Author's Chapter Notes:
:Whew: All I can say is that I am SO HAPPY the roadtrip is over! They're home! What adventures are now in store for Serena now that she lives in LA? 

"That's just wrong. I don't even know you."

"What? Why does it have to be wrong? You know I wouldn't watch a movie like that unless you made me-"

"Which I will do." A finger appeared in my face, pointing and directing and declaring. "The first movie we're watching when we get home is Citizen Kane. How have you not seen Citizen Kane?"

Crossing the border from Arizona to California was unremarkable. Pedestrian and not even really noticeable, lost in the midst of a playful argument about movies I'd never seen. I meant to jump into my future-symbolically- with my eyes wide open, to mark it or commemorate it or freeze the date and the time in place in my mind, but I didn't even realize that we were in California until we were well inside the border, and then it seemed unnecessary to draw attention to it. Just after sunrise, the desert was cool and pink but already heating up. I had driven most of the night, since JC drove most of the day before. With four hours of drive time left, I was deliriously tired but determined to stay awake and the only way to do that was to talk to JC.

I gripped the steering wheel and tried not to yawn. "Why are you so worked up about it? What's the point?"

"It's a metaphor," he declared.

"For?"

"Life! Okay, so, I watched it for the first time one night while we were on tour. It was the only thing on in English. We-Justin and I- we just started watching it, and we really got into it. We were supposed to meet the other guys to go get some food and they ended up coming up to the room to watch it with us. It's just...it's a really well made film. I see it every couple of years and it still affects me the same."

"So...I don't get it. How does a movie about a rich newspaper tycoon affect your life?"

JC tossed his hands in the air, full of mock frustration. "This is why you have to see the movie!"

"Ugh," I grunted. "We have four hours left in this car together. I'm actually letting you talk my ear off. Explain it to me."

"Alright," he said, gearing up for a long story, turning in his seat toward me. "So, Kane is this newspaper guy, right? Now, he's an idealist, so he wants to make the world a better place and he starts moving up in power. All the while, he's kind of losing parts and pieces of himself. His soul, his humanity, his idealism-- it's withering away. He ends up dying alone and his last word is Rosebud, and the whole movie is this guy Thompson trying to figure out what the hell Rosebud means. He interviews all the people in Kane's life, digs and digs, can't figure it out so finally he just says fuck it, it doesn't mean anything. And then, at the end of the movie, we learn that Rosebud is actually this... well, I don't want to spoil it for you. You'll see it in the movie."

"You won't spoil it, JC. Just tell me."

"Well, it's an object. And it means something to Kane. It goes back to a time in his life when he was really happy, before he got rich and famous and powerful, when he was idealistic and he wanted to be a journalist and save the world. It's a pretty good movie. We'll watch it."

"Mkay..." I rolled the plot around in my mind, drawing tangents to his life. "I see the metaphor, now."

He was quiet, suddenly. Contemplative and pensive, he gazed out of the window across the flat, dry dusty plain and nervously chewed on his bottom lip. It had been awhile since he'd talked about *NSYNC. Sometimes it was like his mind flooded with memories and the twists and turns of the past. It showed on his face, in the sudden stiffness of his shoulders and tension across his forehead.

"We were five kids," he said, almost mumbling to himself. "Even Chris was just a kid at first. We sang and we danced, and we really thought we'd be so happy when we got a deal. Then when we got to tour. When we got a hit record. And then two hit records. Then three, and four. And then when we had a hit record at home, and when we could turn on MTV and see our video, and then when we won awards. And.... and then when it was all over, truly over, I think each of us has, in our own way, realized that maybe we were happier in a cheap hotel in Poland or in a four bedroom house in Orlando. Singing. Dancing. Making music, the show in show business. Before everything hit hard, the work was the singing and dancing. After we made it, if you can call it that, the work was everything else-the interviews, the cameras. The meetings and the contracts and the schedule. The sacrifice. The loss of privacy. Everything but the show."

"I see," I said. "So the movie has sort of a ‘grass isn't always greener' kind of moral to it."

"Sort of," he answered, nodding slowly, still lost in his thoughts. "That's a simplistic way to put it. Yeah."

"Hm. Well. Can't wait to see it, then."

It took a few minutes, but the dark cloud lifted eventually. I felt him staring at me and I glanced over, our eyes meeting for a split second. He looked tired. So, so tired.

"You should sleep, babe," I said softly, a hand leaving the steering wheel to pat his leg. I laughed as he returned my pat, and then brought my hand back to the wheel.

"Ten and two, missy. You sure you don't want me to drive? You didn't sleep last night."

I shook my head and stifled another yawn. "I'm okay. Not long, now. I just want to get there. You didn't sleep either, so you should take a nap."

"I'll wait. Too close to home."

His eyes averted to the scene outside his window. Dry grassland being grazed by herds of horses and cattle whizzed by. His thumb left his mouth long enough to point at the serene ranch. "When we would go on road trips, if we saw cows, we'd always roll down the window and yell ‘moooooooo'! What's up with that? Cows can't understand that."

I giggled, shaking my head. "I don't know, JC. I guess people figure cows get it."

A gust of air blew past my cheek-he'd rolled down the window and leaned his head out, braying at the cattle. I slowed down, watching the animals as we passed. They seemed oblivious to the dark haired stranger in the car.

"They didn't even look up," he said, bringing his head back into the car and rolling the window back up. "They must be used to people yelling ‘moo' at them. That's bullshit. I'm bored."

"Bullshit?" I rolled my eyes in his direction but he was busy laughing at himself. "Clever."

Barely audible, light, peppy music crackled through the speakers. JC reached for the volume knob and turned it, filling the car with the sounds of disco. He groaned and turned it back down, muttering something about Chaka Kahn. "I thought I shamed you out of that."

"It's a compilation CD. Best hits of the 70's. And I never stopped; I just sneak it when you're not around, much like my vast collection of *NSYNC and JC Chasez that I'm not allowed to play..."

He waved me off with a disinterested yawn and turned the volume back up. After a few minutes he was bobbing his head along to the beat and singing along. Except for the music, there was no sound or conversation in the car for nearly an hour.

"Are you okay?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah. I haven't slept much in the last few days, I guess. Wasn't helping the situation."

"Certainly not. When you're freaked out, imagine how I feel. You're the calm one."

"Can't have that." A line of restaurants came into view as we passed a small town. My stomach growled at the mere sight of the IHOP sign and the scent of pancakes wafting through the vent. JC grinned over at me and satisfied the pleas of my stomach. "Let's eat. I'm hungry."

A small crowd had already packed in, the murmur of conversations and forks against white porcelain plates just barely audible over the mid 90's muzak. We were seated in sunny corner of the restaurant and left with full glasses of ice water and menus.

"I want one of everything. So hungry." I eyed JC over my menu, just as he opened his mouth to mutter the same thing he muttered every time I said I was hungry. "Don't say it."

"You're no fun at all. You must need a nap."

"I need some food and then a nap in your big old bed."

"Our big old bed," he corrected.

I browsed the menu quickly, deciding on a pancake feast and slid the laminated sheet to the end of the table. JC followed suit and then unwrapped his straw, dunking it into his glass of water and sucking down half of it. "You don't seem okay. Are you just thirsty?"

He nodded, though he looked pale except for the deep discoloration beneath each eye. "I think it's just this air. Kinda dry."

Our waiter appeared, notepad in hand. "Good morning," he chirped. "What can I getcha?"

I placed my order and JC followed with an unusually small one. The waiter picked up the menus, grinned and winked at JC and almost skipped away from the table.

"Think someone recognizes you," I sing-songed, smiling over my glass.

"Probably."

"Or maybe he just thinks you're hot."

"Maybe," he said, plainly. "Wouldn't be the first."

I snorted, choking on water. "Really? So who was the first? Can I guess?"

"No."

"Now you're no fun. Let me guess!"

"No."

"Was it Lance?"

"No," he answered quickly, his eyes flashing up at me. He gave his head a little shake and rolled his eyes before dropping them back to the table, where he seemed very interested in the tape that held the napkin rolled around his silverware.

"Oh. My. God. It's Lance, isn't it? Is he in love with you?"

"No," he said, frowning. "Honey, he's not the only gay man I know. But... people have told me some stuff he's said about me and... whatever." He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, trying hard to appear nonchalant through the slight blush.

"So nothing's ever happened with him?"

"No!" he hissed, his eyes roving the tables around us. "We don't have that kind of friendship, Serena. It was just sort of... he wasn't really trying to hide it after awhile. We knew, because you know, we had eyes, but he wasn't out to us. And then he was with that guy and you know, for all of Lance's experience he's still pretty naïve. Perez went on the hunt and things exploded out of control and..."

"I'm surprised Joey never said anything."

JC shook his head. "Joey's not really that kind of guy. If we asked him, point blank, he probably would have said something but he's not one to run and tell news.  Lance told me right before the People thing because I had a record coming out. He figured people would ask me. I think he was more concerned about his mom and grandma and everyone back in Mississippi. He knew they'd take it hard." He shrugged, gulping more water. "I felt bad for him, you know? Besides, that guy is like... my brother."

"What if he did, though? What if he said, like... hey man, I've been in love with you for a long time-"

"Uhm... you know what?" JC blushed a crimson red and tried not to smile. It wasn't working. "Yeah, I don't... I don't know. I don't see that happening. I'm not really...I'm not his type. He likes blondes, mostly. So did Melissa ever hit on you?"

"God, no," I sputtered, laughing. "I'm not her type either. And she wouldn't be mine."

JC paused, tilted his head and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And uhm... who would be?"

I shrugged, tipping my head side to side, pretending to dedicate deep thought to my answer. "Melissa and I talk about this all the time. We think maybe blondes. With big boobs."

He laughed, as quietly as he could, his head resting on his knuckles, face beet red. "Wow. You think your type is a blonde bimbo? I'd think you'd like the same kind of women as men. You know... brunette."

"Oh, yeah," I said with nod. "I love a tall, muscular, handsome, blue eyed... chick. You weren't my type, either, you know. You grew on me, though."

"Like a mole," he shot back but chuckled. "Smartass. I think I learn something new about you every day. So who do you think is cute?"

"Uhm... okay, I think Allison is cute. But I'm not fighting Ty for her. And I'm totally hot for you, so I won't hit on her."

"And you're not a lesbian."

"And neither is she."

"Details."

I giggled, blushing. "This is the weirdest conversation. So, back on topic. You're saying he never like, hinted toward anything with you? Because I just don't see how someone wouldn't totally want you."

"Really?" JC stared blankly. "Knowing everything you know about me, the real me, and thinking back to all seven fights-yes I've counted-that we've had since we left Orlando, really?"

"Well. On the surface, I'm just saying-"

"And I'm saying that you now know me almost better than Lance did. Ask yourself again, is he hot for me? Knowing me."

I sat back, staring at him. Contemplating. Remembering. Then shook my head. "I don't know. You're annoying and bossy. You totally drop the charm as soon as someone gets to know you."

"I'm not bossy," he sneered, then sipped more water. "I just like order. And I'm perfectly charming. Besides, he knows I'm heavily into a hot piece of ass sitting right here at this table."

"I'm stiff competition, though. Right?"

"There's no competition, honey. You win. Forever."

I laughed and raised a hand for a high five smack across the table. "Good answer, baby. Good answer."

I was developing bad habits from JC. Ten minutes after my plate hit the table, I was picking crumbs off of it. JC chewed through his meal slowly, watching me eat. "I've said this before, but you eat a lot for a girl. You want some more?"

I heaved a sigh of pure pleasure, sat back in my seat and relaxed, patting my full belly. "I'm satisfied. I swear, right here before God and everybody, I'm going on a diet as soon as we park the car in the driveway. Hand to God."

"Okay."

"What? You're not arguing with me?" JC smiled and finished his eggs, saying nothing. "You think I'm getting fat? I'm gaining weight?"

He laughed, wiped his mouth, drained his glass and picked up the check that the waiter had slid onto the table a few minutes before. He slid a few bills behind the receipt and stood. "I am not touching that with a ten foot pole."

I pushed my chair back from the table and stood to follow him out, threading a finger through a loop in the band of his jeans. "I have to be careful, you know. I'll have classic Greek hips to match my classic Greek nose."

"Your hips are fine," he said, over his shoulder. "Your nose is fine. Your whole body is fine. I have no complaints. But you won't believe me, so whatever you need to do to stop whining about it, do it. I'm behind you, completely."

"Aw, thanks for not saying out loud that you think I'm a fat ass."

JC stopped short of the door to the restaurant and turned around, staring me dead in the eyes. There was not even a hint of a smile in the straight line of his mouth across his face. His jaw was set and a vein throbbed in his neck. "Do not," he muttered, when his face was mere inches from mine, "put words in my mouth. I didn't say that and I don't think that. I just told you what I think. Are we clear?"

I stared up at him, wide eyed and surprised at sudden change in tone and mood. "Yeah," I answered, breathless, unable to say more because he turned around again and headed for the door. The bell over the entrance chimed as he opened it and walked out, and then stopped to wait for me.

"Let's go," he chided, the smile inching back, waving me out of the door. "I'm driving. You drive like my grandma, and I want to go home."

I tossed him the keys and walked a few paces behind him so I could watch his slow, confident, sexy saunter to the car. He was kind of hot when he was stern. Grooowwwlll...

*

I blinked back tears watching the large white garage door creep open, revealing JC's car sitting in its usual place. Next to his car was an empty spot, marked by a crudely hand painted sign taped to the wall that read ‘Welcome Home Serena.' JC pulled into the empty spot, put the car in park, turned it off, and sat there. Staring at me. Likely amused at my attempts to not cry.

"Tyler gave up his spot for you, by the way. I'll get you your door opener later."

I was still staring the sign. Incredulous and in sheer disbelief of the moment I was sitting in. I was, for all intents and purposes, home. The realization sank in faster than I thought it would, stirring emotions and tumbling my thoughts around. This was the moment that I had meant to have at the California/Arizona border. This was the jump into my future. This was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of a completely new frontier. I was overjoyed. And terrified. And so, so happy. And so, so scared.

"Let's leave all this stuff and unload later-" JC paused after the first tear rolled down my cheek. I sniffled as a few more dripped, mindlessly wiping them away as fast as they came. When I could, I tore my eyes away from the sign and slowly turned my head toward him.

He was watching me, concern in his eyes and across his forehead. He smiled, very slightly and held a hand out to me. I grabbed it, winding my fingers between his and squeezed, holding on for dear life.  He rubbed the skin on the back of my hand with his thumb, sending waves up my arm and through my body. The same thing he'd offered me the day I met him on a flight to LA was the same thing he had been offering all along, and it was the same thing he was offering now. I took it. Happily.

"Sorry about that," I warbled, wiping my face with my free hand and unsnapping my seat belt.

"It's okay," he said, his tone quiet. "You want to sit here for a minute? I'm not in a hurry. We're home, now."

I relaxed against the seat, squeezing his hand wrapped around mine. "I wasn't expecting it to be this emotional. It just feels like it took a long time to get here. And I don't mean the drive-"

"I know what you mean. Long time coming." He leaned across the seat and kissed me. Feather soft, so light and slow it made me lightheaded. When his eyes were open again, he said, "Welcome home, sweetheart."

"Thanks," I answered meekly, but with a smile. "Let's go."

He nodded and popped the latch, stepping out of the car and stretching his arms above his head. He then went directly to his car, shiny and black and luxury through and through, and tapped it on its roof. "My baby! I've missed you. I've been cheating on you with a Jetta, but I'm back. I'm gonna take you for a ride real soon."

"If you're done romancing your car..."

"Not that I don't like your car..."

"Mmmhmm, good save." I had reached the interior door to the house and tried the knob. It wouldn't turn. I jiggled it a few times but it was hopelessly locked. "Please tell me you know where your keys are."

JC shrugged and shuffled back to the Jetta, popped the trunk and rifled around in a few pockets before I heard the tinny tinkle of keys. He slung a bag over one shoulder and shut the trunk, then came around and unlocked the door. "You have a key to this door, by the way. It's...inside the house." He snickered as he pushed the door open and followed me inside.

The house was quiet. Dark and empty and quiet, the quietest I'd ever heard it. I headed straight for the stairs, with JC on my heels. "I'm so tired," I said, yawning as I reached the bedroom. "I want to take a shower, and go to sleep. Just those two things."

"No arguments there." I heard the bedroom door close and then I was being pushed from behind. "Let's make that happen. In a hurry."

"Okay, okay." I giggled, pulling off my -shirt, kicking out of my sandals and shorts.

"Oh, let me see if..." JC headed toward the closet and opened it, flipping on the light. "Yep. Come here. Got a surprise."

"In the closet? What-"

My jaw dropped as soon as I stepped into the room. It was the size of my old office at home, and the last time I saw it had been stuffed-neatly, but stuffed-with clothes, hats, and shoes. Half of the closet was now empty and a sophisticated closet organizer had been installed. What used to take up the entire closet had been compacted to JC's side. I had room for my entire wardrobe and more.

JC leaned against the doorjamb in jeans and bare feet. "I figured you might need some room."

"You figured right. Did you do this yourself?"

"Nah," he said, walking past me, through the closet to the door that led to the bathroom. "I wanted to but I ran out of time. They were just starting when I left." He grabbed a rung and shook it, nodding at the sturdy construction. "Looks good, huh? You like it?"

"I love it. I do! Thank you!" I stood back and stared it, my eyes crawling nearly to the ceiling. "There's room for all my bags! I almost can't wait to unpack, now."

"Later," he said, pulling me by the arm into the bathroom. He flipped the light switch and illuminated the spacious bathroom. The tile and glass and silver fixtures gleamed and the air smelled faintly of lemons. JC opened a cabinet and pulled out two towels, set them on the shelf next to the shower, opened the glass door and turned on the faucet. He turned to unzip his jeans, letting them fall down his hips and kicked out of them. I watched him, feel strangely detached.

"You act like you've never been in my bathroom before."

"I know. I kind of feel like...like I don't know what to do right now."

"I have some ideas," he offered, his eyebrows wiggling, his arms open. Maybe he expected me to laugh and rebuff him, but the invitation to fall into his arms was never a more welcome sight. In a few steps, my face was buried in the hair on his chest and my palms were flat against his back, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin as his arms closed around me. His beard, rough and scratchy, poked the skin on my cheek and shoulder while his lips worked their way down and back up my neck. The feeling was almost ticklish but so familiar. I started to feel relief, again. I was always home, right there.

"I'm so happy you're here."

"Me too." I sighed, steam billowing around us, filling up the room, heating up the already warm California air. "We're gonna lose our hot water."

A few minutes later we were stepping out of the shower, skin glowing from the water temperature and scrubbing almost two days on the road off of our bodies. We wrapped ourselves in huge, fluffy towels and fell into the familiar serenity of the huge bed.

"Oh my God." I slid between the cool, silky soft sheets that smelled like they were fresh from the dryer. I fluffed the pillows, laying back and breathing a deep, satisfied breath of air. "You were romancing the car, and I am romancing this bed. I fucking love your bed."

JC chuckled, scooting toward the middle. "I love you, fucking loving this bed. There's no place like home. Get over here."

I moved closer to him, finding myself in my usual position, in the crook of his arm, by habit. We laid there for a few minutes, listening to the silence. Wide awake.

"Wound up," he mumbled.

I tipped my head up so I could see him. "Yeah. I'm exhausted but my eyes won't close." 

"Maybe it's too bright in here." He got up, drew the blackout shades closed, and then got back into bed. The room was now dark as night and cooling down. "Better?"

"Yeah." And then a few minutes later, "No."

"I know. This sucks. I'm-maybe we should watch a movie. Wind down." He got up again, rifled through some DVDs, picked one at random and slid it into the player. As he crawled back into bed, the opening credits to an Indiana Jones movie flashed onto the screen.

"Another movie I haven't seen," I yawned.

"You are singlehandedly destroying my faith in humanity."

"Sorry, baby." I tossed an arm over him and kissed the closest patch of skin I could find, then snuggled into his chest and yawned again. "I also don't think I'm watching it today. I give myself five minutes before I'm out."

"Right behind you," he said, already sounding foggy with sleep.

 

My eyes popped open, wide open a short while later. I had slept, and slept hard and now my body was urging, through my bladder, for me to get up. JC lay sprawled out in the bed, almost spread eagle, deeply asleep. I slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom, and then to the closet. My luggage was still in the car and I was naked, so I dug through JC's side of the closet and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts to wear, giggling to myself at how tight they were on me. He was such a skinny ass.

I crept down the stairs and wandered the empty house. Either Tyler had done a good job of keeping it clean or he'd had someone come in and clean it, because every room was spotless. I opened the refrigerator, sure now that someone else had been in the house. It was fully stocked. Each time that I came to visit, the first task was to shop for food-JC and Tyler lived on frozen food, takeout, and the kindness of strangers. I shook my head, thinking to myself that the food situation would be the first to change.

I eventually ended up in the den, curled up in a corner of the couch with the remote. Just as my eyelids were beginning to droop, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, down the hall, toward the den. JC stalked into the room in a t-shirt and jeans and dropped onto the couch next to me, eyes barely open,   curls tousled and piled high on his head. He yawned, loudly, blinking at the TV.

"Why are you always wearing my clothes?" His voice was rough, gravely, kind of sexy if he wasn't half asleep, sitting up.

"Because you haven't brought my luggage in. I couldn't sit down here naked, now could I?"

"I have nothing against you being naked. Ever." He palmed a throw pillow and tossed it into my lap, and then laid down on it. "I'll get your luggage later. You need it right now?"

I shook my head. "You came all the way downstairs to lay on me and go back to sleep?"

He huffed a breath and frowned. "After what... three weeks? I can't sleep without you. I wake up as soon as you get out of the bed."

"You're supposed to be some kind of master sleeper. You sleep through everything."

He pointed up at me, his finger wavering in my face. "Everything except you getting out of bed. Hush up, now." He rolled to his side, snuggled into the couch, and said, "Going back to sleep."  Now trapped on the couch under a deeply slumbering man, I tipped my head back against the back of the couch and let my eyes slide closed again.

The slam of a door and the pounding of footsteps on the stairs from the garage stirred us from sleep.  JC groaned and sat up as Tyler literally exploded into the den.

"You guys made it! You're home!"

"Settle down, Beavis," said JC, blinking, squinting at the TV, then the clock, and finally Tyler. "We got in this morning. Where were you?"

"I stayed at Ali's, and I went to work." Tyler fell into a chair opposite the couch. "Well? How was it? You guys see some cool stuff? Have a good time?"

"Yes," I answered. "We saw some cool stuff and had a great time. We didn't kill each other and we still love each other and we're still together."

JC stood then, yawning and stretching and scratching his belly. He stepped over my legs and stalked out of the room. "Don't listen to her. I'm never going on a road trip with her ever again."

"He loved it, every minute," I whispered to Tyler.

JC's voice carried from downstairs. "Hey, since you have so much energy you can help me unpack Serena's car."

Tyler lumbered out of the room again, full of excitement. I envied his youthful spirit, particularly at a time when I was simply bone tired. I was waiting to feel different, some sense of permanence, a feeling that I was really at home. It hadn't come yet, but it would. Soon enough. I hoped.

"Sweetie, you wanna let Tyler know where to put your stuff?"

I sighed-a happy sigh-and got up from the couch. Tyler was laden with my suitcases and bags, waiting for an order.  "Well, where does he think they're going? Upstairs, to the bedroom, please."

*

We'd spent the evening trying to stay awake, smiling and laughing with the few guests that stopped by to welcome us home. I made dinner, we had some drinks, we looked at pictures, and JC told stories of our travels from the previous weeks. By the time it was just us again, we were exhausted and headed back upstairs to bed.

I woke up alone, in the middle of the bed in a very quiet house. JC was already up and out the door. His to do list was so long it was giving him anxiety. Taking care of a few details would bring the calm back to his voice and relieve the tension from his shoulders and the lines from his forehead. Unlike me, he had plenty to do.

I rolled over, contemplating. I actually did have a lot to do. The business of relocating involved paperwork-a lot of it-and manual labor. Unpacking was not a job I was looking forward to. I considered putting it off but JC's need for order would not abide suitcases hanging out for an extended amount of time. At some point, I had to unpack.

Laundry. I could do my own damn laundry! That thought, for some reason, energized me. I hopped out of the bed and tossed on some clothes, and bounded down the stairs to the small room off of the garage that held the washer and dryer. JC had dropped our bags of laundry there the night before.

I could see the glow from the light in the laundry room from around the corner. I barreled into the room- right into someone coming out of it. I screamed, she screamed, and I jumped back into the hallway.

"Oh my God," I heaved, panting. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm so sorry," she said, clutching her chest. "I didn't expect you home for at least a week!"

She... what? I glared at her, viewing her head to toe. She was a short, stocky woman with dark, curly hair, ratty jean shorts and tank top, ear buds in, connected to an iPod. She paced the hall, back and forth, until she could breathe.

"Can I ask who you are? I mean, I don't mean to be rude but... I live here, and-"

"Yes. Yeah, I'm so sorry." She held out a hand to shake mine. "I'm Maggie. Mr. Cha-JC...he said call him JC... he hired me last fall. He said he was going to pick up his girlfriend to move her here. He said it would be about a month or so before he was back..."

"He exaggerates. And we came home a little early. Uhm..." Breathe, Serena. I raked through my hair, which must have been a terrible curly mess. I had on no makeup, no bra, nothing. This stranger was meeting me for the first time and I looked like shit. I could just kill JC. He forgot to tell me he hired someone to be in the house alone with me?

"I was just doing some laundry I saw that JC left here and I just finished the kitchen-"

I gasped, sucking in a deep, loud breath. The kitchen! After dinner and drinks and socializing, I was too tired to clean the kitchen. I had left plates and glasses stacked in the sink, a few dirty skillets, and seasonings sitting out. JC said nothing when I said I would leave it until the morning.

I flushed red with embarrassment. This was just a clusterfuck. "I didn't... I didn't mean to leave that mess for you. I'm so sorry, I had no idea. JC didn't tell me he hired someone and-wait. Laundry? You did the laundry?"

She beamed, pointing into the compact, bright white room. Piles of clothing were stacked on the built-in shelves.  Baskets were lined beneath them, except for one that sat in front of the dryer that was softly humming. "I'll take it upstairs in just a few minutes. I'm waiting for the last load to finish. If you'll excuse me, I was watering the back lawn."

She shimmied past me, leaving me dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway. If it was possible, I felt even more out of place in this house that wasn't mine. I should have been grateful. I should have been amused that JC forgot to tell me that he hired a housekeeper. Instead, I was offended and I didn't know why.

I stomped back up the stairs to start the only task that was truly mine to complete. Unpacking.

At some point, I calmed. Possibly after the glass of wine that I had with my dinner, which I ate alone. Tyler called to say that he was having dinner with Allison. I hadn't heard from JC all day. I kept picking up the phone to check it, wondering if he would call me. Or text me. Or if I should call him? I didn't want to bother him if he had a lot of work to do, so I spent most of the day wandering the house, watching TV. Trying to calm down. The wine helped.

By the time JC's car rolled into the garage, I was feeling warm and peachy. He was home, finally. I heard the door open and I thought he would come up and see me, but he only yelled, "Hi" up the stairs and went to his studio. Minutes later, music thumped through the floor.

You have got to be kidding me. My eyes rolled practically to the back of my head. I was starting to steam again, so I went back upstairs to the bedroom, dug a book out of my bag and tried to read, but the words swam before my drunken eyes.

It was well after midnight when the bedroom door opened and JC sauntered in, whistling a tune, sounding relaxed and happy. "What's up, shitty?" he said from inside the closet. I heard him kicking off his shoes and his jeans unzipping.

"Don't call me that," I grumbled, tossing my book onto the side table. "What happened to sweet girl? Don't call me the same shit you call everyone else."

"Fine, fine," he said, laughing. He stepped out of the closet and closed the door. "What's up, sweet girl? I see you got some unpacking done."

"Yeah. I could just hear you bitching about boxes and suitcases sitting around."

"I was gonna give you a few days. Like, ‘till tomorrow."

"See. I knew it. Are you done for the night?"

JC crawled across the surface of the bed to me and planted his lips on mine. "Yup. You miss me?"

"Maybe." I pouted, and then kissed him back. "So, some lady broke in today and did our laundry and cleaned the kitchen and watered the backyard. It was freaky. She said she would come back Thursday."

He winced, sinking onto the bed. "Really. California has nice burglars like that. I forgot to tell you about Maggie, huh?"

"Yeah. So, tell me about Maggie."

"I've actually only seen her a couple times. She sneaks in and sneaks out. Things magically get cleaned. I kind of forgot she was coming in. Sorry."

"So your clothes were appearing in your drawers and closets for months, how? Magic?"

He looked up at me and smiled a bashful grin. "I told you, I'm spoiled. Someone always does it. I hired Maggie to stop that, to stop people from coming in here and taking over. I knew you were coming out here and you probably wouldn't appreciate my female friends managing my house."

"Well... I mean. Thank you. Really-"

"But?"

"But nothing. Thank you. I just was kind of looking forward to doing our laundry. You know, like I have been the last few weeks. I like doing it. It makes me feel like I take care of you."

"Sweetie, you don't have to wash my t-shirts to take care of me. I appreciate it, though."

"And she cleaned up my mess in the kitchen. I just feel weird about it. I've never had a housekeeper or maid or whatever and I don't need someone making me feel guilty for leaving a mess in the kitchen."

"Did she? Make you feel guilty?"

"Not on purpose," I admitted. "I just-"

"You just made yourself feel guilty. She cleaned the kitchen. I guarantee you that Tyler has left a far messier kitchen for her to clean up. She loves to do it. She gets paid well to do it. Leave it alone. If you don't want her cleaning up after you, don't leave her a mess to clean up. Easy."

"Yeah. But--"

"Serena, look. She comes Tuesdays and Thursdays. If you have your heart set on doing my laundry, talk to her and ask her not to do it. Or do it before she comes in, but I'm not getting in the middle of a death match over who gets to wash my boxers. Alright?" A flick of the hand and a roll of his eyes told me he was done. He crawled under the covers, piled half of the pillows up behind him and took the remote from me. "You watchin' this?"

"No," I moped, sinking further under the covers and into the bed. I had done nothing all day but I was exhausted from being offended. Deflated, I rolled to my side and tried to block out the sound of the TV. Whatever JC was watching was loud and obnoxious.

A finger poked me in the back, and then the side, and then the ass. I swatted at him, but he kept poking until I turned around. Pouting, I rolled to my side.

"What?" he asked.

"What, what?"

He poked at my bottom lip. "This lip is ridiculous, it's poking out so bad. You're all... sad. What?"

"Nothing."

"Jesus, really? What, Serena?"

I sighed. "I'm not complaining. I'm not mad. I'm... I was disappointed in today."

"Because you didn't get to wash my clothes?"

I glared at him, but tried to explain. "It sounds stupid and I'm sorry but it's how I feel. My day started out by scaring the shit out of Maggie, and then I didn't hear from you all day, and I thought you would call, and I didn't want to bug you, and I didn't want to be all ‘what time are you coming home', so I let it go. And then you came home and you didn't come see me, you just went to the studio. You've been home for hours and this is the first I've seen you. All day. I'm disappointed. Yes, I missed you. How thick-headed do you have to be to realize that after being attached at the hip for like... a month, that I might miss you a little bit and maybe I'd like to see you once every twenty-four hours or so? I mean I'm not trying to be clingy, really and maybe I need to adjust my expectation since we're home now, but--"

"Shit. I'm sorry I asked." His eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth drawn down toward his chin. "I'm sorry. Today was full. Overfull, everything running into everything else. Every time I tried to call, I got pulled away to something. And you didn't call so I figured you were busy. I came home, I went into the studio for one thing and it's just like always, I end up stuck in there for hours. But I gotta tell you something."

His eyes opened, and with a flick of his finger, he muted the TV. "I was down there, working away, you know? Sorting through things, organizing, planning my day tomorrow. And uhm, I have a screensaver on the computer down there. It's a picture of us from last summer, up at the lake with your parents. It's a nice one; we're so relaxed and happy. We told them that you were moving here, and they didn't hate me or blame me, and I felt like I was a part of your family, out there. And every time I see that picture, it reminds me of you. I'd sit down there, night after night, counting the days until you're here and then I see that picture and it makes me want to talk to you.

"Now, normally I would just pick up the phone and call you and I started to do that tonight. I was sitting there with the phone in my hand and I was like... you idiot. Serena's here. She's right upstairs." He leaned over and dropped a sweet kiss on my lips. "I totally forgot you were here, honey. And I'm sorry. And as soon as I remembered, I came upstairs to see you. Because I missed you."

I didn't know if I was supposed to believe his story, however sweet it was, or pretend to believe it and not make waves. Either way, I was not even close to starting our first fight in LA. I had missed him, all day, but he was here. Finally. Good enough for me.

"I missed you, too. A lot. You should call me, tomorrow. A lot. And now that you're here, maybe I can get some sleep."

"I'll call you tomorrow. A lot."

I smiled, snuggled up close to him, rested my cheek on his chest and a leg tucked between his and drifted off to sleep.

It would be the last time we'd fall asleep together for awhile. 



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