I sit there staring at the blank screen, the open document before me. I know that there’s a story inside of me somewhere. It’s just refusing to come out at the moment. I sit back in my wobbly desk chair (I really need to invest in a new chair) and close my eyes. I try to conjure Justin up in my mind. Because of course it’s a Justin story. Justin is the one that I do the best. But lately it seems like he’s been escaping me.

I’m sitting there deep in thought, when I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I turn around, prepared to tell whoever it is to buzz off. But when I open my eyes, my throat closes up around the words that I’m about to speak.

"Well," he begins in a voice that is strange and all too familiar at the same time, "I’m here. What do you want to do with me?"

My jaw drops and my eyes slam shut. "This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening." I repeat the words over and over again. Some secret chant that will make all of this go away. I slowly crack one of my eyes open and a relieved gasp of air rushes from my body when I realize that he’s no longer standing there.

"Hey." I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound. I realize that he’s not gone altogether, he’s just decided to have a seat on the edge of my bed. He’s sitting there looking at me expectantly.

Wishing him away didn’t work. Maybe I could try reasoning with him. "You can’t be here." He doesn’t respond. Just continues to give me the same blank stare. So I try again. "You have to leave, now."

He turns his head to the side. I can’t tell if he’s considering what I’m saying or just analyzing me. I think he’s probably doing both. Finally he speaks. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do I need to leave?"

"Because if you’re here, that means that I have lost my mind. I like clinging to the idea that I’m sane. That’s a little hard for me to do if you’re sitting there looking at me. So, you need to leave."

"I can’t."

"Why not?"

"You brought me here." He shrugs his shoulders in a very nonchalant way. "I can’t just leave. If you want me gone, you’ll have to get rid of me yourself."

I guess that makes sense. So I close my eyes and start up my chant again. Until I hear him laughing at me. "Will you be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate on getting you out of here."

"Sorry. It’s just if the chanting didn’t get rid of me the first time, what makes you think that it’s going to work now?"

"I am not going to listen to a bunch of back talk from a figment of my own imagination. You just sit there and be quiet."

"You’re the boss." He stops talking. He stops moving. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. He’s just sitting there being quiet. And it is creepy as hell.

"Cut that out."

He springs to life as though he hadn’t been sitting there like a statue. "Cut what out?"

"Why were you sitting there like that?"

"I have to do what you tell me to. If you tell me to sit here and be quiet, that’s all I can do."

"Oh really. You have to do whatever I tell you to do."

"Yeah."

"So, if I told you to get up and strip off your clothes, you’d have to get up and strip off all your clothes?"

"That’s the way I think it works." He sits waiting, with his hands folded neatly in his lap. "Well. Should I start stripping or what?"

"No. I do not want you to strip."

He smirks at me, but then suddenly he stops. "I don’t smirk at people as much as you seem to think that I do. I don’t lick my lips all that often either."

"What are you talking about?"

"I’m talking about all the little ticks that you give me in your stories. I do those things, but not that often. I don’t smile that much either. At least not that cocky smile that you always say that I have."

"Is that what you’re here for? To critique my writing?"

"No. I’m just saying. There’s some things that you get wrong."

"Things like what?"

"Like this outfit for instance." I finally take in what he’s wearing. A tight sleeveless t shirt and a pair of fitted jeans.

"What’s wrong with your outfit?"

"I haven’t dressed like this since 2001."

"I know that. I just happen to think that it was a good look for you."

And just like that, just like magic. His shirt disappears before my very eyes. I stare at him and he stares at me. "How did you do that?"

"Don’t look at me. You did this. Although I can’t say that I’m surprised."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You have to admit that you’re kind of obsessed with my body. My chest in particular."

I’ve never been so insulted. "You are every bit as arrogant as I imagined you to be."

"My eyes aren’t really this blue. Not all the time anyway. And you gave me too much hair. Didn’t you see me on the Kid’s Choice Awards? I’ve gotten my hair buzzed again."

"I don’t like that haircut."

"Apparently." He gives his reflection one more glance before heading back over to the bed and sitting down again. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Ideas about what?"

He sighs in exasperation. "About what kind of story you want to write. I seem to be making you really uncomfortable. The sooner you crank out a story, the sooner I can get out of here."

"I can’t just crank out a story. It takes time. It’s a process."

He looks very unimpressed. "Tell you what. I’m just gonna take a nap. When you think of something for me to do, let me know."

The next thing I know, his pants and shoes have disappeared and he’s kicked back on my bed. He rolls over, turning his back to me and snuggles up against the pillows.

"Now wait just a minute."

He sighs and sits up. "What now?"

I don’t even know where to start. "For one thing, where are your pants?"

"You should probably be asking yourself that question."

"Oh no you don’t. I was not thinking about you with no pants on."

"Come on now. In some little corner of your mind, you’re always thinking about what I look like with no pants on."

"Okay. I’ve thought about what you look like completely naked too. Why are you wearing those boxer briefs? Shouldn’t those have disappeared?"

"You don’t know what I look like naked. You’ve seen my arms, my chest, my legs and my hipbones. But that’s as far as you can go because that’s all you’ve seen."

He pulls the elastic band of the underwear away from his skin and looks inside. "You’ve been most generous with your imagination. But still it’s only your imagination. But if you want to see, fine by me." He starts to pull the boxer briefs down his slender hips, but I slap my hands over my eyes.

"Wait. Don’t do that."

"And that is why the boxer briefs stayed on. As much as you tell yourself that you’d like to see me naked. You don’t really want some stranger standing in the middle of your room with no clothes on. Even if it’s me."

When I look at his face, that cocky smile that he claims not to have is firmly planted on his lips. "You are unbelievable."

"I am. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You are whatever I think you are." I raise my hands and start to vigorously massage my temples. I don’t know if I’m trying to rub out the headache or the crazy.

He gives me a kind, sympathetic look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I’ve just got a headache."

"I’m sorry."

"It’s not your fault."

"It is, in a way. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Maybe I can help you write your story. Once you get the story out of your head, I can go back where I belong. Then your head won’t have to hurt anymore."

"That’s very sweet of you."

"Yeah. It is. You do realize that I’m not really this nice, right?"

"Oh forget it."

"Has it occurred to you to try writing a story about someone else? Why do you always have to write about me?"

That’s a good question. Why do I always write about him? "I guess I write about you because I like you."

"You don’t like me. You don’t know me. For all you know I could be a total asshole. You like the idea of me. You like the version of me that you create."

"You’ve got a point there. You’re just easier for me to write about. I already know a ton of stuff about you. I don’t have to waste my time doing google searches trying to figure out where you’ve been and what you’ve done. I already know."

"You know a lot of stuff about JC too."

"How do you know that?"

He gives me a look. "Hello. I’m inside your head."

"Right. I guess I do know a lot about JC, but I just don’t connect with him as easily as I do with you."

"JC can be kind of hard to get. But he can be just as interesting as me if he’s done the right way. Well, no one’s as interesting as me, but he’s a close second."

"I know that. I’ve done some JC before. I just really wanted to write something else about you."

"Why are you trying to start a new story when you’ve got five or six incomplete stories about me going already?"

"Your logic is not welcome here."

"I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be easier for you to work on an existing story instead of trying to write a new one?"

"Probably. But which one should I work on?"

"Does it really matter? Another chapter of any of them would probably get rid of me for the time being." He pauses and rubs his hand over his head. "As long as it’s not that one where I have a split personality."

"What’s wrong with that story?"

"What’s wrong with it? You made me a raging lunatic. What’s up with that?"

"I was just trying to do something different."

"It’s different alright."

"Now I don’t know what to do."

"Here’s an idea. Why don’t you shut off that computer and go to sleep?"

"I guess I could."

"Of course you can." He scoots further over on the bed and pats the space beside him. "Come on."

"You expect for me to get into bed with you?"

"I can’t do anything to you." His eyebrows move up and down in a suggestive manner. "Unless you want me to."

"This is getting a little too weird for me."

"I was just kidding. I’ll disappear as soon as you fall asleep anyway. I promise."

"Okay." I close the open word document and start shutting down my computer.

"Nice desktop background." I can hear his voice coming from behind me. "That’s a pretty good picture of me."

"Yeah, I think so too." I stand up from my chair and nervously approach the bed. I lay down beside him and he moves closer, loosely draping his arm around my waist.

"Is this okay?"

I simply nod my head before turning over and burying my nose against his shoulder. "You smell good."

"According to you, I always smell good. Now try to go to sleep."

"Alright." I settle in next to him, letting myself get comfortable. Imagining that I can actually feel his warmth beside me. Just as I start to drift off, I can feel lips lightly pressed against my forehead.

"Why did you do that?"

"That was thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"I’m thanking you for thinking about me." His voice sounds so far away and when I open my eyes, there’s nothing beside me but an empty space.

I sit up and look around the room, just to make sure that he’s really gone. I laugh at myself and shake my head. Convinced that the whole thing was just some freaky dream.

I lay down and drift off to sleep. Trying to convince myself all the while that I don’t smell the light hint of cologne on my pillow.

It was all just a dream. Right?