The first thing you’ll want to know about me is that I’m a complete klutz. Ask any one of my friends or family members; I’m literally tripping over anything and anybody no matter if I’m drunk or sober. I guess those years of ballet and jazz didn’t do me any good.

Not that I ever had dreams of becoming a ballerina. No, I like food too much to try and keep the skin and bones figure required for a dancer. Plus, I’m too short. Instead, I went to UCLA for a degree in criminology and psychology, seriously hoping to become one of those famous interrogators that could break down the mind of criminals. Unfortunately, that never happened.

Nope, instead, I got stuck in a dead-end secretarial job for this hoity toity law firm in Los Angeles. Not exactly my idea of the perfect career, but hey, it pays the bills. That’s more than I can say for my younger brother, who is convinced that he’s going to become the next Bon Jovi. Dream on kid.

But enough about me already. It was a day in October that I met him. Okay, not just any day mind you, no, it was my birthday. I was having a horrible day and needless to say, my twenty-six year old overconfident ass didn’t give a damn that some rich kid was coming in. I was too caught up in my own woes.

Now, I’ve never been a fan of the whole “teeny pop” scene, preferring to listen to jazz or classical rock than submit myself to the torture of that bubblegum shit. So needless to say, when my boss reminded me to “play nice” with his new client, I was just looking for the opportunity to cause trouble. After all, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about; he was just a man after all and put his pants on the same way everybody else did. One leg at a time.

So there I was, twirling in my desk chair, not even trying to pretend that I was busy. I’m generally a good, reliable worker (minus the sarcastic humor and penchant for klutziness), so my boss’ never dreamed of firing me. I guess you could say I had them wrapped around my little finger, but it creeps me out to put it in those terms.

He came walking in then, but I didn’t quite notice. I was too busy reading a smutty romance novel as I spun. One of my weaknesses, unfortunately, is that I’m a romantic at heart and have become a die-hard Johanna Lindsey fan. My friends tease me mercilessly.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kingsborough.” It was him. I knew it. But I refused to look up; my small boycott of the pop world. Yeah, pathetic, I know.

“Go through that door there and his office is at the end of the hall,” I simply said as I continued to spin.

Unfortunately, having been good all day, my case of the klutz (that’s what I refer to it as) decided to act up at that very moment. I was wearing a nice pair of black dress slacks made out of some silky sort of material. Not good for keeping me in my leather secretarial chair. So, of course, what had to happen, but I had to go flying out of my chair and land flat on my butt. Right at the pop star’s feet.

You’d think he would bend down and help me up. Make sure I was okay. But no. What did he do? He flat out laughed. He laughed! As if my ego wasn’t bruised enough already, he had to add to it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I grumbled, pulling myself off the floor and back into the chair, my book forgotten.

“Must be a good book,” he commented as he picked it up and held it out to me. My cheeks flamed. “Though I must admit, I’ve never seen anybody fly out of their chair because of some silly romance novel.”

“Flying out of chairs is all the rave now,” I retorted, snatching the book from his grasp, “But I guess you’re too busy laughing at people to know anything about that.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Yes, I won the battle of wits. Oh wait, no, he only started laughing again. That was when I got a good look at him.

And desperately wished I hadn’t. The words attractive and sexy definitely don’t do the man justice. His tall, lean body towered over my small frame of 5’3 and was adorned in a pair of black slacks, a blue button-up dress shirt open at the throat, and a pair of black dress shoes; his dark hair was left free and a little long for my liking. My eyes traveled up his body, taking in the utterly kissable lips, strong jaw line, and up to the irresistible blue eyes.

Ocean blue. No, that’s not right. Sky blue. Hmm, not that either. Ah yes, I could definitely call them cobalt blue. That was the exact color of his eyes. And they were twinkling with laughter as he gazed down at me.

I felt uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. After all, I was the one who hated his music and didn’t fall for his kind. His kind? Well, the pretty boy, metro-sexual, rich and snobby kind. And to me, he fit perfectly into that category.

“You better get going or you’re going to be late,” I stiffly told him, giving him the cold shoulder so as not to let on to my sudden attraction, “Mr. Kingsborough hates when his clients are late.”

“Then I better not keep him waiting,” he responded and abruptly turned to walk away.

I’d like to say that I didn’t watch him go. I’d like to say that I wasn’t interested in him at all. But one of my pet peeves is people who lie, so I’m not going to be getting into that habit anytime soon. No, I leaned forward and stared after him.

Again, I really wished I hadn’t. I’m an ass woman, and though his slacks were somewhat baggy on his lean frame, I got a good glimpse of his. One of the best I’ve ever seen. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been more inclined to grab an ass than when I saw his.

Finally, he disappeared from view and I was able to turn my attention back to my book. I breathed a sigh of relief. He had made my blood pressure rise and my heart rate increase altogether too much for my liking. After all, I’m not the kind of woman who goes off the deep end when I see a celebrity. Hell, I’ve already met Brad Pitt, Jessica Alba, Elton John, and Kid Rock, so it’s not like the presence of this pop star should have shaken me up.

But it did and I honestly couldn’t understand it. I was thankful, though, that I could sit out here and read my book while he was in there with one of my bosses. I didn’t have to see him until he left.

Of course, just my luck, my desk phone had to ring. Was it another client calling to confirm an appointment? Of course not. It was Mr. Kingsborough requesting me in his office, pronto.

“Ashlynn, I need some copies of paperwork, could you please come get them right now?” Milton Kingsborough demanded the second I picked up the phone.

“I’ll be right there,” I told him.

“Good. Oh, and would you mind bringing two cups of coffee for me and my client?” he added at the last minute. I rolled my eyes.

“Of course Mr. Kingsborough,” I responded. With that, I hung up the phone before he could get in another request.

Honestly, Kingsborough is the worst of the four lawyers, being the eldest and one with the worst disposition. He constantly has me running about like a chicken with its head cut off just because he can. I think he gets some sort of sick pleasure out of having somebody else do everything for him. I couldn’t help but shudder.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t disobey him. The other three lawyers at the firm, one being my best friend and confidant Ryan Cooper, respected the elder Kingsborough. If he wanted me running around doing crazy errands, then that’s what I should be doing.

Now, I don’t exactly hate Mr. Kingsborough, he is just not my favorite person in the world. So with much grumbling, I loaded two mugs of coffee, cream and sugar on a tray and balanced it on one hand as I made my way towards the office of my boss.

I politely knocked and entered when told to do so, trying to keep my attention on the task at hand rather than the handsome pop star that stood a few feet away talking to Kingsborough. I set the tray down, giving myself a mental pat on the back for not dropping it like I had done last week for another client.

“Thank you Ashlynn,” Mr. Kingsborough said as he motioned me over. I groaned. All I wanted to do was escape from the room without a tongue-lashing and my dignity intact.

“You said you wanted some copies?” I questioned as I began to walk towards the pair.

Remember how I told you I’m a klutz? Well my stupid disease decided to act up, yet again. This time, instead of flying out of a chair, which had been embarrassing enough, I tripped on myself and went flying in the direction of the two men.

I felt a pair of strong arms go around my waist to stop my fall and prayed to god that it wasn’t my boss. The man was a little creepy and seemed to hate any type of contact with another human being. Personally, I think it’s because he was a neglected child, but I’d never say that aloud.

But that’s not the point. The point is that I was now encased in a strong grip of male arms and inhaling the most delicious male aroma imaginable. Yeah, definitely not my boss.

Which could only mean one thing. I was wrapped up in the arms of none other than JC Chasez, pop star extraordinaire. I glanced up, and the striking blue eyes, full of laughter, confirmed my suspicions.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered as I righted myself and pulled out of his arms, “You seem to have caught me on a bad day Mr. Chasez and for that I apologize.”

“It’s no problem,” he assured me, a genuine smile gracing those killer lips of his, “You’re not the first woman who’s thrown themselves at me.” I felt my face turn the approximate shade of a tomato.

“Ashlynn,” Mr. Kingsborough suddenly interrupted, voice sharp, “I need three copies of each and in color if you can manage that.”

“Yes sir,” I quietly stated, fuming to myself. I had just been treated like a child by my boss, once again. And there was nothing I could do about it since my job was at stake.

“She’s interesting,” I heard the singer say as I stalked out of the room.

“I don’t think interesting is quite the word,” Milton Kingsborough huffed in annoyance, “But enough about that, you said you wanted to discuss…”

The pop star found me interesting? Well I guess that’s one of the nicest things people have said when referring to my klutziness. But damn Kingsborough for being such a jackass. My crappy day was slowly starting to get worse as the hours passed.

“Make color copies if you can manage,” I muttered to myself as I walked over to the machine, “What does he think I am, an idiot?”

“Bad day?” a new voice suddenly questioned.

I felt a smile come to my face as I glanced up and took in the welcome sight of Ryan Cooper, my friend and the nicest part of this terrible job. He and I hit it off right from the very start, had even tried dating for awhile. But we had discovered that friendship was what worked best for us, so that’s currently where our relationship stood.

Though I must say, I don’t see the man as much as I used to since he decided to get engaged to my cousin. Yeah, I know. Talk about twisted. But things are still the same between us, which is all I can hope to ask for.

“The worst,” I finally moaned in answer to his question, “I’ve already managed to embarrass myself twice in front of Kingsborough’s new client. I swear, I’m cursed.”

“I hope you didn’t drop the coffee tray this time,” Ryan teased, as he came over and gave me a hug; I sighed in satisfaction, relishing the friendly gesture.

“Nope, just flew out of my chair and tripped all over myself,” I miserably stated, “All in the period of a half hour.”

“Oh man, that case of the klutz is sure going wild today,” Ryan said.

“Tell me about it,” I cried as we pulled apart, “Well, I better get these copies back to Mr. Kingsborough before he has a hernia and decides he actually doesn’t like me all that much.”

“Good luck,” Ryan encouraged, giving me a lazy smile before disappearing in the direction of his office.

I sighed. I could do this. I really could. Stand up straight, shoulders back, don’t look at your feet. Don’t think about the man on the other side of this door with his sexy body, tight butt…

Aww shit. I’m gonna fuck this up. I just know it.

“Here are your copies,” I announced as I was told to enter. I quickly made my way over to the two men, who were sitting down this time. Unfortunately, I had to run into the edge of the desk and yelped in pain.

“Are you alright?” JC asked me, standing up in alarm.

“Fine,” I gasped out, slapping the papers onto my speechless boss’ desk before practically sprinting out of the room. Yep, total disaster.

If I could make it back to my desk in one piece, I’d be fine. I’d just stay there for the rest of the day, out of harm’s way. There was no way I could embarrass myself further if I just sat in my chair, no spinning and no playing with the paper clips (I ended up spilling all of those yesterday). Yes, I could do this.

An hour passed without any trouble. The pop star was still in with Mr. Kingsborough, I had seen Ryan a couple more times as he came and went with paperwork, and even the other two lawyers, bless their kind hearts, stopped by my desk to wish me happy birthday. But my case of the klutz was thankfully gone, and I prayed it would stay so for the remainder of the day.

But it was not meant to end up that way. Not ten minutes later, JC Chasez appeared out of Kingsborough’s office and headed straight in my direction. What did he want from me? I had been nothing but trouble the entire day.

“Hi, I’m JC Chasez,” he said as he walked up, smiling, “I just wanted to introduce myself and make sure you didn’t hurt yourself back there.”

“Oh I’m fine. I’m Ashlynn Thompson…” I began, but got no farther.

In my effort to shake his hand, I sent not only the container full of pencils, but the push pins as well, flying from the desk. They scattered across the carpet and once again, I felt my face flame. Was this day from hell never going to end?

“Shit,” I muttered, jumping from my seat to pick up the mess. JC couldn’t help but laugh and I glared at him.

“I take it this happens a lot?” he questioned, bending down to help me restore order.

“More than you’d like to know,” I moaned, grabbing a handful of push pins, “Ouch, damnit!”

“Here, give me those,” the pop star commanded, and I gladly gave him the prickly pieces of shit, “You’re probably not the best person to be handling them.”

“That’s an understatement. I’d probably end up needing stitches by the time we’re done,” I commented, rolling my eyes as I laughed, “This has got to be the worst birthday I’ve ever had.” I can’t believe I just said that!

“It’s your birthday?” he asked as he picked up the last of the pins and set the closed container on the desk. He quickly stood up.

“If you must know, yes, it is,” I grumbled, pulling myself to a standing position after placing the pencils on the desk, “And I’m serious about it being the worst ever. My parents are on a cruise in Italy, my little brother has a gig with his band, and my two best friends are on their honeymoon. I’ve gotten a few ‘Happy Birthdays’ here and there, but that’s about all. No phone calls from relatives. No extravagant bouquets of flowers that my aunt usually sends.”

“That’s a bummer,” JC commented, shoving his hands into his pockets. I could tell he was nervous around me. And I definitely don’t blame him. There was no telling what accident I was bound to get into next.

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you,” I concluded, going back to sit behind my desk.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” he blurted. That got my attention.

“Excuse me?” I demanded, closing my jaw after realizing that I probably looked like a fish with it hanging open.

“Well, since you’re not doing anything tonight and it is your birthday, how about going out to dinner?” he proposed, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe he was nervous for another reason.

“Are you sure you can stand being around me? I’m quite a klutz,” I told him, slapping a hand over my mouth in embarrassment. He just laughed. Man, he’s got a great laugh.

“I think I’ll survive,” he stated, “So what do you say?”

“Okay,” I squeaked out, biting my lip, “What time?”

“What time do you get off?” he asked.

“Six.”

“Well, I guess I’ll pick you up around 7:30 then,” he commented, “How does Italian sound?”

“Wonderful. Now let me get you directions to my apartment…”

Maybe this day wouldn’t end up being the one sent by the devil for his amusement. I had already made a fool of myself four times in front of this man and he wanted to take me to dinner. No, maybe this birthday wouldn’t actually be the worst ever.

It was definitely a miracle, and a hard one to believe at that, but I actually made it the rest of the work day with only one more accident. I know, somebody needs to sound the trumpets. Maybe it was the excitement of my upcoming date. Yeah, I guess I’ll credit it to that.

The clock in the bedroom of my three-room apartment read 7:00 as I stood in my bathrobe, debating what to wear. Did I go dressy or casual? Sex machine or cute school girl? Then again, who was I kidding? I’d already made an ass out of myself in front of Mr. Chasez, so it’s not like I was going to be able to impress him with my oh-so-sleek fashion sense.

The little black cocktail dress caught my eye. Not all that imaginative, but the combination of dressy and cute was a good mix for me. I could only hope that the dangerously high heels that went with it wouldn’t have me on my face in two seconds flat.

After all, I have a penchant for clumsiness. Lord knows adding three inch heels to that wasn’t the smartest move on my part. But I was dressed to impress, and a pair of flip flops definitely wouldn’t suit the mood.

So, against my better judgment (and I’m sure, to my mother’s horror), I slipped into the black dress. After adding a silver pendant necklace and matching earrings, I sat down at the vanity to style my hair. And when I say style, I really mean tame. Thanks to my wonderful parents, I ended up with the curliest brown hair imaginable. I absolutely hate it.

I swear, my straightener and I are at war every time I decide I want a day without curls. And seeing as though it takes me about an hour to do the deed, it doesn’t happen all that often.

And that night was no different. All I did was run a brush through the natural spiral curls a few times and added a few sprays of hairspray. I didn’t have any more time and that was about the best it was going to get anyway.

7:15. He was going to be here in fifteen minutes and I’d be lucky if I was ready in time. Where on earth had the time gone? And my common sense for that matter?

I was expecting this birthday to be a dud. I knew from the start. My family all had their own plans and I didn’t want to make them feel obligated to come visit me or something. Especially when I had to work that day anyway.

So I was fine with that. But when a group of my close friends from college ditched me to go on a random trip to Hawaii (alas, I couldn’t get off work, if you can believe that) I was a little upset. Okay, I was more than a little upset.

But dinner with a sexy pop star could definitely make up for that. That is, if I didn’t ruin it by upending the table or something along those lines. And with me, that was a definite possibility. Wait, let me correct myself. That was a definite certainty.

“Get a grip Ashlynn,” I finally scolded myself as I scurried down the hallway to the living room, “He’s the one that asked you on a date, not the other way around.”

“Talking to yourself again Ash?” a new voice suddenly shot out of the darkness of the room.

I couldn’t help it. I really couldn’t. I screamed. Well, that was until I spotted the source of the voice, my younger brother Jordan. He was lounging on my couch like it was a normal everyday place for him to hang out on a Friday evening.

“What the hell are you doing here? You almost gave me a heart attack!” I practically yelled, trying to calm my racing heart, “Aren’t you supposed to be playing at some club tonight?”

“Got cancelled because there was a drug bust there,” the 24-year old nonchalantly replied as if that was something that happened all the time.

“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” I finally added, crossing my arms over my chest, “Shouldn’t you be with your band members practicing or getting drunk or something?”

“Hey, can’t a guy come over to wish his big sis a happy birthday?” Jordan demanded as he stood up and sauntered over to me.

“Not when this big sis has a date that’s going to be here any minute,” I snapped, annoyed at his terrible timing.

“You’re shitting me!” Jordan commented in disbelief. Was it so hard to imagine that somebody wanted to take me on a date?

“No, for once I’m not,” I dryly stated as I gave him a playful punch in the arm, “Now you better be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” he defended. I glared at him. “Okay, maybe not always. But usually.”

“Try once in a blue moon,” I retorted just as the doorbell rang, causing my heart to go into spasms.

He was right on time, which, props to him for that. But knowing he was standing on the other side of my front door wasn’t exactly helping my nerves in the slightest. God, I was starting to turn into a friggin teenybopper. And I was twenty-six years old!

“So, do I get to meet him?” Jordan questioned me, leaning forward in anticipation. I sighed.

“Fine. It’s not like you’re going to leave me alone otherwise,” I said.

I quickly walked over to the front door, careful not to trip in the high heels (which were going to be the death of me). I smiled at the man standing there, a single red rose in his hand. God, he sure looked good.

He was dressed in a pair of tan slacks that accented his butt (yes!), black dress shoes, and a tight orange sweater. His hair had been cut and styled with gel; it was like he had read my mind about that. A black leather coat was slung over one arm. Grrr…I like a man in leather.

“Hi Ashlynn,” he shyly stated, offering the rose. I accepted and took a whiff, unaware of the dreamy expression on my face.

“Hi JC. Come on in, I just need to grab my coat,” I finally responded. He passed over the threshold and I followed, my mind elsewhere. I was startled out of my daze, however, by a rather rude nudge in the ribs by my annoying younger brother. Thank god I could control my temper.

“Hey, I’m Jordan, her younger brother,” my brother announced as soon as I had shut the front door. I wanted to kill him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m JC Chasez,” the pop star responded, taking my brother’s hand in a firm grip. If my brother recognized the name, he didn’t give any sign, which, two points for him I guess.

“I’ll only be a minute,” I finally interrupted, practically running back to my room to grab my leather coat.

Thankfully, we made it out of my apartment ten minutes later, leaving my brother to watch a rerun of some old horror flick. I just wanted to put as much distance between JC and Jordan as I could.

“You’re brother seems rather interesting,” JC commented as we drove along in his SUV.

“Interesting is not quite the word to use, but since you’re trying to butter up to me, I guess it’ll have to do,” I responded, grinning. He let out a shout of laughter that caused his eyes to twinkle and sent shivers down my spine.

“I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful,” he suddenly stated as he stopped at a red light and turned to look at me.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” I shyly responded as I blushed, “Though, you better pray I don’t kill myself on these heels.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to catch you if you fall,” he teased, grinning. Aww. That was sweet. It made me want to hug him.

Of course, the light turned green and I was never given the chance. Instead, we lapsed into light-hearted conversation on my job, his music career, our families and, of course, my many acts of klutziness. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody laugh so loud when I told them how I knocked over the drum set at church one weekend.

We soon reached our destination and I was again impressed by his good manners when he came around and helped me out of the car. Of course, it could have been because he was afraid I would fall. And for that, I couldn’t blame him. I would have fallen otherwise, I know it.

As we walked through the quaint little restaurant, I was amazed at the number of famous faces I saw. There was Brad Pitt with Angelina Jolie. I was surprised when he gave me a little wave; he actually remembered me? Well, I had upended a chair when he had come in for an appointment.

Then there was Mandy Moore with some guy that looked a lot like Adam Sandler. What a weird match that must be. A few tables over was JC’s friend and fellow band member Lance Bass with a cute blonde, both of which gave us a quick wave. Next, I saw Eva Longoria, JC’s ex. I cringed. I couldn’t help it. The woman was beautiful, rich and famous.

I was glad, therefore, when JC steered me towards a rather secluded booth in a corner. He helped me out of my coat (because let’s face it, I’m quite incapable) and we slid into the booth across from each other. He sent me a reassuring smile when I nervously began to play with the silverware.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Fine,” I abruptly stated as I bit my lip. Of course I wasn’t fine! What did he take me for?

“You seem a little uptight,” he commented as he took both my hands in his. I relaxed a little under the small soothing gesture.

“Just nervous that I’m going to do something stupid,” I quietly explained as I suddenly found the impeccable tablecloth an interesting object of my attention.

“Relax, it’s fine,” the pop star assured me as he grinned, “Besides, I thought it was cute, all the little things that happened today.” My mouth fell open in shock.

“You find my inane attraction to klutziness cute? Well that’s the first time I’ve heard anybody say that,” I commented, smiling, “You sure are strange Mr. Chasez.”

“That makes two of us then,” he teased back. I giggled.

“So is that what made you ask me out to dinner?” I questioned, curious as to his motives.

“Well that, and the fact that you are quite beautiful,” he softly whispered; my heart picked up speed, “I like a girl with curly hair.” He ran a hand through my curls and I thought I was going to die.

“It’s a pain in the ass,” I blurted, and promptly blushed. He laughed.

“Good evening Mr. Chasez, miss, may I bring you something to drink?” the maître d' suddenly interrupted, much to my relief.

“Evening Jorge, I think the lady and I would like to split a bottle of your best Merlot,” JC responded and glanced in my direction for approval. I nodded my head in confirmation. Merlot?!? He sure was going all-out tonight.

“Very good sir, and of course, the complimentary biscuits and butter should be out shortly,” Jorge concluded, “Is there anything else I can get you for now?”

“I think I’ll go with a garden salad with Italian dressing,” JC added.

“I’ll have the same, except I’d prefer Blu cheese dressing please,” I sweetly replied, hoping I didn’t seem so star-struck. I swear, though, that was the last thing on good old Jorge’s mind. Honestly, I think he blushed.

“Uh oh, looks like I have some competition,” JC commented as he nodded in the direction Jorge had taken. I blushed.

“I think you’re making things up there, Mr. Chasez,” I responded, giggling, “I don’t think you have any competition with a 40-year old Italian man.”

“You sure about that?” he softly whispered as he leaned in my direction.

“Yes, no, um…” I stuttered, wanting the floor to open up and swallow me at that moment. He laughed.

“Ashlynn, relax,” he told me, grinning as he pushed back a curly tendril of my hair that had somehow managed to end up in my eyes.

Silence descended like a heavy hand. I felt his breathing rate increase, keeping tempo with my own. He leaned closer, closer still, until our faces were only inches apart. I felt his hand cup my face before he united our lips in a soft kiss.

Sure, I’ve been kissed before, but nothing that made my heart beat so fast. I swear, I don’t know how I managed to keep myself in control. His tongue was exploring my mouth as I pulled him closer, not seemingly able to get enough of him.

When we finally pulled away, we were both breathless. He was the first to look away and I immediately saw a blush stained his cheeks. He looked adorable, if that’s even the proper thing to say about a grown man.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he stated.

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy kissing me?” I demanded.

“No, I really enjoyed it. More than I think I’ve ever enjoyed kissing a girl before,” he confessed, “I’d really like to do it again in fact. But it was wrong of me to do that when I didn’t ask your permission.”

“Did it seem like I wasn’t enjoying it?” I dryly asked.

“N…no,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I was,” I explained, grinning as I leaned forward and kissed him again. He seemed surprised at first, but immediately began to kiss me back. This date was starting to turn out better than I had hoped for. And I hadn’t even knocked over or spilled anything yet!

As the date progressed, we got to know each other better. He told me about some of his funny touring stories over the main course. A gave him another round of embarrassing stories that revolved around my klutziness over dessert.

By the end of the meal, I was amazed at how much I knew about this man, who, the previous day, had just been another pretty face. It was my own fault for being so overconfident in myself and my ability to judge people. I know I’ll never do that again.

I think the most surprising thing I learned, though, was that despite my ability to cause some sort of trouble wherever I went, a man still found me attractive. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in over a year and was beginning to give up hope. After all, a person can only take so many botched laundry jobs and burned meals.

“Thanks for having dinner with me,” JC suddenly stated, snapping me out of my train of thoughts, “I had a really great time.”

“Me too,” I agreed, smiling, “And would you look at this, I didn’t cause a single accident. It really is a miracle.”

“Should we put an announcement in the newspaper?” he teased, grabbing my hand through the maze of dirty dishes.

“Hmm, maybe we should look into that,” I agreed, laughing.

“Well, I’m thinking that we should call it a night,” he began, “But I was planning on going to the theater tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to join me.”

“What happened to your date with Lance?” I teased.

“You saw that blonde he was with when we walked in?” JC asked, I nodded my head in confirmation, “That’s his new girlfriend Gabriella. The two of them are inseparable.”

“Ah, he ditched you to be with his woman,” I nodded, grinning.

“Of course he did, the ass,” JC confirmed, grinning, “Now I’m just going to have to take my woman in his place.” What?

“Excuse me?” I asked, surprised, “What are you asking me?”

“Well, I was wondering, that is,” he began as he pulled his hands away.

He didn’t get any farther. His hand came in contact with a water glass and, much to my amusement, the contents spilled over the table. We both stood up at the same time, trying to blot up the spill.

And promptly smacked our heads together. JC reached out to steady me, only to knock his hand into the hanging lamp. It went waving about wildly as he stood there, a look of horror on his face.

“Looks like I’m starting to rub off on you,” I teased. He laughed.

“Yeah, must be a damn case of the klutz,” he agreed as we exited from the booth, “Now, where was I?”

“Well, before you caused complete chaos, you were saying something about me being your woman,” I began, standing a close to him as I dared at the moment, “Now Mr. Chasez, care to explain what that’s all about?”

“I was hoping you’d like to be my girlfriend,” he sheepishly said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Though I’m sure you’re having second thoughts after that display.”

“JC, you’re talking to the queen of klutziness,” I reminded him, grinning.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” he said, blushing, “So, what do you say?”

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” I stated, cuddling up to him.

“Good, we klutzy people need to stick together,” he proclaimed. That caused me to giggle.

“Yeah, we certainly are two of a kind, aren’t we?” I stated.

“That we are Ashlynn darling, that we are.”