Lance started awake, still. Finding himself alone in the dark hotel room, he slumped back into his pillows. It was only a dream. A freaking dream. But it felt so real. Lance rubbed his fingers over his mouth. He could still feel the heat of JC's lips lingering there.
A knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts. Groaning, he clambered out of bed and staggered to the door.
“Who is it?” he grunted, eyes burning and raw.
“It's me, JC.” The person on the other side called.
Lance's eyes widened at the sound of that sweet voice and the thought of its owner. He slowly opened the door. JC stood there, wearing khaki pants and a long-sleeve white T-shirt. A pretty damn tight white t-shirt What the Hell? Was this some sort of freakish coincidence?
“God, I hope not!” Lance thought wildly. JC looked amazing. Better than the dream because now Lance could smell him as he pushed through the door. He smelled of soap and cologne and something fresh and clean and distinctly JC.
“Hey there,” Lance stuttered, still distracted by this large-as-life mirror image of his dream.
“You wanna come with me to the movies?” JC asked, took out with a warm smile gracing his features.
Lance grinned devilishly. Oh, Hell yeah. He seriously wanted to go to the movies.
“Sure. Lemme change,” he said aloud.
Maybe waking up from his dream wasn't such a big disappointment after all.
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