Anyway. It's basically a take on Dirty Dancing--one of the movies I'm totally obsessed with. If you haven't seen Dirty Dancing before, well... it's about a girl who goes on vacation in the Catskills with her family the summer before she goes off to college, and she ends up taking dance lessons and falling in love with her instructor... blah blah.
You get the ish. Just read it and review, mmkay?
It was a sticky late June weekend in Florida when they arrived. "Isn't this gorgeous?" Diane Bass asked, removing her black-framed Jackie O-like sunglasses. "I can't believe we're going to be here for two months!"
Justin Timberlake climbed out of the airport shuttle. "I can't believe it either," he exclaimed, surveying the bevy of beautiful girls walking around the resort grounds. "I think I could like it here. How 'bout you, Lance-A-Lot?"
Lance Bass bristled at the sound of the annoying nickname his cousin had given him. "I'm thrilled," he said in his usual sarcastic tone. "Where's the lazy river?"
"Oh Lance," Diane scolded. "Stop being so negative. You just might enjoy yourself." She casually slung her Prada bag over her arm, and then waved at a concierge. "Could you get our luggage out of the van?"
As Lance's mother flagged down the concierge, Justin removed his backpack from the shuttle, and moved his cousin's messenger bag out of the way. "You plan on getting out anytime soon, cuz?" he asked, readjusting his UNC cap. "Or are you gonna sit there like a pissy bitch the entire time?"
"I'm not a pissy bitch," Lance answered, finally sliding out of the shuttle. He took his bag from his cousin and slung it over his shoulder. "I just think this whole thing's kind of ridiculous. I'm getting ready to go to college, for God's sake; I'm just a little old for family vacations, don'tcha think?" He squinted in the blinding sunlight, then put on the sunglasses he'd purchased from a vendor at the airport.
Justin groaned. "You need to have some fun, Mr. I-Got-Into-My-First-Choice-School," he snapped. "Yeah, it's kind of cheesy. But there's also lots of hot mamacitas 'round here… more than makes up for it."
"Whatever," Lance shrugged, watching the luggage being packed onto a gilded rack. It wasn't that he didn't feel up for having fun on the trip; it wasn't that at all. He was just incurably eager to actually start college at Duke University in September, so that he would be able to actually start over again. For too long, he'd always been Lance Bass, Justin's less cool cousin; Lance Bass, the guy girls would call as a last resort if their dates for a cotillion or country club party bailed on them; Lance Bass, computer nerd and entrepreneur wannabe. All he longed for was to be able to lose that identity and reach his potential—or something like that.
In fact, he'd almost been fine with the trip until his mom got the bright idea of calling is aunt Lynn, and seeing if Justin wanted to come along. Granted, Justin was Lance's favorite cousin—they were fairly close in age, with Justin being two years younger than Lance—but when it came to attracting girls and attention, Justin was a pro. And for once, Lance would've liked to be the center of attention.
"Cuz!" Justin shouted from across the parking lot. "You comin', or are you going to try to head back to the airport?"
Lance looked around, then after readjusting the straps on his bag, he walked toward his mother and cousin, still doubting that he'd have fun on this seemingly lame trip.
Even though Lance didn't particularly want to be on the trip, he had to admit that the villa was great. It was spacious with a full kitchen, two bedrooms and two full baths, and each TV had cable. And much to Lance's joy, there was a phone jack next to the bed he'd chosen so that he could hook his laptop up at night. He wanted to do just that as soon as he got settled in, but Justin objected, pulling the cord out of the wall, shocking Lance. "You could've broken my cord!" he exclaimed.
"Big deal. Come on, let's go check this place out."
"I don't feel like it, J," Lance responded. "We have nearly two months to check the place out, can't you let me just check my e-mail?"
Justin laughed. "Don't be such a nerd."
Groaning, Lance got off the bed and turned off the laptop. "Fine. We'll check the place out. It's going to be the same as when we went on that trip to South Padre Island a few summers ago, though... all of the girls are going to flock to you and I'll just end up standing there looking like a world-class ass."
"Are you always going to be that pessimistic?" Justin asked, walking out the room.
"I'm not a pessimist…" Lance objected
"…I’m a realist," Justin finished, rolling his eyes. He'd heard his cousin say that phrase far too many times. He walked into the kitchen where his aunt was busy making out a grocery list. "Aunt Diane, we're going to go check out the resort, okay?"
Diane looked up. "Okay, but be back before seven, boys. Lance?"
"Yes, Mom?"
"Your dad—he's playing golf with a coworker of his. This coworker has a daughter, and she'd like to meet you. She's a nice girl too..."
"Oh," Lance responded as he smiled nervously. Every time his mother said, "she's a nice girl", it seemed to be code for a particularly heinous looking girl or a completely demented girl. Mothers had a lack of judgment when it came to things like deciding if girls were or weren't "nice". "Sure. See you later, Mom." He walked toward the door and quickly flung it open, Justin in close pursuit.
"What was that about?" Justin asked, catching up to Lance as he was walking toward the elevator that would take the boys down from their third-floor villa.
"I hate when she does that," Lance moaned. "God, how sad is it that my mom thinks it's perfectly suitable to try to hook me up with girls? I'll bet this one's another complete dog."
"Whatever. That's just something you'll deal with later, dude." Justin pressed the "down" button. "Ready to party?"
As the doors of the elevator opened, Lance stepped in. "Yeah, I'm ready to par-tay, J."
The resort was full of activity. Kindergarten-aged kids were in a daycare-type set up, playing freeze tag. The older kids were spread out playing tennis, golf, and soccer. Teenagers were everywhere: lounging at the snack bar, playing video games in the arcade, walking away from the tennis courts, and lounging around the pool. "I haven't seen this much activity since I went to camp," Lance remarked.
"Hey, look, there's a signup board for activities." Justin walked over and scanned the list. "Ooh, how exciting! Volleyball! Tennis lessons! Arts and crafts! I totally want to make lanyards." He snorted loudly. "Let's see. What can we sign up for that will guarantee that we meet girls?"
Two girls decked in tennis whites walked by the boys, and Justin deviously eyed the "tennis lessons" list. "Maybe I could make like Pete Sampras…"
Lance rolled his eyes. "Maybe not." He surveyed the list, wondering what other activities would seem appealing. "Cooking lessons?"
"Surely you jest."
"Hey, you want something where you'd meet girls… how about dance classes?"
At that, Justin smiled. "Perfect!" he half-shouted. "And it's something I'm fairly good at, as opposed to cooking or playing tennis." He picked up the pen dangling from the board by a piece of red yarn and quickly scribbled his name. "Want me to sign you up too, cuz?"
Lance glared at Justin. "J, you know the only dancing I do is of the slow, waltzy kind. That's it. That, and the Marcarena."
"Oh, c'mon, you know how to square-dance too."
"You know I'm not a dancer. Besides, I don't care about hooking up with some girl for the summer. You go, you have fun, you meet some hapless girl; you break her heart. Okay?" Lance smiled, then, after noticing a mosquito was creeping up his wrist, slapped it; leaving black bug goo on his forearm. "And so it goes… and so it goes…"
Justin rolled his eyes. "Well, the class starts tomorrow at… eleven A.M.?! Are you serious?"
"You don't have to go, you know that, right?"
Justin looked peeved, then sighed. "If I can meet girls… then it's worth it," he stated. "Let's go check out the arcade."
Smiling, Lance nodded in agreement. "You are a lost cause."
