the thought crossed my mind. And when I really thought about it, I got goosebumps up and down my arms and shivers to the core. It was mostly excitement but also fear and anticipation and just plain unknown. Moving was becoming a huge reality, to me, not some far off distant dream. I was actually doing this!

JC's voice broke through the comfortable silence accented with the sounds of light jazz from the iPod and the road under the tires.

"So, what was your favorite part of our little vacation?"   

"Ugh, really? I have to choose? Hmmm..." The memories of the past few weeks were a slow creeping fog, rolling into my mind. In their own way, each was my favorite. I didn't think I could choose just one. 

"I don't know, honestly. I was so surprised by the resort in South Carolina. I really thought we would be at Motel 6. I loved Bowie, and meeting Kacey and seeing Michael Buble. New York is always awesome, but I especially love that we saw Wicked, and we stood together on that rooftop and looked at the stars and the city lights.  And then I got to see Tennessee and some Elvis shit. I secretly love Elvis Presley, you know." JC laughed and I laughed with him.  "And then there's everything about New Orleans that I love plus you, so that's a win, there. If I had to choose, I guess, either Bowie or New York would be my favorite destinations."

"I thought you'd pick New York. I wish it was warmer, up there. We'll have to go back when it's summer, again."

"We could do my birthday again."

He shook his head, and then waved a finger at me. "Nuh uh. Don't make any plans for your birthday. I‘m just saying, save the date. And that's all I'm saying."

It could have been the early morning but it took a few seconds for his comment to sink in. Once it made its impact, I could not help the sly grin that crawled across my face. It wondered if it had something to do with his question about my passport. Were we going somewhere?

"You're a tease," I said. I wanted to ask questions, but I knew the more interested I seemed, the more he'd tease me relentlessly with sparse details. "And you? Your favorite stop?"

"Bowie," he said, right away. I would have figured he'd say that. "I didn't set out to be all about showing you my past, but I'm glad I got the chance. It was nice to go back there. Sometimes it's good to go home, again."

"And don't forget-"

"I haven't," he said, glancing at me and managing to find my eyes in the split second of time before his eyes went back to the road. "I haven't forgotten. Don't forget that you said you'd go with me."

"I sure did. And I will."

Silence fell over the car again, the air thick with words unsaid, thoughts unexpressed. JC leaned into the door panel, one arm pressing his elbow up against the window, the other stiff, his hand curled tightly around the steering wheel and his eyes glassed over.

"Penny for your thoughts," I said softly, breaking the silence.

JC frowned, his forehead creased. "Not really thinking about anything in particular. Bunch of stuff."

"Tell me about the bunch of stuff."

He relaxed, exhaling a shallow breath, straightening in his seat and then slouching into it again. I swiveled in my seat so that I was facing him and waited for him to talk.

"I think it might be kind of hitting me, all at once. There's a lot of stuff going on-you're moving to LA and starting a new job, and hopefully building a new life out there. I've got meetings everyday from the day I get back to town, on through the weeks after. I have things I set aside so I could make this trip that I have to get back onto my schedule. Unfinished songs hanging around my office and in my mind-things just swimming in my head, all at once. It's like a stew."

"Pretty amazing stew though, probably."

"Maybe. I'm just antsy. Don't know why."

"JC, you're the most easy-going person I know, about most things. But you also like order, and things are really chaotic right now. Once you get home and get everything sorted, you'll figure out your plan of attack. Maybe it's just being away from all of your work, and not being able to handle and organize things that's bugging you?"

"You know what?" He seemed to brighten, sitting straight up, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I think I just miss working."

"You've worked, here and there."

"Not the kind of work I'm talking about, honey. I'm talking about going down to studio and shutting the door, closing myself off in a soundproof room and just writing, or putting the headphones on and working the music for hours and hours. Or I can take off to a studio way out in the middle of the desert and meet up with someone really talented but doesn't show it, and push the shit out of him, get him to sing. Not market him or try to turn him into the next hit artist, just let the guy sing and use the equipment to accentuate his voice."

JC paused, inhaling a breath, invigorated. He slid the palm of a hand down his face from his forehead to his chin and scratched at the scruff that I asked him not to shave. "Really missing that. Looking forward to getting back."

"Then it'll be great to get home, hmm?"

"Sure will." JC glanced at me and then back to the road. And then back to me. "You okay? You want to take a nap? I didn't mean to rush you, this morning. It's not like I could leave without you."

Any other day, I would happily take a chance to nap, but JC's excitement or nervousness or just the fact that he was on edge made it hard for me to relax. He was, decidedly, the calmer one in the relationship. When JC was agitated, it was a big deal.

I waved him off, making sure I sounded nonchalant. "I'm okay. Even last night, I could tell you were so done with this trip. You want to get home and work on your songs for your meeting and your tour. I'm not doing anything to stand in the way. If I have to drag my ass out of bed a few hours earlier, then I'll make that sacrifice."

As I'd hoped, he seemed to relax, even dropping one hand from the steering wheel to rest on my thigh, alternately squeezing and rubbing his thumb back and forth.  At my feet, my phone vibrated inside my bag. I rifled through the bag until I found it and scrolled through emails and text messages that had been piling up. I felt guilty, almost wincing at the long list of unread items. I'd begged everyone to stay in touch and then ignored them. Once we got...home... I'd be able to manage communication with my friends and family better. I hoped.

"Tyler says he misses us wants to know if we're there yet." I smiled at the display and opened a reply. "I miss him. I feel like I haven't seen him in a long time."

"Me too. Tell him hey, for me."  Tyler and I texted back and forth for a few minutes while I relayed bits of information to JC.  "Mom and dad loved Allison, of course. He took the Bar Exam, thinks he did okay. He'll find out in a few weeks. The house is still in one piece, but just barely. And he wants me to make him that chicken parmesan thing I made the last time I came out."

JC laughed at the last update. "Good old Tyler. Never too far from a girl that can cook."

"I'm actually looking forward to cooking. I never thought I would be tired of food but it'll be so nice to make a meal instead of eating out."

His head bobbed in agreement. "Now you have a taste of what it's like to be on the road. Especially in the beginning, like overseas. I think it was Germany where we ate McDonald's for every meal, because the food was so gross."

"I remember hearing about that. And I think it was on that video you guys released, all the behind the scenes stuff Joey shot?"

"Probably, yeah. We'd go weeks, sometimes months without a home cooked meal. Every once in awhile we'd get to a place where we'd have a kitchen. You would have thought it was the Taj Mahal. Diane and Lynn would try to go to the store and buy some stuff to make something to eat. Even something as simple as spaghetti or pizza or was like heaven."

"Ugh, I can't imagine. And you guys did that for years. No wonder you took a break."

"Well later, obviously, in the US we had more options, and even at some venues you could get an actual meal. It wasn't just us and some tracks, it was us and a full band and a full crew and all of our friends and family, if they came along. We were really too busy to complain, and it was a huge improvement over the food overseas. It was a lot like this trip, I wouldn't take it back for anything, but I can't wait to get home. Sleep in my own bed. Look out my own window. Drink coffee out of my favorite coffee cup and sit at my own table and look out at the view out of my own house. Know what I mean?"

I swallowed something back, suddenly a little sick. A wave of jealousy washed over me as I realized why I felt so strange. He had something to go back to. That house on the hill had become a second home to me, but only in the way that I was comfortable in my boyfriend's house. I had to settle in and form my own routines and find my own comfortable place. I sighed as we crossed over the border of Louisiana into Texas, my apprehension starting to build. Another state meant another step closer to home. His home. Our home? Not quite yet.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said, squeezing my thigh.

There was no way, after the heavy talks we'd been having the past few days, that I was going to let on that I was a little afraid of hitting LA and being terribly out of place. He was expecting me to be open with him, but I just couldn't do it, couldn't shift the focus from him being so happy to be going home to be being scared to get out of the car once we got there. Instead I smiled and laid my hand on top of his.

"I was thinking we should play a game to pass the time. Make the trip go faster."

His face brightened with a smile and a sultry chuckle. "A sexy game? I mean, I'm driving, but I'll pull over for that."

I shook my head and didn't even try to stop laughing at him. "Not that kind of game, dork. A car game."

"Like what?"

"Uhmmmm...." Great idea Serena. Now what? Think of something! "Okay. You know that improve show your friend Wayne Brady was on? They play this game called Song Lyrics. Or Song titles? One of them. Anyway, we have to have a conversation using only song lyrics. Or titles. Let's see what kind of a music buff you really are."

"Is that a challenge? Are you challenging me? I know music, you know."

"Prove it," I said, grinning wide. "Hello."

JC blinked wildly and stuttered. "Uhm... uhhhh...."

I giggled. "Those aren't song lyrics. Come on, Chasez. Cheating already."

"Gimme a minute. Uhm. Who Can It Be Now? How's that?"

"Here I Am."

"Uh....Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?"

"I Love Your Smile."  

JC smiled and laughed a little. "You're Beautiful."

I pulled at my face with the palms of my hands, stretching my skin, my mouth, my eyes. It was the least attractive face I could come up with on short notice. "What About Now?"

JC only laughed and shook his head. "Can You Feel It?"

"Yes."

"Do You Feel Like I Do?"

I shrugged. "It occurs to me that I have no idea if you're cheating or not. I've never heard that song. But Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."  

"I'll play it for you when we get home. Play the game right. You Can't Always Get What You Want."

"Why Can't We Be Friends?"

"Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?"

"How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?"

He scoffed and turned, as much as he could, toward the window. "Enjoy the Silence," he said, then shot a glance over his shoulder.

I cackled, laughing so hard I couldn't breathe, pulling at his shoulder until he turned again. "Baby One More Time."  

"Stop Me If You've Heard This Before."

"What's Going On?"

"Magic Carpet Ride?"   His eyes left the road momentarily, risking certain death to wiggle his brows at me.

"All Night Long," I said, nodding.

 "Catch Me, I'm Falling."  

"Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off."

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Never Gonna Get It."

"But...Diggin' On You."

He laughed, and then sighed. "I Just Can't Stop Loving You."

"Do You Hear What I Hear?"

"I Heard a Rumor."

"My Boyfriends Back."

"Quit Playing Games. With My Heart."

I snorted.  "Nice one. Where is the love?"

"I'm a Slave for You."

"Leave. Get Out."

"Blame It on the Rain?"

"Superfreak!"

"Girl You Know It's True."

I imagined, as we played our game, that the drivers in the cars around us watched us through their tinted windshields and wondered about us, the two people in the silver Jetta that were laughing so hysterically that they couldn't breathe, wiping away tears and slapping knees and clutching chests. JC gave up trying to have a conversation and began randomly shouting out song lyrics as they came to him, one right after the other in rapid fire succession. Every time I thought he was done, he would shout out something that made no sense at all and send me into another fit of laughter. When I laughed, he laughed, his eyes twinkling, the corners of them crinkling, his face bearing a proud expression. He liked to make me laugh.

Try as I might, I would not be able to explain it anyone who asked about our trip and how we passed the time, but I would remember it. My mind took another snapshot, a moment in time of JC being himself and me being happy and amused by him. I mentally saved it and tucked it away. At night, like clockwork, my mind flipped through the photo album, bringing the moments back to life so I could remember them and marvel at them and then tuck them away again. They reminded me of everything we were working for, everything I loved about him, about me, about us. They were, at their core, everything we were working hard to preserve.

Just outside Houston city limits, JC suggested a lunch break. We needed to switch places, stretch our legs, and get some fresh air. He exited the highway and pulled into the parking lot of a small Mexican restaurant. I stepped out of the car, kicking and shaking the stiffness out of my legs, stretching my arms toward the clear blue sky. The air was full of delicious smells that sent a pang of hunger through my belly. The parking lot was nearly full-a sign of a good restaurant. 

JC got out and walked around to my side, curling a hand around my waist and pulling me toward the door.

"You really think Mexican is a good idea for two people trapped in a car?" He eyed me, slowing down as he approached the door, maybe rethinking the restaurant choice. I grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "I'll behave if you will. Come on. I'm hungry."

"Of course you are," he said, following me inside.  We were seated in a booth near the back of the restaurant and browsing a menu in minutes. 

"We're making pretty good time, huh?"

He nodded, already digging into a bowl of bright red salsa with tortilla chips, still hot from the fryer. "If you don't drive like my grandma, we'll be in San An-tone before sunset," he said around a mouthful. "You like rides, right? Like carnival rides?"

"No," I responded, pretty forcefully. "Not if they leave the ground. Heights, remember? Geez. You don't even know me."

Crunch, crunch, crunch across the table. "I know you. You're afraid of heights but you'll get on a plane to come see me. You'll ride the Ferris wheel with me, right? I promise not to throw you over the edge."

My stomach lurched and my eyes shot up from my menu. "If you promise to never joke about throwing me over the edge of anything ever again, I will ride the Ferris Wheel with you. Once."

JC gave me thumbs up and buried his head in his menu. "I think I'll just get a couple of tacos or something. And a burrito. And an enchilada. I'm not all that hungry."

I giggled as we slid our menus to the edge of the table, snacked on chips and salsa, and waited for the waitress to take our orders and rush away to pass them to the kitchen. The music overhead was a peppy Spanish tune, the beat of which JC kept with his shoulders, which spread to his hands and soon he was tapping a rhythm on the table, staring off into space.

"Are you writing something in your head?"

"Hmm?"

"Just wondering if the music was inspiring you."

"Oh. Not really. Just like the beat. It's energetic, you know. Kind of saucy, that's what I like about Latin music. Nice to dance to, a good rhythm that follows the eight counts. See?" He tapped the table, counting under his breath. "Five, six, seven, eight..."

I nodded along, relishing my impromptu music lesson. "So when we get home, I know you're busy with everything, but maybe you could teach me some music stuff. Like, when you have me listen to music, what I should be listening for."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that. Although, I mean... I usually want you to listen because I want to know if you catch things that you don't know you're supposed to hear. Once I point things out, you'll always hear it."

"Is that why you never let me listen to your music?"

He chuckled, his cheeks glowing pink as he dipped his head a little. "No. I don't let you listen to my music because... I mean, you've heard my stuff when it's done and perfected, you know? Especially in the beginning, you were a fan and fans have this image of music artists, and I didn't want to take that away from you. I didn't want you to know that I can write just as many shitty songs as I can good ones."

"Oh. Well. I guess I get that. But I know you well enough now that I know it's a process. I'd really love to see the evolution of a song from an idea that forms in your head until it's recorded and mixed and ready to go somewhere. Could you show me that?"

"I can," he said, his cheeks still pink. He was cute when he was humble. "I would love to show you that, actually. Like, right now I've had an idea rolling around in my head. Something about the fight between good and evil, you know? Uh, like...Want to hate you but I love you/ Want peace but I love our war/ Want to be free but I need you/ Impatient but you're the one I've waited for... something like that... I don't know." Shy, he sat back against the worn faux leather of the booth and went back to lightly tapping the table.

"Wow, honey. I like that. I love the back and forth. It's like the angel and the devil. That better not be biographical."

His head dipped toward the table and he laughed, covering one of my hands with his. "You are definitely a muse, but no. It's not biographical."

"Good.  ‘Cause I was about to say..."

"I'm not crazy, honey. You could totally kick my ass."

"And don't you forget it."

Two plates were set before us, full to overflowing with refried beans and Spanish rice. My fajitas sizzled while I made room for the tortillas in the warming container. JC's plate was a smorgasbord of Mexican delights- tacos, burritos, and enchiladas. I eyed his plate, saying, "Seriously, I hope this isn't a bad idea."

"It'll be fine," he said, mixing rice and beans together and loading the mixture onto a spoon. "So you really think that song might be good, huh?"

I opened a tortilla and loaded it with a few forkfuls of chicken, onions and peppers, added sour cream and salsa and rolled it up. "I really do, and I'm not just saying that. And even though it's not biographical, it's something anyone can relate to. It's like...like the minute you meet someone awesome, but it's also that minute you realize something's going downhill and you should probably let it go. You don't want to feel what you feel and want what you want, but you can't help it, so you keep reaching for it. And it's like it takes everything in you to not do that."

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, nodding with a mouth full of food. "Good insight. I'm trying to work that into the lyrics, but keep it simple. Really though, it could be anything," he said, when he had swallowed. "It's the constant battle, like you said, between the good and the evil, what you want versus what you need. That's the struggle at the very base of humanity. At least I think."

"So is it like slow and sad? The song, in your head?" I bit off a portion of my rolled fajita and waited for JC to swallow again.

He sipped his water, wagging his head. "Mid-tempo, probably. Not a dance tune or anything but I'm about out of ballads for a little bit. I feel like everything I write lately is so sad but I'm not sad, so..." His voice trailed off as he filled his mouth with another bite.

"Okay when you say I'm a muse, you don't mean that I make you write sad songs, do you?"

"No." He glanced up at me and then back down to his plate. "Uhm... I just mean that you inspire me, is all."

"But... how? I mean, why do you write sad songs if you're not sad? And if I'm an inspiration why do I not inspire you to write happy songs? Or do I not want to know the answer to that question?"

He finally looked up at me. I was beginning to fear an awful downturn to this conversation.

"I write happy songs. No one buys happy songs unless you write for animation, and I don't write that kind of happy. Artists buy songs that tug at the heartstrings and drag their feelings across every line. Look at the charts, count how many songs sitting in the top twenty are about how life is awesome and things are great. People want their pain soothed and they like a song that says ‘I know what you're going through', and tells them they're not alone. You know? Actually..."

He stabbed at the lemon in his water with his straw, his cheeks pink again. "Actually, when I write, I think about what my life was like, years ago. After..." He paused again and waved a hand, seeming to wave away the memory before it could take over. He wouldn't even say her name, lately. "There are a lot of times where I think back and I remember being in pain and being totally surrounded but feeling lonely and like nobody really got me. Even my family. And I remember thinking, even saying things to Tyler, when we'd have our man chatting sessions-"

I had been eating while he talked, paying rapt attention until then. I swallowed, quickly, and choked out, "Wait. Man chatting?"

"Yeah, that's what we called it. Every couple of weeks, we'd go have a beer or something. Cry into it. Tyler's crazy but he's a talker. He's a feeler. I used to make him try to pull stuff out of me, so I'd know what to write down, because hell if I know and I write songs for a living. Anyway, tapping into all of that helps me stay in touch with what people need to escape from, and why people need to have hope. Also..." Both his eyes and his voice lowered as he pushed his fork around a pile of Spanish rice. I almost had to lean in to hear him.

"It also makes me thankful that I don't have to be there anymore. I met someone that gave me something to hope for. Someone that-- wait for it--" His eyes lifted to meet mine, a sparkle and impish grin giving him away before he even said, "Takes My Breath Away..."

JC sat back and smiled, quietly laughing to himself. I was having a moment where I wanted to cry but I refused to cry and I couldn't speak because if I started talking, I would cry. I settled for gulping back tears, reaching across the table and giving his hand the longest, hardest squeeze I could manage. He squeezed back as I stared at the table of dark brown wood, etched with age and names carved into it- Dan & Suzy, 1983; Houston Prep 4Ever. I didn't open my mouth until I was positive that it would not betray me and turn its corners down. When my eyes were bright and dry, I looked up and mouthed, "Love you."

"Love you too," he mouthed back. And then went back to eating like he hadn't rocked my world in a minute and a half.

Dear God, I love him, so much. Please give me the strength to be happy and stay happy because I need him. Forever. Amen.

Full of lunch, walking on air, and actually looking forward to the second half of our drive, we left the restaurant and got back into the car. The seat and dashboard almost sizzled, it was so hot inside the car. I started the car, turning the air conditioner on high for a few minutes to cool us down, then shifted in my seat to face JC, who looked like he was ready for a nap.

"So, you were pretty sweet at lunch. And generous, sharing details about your music. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He moved his seat back to make room for his legs, and then angled it back more so he could lay back and stretch out. "Was nice to actually share it. To be honest... well.... Nevermind."

"What? To be honest, what?" He smiled and leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "Don't make me hit you, right after I just said you were sweet."

He chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and mumbled, "You have to know everything, don't you?"

"You can't half say something. Now I'm curious. To be honest, what? You didn't think I would understand?"

"Sort of," he admitted, sheepish, his eyes barely open but his head rolled in my direction. "Most aren't interested in the process, just the finished product. Girlfriends don't really care except for how much time it takes me away from them. They always want me to sing to them, but don't care about where the song comes from or where it goes. They want to hang out in the studio and watch me work, but they're bored after an hour. No one's ever asked to follow the life cycle of a song, before. Even when you come to the studio, you want to know what the buttons do. It makes me feel like you really care, like you're interested because it's what I do, it's something I love, and you want to understand it. Not because it's what makes me famous. So thank you too."

"You're welcome. My pleasure." His eyes closed again. I recognized the long, deep inhales that marked an impending snooze. "You're taking a nap?"

"Thought I would. That okay?"

I turned to face forward again and snapped myself into my seatbelt. "Fine with me. Get all rested up for some fun later."

"You're actually looking forward to the Ferris wheel?"

I blushed as I shifted the car to drive and pulled out of the parking lot. "Uhm. I was thinking of a different kind of ride, baby."

A pleasant sounding moan came from the passenger seat, followed by a mumbled, "Let's Get It On." I didn't even bother to stop myself from laughing at him.

JC slept the entire drive between Houston and San Antonio. The sun was just beginning its dip below the horizon as we reached city limits. I woke him up so that he could direct me toward our destination for the night. We navigated thick traffic toward St. Mary's street and the most tourist-driven part of town, the Riverwalk.

"Pull in here," he said, pointing at a tall skyscraper with a giant maroon billboard atop it that read Drury Plaza Hotel.  The placard out front boasted about luxury suites that maintained the historical character of the building. "These are nice, and we're right on the San Antonio River. There's not a bad view from one of these rooms."

I rolled into the garage beneath the building and into an open spot, relieved to be nearly done with driving, at least for the night. It had been a great day, but I was hot and tired and actually looked forward to a spacious room, some peace and quiet, a comfortable bed. Maybe we would get lucky with a cool breeze off of the river after sunset.

"We don't have a reservation here. If they don't have a room for us, we'll have to go with Motel 6." He winked at me and laughed as he stepped out of the car. "Wait here, let me check, first." He dashed across a few lines of slow moving traffic to the interior door and the lobby. In limbo, I leaned against the car and waited, watching the glass doors that separated the underground garage from the lobby.

‘My, how times have changed,' I thought to myself. ‘I used to cringe at the thought of an expensive suite. Now I'm hoping for one.'

A few minutes later, the door swung open and he made his way back. "So, the stars have aligned," he said, running a hand down my bare arm. "I got us a nice room near the top floor."

I beamed up at him, instantly excited. "You're awesome, you know that?"

"Yep," he answered, reaching into the car to pop the trunk latch, then moving to the rear of the car, stopping to kiss me along the way. "So are you."

"I know."

We checked into our room, marveled at the view across the river, turned on the air and collapsed onto the sturdy couch in the living area of the one bedroom suite. The décor was beautiful, tastefully decorated in shades of brown, rose and ivory. Flat panel TV's were in both the living area and the bedroom, both rooms illuminated with natural light from large, curtained windows.

"So, there's no Ferris wheel at Riverwalk," JC said from his spot- his head in my lap, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, socked feet hanging off of the edge of the couch.

I glared down at him, my eyes narrowed, my fingertips drumming on his chest. He didn't seem bothered by my mock anger at all, instead grabbing my hand and pressing my palm to his lips, forming my fingers around his chin. "I've been prepping all day for that. You just wanted to see what I would say if you asked me to ride with you?"

"Sort of. I was just playing with you. But if we ever go to a carnival, you owe me a Ferris wheel ride."

"Deal," I agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. "So what do you want to do, since there's no Ferris wheel?" His eyes popped wide open and his brows danced. "We can do that when we come back tonight. If we start now, we'll never leave the room."

"Getting tired of being turned down."

"What? I've said no to you one time, Chasez."

"One time too many." He feigned dejection and sat up. "Well, we're on the Riverwalk route, so we may as well do that. Walk around, go visit some booths, look at some shit."

"Of course. We always have to look at some shit." I pulled my hair out of the pony tail it had been in all day and stretched, watching JC watch my body roll. "I feel dirty and sweaty. Want a shower quickie?"

In answer, he stood and pulled me up from the couch and then down the hall toward the bedroom and bathroom. He bobbed his head and bounced down the hall singing, "duhh nuhhh nuhhh...Let's Go Crazy!"

"Ugh, I have created a monster."

Dusk in San Antonio. Not quite still daytime, but not nighttime yet, either. The last bits of sun sank below the horizon, the residual rosy glow providing just enough luminance for families to wander the banks of the San Antonio river; for teenagers to loiter and gather around tents and in parking lots trying hard to look bored and nonchalant, because appearing to care was so very uncool; and for lovers to snuggle closely together, fingers intertwined, doing their best to create romance on a crowded sunset river tour.

Thirty five minutes of the history of San Antonio and a mobile tour of the Riverwalk later, JC and I shook out our sea legs and began our walk down the pathway past various vendor booths, stopping into a few at whim. We saw a little bit of everything, from wind chimes to jewelry to clothing, hats, scarves and bags.

JC was lured to the Sunglass Hut by a pair of shades that must have beckoned him from a mile away. The clerk perked as soon as we approached the booth, rattling off a few specifics about the designer brand, including the hefty price tag. They fit the shape of JC's face perfectly, the tapered edges falling right in line with his long, thin face. Sleek and black with gold etching from the frames and around the arms, they blocked sunlight and UV rays with style and class. He obviously liked them. He obviously wanted to buy them. He picked them up a few times, tried them on, and put them back.

I wanted him to buy them. Pressed him to buy them. "I just bought the ones I have," he protested. "I don't really need new shades," he kept saying, finally putting them back on the display and thanking the clerk, who seemed disappointed at not making the sale.

JC moved on to the next booth. I excused myself, doubled back and bought the shades for him, before I could stop myself. I could afford it, especially since I had a job, and JC was letting me stay with him, and he'd planned and provided a great trip for us. What was a few hundred dollars in comparison? Still, I tried not to look at the price tag when I signed the sales slip.

I caught up with JC a few minutes later. I tucked my hand into his, our fingers instinctively winding around each other and then hooked one arm of the shades into the band of his t-shirt. They hung from his neck seductively. Shiny and new and all his. I was kind of proud of myself.

JC stopped and stared down at them. And then at me. "You bought me these?"

"No, I stole them. Yes, I bought you those."

"Serena, these are-"

"Swear to God, JC, if you complain about how much they cost, I will beat you down right here at the Riverwalk. Try me, and see if I won't do it." I smiled sweetly, kissed him, and then said, "Let's get some food. Barbeque sounds good to me."

JC didn't move an inch. He stared, though, those eyes digging right into me, his mouth set in a very slight smile, the darkness and flickering light from the booths behind us sending shadows across his face. I waited for him to respond, and after a few seconds, I started to get nervous.

"What's wrong? Are you mad?"

He said nothing for a few long moments, then just as I was about to become seriously worried, his lips bent into a smile. "You love me, huh?"

I blushed, looked away, and shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe. A little."

"I think a lot."

"I... am deeply in like with you. Is what I think."

"No, no. You love me. Thank you, baby." He plucked the glasses from his shirt and, though it was dark, put them on.  "Guess what song I'm thinking of right now."

I rolled by eyes and turned on my heel, headed toward the food vendors. "No."

"Come on," he whined, following me. "It was your game. Your idea. Guess."

"I already know, cheese ball."

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it!"

I stopped, turned around, pulled the shades off of his face and hung them back on his shirt. "Sunglasses at Night. And I'm never playing games with you ever again."

"You pretend to hate it, but you're laughing on the inside. I know you."

I groaned and dragged him, by the arm, toward the food vendors. "Feed Me, Seymour."

We ate dinner-a giant plate of barbeque ribs, baked beans, potato salad and green beans- at a table in a lighted tent near the food vendors. Conversation was light, peppered with more song titles thrown in, some appropriate, some having nothing to do with the topic at all. It took me twice as long to finish my dinner because I couldn't stop giggling. JC's deep, chesty chuckles accompanied mine, puncturing the darkness around us.

We walked back to the hotel, hand in hand along the dimly lit sidewalk that lined the river. Every few minutes, a river taxi would slosh by, sending splashes of water up against the banks of the canal, adding to the romantic feel of the evening and the walk. Another snapshot. Perfection.

"So, what's the first thing you're gonna do, when you get home?"

"Hit my studio," JC answered. "I miss that room. My home, down there. How about you?"

"Hm. Unpack, I guess. Exciting."

 "You don't sound excited."

"Oh. Did I say exciting? I meant scared shitless."

JC laughed and squeezed my hand in his. "You said you trusted me. You said I could help you get to LA and take care of you and all that. You still trusting me? You still believe in me?"

"Yeah, I do. I am. I'm just... it's still a big change and everything's happened so fast. I just want it to be right, you know? I want to have made the best decision. For me, for you, for us."

"Why do you doubt that you have?" He stopped walking, and since he was holding my hand, I had to stop, too. He stepped in front of me and tipped my chin up with a finger. "Are you happy, right now?"

"Right this very second?"

"Right this very second, smartass."

I blinked and then confessed quietly. "Right this very second, I'm deliriously happy."

"Good. Stay there. Stay right there in the right now in which you're deliriously happy.  Be proud of yourself, as proud as I am. You wanted this change. You worked hard for this change and I didn't even do anything. I just told you that you could do it, and I watched you do it all yourself."

"Right, so if it goes to shit-" I tried to turn away, uncomfortable with his intense stare, but he grabbed my face and held it.

"It isn't going to. Because where you leave off, I pick up. I got this, baby. You trust me?"

"I trust you."

"You love me?"

I smirked. "A little."

"That's an improvement over deeply in like. I'll take it."

"Good."

He released me but didn't step back. His arms slid around my waist, his hands hooking together behind my back. "So... you mentioned something earlier about a ride?"

"Uh huh," I said with a nod. "I know this great ride. It's fun and exciting and sexy and we don't even have to leave the ground... unless we want to. You up for it?"

His hands moved to the swell of each cheek and pulled up against him. He pressed himself into me, his arousal making its presence known. "Sweetheart, I am always up for it."

*

If anyone was lost and couldn't find us, they only had to follow the trail of clothing from the door to the couch in the living area, and then down the hall to the bedroom. I stepped out of the bathroom around midnight, my eyes crawling the aftermath. Both suitcases lay wide open on the floor near the closet. Socks, a t-shirt, panties and bra were strewn around various corners of the room. One lamp was broken (JC's fault), the phone had been knocked off the hook and was emitting an annoying rapid busy signal (my fault), and the bed had somehow been stripped of every piece of linen except for the fitted sheet, and even that had curled up on one side of the mattress (we both did that). 

JC lay in the middle of the bed, still naked, still basking in afterglow, making a lame attempt at keeping the sheet from popping up over the side of the mattress. I giggled and came to his rescue, tucking it securely around the corner again. I picked up the sheet that we'd kicked onto the floor and spread it over the bed, tucked it in around the sides, then picked up the pillows that had been tossed out of the way (how JC broke the lamp) and put them back on the bed. I turned out the only working lamp and crawled into the bed. The light from the TV flickered onto the ceiling as he surfed the limited channel menu. My head rested on his shoulder; his arm tucked behind me and around my waist, cupping me to his side. I laid a leg between his and moved in, as close as I could get to him.

His skin was still warm and dewy and he still smelled like sweat. His natural scent was heady, amazing, erotic. We'd just spent hours in wild, raging, animalistic sex, in which JC had coaxed sounds from me that I was sure did not exist in nature. My throat was raw and my limbs were rubbery, but as my nose filled with the scent of him and his arm tightened around me and my cheek pressed into his chest, I was already considering another go.

I turned my head and kissed the closest patch of skin I could find. "That was a nice ride, baby."

"Free return trips," he quipped, his eyes never leaving the TV but his fingers beginning a slow massage along my back.

"Yeah? I might consider one. Long as they're free."

"You just let me know. We run all night. I'm always on."

"Red Light Special?"

His chest bounced with his laughter. "See. You said I was bad."

"I'm picking it up from you," I grumbled, but laughed quietly, my lips pressed into his chest. I let my fingers do some walking, tracing the defined lines of his chest, his abs, and further down. JC groaned and moved his hips, strategically placing himself in my path. I took advantage of the opportunity, gripping him, stroking him, bringing him to fully erect, feeding off of the sounds rumbling from his chest.

 JC rolled us so he was on top and settled his weight onto me again. I wrapped myself around his warm body and tilted my head. I knew, instinctively, that he would go for my neck, that his lips would follow their usual path down to my shoulder and then around to the other side. The stubble from his beard was adding pinpoint pricks, heightening the sensation. My breath caught in my throat and I shivered. 

"Are you cold? Do want me to turn off the air?" I shook my head and clung to him. It was hot-sweltering, in our room. I wasn't cold, just beyond turned on.

"I Need You Now."

"Bad."

"Really, really bad?"

"I wasn't even playing. I'm just saying, you're bad."

"I'll Never Stop, nuh nuh nuh, nuh nuh nuh nuh. Remember that one?"

"Serena..."

I giggled, knowing I was close to getting some kind of retaliation. Hoping for it, actually. "I think you'd better do something to shut me up."

JC gripped my chin in his hands, tipped his head and pressed his open mouth to mine, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. We shared a breathless kiss, marked by deep, gut level groans from him, shrieks and squeals from me-as much as I could manage, what with my mouth being occupied. He arched into me, his hardness pressed into my belly. My body ached for him, sought him out, craved him. I reached between us and guided him to me, exhaling a long, loud sigh as he filled me.

"You'd think you were sick of this, by now." He spoke right into my ear, his words punctuated by the rhythm of long, forceful strokes.

"Never," I panted, clutching at him.  "Never, ever tired of you. I want to always want you."

"I want that, too."

"JC..."

"I know, I know, less talking, more fucking," he said, grunting with his increased force and speed, much to my delight.

My hips moved on their own, slapping against him with fury. "Fuck! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod..."

"I like it when you pray."

My entire body was tense and on edge, shaking with impending climax. When it finally came, the impact lifted me off of the bed. I felt myself clenching, gripping, milking him. "Fuck! I'm not praying, I'm coming! Come with me!"

As soon as the words left my mouth, my ear was full of, "Unnhhhhhhfffffuuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkkk........"  His thrusts slowed to a slow, sensuous pace. JC gulped air and panted into the space between my neck and shoulder, until I picked up his head and moved it to my chest so he could breathe. His body sank onto mine, again. Our sweat mingled on the sheets. Our heavy breaths filled the air. Our satisfied moans and sighs were felt between us as we lay plastered together, chest to chest.

I started to speak, but my throat was so dry words would not come. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I wasn't gonna say ‘less talking more fucking', but I like that you took it there."

"Oh? What were you gonna say?"

"I was gonna tell you that I love you. And that today was a really good day."

I could feel his grin as he chuckled into my chest. I knew it was coming, and knew I couldn't stop it. "I had a feeling that tonight was gonna be a good, good night."

"I'm never gonna get away from that game, am I?"

"No. It's way too much fun. Just think-- we have 21 hours of song titles to drive through."

"I can't wait."

"Me either."

"No, really." I tightened my arms around him, dug a few fingers into his hair and sighed. "I really can't wait. I'm ready to go home."