My eyelids are drooping as we make our way through the fading daylight, the headlights of the passing cars being the only thing that’s keeping me from drifting into a peaceful slumber. My forehead rests against the cool window, bleary eyes watching the lines on the road as we twist and turn our way through downtown Los Angeles. Justin is in the seat next to me, his hand resting between us, not quite close enough to touch me but a constant reminder that he’s there, willing to hold my hand if I reach for him, which he knows I won’t but he still does it anyway.

This is his idea, wherever it is we’re going tonight. Even though its only 7:30 I’d be perfectly happy to be in my hotel room, getting ready for bed, the combination of the switch from east coast to west coast time and flying all day taking its toll on my body. But Justin insisted. We’re in town for some award show tomorrow night and today is the group’s only day off for another week, and Justin does what he wants on his day off. And today he wants to take me somewhere and he wants it to be a surprise.

The last two weeks have been… well, they’ve been something, that’s for sure. The tour has really picked up, long bus rides, made even longer by the close quarters, lessons full of discrete touches and shared smiles. Then the shows, the waiting in my room, feebly working on my thesis, watching the clock until that knock sounds on my door. Maybe jetlag isn’t the only thing that’s got me exhausted.

My eyes flit to the large man sitting shotgun, and then the driver in front of me, that ridiculous fleeting fear that they could be mind readers gnawing at me, just like the guilt, wondering where the hell we’re going as we drive along. I sit up, craning my neck as we come to a gate. Justin is fidgeting in his seat, trying to suppress his smile. The driver pays the parking fee and I’m looking everywhere for a sign, some indication of where the hell we are.

“Justin-”

“Just wait,” he says bouncing slightly as the driver pulls into the parking garage.

The driver drops us off by the elevators and we all climb out and I see it, a large mural on the wall, The Getty. As in the J. Paul Getty Museum, one of the largest collections of European paintings and sculpture in the United States. I’m so shocked, I stop walking and Justin and Tiny look back at me as I stare dumbly at the wall.

“Come on, Sky,” Justin says, chuckling slightly, “We haven’t even gotten to the real art yet.”

I’m completely speechless as we ride up and get on the tram, star struck as we climb high above Los Angeles, the setting sun at my back, the 405 beneath me and Bel-Air looming in front of me, the city lights twinkling to my right. I’m wrapped up in it, anticipation causing me to shift impatiently in my seat. The Getty collection is one of the most priceless and extensive in the country and ever since I knew what classical art was I’ve wanted to see this collection. This desire strengthened when two years ago they moved the collection from the small home gallery to the Center we’re ascending toward now.

It takes all of my will power not to run towards the main building as we step off the tram, taking in the marble walkways smiling at the man who greets us and hands us maps.

“Where do you wanna go first?” Justin asks me softly as we lean into each other, looking over the map.

I look back at him and he smiles widely at me, his ball cap casting a shadow onto his boyish face and now I can’t speak for a different reason.

“Why don’t we start at the North Pavilion,” he says, pointing to the little building on the map. “That has the oldest stuff.”

I just nod dumbly, following him slowly, Tiny trailing behind us. We step in and the first thing I see is a Greek relief and it takes every ounce of resolve not to squeal like one of Justin’s fans. I run up to it, leaning in close, taking in the detail of the horses, ranging from low relief to high relief, giving the piece incredible depth.

“Tell me about it.”

It’s Justin, his voice right next to my ear. He’s leaning in close too, his arm pressed against mine and I stare at him for a moment still slightly dumbstruck.

“It’s um,” I stutter slightly, finally finding my voice. “It’s Achilles and his mother Thetis and they’re on a chariot coming up on… worshippers I would assume.” I lean in again surveying it closely. “They’re only seven in this piece but I would imagine there were about ten originally. It was probably a religious votive for the Achilleides cult.”

“Bingo,” Justin says, reading the little plaque underneath the relief. “How do you do that?”

“What?” I ask, moving excitedly into the first room, taking in the various pieces of pottery.

“Know all this crap,” he says, studying me curiously and then his attention turns to what I’m looking at. “Hey, red form pottery!”

“Very good, Justin!” I exclaim, bouncing slightly. I turn, fighting the urge to hug him and nearly smack right into Tiny, gasping slightly in shock.

“Sorry,” he says, his deep voice vibrating with laughter. “I was just looking.”

“Be careful in here man,” Justin says, walking around the room, glancing at things with slight interest. “You break it, you bought it.”

“Oh, these are priceless,” I say, and I’m sure I’m grinning like a fool.

“Oh, I’m sure they’d price it for us if this oaf knocked it over,” Justin quips, grinning cheekily up at Tiny who glares back at him sternly, before shaking his head, chuckling slightly.

“I can’t believe you did this!” I say, barely containing my excitement as we move to the next room.

“Well, you know,” he says, hands in his pockets, swaggering behind me. “It’s about time I took you on a date.”

And I nearly break my neck turning to look at him, Tiny standing right next to him and the panic curling in me is enough to nearly knock me over. He’s smiling at me, unaffected and Tiny is looking at a chalice in a glass case.

“Justin…” I say slowly, my eyes flitting to Tiny, giving him a warning look.

“Oh, he knows,” Justin says, waving his hand dismissively and Tiny’s eyes flit to me, nodding hesitantly before looking away again.

I feel my knees go weak and my entire body flushes, my breath coming in pants. Justin looks at me concerned and I’m sure my face is completely white. He steps forward, one large hand cupping my shoulder, the other moving to hold my chin, his eyes looking into mine. I slap his hands away, looking at him horrified. I’m done. This is it. I’m fired and probably going to jail. Goodbye to my dreams of being a curator of someplace like this. Goodbye to my masters and to my doctorate and every other ambition I ever had. Hello to a three by nine cell and an orange jumpsuit.

“Skylar, calm down,” Justin laughs easily, “It’s Tiny! He was there at the club that one night. Remember? He took us back to the hotel.”

I close my eyes, wincing slightly at the memory. My heart is thudding hard in my chest and my stomach is turning over and over itself. Tiny is still avoiding my gaze, reading the plaque for the chalice. This is why this was a bad idea. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets. My father knew when I had one more popsicle than I was allowed because I left the stick on the counter. My mother knew that I was still seeing that boy she told me I wasn’t allowed to date because I wore his jacket home from school one day. And Tiny knows I’m having sex with my underage student because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I close my eyes again, and for what seems like the millionth time, I hate myself for what I’m doing.

“He’s cool, Sky,” Justin says slowly and I open my eyes to find him looking at me steadily, assuredly. “He didn’t tell the first time your drunk ass tried to seduce me, why would he bring it up now.”

I gasp and he grins cockily at me. I reach out and hit him with the back of my hand, pursing my lips to suppress my smile. He dodges me, grinning and I sigh, turning back to the art around me.

“You are a brat,” I say, and he follows me as I walk along the wall, surveying the small pieces of jewelry and purse covers behind the glass. “And I did not seduce you,” I add lowly, not wanting the other patrons to hear.

“Excuse me!” he exclaims softly, scurrying up behind me after he had stopped from the shock of my statement. “I seem to remember someone backing her ass up into me on the dance floor.”

“That was not seduction,” I say, doing my best to contain my smile as we move down the hall toward the next room, “that was just dancing.”

“Oh, okay,” he says sarcastically and then he comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me snugly against him, his breath warm on my ear. “What do you call your hand on my dick in the backseat of the car?”

I gasp slightly, and I can feel him grin, his lips pressed to my earlobe and I shake him off, casting nervous glances at the people around us.

“Okay, maybe that was…”

My voice trails as the hall opens up and in front of me is a large statue of a woman, completely nude aside from a small scrap of cloth she’s reaching for to shield herself and I’m in awe because this… this is a replica of my favorite piece of Greek art. It’s not the exact same, but it’s one of the only surviving Roman replicas of the Aphrodite of Cnidus.

“Hey!” Justin exclaims, pushing past me to stand close to the statue and he cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t this that statue from the book?”

“Yes,” I say, finding my voice again and stepping forward to stand next to him.

“Aphrodite of Cider,” he says nodding and I roll my eyes, laughing a little.

“Cnidus, Justin,” I say and he shrugs indifferently.

“This is kinda cool,” he says, gazing up at her intently, “you know… seeing a piece from the book in real life.”

“Yeah,” I say, absently and he’s moving on, heading out the door and I linger a little, taking in the folds of the cloth and the delicate features of her face.

“You ready?” he calls to me and I turn fully towards him, following him and Tiny back out of the room.

We head up the stairs and view a few paintings and the illuminated manuscripts before moving on to the East Pavilion, taking our time in surveying the 17th century Baroque paintings. Justin questions me on various works and I pester him with school work, forcing him to analyze at least one painting from each room.

It’s starting to get darker and darker as we step out into the courtyard again, the warm summer air laying against my skin like a blanket. Justin is walking ahead of me, chatting with Tiny about basketball and I watch him tug his ball cap lower over his eyes as a group of young women pass, his eyes following them briefly before turning back to his conversation. My blood heats up a little but I push it down. This thing with he and I, it’s… it’s… god what is it about us that defies my grasp of the English language? We fuck. There, that wasn’t so hard. It’s what we do, no strings, no emotions…well, for me anyway. I eye him, watching his head fall back as he laughs. Being with him isn’t easy, but well, I’ve tried the alternative. That worked out just great.

“Hey Sky,” Justin says, turning to me and I snap out of my daze. “Want an ice cream?”

I glance ahead and see an old man with a cart set up in the middle of the courtyard, handing ice cream cones to a middle aged couple. He nods his head at me, gesturing for me come with him and I do, striding up next to him to stand at the cart.

“Hey, can I get two please,” Justin says, holding up two fingers as his other hand digs into his pocket. He’s buying me ice cream. Seriously, is he for real?

“Enjoying the museum?” the man asks as he scoops vanilla ice cream into cones for us and I nod animatedly.

“Oh yes, it’s amazing!” I exclaim, taking my ice cream from him and he begins to make Justin’s.

“What’s been your favorite piece so far?” the old man asks, handing a cone to Justin and I open my mouth to speak but Justin cuts me off.

“You don’t wanna ask her that, man,” he says, handing the man a few bills. “You’ll be stuck here for days.”

“Hey!” I exclaim, nudging him gently and he laughs, that deep, throaty laugh from his chest and I can’t fight the shiver that runs through me.

We turn to sit on a bench near the fountain, Tiny moving to sit across the way, giving us some privacy. I watch Tiny take his seat, watching his surroundings, keeping his eye on a few of the younger women milling around. My stomach turns a little because he knows. He knows! Someone besides Justin and I knows and this could be the end of everything. Justin was right, he had never said anything from the incident before but that was different. I was drunk and it was late and it hadn’t been happening every night for the past two weeks – oh my god I’m going to hell.

“Having fun?” Justin’s voice startles me out of my thoughts and I realize that he’s been watching me all along.

“What?” I ask and then his words register in my brain and my spirits lift again. “Yes! Oh my god, this is fabulous!” I say and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as I run mine alone the outside of my ice cream cone.

We’re quiet for a moment, just listening to the water flow into the fountain, me watching the few people that are bustling through the courtyard, him watching me, eyes trained on my mouth and I know what he’s thinking. God, he’s such a perv sometimes.

“You’re dripping there, J,” I say, smiling slightly and he looks down, seeing his ice cream melting down over his hand.

“Oh…yeah,” he chuckles, bringing his hand up, his tongue lapping up the liquid around his fingers.

Heat flushes through me as I watch him flatten his tongue along the side of the cone, licking in one long sweep, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, licking his lips before going in for another. Okay so apparently I’m a perv too.

“Sooooo…” he says slowly, not looking at me for what seems like the first time all night. “Have you ever had a serious boyfriend?”

I nearly choke, coughing, my ice cream grazing my chin, and before I can get a hand up to wipe it away, his hand his cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing the stickiness away. His brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean and I swear there is no way that I am not going to hell for this.

“W-what’s it to you?” I ask, wiping at my chin with the back of my hand nervously and he shrugs.

“Nothing really. I just never have,” he says and then he tenses a little, “well there was this one girl…”

“Oh really?” I grin at him and he smiles weakly back at me. “The one your mom caught you with?”

“Oh no that was a different one,” he says, waving his hand dismissively and I laugh a little. “No… no I really liked this other girl. She was on this TV show I did for awhile. We had really hit it off and then the show ended…and I went home,” he says sighing and then grinning at me adds, “And that’s when I met the girl Mom caught me with.”

“You’re such a playboy,” I tease lightly and he grins.

“Two girls,” he says, looking at me pointedly. “Oh yeah, I’m big pimpin’ baby. Well… three girls now.” He smiles softly at me and I feel my stomach flip.

“We are not dating,” I say after I get a hold of my senses and he frowns at me.

“Yes, we are,” he says nodding.

“No…no we aren’t.”

“We’re here together, aren’t we?”

“This is not a date, Justin,” I say sternly and he shakes his head.

“No, see I took you here and I bought you food. It’s a date. We are on a date, therefore we are dating.”

I scoff. “No…” I say, searching for something to rebut with. “just…no!”

He chuckles. “Good argument, babe,” he says, and he licks at his ice cream again and I have to look away.

“Justin... seriously,” I say, the guilt rising in me. This is a strictly physical thing. He has to know that. He has to believe it and live it because we cannot…we are not dating.

“Sky, seriously,” he mocks and I purse my lips, huffing quietly. “So, have you dated anyone seriously?”

I shift uncomfortably. “Not really,” I reply and he eyes me skeptically.

“You’re lying,” he states and I sigh, glaring at him.

“Why the sudden interest in my past love life?” I ask and he grins.

“Just curious.”

“Well, get over it,” I reply, a little too harshly to be just simply annoyed. His eyes soften a little.

“Was he an asshole?” Justin asks, licking at his ice cream cone and I can’t believe we’re talking about this.

“Yeah, he was,” I say flatly, and he places a comforting hand on my knee.

“He break up with you?” Justin pries gently and I sigh rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, Justin, he did…after he got my best friend pregnant,” I spit and his eyes widen, whether it’s from the news I delivered or the venom in my voice I’m not sure. “Why are we talking about this?” I ask, turning away from him slightly so that his hand falls from my knee. Shit, I haven’t thought about that in forever.

“He’s a moron,” Justin says softly, his hand running smoothly up and down my back as the hurt that I buried inside me so long ago surfaces again. “Seriously, baby… he’d have to be to let you get away from him.”

I cringe slightly at the term of endearment. He usually only calls me that when he’s joking, his voice light and teasing or when we’re in bed, his tone soft and gentle. He’s not teasing me now so one guess as to how his voice sounds. I’m just about to reply when a man in a suit approaches us.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his Italian accent light and apologetic. “Its nine o’clock and the museum is closing.”

My heart constricts. We’ve only been through two of the buildings! We can’t go yet! There’s still so much to see! The 18th century European paintings, the furnished and paneled rooms, the Italian paintings and sculpture ranging from the 1700s through the 1900s! We can’t go yet!

“Oh yeah, um, I called about that,” Justin says, fidgeting with the hat on his head, glancing around before pulling it up quickly, revealing his mess of blond curls underneath before replacing it nervously.

“Yes, I thought it was you,” the man says smiling and I nearly fall off the bench. “I’m John Giurini, director of Public Affairs. I’ll be accompanying you through the museum after hours.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Justin says, extending his hand and John shakes it enthusiastically.

“It’s not a problem at all! You’re my daughter’s favorite,” John says and Justin drops his head, smiling as he nods a little.

“Well, tell her thank you for me. I’d be happy to sign something for her.”

I trail along behind them as John goes on and on about his daughter, Justin nodding and laughing politely. Tiny strides up next to me and I glance at him briefly as we make our way into the South Pavilion.

“You know,” Tiny says and I look up at him, finding him peering down at me hesitantly, “it’s not my job to tell him what to do. It’s not my job to tell his mother what he does. In fact doing that greatly impedes my job. If he doesn’t trust me then he tries to ditch me and that’s how people get hurt. It’s my job to protect him. I’ve known this kid since he was fourteen years old. I know him. I know how he thinks. I know how he works. I’m not surprised that he was able to get to you.” I cringe, looking away but he continues on. “I’m not surprised you gave in.” My eyes meet his again and he’s looking at me steadily. “I’ll keep your secret, Skylar, but I’m telling you now, nothing good can come of this.”

I look up at him, slightly shocked. I think that this is the most Tiny has ever said to me in the entire two months we’ve been together on this tour. He’s looking down at me sympathetically…well…sympathetically for Tiny. He glares. It’s his constant expression but you just have to learn to read his glares.

It takes a few moments for what he’s said to register and the overwhelming guilt consumes me again. I look at the ground and then at Justin, who’s still nodding politely to John. I know Tiny is right. I know my conscience is right. I know this, but… there’s no stopping this. We’ve opened Pandora’s Box and it can’t be closed again, no matter how much I wish I had the willpower to do it.

Tiny is still looking at me, his black eyes imploring, begging for my understanding. I give him a slight nod and he returns it, the look on his face saying he knows nothing has changed. I’ll be in Justin’s bed again… or he’ll be in mine, but this is going to continue. As much as I hate it, I’m in this.

“Sky,” Justin says and I look up to find him standing in front of a large canvas, John having melted into the background. “Tell me about this one!”

I move forward, taking in the large painting of Pluto and Proserpine. He leans in close to me, pretending to be looking closely at the painting as he whispers, “Sorry about that.”

I shake my head at him before beginning to explain the piece to him and he listens intently following me along as we move through the South Pavilion and then the West, John and Tiny following us in a quiet sentinel.

“You’re not even thinking critically, Justin!” I exclaim as we make our way out of the West Pavilion.

“Sky! It’s a fucking landscape!” Justin shoots back and John clears his throat causing us to turn our attention to him

“The changing exhibit is last,” John informs us, an amused expression on his face as he opens the door to the building. “It’s a small exhibition celebrating nudity in art.”

He ushers us inside and waits at the doorway to the exhibit, gesturing us inside. He and Tiny wait at the entrance, allowing us to go inside unchaperoned.

“Still,” I say, picking up our conversation as I make my way into the room. “I’ve told you before ‘pretty’ is not a critique!”

“Ugh, it was a grove of trees, Skylar! How the hell am I supposed to…Holy Shit!”

It seems that now he’s finally noticed the large painting on the wall in front of us. I look at him and it takes all of my will power not to burst out laughing. His eyes are large as saucers, his mouth hanging open in shock as he takes in the large painting of a woman’s spread legs.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” I ask, leaning forward to survey the brush strokes and I swear I can hear him swallow the lump in his throat. I glance back at him and he’s standing with his arms crossed over his front. I roll my eyes playfully, moving back from the painting and grinning at him. “Jesus, Justin do you ever not think about sex?”

I shake my head at him as I turn my back, moving along to the next painting. I hear him scurry up behind me, his voice quiet and tense as he says, “Sky, that is a ten foot by twelve foot vagina on the wall!”

“And here’s its companion,” I say, barely containing my smile as he looks from me to the painting in front of us.

“Oh, Jesus,” he says, cringing and throwing his hands up in front of his face. “Dick is not my thing.”

I hum in response, the risqué retort bounding around inside my head. And then I think to hell with it. If I’m going to hell I want a first class ticket.

“No, you like pussy don’t you, baby?” I ask, giggling a little when he moans.

“You can’t saaaaaay that to me,” he whines, his hands moving to my hips as we stand in front of a portrait of two bodies erotically entwined. “God, Sky what the hell is this shit?”

“Art,” I reply simply, leaning back into him, feeling him pressing into me.

“Why don’t we study this stuff?” he breathes into my ear and I laugh slightly, as he hugs me tight against him.

“We do,” I say, ignoring his hand that is inching up my stomach. “The Greeks were all about nudity in art.”

“But not like this,” he says, his large hand giving my breast a squeeze as his lips nibble at my neck. I allow my head to loll to the side, my eyes closing, pushing the guilt down. God, I just can’t get enough of him.

“Can we go back to the hotel?” he whispers in my ear.

My eyes open, my body on fire as I shiver, his mouth opening against my neck, tongue reaching out to flick at my pulse point. Tiny’s words echo in my head and I know I should say no. I know when we get back I shouldn’t tell him to come to my room to “study.” I know I should tell him that we need to stop this crazy thing before we both go up in flames. I should tell him no…

“Yes,” I say, turning in his arms to look into his handsome face, resolve no where in sight. “Let’s get out of here.”