"Sooo..."

Melissa's Tennessee drawl gave the extended word a southern twang that almost hugged me through the phone line. The mere sound of her voice was enough to make me almost cry, I missed her so much. I snuggled into a comfortable chair in the bedroom and muted the TV, grinning at nothing and looking forward to a conversation with my oldest, bestest friend.

"So... what?"

"So... how is LA? How are things? How are you? Talk to me!"

"Things are... uhm..."

A breath caught in her throat as she groaned and uttered an "Uh oh."

"No, no. Things are good. It's just... it's just different."

"Duh, it's different. You live on a different coast in a different time zone with your hot boyfriend who's, you know, a famous musician. Why do you not sound excited about that? At least the hot boyfriend part?"

"I am! I am, I promise. It's just a little different than I thought it would be, you know?"

Different was maybe not the word for how I thought it would be to finally live in LA. With JC. In a giant, quiet, white stone house atop a hill.  I could have breakfast, lunch and dinner on one of several balconies in view of the lush, green Hollywood Hills. I could take my evening glass of wine out near the pool and watch the sun sink behind the mountains and the patio lights begin to glow, one by one, reflected in the calmness of the pool. I could venture down the hill and stroll Sunset Boulevard, have a quick meal or meet a friend or get a tattoo or buy some shoesrrr-- however I chose to spend my day, I could do it, now. Without trying to soak in every moment because I was leaving the next day or the next week or the next month, I could go to the Grove and shop. Buy a book. See a movie. Watch a concert.  I had every benefit of a west coast life that I had dreamed about at my fingertips- except the man that I had moved to LA to be with.

It wasn't JC's fault. He tried to warn me. The road trip was long and winding and we stayed gone as long as possible because once we hit LA County, it would be work, work, work for him. He had weeks of meetings and writing and sessions to catch up on-I knew that it would be that way. I wanted to get home so that he could get to work. I thought I was prepared for the absolute silence.

I thought wrong.

It was impossible to explain the sheer loneliness of living with JC but never seeing him except for glance and a kiss in the morning and a grunt and a dip in the bed at night, or a few phone calls or texts during the day meant to comfort me, but made me feel even more alone. Sometimes I woke myself for a few minutes just to see him and talk to him, which he mistook for waking up for sex. Not that I argued, because I missed him, but he was worn out after working so hard all day. Gone were the long, slow lovemaking sessions and the time spent just staring at each other, touching and feeling and teasing and titillating to the very brink and then clinging to each other as we fell over the cliff of climax and sank gently into sleep.  God, I missed that. Most of all, I missed that.

For more than a week, we hadn't had more than twenty minutes together, awake and in the same room, at the same time. I would never complain about his skills but he seemed more concentrated on hitting a target or achieving a goal than making love to me. He then would immediately pass out, leaving me to lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it would always be this way. Wouldn't he always have a full plate, a lot to do, a busy schedule? What would happen if he got a recording contract, and released a CD, and went on press tours and TV shows and, and, and... I would roll over and wrap my pillow around my head, over my ears, as if it would silence my thoughts. It never did.

"What do you mean, a little different? Do you mean that he's busy?"

"Yeah," I answered, adding a sarcastic chuckle. "I'm starting to forget what he looks like."

"Well, you dated the man for over a year and saw him six times. You've been with him day and night for what, a month? A week of a busy schedule and you're already pouting?"

"Almost two weeks. And I know," I said, emitting a groan from deep in my chest. "I feel like a loser and a brat sitting around here, missing him.  I can't help it, though. It's like night and day, Mel."

You had to know Melissa to know the "tone" of her sighs. This one, long and exaggerated and full of irritation, said I had a lecture coming. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and braced for it. There was no avoiding a lecture and once she got started there was no stopping her.

"You know what, honey? You better find a way to get a life and live it. You're home. You hear me? Home."  My heart beat out of control and slammed around in my chest at the word ‘home'. I'd spent two weeks trying to feel like I was home. It wasn't really working.  "The same things you did to distract yourself from missing him when you lived in Atlanta are the same things you need to do with yourself right now. You know him, and I know him, and we both know how he'd react if he knew you were moping around.  You're young, you're vibrant, you're in LA, and you're still on vacation! Act like it."

"I know! I know. You are so right. I'm... I'm going out. Somewhere. Tonight."

"That's my girl. Stay out of trouble, though. The last thing I want to read is about the LAPD having to pick you up. You know people send me articles if the author so much as breathes JC's name."

We shared a bout of short, nervous laughter before moving on to other topics, like how Melissa and Annette were spending their time, Jen and Bryan and the new baby and how my house had turned into the perfect home for them. I felt a pang of homesickness and had to redirect the conversation to happier thoughts. "I fly to Vail next week. I'm so excited. I can't wait to see everyone."

"Oh, and JC is meeting the grandparents. How's that gonna go?"

"Oh, who knows? I don't even want to think about the things they'll say to him. He has his heart set on going. I'm almost hoping he'll decide he's too busy."

Melissa snickered, having been on the receiving end of curious glances and the freedom to ask nosy questions that come with old age. Never mind that she had to define what a lesbian was to my grandmother. "No, you don't. You want him experience good old fashioned family time."

"That'll be enough sarcasm out of you, young lady. I need get dressed and rustle up some company for tonight. I'll call you next week." 

I ended the call with a smile, a feat that I wasn't sure could be accomplished when I picked up the phone and dialed. Melissa was right. I knew, in my heart, what she would say when I called. I had to figure out how to make my own way in LA. She forgot, though, that she'd been a big part of what kept me sane in the lean times, the months and months between visits with JC. I stayed busy with a social life and family and friends and projects. I had a job that kept me on the run with travel and long term assignments. I had none of those things now. Not even my books-my belongings were still in storage in Atlanta, waiting to be shipped. Waiting for me to decide that LA was a "go".  Waiting for me to decide that I was home and I was staying and I could put down roots. I hadn't made that decision yet.

I did decide, however, that I couldn't spend another evening alone in that house. I tore off the ratty t-shirt and shorts I'd put on because I knew JC would not be around all day and turned on some music --the forbidden playlist-and turned it up loud while I hopped into the shower. I sang and I danced and had my own little concert in the bathroom, like I would do if I was home alone.  

I didn't even notice him, I was so wrapped up in the plans I was making in my head and my conversation with Melissa. By the time I noticed he was in the room, I had already done a naked dance to ‘I Want You Back'. His laughter carried over the music and I whipped around to find him in the corner, sitting in the chair I'd been sitting in, watching me. It was odd-good, but odd-to see him in the middle of the day, but his smile was bright and beautiful and so welcome.

"Hi," I said, glowing red, reaching for the remote to turn the stereo volume down. "I didn't realize you'd be home."

"Obviously." His eyes traveled my body slowly, head to toe. He gulped loudly, staring like a man dying of thirst would stare at glass of water. "What... uhm..." He blinked, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and began again. "What are you doing?"

"I was going out. I've been holed up in the house for awhile."

"I noticed. I wasn't going to say anything. Glad you finally decided to get off your ass." My eyes shot up to glare at him but I recognized the smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, well. Can't wait around for you to entertain me, can I?" I picked up a bottle of lotion from a shelf in the closet and pointed it at him, eyebrows raised. "Are you in a hurry, or do you want to do the honors?"

He grinned and shot out of the chair. "I always have time for touching you. Gimme that bottle."

Considering my level of sexual frustration over the past week, I wanted to argue but clamped my mouth shut, instead opting to be happy for what I was getting. I laid on my stomach, stretched across the bed, and relished in the feeling of JC's hands, his touch forceful yet soothing, rubbing the thick cream into my skin.

"I haven't done this in awhile," he said, massaging my back. "Forgot how much I like doing it."

I hummed a happy, satisfied tune. "I didn't forget how much I like you to do it."

He motioned for me to turn over, so I did and closed my eyes while he started at my toes and worked his way up my body, pausing to let his lips flutter over parts of me-a fold of skin, a nipple, the crease of my elbow, the dip in my neck.

"I miss you, you know."  

My eyes opened at the sound of his voice. Not so much what he said, but how he said it--low and soft and a little sad. In an instant, I was ashamed of all my feelings of neglect and loneliness. It was as hard for him to be away from me as it was to not have him near me.

"I miss you, too. A lot. Kind of sad how we won't really see each other until we leave town again."

"Yeah. Uhm..." He scratched at his chin, the long hairs of his beard rasping beneath his fingertips. "So, I came up to tell you that uh... I made the appointment. The therapy appointment."

I hadn't forgotten but didn't remind him for fear he'd think I was nagging. He'd remember and make it in his own time; I just knew that he would. "When is it? And are you okay about it?"

"Next Wednesday. And I'm okay. It's just some talking, right? And I fly to Orlando on Thursday, so maybe uhm... I don't know, maybe it'll give me some time to think. It'll be fresh in my mind and I can talk to my family about it. And then we can talk about it when I see you."

"Yeah. That would be good." I reached out to him, ran a hand down his long, thin face, and cupped his chin, lifting his head so I could see his eyes. They were red rimmed, likely from lack of sleep than anything else, but he just looked so tired. He needed another vacation already.

"Another thing is that uh..." He took my hand, winding his fingers between mine and then staring at our joined hands, his wrapped around mine. "Tyler is bailing on Miami, this year. He's going up to Washington to spend New Year's Eve with Allison's family.  It's kind of not the same trip without him and he was talking about being excited to go home with her. I was thinking maybe I would go to Denver with you. Start the year off right. Together, you know?"

Startled, I sat up a little. I'd gone from spending my entire Christmas holiday away from JC to being with him the entire time. How this was not making me jump for joy was beyond me.

"Well... I mean, of course I'm not gonna say no, don't come spend New Year's Eve with me, but JC...You go to Miami every year.  I don't want you giving your trip for me."

I expected him to wave me off, and he did. Nonchalant and showing little concern, he said, "I'm not. Really, I'm not. I just want to do something different. And I want to be with you when the new year starts. I remember last year. Vividly. It's been a long year, huh?"

Maybe the year had been long to him, but to me, it seemed time had screamed past me. In the blink of an eye, my life as so incredibly different-new man, new job, new place to live, new family. So much self confidence, so much insecurity.  So much about my life had changed in such a short span of time, I felt like I had been in the eye of a tornado. I looked forward to a return to some sense of my old routine, of normalcy and familiarity. I was overjoyed that JC wanted to be with me at the beginning of a new year, but I also felt like I was losing what was a tenuous grip at best on the last bastion of my old life. Not only was I giving up my New Year's Eve at the base of a snow-capped mountain to spend a holiday with my birth family, but JC was horning in on it, too. Inexplicably, the anxiety level was rising.

JC kissed the jumble of fingers that was our clasped hands and sighed. "I have to get back to work. Got a meeting with Eric and a session out in Burbank.  Enjoy your day. You okay for money?"

I grunted, rolling my eyes and swatting at him. "Go away. I love you."

"You're not cheap enough. I would totally take free money." He leaned toward me, lips puckered for a kiss. "Love you, too. You want me to turn your music back on?"

"Please. And tell no one of my naked dancing."

"You kidding? On my way to write a song about it." He snickered, picked up the remote and pressed the volume button until the music was as loud as it could possibly go. He grinned, then handed the remote to me, blew me a kiss and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"He's such a smartass," I mumbled to myself, lowering the volume to a level that didn't rattle the windows. "I miss his smart ass."

*

I'd spent part of my afternoon driving around LA and West Hollywood, getting lost and finding my way back again. The towers of the Sheraton hotel loomed in the distance as I laughed and turned the radio all the way up. The same song I'd heard on my first trip was playing, when everything was so beautiful and magical and new.

This ain't no disco 
It ain't no country club either 
This is LA!

"All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die," 
Says the man next to me out of nowhere 

Memories were a funny thing. Sometimes they scared the shit out of me, the bad ones. Then there were the good ones that made me smile with nostalgia and the comfort of the past. And then there were some that made me warm and gooey on the inside and fanned the flame that seemed to always be smoldering in the pit of my stomach. That day just a year before came to mind, when I landed in LA, having just met JC, then climbed into a taxi with a date for the night and no idea what kind of rollercoaster turns my life would take. The world was nothing but open doors for me. I walked through one of them and never looked back.

I was coasting on the feelings of yesteryear, the same hopeful, good mood, driving around LA. I recognized a salon, the same one Lara and JC and their clan of friends all frequented. On a whim, I quickly changed lanes and swung into a parking space right up front. Minutes later I was in a chair and being treated like royalty. Apparently knowing both Lara and JC was akin to possessing the Holy Grail.  Now my stylist, Annika, stood behind me, holding a bowl in one hand and squares of foil in the other.

"Okay, so... are you sure you want to do this?"

I nodded at myself in the mirror. "Yep. Let's do it. I'm ready for something different."

"If JC doesn't like this, you know who he'll call, right?"

"I promise not to rat you out. I want to do it. Let's go for it."

She sighed, shook her head and smiled, and got to work brushing the color into my hair. By the time I left the salon, my dry, frizzy curly hair would be tamed into a long, sleek do. And would be fire-engine red.

"What do you think?" Annika's expert fingers fidgeted with my ends, laying them just so, making sure my face was framed.

"Sassy!" I winked at her in the mirror, almost laughing at the wrinkle in her forehead. "You really think JC will care about my hair?"

"Well... I don't know." She shrugged, tugging at my hair until I pushed her hands away. She gathered her tools and bowls and untied the cover up from around my neck. "He's your man, but I've never known him to dig a redhead. I'm just saying."

"Well, he always says that if I like it, he likes it. I'm feeling brave, I guess. We'll see." I picked up my purse from where I'd stashed it alongside her station. "How much do I owe ya?"

"Oh, God. Put your money away. JC would kill me if I charged you. Really." She grinned and backed her way through the swinging saloon doors to the sink, leaving me to stare, dumbfounded into the mirror. "Have a good night," she called from around the corner. "If he likes it, you can come back and get something he'll let me charge you for."

"What the hell is that?" I muttered to myself. I slipped a generous tip into her drawer and watched myself glide out of the salon, red hair fanning behind me. I looked so very different.

Maybe it would match how different I felt.   

Later ... much later that night, I found myself at the corner of a long, shiny bar of maple in one of LA's many nightclubs. The newest, Drae's, was still celebrating its grand opening with drink specials and live entertainment. I dropped in to visit Lara at her new job as a waitress. She sat me in her section and fed me free drinks. Hours had passed and I was more than tipsy before I knew it. But I was having fun.

"Yeah this job is totally better than stripping." Lara hiked herself onto the seat next to me, sinking into the supple leather and high cushion.  She kept one eye on the crowd and the other on a drink she was nursing. "I make less money, I just got my ass slapped by the tall guy at table twelve over there," she nodded toward a table of rowdy middle aged men across the room. "And my feet are killing me. At least when I stripped I only had to be on my feet for as long as the song played."

"I was shocked when JC told me you stripped. I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know," she said with a shrug. "I told him not to say anything for awhile. Awhile turned into a long time and, well... I'm not ashamed of it but maybe it's best if people don't know I used to do that."

I nodded with full understanding, considering my reaction. "Right. Right. So why did you quit?"

She smiled, the roundness of her cheeks taking on a pink glow. "Michael. He didn't like it. Preferred that I didn't but the choice was always up to me. I wasn't all that married to the job. I kind of fell into it by accident after I lost a job and never stopped." She sipped her drink, slurping the watered down mixture under the ice and then tossing a few chips into her mouth. "We're talking about settling down, after he's off tour. Getting married. Stripping just won't work for the long term."

"And this..." I waved a hand in the direction of the loud, crowded club full of rowdy men overly doused in strong cologne and scantily clad women teetering around in four inch heels and orange tans. "This is better?"

Lara paused, her lips pursed. The ice in her glass tinkled as she tipped it again and dumped more shards into her mouth. She crunched them as she said, "If I had two degrees and a big important new job and was dating JC Chasez, I bet I could look down my nose at people, too."

It was my turn to glow red. JC was right-I was judgmental.  And it was ugly. I wanted to slide out of the chair and onto the floor and deep under the earth. Fuck! "Wow. Lara, I--"

"Don't worry about it," she interrupted with a flick of her wrist. "I know what you meant. For now, it'll work. For the summer, at least. The tips are good, and I know the owner and the bartender is Mike's friend. And some things never change-- I don't have to wear a lot of clothing." She giggled, eyeing herself in a strapless black silk corset, sheer tights and heels. "Mike wants me to think about going back to school in the fall, so..."

"Really? That's great! What are you going for?"

She shrugged with a grimace. "Fuck if I know. Why do you think I'm working at a nightclub? I have no idea what I'm doing with my life." She nodded toward the bartender and slid down from the stool. "Back to work for a bit. You leaving soon?"

"Depends. Are my drinks still free?"

She grinned and then gestured toward the bartender and pointed toward my empty glass. The bar was busy, and he seemed to work like he had five or six hands but he winked and began preparing a fresh drink. "Long as I'm on the clock, sugar. By the way, your boyfriend is gonna shit a brick about your hair. You know that, right?"

I watched her bounce away, musing again about my hair. I checked my reflection in the mirror across from the bar, running my fingers through the long, bright red strands. "It doesn't look that bad," I mused to myself.

"Here ya go, honey." The bartender slid a full glass of pink fizzy goodness in front of me. "You an actress or somethin'? Have to wear a wig or somethin' like that?"

I pouted. "No. I just got it done today and no one likes it."

He offered me a quick glance of pity before he went back to his paying patrons. Surly, I sucked down half of my drink and turned around to watch the room at play, the dance of seduction between men and women. I amused myself by pairing unlikely couples and trying to determine which of the pairs simulating sex on the dance floor would go home with each other.

"Whew," Lara sighed, slipping her heels off and wincing as she limped behind the bar. It was well past last call, past closing time, and the club was empty except for the cleaning crew and closing staff. "I love this time of night. The end of it, that is."

"Yup," was all I could think of to say. I was warm and sleepy, and kind of wondering how I would get home.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drive your car home. I don't even know if you know where you are, right now."

"Drae's," I answered, not liking the slur in my voice. And then in the next second not really giving a shit.  I was on vacation. "I'm at Drae's. Visiting Lara. I miss my boyfriend. It's time to go?"

"Yeah. Hang on, before you fall on your face." Lara came around the bar, slinging a bag over her shoulder and held my arm as I oozed out of the seat. "Keys. Gimme." I handed her my purse and took her hand as she led me out of the club.

In the car, the radio was still turned up high, blasting KROQ into the night. Lara and I sang along to the music as she drove through LA to West Hollywood. In what seemed like no time, she was pulling into my spot in the garage, next to JC's car.

Bleary eyed, I lobbed my head in Lara's direction. "You coming in?"

"Uh, yeah. I've got to see his reaction to your hair. It's required." She popped the latch and climbed out, waiting for me to make my way around the front of the car to the door. "Besides, I need to make sure you make it into the house and don't curl up in the laundry room."

I squinted at the set of keys in my hands, concentrating on the new ones, gleaming copper like a new penny. There were too many keys. Which one did JC say opened the door? "JC hired a maid. She does his laundry. It pisses me off."

Lara giggled. "Why's it piss you off?"

"Cause... cause I wanna do it!"

"Well then do it. You know he doesn't care. Did you tell him that you want to do it?"

I found the key, I thought, and tried to insert it in the lock. "He said...'I'm not gonna get in a death match about my boxers, Serena.' Or some shit. Like that."

"That sounds like him. You got it, there? Serena?"

Try as I might, the lock wouldn't budge. Frustrated, I tossed the keys at her. "I don't know which key it is!"

"Okay, okay. Let me see if I can--" The lock jiggled from the other side and the door flew open. JC stood in the opening and leaned his wrist against the doorjamb. He wasn't wearing anything but a white t-shirt and pajama pants but he could not have looked any hotter to me. I was ready for Lara to leave already.

"Could you guys make a little bit more noise? You know it's almost four am, right?"

"Sorry. Your lady here had a bit too much tonight. I had to make sure she got home." Lara grabbed me by the arm and guided me to the door. "Come on, honey. Door's open."

"I can see the damn door is open. I'm drunk, not blind. Fuck." I tipped my head up to JC as I passed him. He kissed me but his lips didn't linger as long as I would have liked. He was staring-hard-at my hair. "Hi baby. I look any different?"

"Hi. A little."

"A lot," Lara called from the hallway where she dumped my purse and keys. "Gonna have to have a talk with Annika."

"I said I wouldn't rat her out."

"Too late." JC stopped me in the hallway, where he could see me in the light. "Do you like it?"

I nodded, and smiled. "Yeah. I think it's different. I wanted different."

"It's different, honey."

He dropped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. I burrowed my nose into his chest, sucking in a deep breath of him, finding comfort in his scent-sweat and soap and light strains of cologne. I listened, through his chest, as chatted with Lara. Tyler came home and then left again to drive Lara back to her car. I sleepily offered a wave to her as she gave me a pat on my shoulder on her way out.

When we were alone, I felt JC take a breath and try to guide me toward the stairs. "Alright, sweet girl. Upstairs we go. You need some water?"

"I'm okay. I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Is your phone not working?"

"Mmmm..." I tried hard to think about the last time I had even seen my phone. I must have left it next to the chair after talking to Melissa. "I think I forgot it."

We made our way up the steps, slowly. One a time. All three flights. "I was trying to call you, to see where you were. I would have come to get you."

"I made it home. I'm okay."

"Yeah, you said that." JC opened the door to the bedroom and ushered me in. landed on the edge of the bed, and then laid back, stretching my arms out above my head and then spreading them wide, hoping he would just come over and lay on me.

"Come here. I want you."

"You're drunk, honey. You need water and sleep.  Let's get you ready for bed." He bent to help me take off my shoes. At the same time I kicked my leg out, nearly missing him. "Serena... stay still."

"What if I don't want to?" I sat up, leaning on my elbows. "What if I just want you to like... forget that I'm drunk and rip my clothes off and ravish me-"

"Ravish you?"

"Ravish me! You... fucker! Look at me like you used to look at me and stop trying to... take care of me." I labored to sit all the way up, swatting his hands away from the button on my jeans. "Stop. Don't undress me unless you're planning to fuck me like you haven't been for two weeks. Otherwise..."

I managed to get to my feet. The room was spinning and I seemed to be weaving. Once I was steady, I started pulling at my own clothes, stripping on my way to the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower. Don't come in here. I'm drunk and you hate fucking me when I'm drunk."

"Serena, what do you want me to do? You could fall, or something."

"You know what, JC?" I stopped at the door of the bathroom, suddenly lucid as I stared at him, watching him undress. "Sometimes I just want you to be my boyfriend. My lover. The man that thinks about nothing else but making love to me. What I want you to do, right now, is not be my dad."

I didn't like the look in JC's eyes as I closed the door. I liked, even less, the feeling in my heart as I leaned against it. I was sobering up pretty quickly, and thinking more clearly as I stood under the spray of water.

‘You're bound and determined to get your ass packed up and sent home, aren't you?'  I didn't really have an answer to the question asked inside my head.

A knock at the door came before it opened a crack. "Hey sweetie, I know you don't want me in here, but I just wanna hop in real quick. No sense in turning on the water again after you get out."

Of course not. He was frugal as the day is long. I sighed, sliding the glass door open. "Come on in. Don't get my hair wet."

JC stepped into the shower in front of me.  I moved in behind him, picked up his bottle of body wash and lathered up a towel and, without words, began to scrub his back. Then his arms, and then moved down his legs and back up, then turned him around and did the same to the front of him, paying a lot of attention to his chest and slowly working my way down his body.

He was erect, the tip red and throbbing and growing harder the longer I worked him, making long, slow, strong strokes while he faced me, bracing himself with a hand on the cold tile wall. He didn't smile or chuckle or laugh or make his usual sounds. I stared up at him and he stared down at me while low, guttural moans came from deep in his throat and a crimson blush crawled up his torso to his face. He swallowed hard, his eyes slammed shut and his entire body jerked as he spilled into my hands. I stroked him until his breaths returned to normal and his skin color began to emerge from the deep pink that covered him and he grew more flaccid in my grasp.

"Thank you," he whispered in my ear, his hand clutching at my neck and pulling me close to him. He kissed me along the side of my face, near my eye and worked his way down toward my ear. "You still mad at me?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No. I was an ass. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. And I'm sick of having to apologize for the shit I say to you."

"Yeah," was all he said in response to that, and then, "let's get out. You ready?"

I nodded and reached around him to turn the spray off. We stepped out and toweled each other off, a throwback to our vacation days. Back when we had the time to do that for each other, without a care in the world. I missed that. I needed it.

The lights in the room were low when we came out of the bathroom. On my side of the bed were two water bottles and a container of Tylenol. I glared at JC, playfully so. He shrugged and laughed, a little. "I can't help it. I don't want you sick tomorrow. Sue me for caring."

I rolled into bed, gravitating toward his open arms. "I know you care. I know you show you care by being protective and stuff--"

"And by ‘and stuff' you mean bossy."

I laughed. "Yeah. I like that you care so much. Don't stop doing that, mkay?"

"But what if you get drunk and call me your dad and start complaining about that? What then?"

"Then ignore me, like you always do and keep being the sweet, sweet man I fell in love with." I tipped my head up so my lips met his. We shared a slow, soft, lazy kiss for a few minutes before I pulled back. "So you don't like my hair at all?"

He seemed surprised, like he'd forgotten that I came home a redhead, and laughed. He sat up a little and pretended to stare, long and hard at my hair. "Did I say I didn't like it?"

"You didn't say anything at all."

"Right, so..."

"So, you said if you don't say anything, you probably don't like it."

"Hm." He laid back down and wrapped both arms around me and kissed the crown of my head. "Well, I still love you."

I winced. He didn't like it. "You want me to change it back?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're not saying anything, JC. Give me an opinion. You won't hurt my feelings."

"I think you know how I feel about your hair. But you know... if you like it, okay. You going home like that?"

"I might. I don't know. My family will probably love it. I look so very LA." I giggled into his chest and dropped a kiss there, just because.

JC was quiet for a long while. I knew he was awake because his thumbs never stopped rubbing me, fresh calluses from rehearsals scraping along my skin. I loved that feeling, the sensation sending shocks up and down my back.

"Can I give you an opinion without you getting mad?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." I lifted my head so I could see him. His face bore a very serious expression, his eyes barely open, two baby blues peeking out from under almost closed lids cloaked in lush, long lashes. "What is it?"

"I don't hate your hair. I don't love it either. I also don't love you being out all night, and I don't get a phone call and I don't know where you are or if you're drunk and need a ride home. People know who you are. And they know you're dating me." He shook his head slowly, his words sinking in. "I don't mean that you shouldn't have fun. I'm all for that, but... I started dating you for a reason.  Because you were different. If I wanted an LA girl, I would have dated one."

My head was suddenly very heavy. My chin balanced on his chest and all energy seemed to rush out of my body. I was completely deflated. He hated my hair, but that wasn't important. He hated how I acted, and that meant the world to me.

"You mad at me?"

"No. You're right. I didn't...I'm not used to having to think from that angle. It's so much more stressful."

"I wouldn't expect you to. Just like you want me to know what makes you mad so I stop doing it, I'm doing the same for you. Just something to think about." He laid a hand on top of my head and rolled it up so he could see my eyes. "I love you, though. Still want some drunk sex?"

There were few times when I refused JC. Very few. That night would not be one of them. Before he could change his mind, I climbed him and straddled him. After feeling like I had been going without for a few weeks, it took little more than a few nibbles to my neck and a flick of his tongue on my nipples to make my body temperature rise.  I sank onto him and rode him like my life depended on it, hoping Tyler wasn't back home yet because I was in the mood to be loud.

And loud I was.

Afterward, basking in afterglow and gulping down half a bottle of water, I cleared my throat and declared, "So I'll be visiting Annika tomorrow. I just realized that when this red shit gets curly I'll look like fucking orphan Annie. Not what I was going for."

JC laughed, and then motioned for me to lie down and turn around so he could slide up against me. "I mean, if you want to, I won't stop you. Did she charge you?"

"No," I said, yawning. "She wouldn't let me pay. She must have known you would hate it and I would be back."

JC only chuckled, the vibration riding from his chest through my back.  "I have her trained well. Very well."

*

The muted ‘beep beep' of the phone lines at the receptionist's desk and her soft, hushed voice answering each call offered the only other sounds besides the television in the plush, leather filled waiting area of Dr. McArthur's office. In the span of time since JC told me about his appointment and the following week, I'd done a little research on this therapist and was impressed with his choice. Her career spanned a twenty year practice, concentrated primarily on working with adoptees and adoptive parents. Several of her research papers had been published in Psychology journals. After reading the synopsis of her recently published book on the subject of coping with adoption issues,  I briefly considered making an appointment for myself, depending on how the holiday-and more importantly JC's appointment-turned out.

JC was quiet but I could tell by the vein throbbing in his neck that his mind was racing. His eyes were glued to the TV, following the closed caption text crawling across the screen. Good Morning America was broadcasting a Diane Sawyer interview of a member of the Senate regarding a recent vote. JC appeared riveted but if I were him, I would not have any clue what was being said.

I weaved my hand between his body and his arm and slid down his sleeve until my fingers reached his palm. I scratched lightly at his wrist. He unclasped his hands and held mine. And squeezed.

"You alright?"

He nodded, still staring the TV, and then suddenly whipped his head around to me. "What if I had that thing where a person's voice caused me to have a seizure? Wouldn't that be weird?"

I blinked, confused. He laughed. "You are already so weird. What?"

"Remember that episode of Seinfeld? Where Kramer like, has a seizure when he hears.... what was her name... Mary Hart's voice?"

"I don't... I don't think I've seen that episode, babe."

JC sighed and closed his eyes. His head dipped to chest. "The things you haven't seen continue to shock me."

"Okay, but you've been doing nothing but watching TV for five years, so..."

He lifted his head and shot me a playful glare. "Still. That is an old episode. So now we have to watch Seinfeld." He sighed, again. "Adding to the stack."

"I know the episode you're talking about. I've just never seen it."

"I know. So we have to watch it. I bet it's on YouTube." He leaned to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, but I stopped him.

"Not here. Not right now. And did it ever occur to you that I don't want to watch the episode?"

"Nope. Never."

"Clearly."

More silence passed. JC stared up at the TV in the corner, holding my hand like I was trying to get away from him. I listened to the receptionist take calls and schedule appointments and relay messages to the other therapists in the practice. The room was empty except for the three of us, but her voice seemed to bounce off of the walls.  I glanced at the clock-we were impossibly early, one of my least favorite of JC's traits.

I leaned close to him and whispered, "Have you been to therapy before?"

He looked over at me, looked away and then looked again. "It's been awhile," he finally answered. "Why?"

"Just wondered. I had to go before the adoption papers were signed and hadn't seen anyone since."

"Same. You think I should be nervous?"

"JC, I've lost all feeling in my left hand. You're nervous enough."

He chuckled and loosened his grip. "You think she'll tell me I'm crazy?"

"Yep. Totally crazy."

"Great. Then I'll have an excuse for being so weird. I'm nuts! That's all it is."

"I could have told you that. You could just pay me what you're paying her."

"I'm paying her not to say I'm crazy. I'm glad you're here, though. I'd still be sitting in the car if you weren't."

"I'm glad I'm here, too. And that you want me here. I don't plan to say anything, in the session. I'm just here for support."

"Okay. But don't hold back if you have something to say."

I nodded, and leaned up against him. The squeeze returned to my hand in his. I didn't complain.

Voices carried from down the hall, growing louder as two women emerged.  A young woman about my height and age shook hands with a shorter woman whose hair looked like pure spun silver, swept into a bun at her nape. Her glasses were folded and hung around her neck from a gold chain, nestled in an ample bosom in what looked like an expensive cashmere blouse. She was dressed in grey, very sharp and sophisticated. At once, I was at ease with her gentle smile and soothing voice.

"So, we'll see you next month. Give me a call if you have any issues, though." The young woman, a patient, I presumed, smiled and waved as she walked out. Both JC and I watched the door close silently behind her and then our eyes traveled to Dr. McArthur, who was studying the schedule laid out on the desk.

"Mr... Chasez? Did I say that right?" She perched her glasses on the tip of her nose and glanced at the name again. JC and I stood and approached her.

"Perfect. You can call me JC. This is uhm, my girlfriend, Serena," he said, angling a thumb at me. "I'd like her to be in there with me. If that's okay."

She smiled that soothing comforting smile. "It's fine, for today. We're just getting to know each other. Come on back."

We followed her down a short hallway and through an open door to a spacious corner office, decorated in light colors-cream and blue. It was comfortable, more like a living room than an office. JC and I took a seat on a couch opposite a wing back chair, which Dr McArthur took after retrieving a notepad from a desk stacked with folders.

"Let's start at the beginning," she said. "Why are you here?"

"Uhm...." JC hesitated, and then scratched at the nape of his neck. Then glanced at me. "Why am I here?" I smiled at him but pressed my lips together. He was a professional talker. He could definitely do that for himself. "I guess uh... I want to deal with some issues. Surrounding my adoption. My girlfriend here-" He tipped his head toward me. "She's adopted as well. I found that out after I met her. We've had quite a year and uhm. I don't know, I felt like I maybe needed to get some things out."

"What brought on that feeling?"

JC started talking and didn't stop for a few minutes. He shared his story, and then talked about going back to that place during our road trip, about the emotions he expected that didn't surface and the ones he didn't expect that surprised him. Most of all, he discovered that he may have still been harboring feelings of guilt, like it was his fault that things turned out the way they did, even if they turned out for the best.

"And you?" Dr. McArthur focused her eyes on me-pretty, deep brown eyes. "Are these issues you relate to, as well?"

I laughed a nervous chuckle. "I am all kinds of fu-screwed up. I had a different situation, but I understand his point of view. I started therapy last year and it did well for me, so... JC thought he might benefit from it, too."

JC broke in, then. "Truthfully, Serena doesn't see it but she's made leaps and bounds in how she deals with her adoption issues. I told her when I met her that she should see someone. She did, and she's doing better, and then she told me that I should see someone and I figured that if she could do it, then I could, too. So here I am."

"Great." She smiled, looking from JC to me and back to me. "I like to see people supporting each other. It's actually pretty common for adoptees to connect. It's a deeply emotional issue that rarely anyone else understands." She removed her glasses and folded the arms down. They rested on her chest as she relaxed in the chair. "Not unlike twins, you know? How long have you two been together?"

"We just had our first anniversary back in November," JC said. "So, a little over a year."

"Mmmhmm. And how is that going? Without diving in too deeply."

"Uhhhh..." JC laughed a little and glanced at me.

She smiled, laughing along. "What does that mean?"

JC shrugged and spread his hands before him. He stared at his palms for a few seconds before returning his hands to his lap. "Maybe it's part of the reason I'm here. I uh... I'm fine. I'm happy. I love her, she loves me. I want this-" He pointed from me to him, back and forth. "I want us to work. I want us to understand each other but not excuse behavior that doesn't benefit our relationship-"

"Like?"

"Like, hiding things from each other. Like being afraid to be real with our feelings because we're afraid one of us is going away anytime soon."  I wasn't looking at either of them, but felt JC's eyes on me. Consequently, Dr McArthur's eyes were on me, too.  I gulped, audibly, clutching at my throat.

"Well we know what Serena's issues are, don't we? Now, what are yours, JC?"

‘Get him!' I thought to myself, before I could stop the thought from rolling across the reader board of my mind.  This appointment was about him. I'd deal with my own issues in my own time. I wasn't fucked up because of him. He wasn't fucked up because of me.

"Well you know, I think I have the classic abandonment issues that a lot of adoptees have. I've been with my family for a long, long time and most of the time it's not an issue but certain things come out in my relationships. The last time I was really with someone, before Serena..."

He paused for a beat. And then two. And then a full twenty or thirty seconds had gone by. I waited for Dr. McArthur to prod him but she didn't. She waited it out, and after about a minute, he inhaled deeply and pushed forward.

"I thought she was it. And she wasn't, and I know that but it seems like it was so easy for her to dump me and move on to someone else, someone she seems to be deeply in love with. And that's cool. That's great, but I feel like I did everything to make her love me. I gave my all, and it didn't work.

"I feel like the same situation has been happening to me my entire life, where my mom one day drops me off with this family and moves on. Girlfriends dump me and move on. *NSYNC... it was something I was proud of and I gave that my all, too. I gave up opportunities to push myself ahead of the group and I turned them down. I was willing to keep it rolling as long as it needed to roll but it was five people, not four or three. Justin dumped me...us... and moved on. I had a recording contract-pretty early, they dumped me and moved on. Not officially, you know, but they may as well have dropped me. They tanked my career before it even got out of the gate. But this..."

JC stopped and looked over at me, almost talking to me and not her. "I met someone that I don't want to lose. I'm giving this my all. I really am. And I don't know what it is about me that makes people want to get away from me but I want to fix that. Whatever it is."

It took everything in me, biting my tongue and clenching my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms to not tear up at JC pouring his heart out. Getting to the real root of his issue, that as much I was afraid he would someday walk away, he was having the same fears about me. Therapy was enlightening.

JC talked for a few minutes more with the doctor and scheduled a follow-up appointment for the next month-alone. As we stood to walk out, Dr. McArthur ran a soft hand down my arm. "I probably shouldn't treat the both of you individually, but if at some point you'd like to come in for some joint sessions, I think it might be helpful. Or if you'd like to see someone on your own, I'd be happy to refer you to one of my partners. They're all excellent and share my viewpoints on this experience."

I was still a little speechless from the session. I nodded and took her card, then slipped it into my purse. She walked us to the front desk and said her goodbyes and then welcomed her next patient with the same warmth. I followed JC out of the office, down the hall and to the elevator. As the door slid closed, trapping us in that steel box, JC exhaled.

"Well... she didn't say I was crazy."

"Good news."

"No verdict on you, though."

"There's always next time," I commented with a shrug. He laughed as the doors opened and we spilled out into the marbled lobby.  We walked in silence through the parking deck and back into the car, where JC sat with the key in his hand.

"I wasn't trying to attack you, back there. I know it seems like it but I was talking as much to myself as I was to you."

"I know. I'm not gonna get defensive about your therapy appointment. I can't ask you to talk about your true feelings and lay everything out there and then get pissed off at what you lay out there. So... now we deal with it. You deal with it and I deal with it and we deal with it."

"Okay." He nodded, seeming relieved. "Too early for lunch?"

I checked the time-11:00. "You wanted to be here an hour early. I skipped breakfast. I'm hungry."

"Of course you are," he said, laughing, then inserted the key into the ignition and started the car.

*

The following morning, bright and early, I pulled into the kiss & fly spots at the Delta terminal at LAX. I popped the trunk latch and hopped out, meeting JC at the back of the car.

"Let's  make this quick. I don't want a lot of pictures of you making a scene out here. Crying and stuff."

I lifted the hood of the trunk so he could pull his suitcase out. "I'm not gonna cry, you ass. Keep it up and I won't even miss you."

"Liar. You'll miss me before I even get on the plane. Come here." It was short, a quick but tight hug then a dip of his head to brush against my lips and then he pulled back and grabbed the handle of his suitcase.

"Call me when you land. Say hi to everybody."

"Will do," he said, beginning a slow backward walk toward the sliding doors.

"You better go, before the cameras come out."

"I'm going. I'll miss you. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll see you next week."

"Yeah. So."

He should have moved. He should have turned around and walked to the check-in counter, but didn't. Instead, he left his suitcase sitting in the middle of the sidewalk and came back to me.  He grabbed me, wrapping both arms around me and hugging me so tightly that he picked me up off of the ground. When my feet were back on pavement, he dipped his head and kissed me -a long, hard, breathless kiss. And then he was gone, rushing away. The sliding door opened like a giant mouth, sucked him in and then closed behind him.

"Well, Melissa will be emailing me pictures of that tomorrow," I sighed to myself. Then smiled and got back into the car. I had to go pick up JC's Christmas present. I couldn't wait for him to open it.