JC's Hitchhiker

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CHAPTER 16

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When Josh finished in the bathroom, he began to clean up the bedroom, trashing filled tissues and condom wrappers, and stripping the sheets from the bed, adding them to the laundry pile. I watched for a while, sipping my coffee, noticing that Josh went through all of the motions of cleaning with the same thoughtful half scowl on his face. 

"Josh?" I asked quietly, as he bustled past me to set the laundry basket down by the door. 

I had a lot of questions about what we'd done the previous night. Was it wrong? Did it count as cheating on each other? And what about Justin? Was he gay? Was he just curious? Maybe he was bi? I'd known straight boys who played around every once in a while, so last night really didn't prove anything either way for him, but what about us? Whatever questions I had, Josh's must have been a hundred times worse. I'd counted Justin as a friend for a handful of days. Josh and Justin had been friends for years, best friends, and last night they had shared me in Josh's own bed. 

And speaking of Justin, should one of us maybe follow him, or should we give him his own space? When I had slept with Josh for the first time, we didn't speak afterward for almost a year, a year during which Josh had to sort out a lot of his own feelings and figure out his own identity. Was Justin doing the same thing, even now? And where would this leave Britney? Justin was out somewhere, at the gym he'd told us, but what was he doing there? Was he thinking about what all of this might mean, or was he avoiding thinking about it? 

And had I come between the two of them? Everything that happened last night had been initiated by me, more or less, and I wasn't even sure of why. I'd just followed what felt good, and hadn't stopped for a second to think of the consequences. 

"Josh, are you ok?" I asked. "Do we need to talk?" 

Josh stopped and stared at me. His face still had that half scowl, but there were other emotions twisted in there, as well. Love? Jealousy? Anger? I couldn't be sure if what I thought I was seeing on Josh's face was really there or if I was just imposing my own thoughts on him. 

"Not now, Jack," Josh answered, looking away from me. "Not now." 

I sighed, watching him turn away. 

"Fine," I said, getting up. "I'm going to go take a shower, then." 

Josh didn't say anything, walking over to the kitchen to find himself something to eat. I sighed again and went to the bathroom. When I was done with my shower, I went into the bedroom and got dressed, but didn't see Josh anywhere. Peeking into the other bedroom, I saw that he was busy at the keyboard again, his earphones clamped into place over his ears, and I went into the living room to read, watch the clock, and wait for Josh to finish or for Justin to come back. 

Eventually, I got tired of both. As much as I was sorry Justin had stuff to work through, now, what was going on with Josh and I was more important to me. Our relationship was my priority, and we weren't doing anything to help it by sitting in separate rooms alone. I wasn't really able to concentrate on my book, anyway, with everything else I was thinking about, and I was also trying to guess at what Josh was thinking, too. I was tired of guessing. I wanted to talk to him, to hear from him directly what was running through his mind, because it was obvious that something was. I didn't want him in the back bedroom, pounding away at his keyboard, scribbling lyrics on scraps of paper. I wanted him out here with me, talking to me, or even yelling at me if he needed to. 

I didn't want his silence. 

I couldn't deal with the way he had pushed me aside this morning, the cold shoulder, the casual separation as if I were some acquaintance that he could talk to or not talk to as he saw fit. I had lowered a lot of my walls to be around Josh, to be with him, and I wasn't about to let him just throw walls back up between us. I trusted him, and I needed to know where we stood. 

Tossing my book aside I walked into the back bedroom, and stood in the doorway for a minute or two, watching Josh. When he played, he lost himself in his music, poured himself into it totally, and I could tell just by watching, without hearing anything, that it wasn't happening that way today. He crumpled the paper he was writing, tossing it aside, and pounded the keyboard with his closed fist. Jerking his head to the side to retrieve his fallen pencil, he saw me in the doorway, and his eyes narrowed. Rather than take off his headphones, he grabbed the pencil and turned back to the keyboard, dismissing me. 

That was it. That was the last straw. 

I crossed the room, sitting down on the bed behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he scowled, and pulled the headphones off. 

"What?" he asked coolly, his face not quite neutral. 

"We need to talk, Josh," I said, struggling to keep my voice level. 

"What did you want to talk about, Jack?" he asked, swiveling the chair around so that he was facing me. "Last night? Or maybe about whatever's going on between you and Justin?" 

"Excuse me?" I asked, leaning forward. 

"You heard me," he replied. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. I've seen the way you step apart and look away when I walk into the room, so I'll ask again. What's going on between you two?" 

"Nothing, Josh," I answered. "Whatever you think you've seen isn't what you think. Justin and I are just friends, and we wouldn't even be that if not for you." 

"Just friends?" Josh asked, leaning back in his chair. "Invite all of your friends into our bed?" 

Both of us were starting to get a little pissy, and I could see it, but it was like I was in a car with no brakes, rolling downhill toward a busy intersection. I couldn't seem to stop myself any more than Josh seemed to be able to. 

And I wasn't sure if either of us wanted to stop. 

"Funny, Josh, I don't seem to recall being the only one with his dick in my mouth last night," I snapped. 

"His dick wouldn't have been in the room if you hadn't opened the door," Josh snapped back. 

"Oh, so it's all my fault?" I asked. 

"Why didn't you tell me he saw us that night in the studio?" Josh asked. "Why didn't you tell me right then?" 

"I don't know," I said, looking down at my hands. "I don't really have a good reason. I thought he'd tell you." 

"You don't have a good reason," he spat. "And that makes it ok? What, am I not enough for you? Maybe we should invite the whole group up next time." 

"Fuck you," I said, standing. "When did I ever say you weren't good enough for me?" 

He followed me into the living room. 

"You didn't have to!" he blurted. "You didn't have to say anything. Instead you invited my friend into our bed." 

"You know, let's talk about your friend, Josh," I said icily, spinning to face him. "Let's talk about your friend, Justin, your very good friend. You want to ask about what's going on with me and Justin? What about what's going on with you and Justin?" 

"What?" he asked, paling. He stepped back, and I stepped toward him. 

"You want to ask about the way I look at Justin?" I asked, advancing. "What about the way you look at Justin? You think I haven't seen it? You think I haven't seen the way you watch him, the way your eyes light up when he walks in?" 

"Justin and I are friends," Josh said, crossing his arms. 

"Yeah, you're Justin's friend, but what is Justin to you, Josh?" I asked. "What do you see when you look at Justin? Because I'd say it's a lot more than brotherly." 

"Shut the fuck up," Josh said, glaring at me. 

"Hit a nerve?" I asked, glaring right back. "Tell me again about the awful thing I did, bringing him into the bedroom, and then explain to me why you were all over him." 

"This isn't about Justin," Josh said. 

"Really? Because I thought it was," I said. 

"You lied to me," he said, stepping toward me. "You didn't tell me he saw us." 

"He didn't tell you, either, Josh," I pointed out. 

"That's not an excuse, Jack, " he snapped. "That doesn't make it ok. You keep saying you love me, and that I should trust you, and you didn't even tell me." 

"And you trust me by locking yourself in the bedroom with your keyboard?" I demanded. "You want to bitch about things I didn't tell you? What about what you didn't tell me?" 

"Oh, and what would that be?" Josh asked, the anger on his face creeping into his voice. 

"How long have you been in love with Justin?" I asked. 

The silence yawned between us, a chasm that I'd just kicked away the last bridge over. 

"We're not talking about that," Josh said quietly. 

"How long are we not going to talk this time, Josh?" I pushed. "Another year?" 

"Fuck you," he repeated. 

I turned and walked toward the door. I needed some air. I needed to be out of the apartment before one of us said something really awful. I needed to get away because I couldn't seem to stop any of the words flying out of my mouth, and once they were gone there would be no way to take them back. 

"Yeah, walk away," Josh said from behind me. "You're good at that." 

"Fuck you, Josh," I said, not looking back. I slammed the door closed behind me. 

And he didn't come out after me. He didn't apologize, or call out for me to stop. He didn't come tell me that we weren't done, didn't come tell me that we needed to talk through this before it got out of hand. 

But I didn't turn and go back to him, either. 

I walked down to one of the lounge chairs and sank heavily into it, breathing deeply, almost panting. I held my head in my hands, not crying, just trying to collect myself, and listened to footsteps tapping down the stairs. I heard someone settle onto the lounge next to me, and, while I hoped it was Josh, I knew it wasn't, even before she spoke. 

"Hey," Brit said. 

I looked at her, uncovering my eyes. I know I must have looked bad, but Brit was looking a little strained as well. Her clothes were sloppy, something I'd never seen in the short time I'd known her, and her wrinkled t-shirt looked like she'd slept in it. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and I wondered if anyone in America besides Justin ever saw her like this. 

"Hey," I said. "How are you, Brit?" 

"Looks like I could ask you the same thing," she said. "What are you doing out here?" 

"Josh and I are kind of having a fight," I answered, not seeing the need to lie. "You know, like you and Justin." 

"That's kind of why I came down," she said, folding her hands. "I saw you out here, and I thought I'd come ask. How is he? How's Justin doing?" 

Oh, he's great, Brit. That blowjob we gave him last night perked him right up. 

"Well, he's not happy, as I'm sure you're aware," I answered. "I think you hurt him a lot yesterday by not talking to him." 

"I know, but I was just too upset," she sighed, looking at her hands. "I'm sure Justin told you this, but we've been having some problems, Jack." 

"And you thought you'd talk to your new best girlfriend about them?" Lance asked from behind us. 

I turned, and saw him standing over our chairs, his closely set eyes staring down at me and a sneer painted across his wide face. 

"I'm not in the mood, Lance, " I said. My short fuse was almost gone, and he was the last person I needed pushing me. 

"Really?" he asked. "I thought you boys were always in the mood." 

"Knock it off, Lance," Brit said, leaning unhappily against the back of her chair. "You're being a jerk." 

"No, Lance, don't knock it off," I said, standing. "What exactly is your problem with me?" 

"You are my problem, rump ranger," Lance snapped, smiling to himself at his own weak insult. 

"Rump ranger?" I repeated incredulously. "Did you find that at the late '80's garage sale where you got those clothes? Nice be-dazzling on that denim jacket, Lance." 

"Fuck you, butt pirate," he said, smiling at this one, too, but a little less widely. 

"Oh, butt pirate," I said, giggling. "Are you trying to hurt me with these? Because you really, really suck at it." 

"I bet I don't suck half as well as you," he said, not giving up. 

"Why is that such a problem for you, Lance?" I asked. "Why do you even care?" 

"What you're doing is wrong, " he said. 

"I'm not doing it to you," I countered. "Why the fuck do you care?" 

"Because you're doing it to my friend," Lance said. "He came to talk to me, and I listened. You've got him snowed. You're leading him around by his dick, right down the path with you, and you've got him convinced that it's ok." 

"That's because it is okay, you moron," Britney said from her chair. 

Justin walked into the courtyard from the parking lot archway, and Lance turned to look at him before glancing back down at Britney. 

"Oh, I should grow up?" Lance said nastily. "What about you, puppy love?" 

"What goes on between me and Brit is none of your business," Justin said, stepping up next to me. "Just like what goes on between Josh and Jack is none of your business, either." 

"It is my business," Lance blurted. Above us, Josh stepped quietly out of our apartment and leaned over the railing, watching. "This fag corrupted one of my friends, and I'm not letting him get the rest." 

"I didn't corrupt anybody," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "And what makes you think I'd want any of his friends?" 

"Oh please," Lance said, staring from me to Justin and back again. "I know about you people. I know how you guys try to recruit guys, and make them sick perverts like you. You're probably working on Justin already, too." 

"What?" Justin asked, stepping toward him. 

"That's what they do, Justin, " Lance said. "He's probably working on you already, touching you, hugging you, telling you it's completely ok." 

Justin's nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed, but Lance seemed not to even notice. 

"Hell, next thing you know Jackie-boy here'll be down on his knees in front of you," Lance continued, as Justin stepped toward him again, "trying to get your dick into ... " 

Lance's next words, whatever nasty thing they would have been, were lost when Justin's fist slammed into his nose. I don't know if Justin was offended, or if what Lance said was just a little too close to home for him right now, but either way Lance went spinning back, blood spraying, as I pushed Justin away from him. Britney jumped out of her chair, screaming. 

"Justin! Stop it!" she yelled, running toward Lance. 

Chris pulled open his apartment door, saw what was going on, and ducked back inside. Josh began walking quickly toward the stairs. 

"Justin, leave him alone," I said, holding his arm. 

Blood splattered the tiles as Lance held his gushing nose. Chris stepped out of his apartment with a towel. 

"Take it back, Lance," Justin said, struggling against me. If he really went for Lance again I wasn't going to be able to stop him. 

"You always do the fighting for your fag friends?" Lance asked. Chris handed him the towel. 

"Put this on your nose, or put it in your mouth," he said, looking around carefully at all of us. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Nothing," Justin said, looking away. 

"Lance?" Chris asked. 

"Nothing," Lance answered, pressing the towel to his nose. Britney stood next to him, leading him toward a chair. 

"Jack?" Chris asked, turning to me. 

"Nothing," I answered, walking toward the stairs. I stepped past Josh. 

"Jesus," Josh whispered, his eyes fixed on the blood on the patio tile. 

"It'll be ok, Josh," I said absently, starting up the steps. 

"No it won't," Josh half-yelled behind me. I turned, and he was glaring up at me. "Don't tell me it'll be ok. Justin won't talk to me! He won't talk to Britney! Lance hates me! And you think it'll be ok?" 

"JC," Chris said quietly behind him. 

"Yeah, I do," I answered, turning to start up the stairs again. 

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't come here," Josh said coldly behind me. 

"Josh, you're just upset," Justin said, stepping toward him. 

I turned, staring down at Josh. His face was twisted, and tears glistened in his eyes. 

"Josh," I began, stepping down one stair toward him. "Josh, don't." 

"I wish I'd never met you," he spat. 

I didn't wait to hear what else he had to say. I turned and began to run up the stairs, even as I heard him screaming, "Don't touch me!" in the courtyard. Running into the apartment, I didn't even stop to shut the door, and I heard a car peel out of the parking lot as I pulled my suitcase out of the closet. I wasn't crying. I would not cry. I would not be hurt. 

But I would not stay, either. 

I was throwing things into my suitcase, not really looking. I glanced at the new clothes Josh had showered on me the other day, and left them in the closet. Pressing on the suitcase, I tried to get it closed, and pulled it back open in frustration. As I frantically pawed through it, rearranging things, my hand skittered across the cell phone Josh had given me, and I pulled it out, screeching in frustration, and hurled it against the wall. Chris jumped back as the phone exploded into plastic shards. 

"Jack?" he asked. 

"Chris, I need a ride to the airport," I said, stuffing things into my carry on bag as well. 

"Jack, don't do this," he began. I glared up at him. 

"I need a ride to the airport, Chris," I repeated. 

"Jack, Josh loves you," Chris began. 

"Really? Where is he?" I asked, still struggling with my luggage. Chris looked away. 

I would not cry. 

"He wouldn't forgive me if I drove you to the airport so you could leave him," Chris said. 

"Wasn't that just him leaving?" I asked. Chris looked away, and that was all the answer I needed. "If you won't drive me, call me a cab." 

"Jack," Chris began, holding up his hands. 

"Call me a cab, or get out," I said. "If you don't call it, I'll do it myself, and you'll have kept me from leaving for an entire minute. If it's really that important to you, fine, but really, Chris, all I need you to do is to pick up the God-damned phone and call me a fucking cab!" 

"Fine," Chris said, turning away and walking toward the telephone. "Fine. Do what you want." 

Chris called me a cab, and stood silently in the doorway while I finished packing. I finally got my suitcase closed as I heard the cab beep its horn out front, and I pushed past Chris, bags in hand. 

"Jack," he began again. 

"Lock up when you leave," I said. "Goodbye, Chris." 

I walked away as he leaned down over the balcony, silently imploring me not to. The courtyard was empty, no one else in my way or trying to stop me. I stalked out to the cab, throwing my bags in the opened trunk, and we sped away to the airport. 

At the airport, I was told it would be a few hours before I could make the next available flight, so I settled in near the counter, in case something opened on an earlier one. I pulled my bags up next to me, and thought about taking out my book, but I didn't want to read. I didn't want to do anything, really, and most especially I didn't want to think. I sat in my chair, dully watching the other people walk by, the happy couples, the families, the people with someone to love, and I hated them. 

Suddenly I hated them all. And suddenly I did want to cry after all. I wanted to cry for me, for Josh, for Justin. Hell, I even wanted to cry for Lance with his broken nose, and for Chris, watching, but powerless to stop any of this from happening. 

Abandoning my bags, I practically ran to the nearest bathroom, and locked myself in a stall. I sat on the toilet seat, wadded up a ball of toilet paper, and just let it all out. I cried, and cried, like I'd never cried before in my life, feeling every tear burn its way out of my eyes and knowing that, in the end, this was all my fault. I stopped crying, vomited a flood of the morning's coffee into the toilet, and then cried some more. When it finally seemed to have stopped, and I had myself under control, I went to the sinks and washed my face. 

I looked like hell, and I turned away from my reflection, wondering why I even cared. 

Who would want to look at me when I didn't want to look at myself? 

Walking out of the bathroom, I was relieved to see that my bags were still there, just as I'd left them. Sitting down, I bent to straighten my carry on bag, and felt something bump against my chest. I'd forgotten I was still wearing the necklace Josh had given me, the one with my sign on the front and his on the back, the twin to the one he was wearing. I reached up and unhooked it, pulling it out of my shirt and staring at it. 

It was such a small thing, this necklace. A round silver disk on a strand of black leather cord, it couldn't have cost more than a few dollars. Such a small thing, and yet, holding it, I felt destroyed. I cradled it as Atlas, staring at it, feeling the weight of everything that had happened concentrate itself in this tiny necklace, this gift Josh had given me so that I could always touch it and think of him. 

I didn't want to think of Josh anymore, or ever again. 

Standing, I crumpled the necklace in my fist, feeling the edges of the medallion digging into my palm, and I stalked toward the nearest garbage can. Approaching it, I held my fist out in front of me, trying to force myself to throw it all away. 

"I don't think you should do that," a familiar voice said from behind me. 

I sighed, my hand dropping, but still clutching the necklace. I should have known. Turning, I saw him standing dejectedly near my bags. 

"Justin," I said quietly. 

"Jack," he answered. 

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CHAPTER 17

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I stuffed the necklace into my pocket, not sure why I was listening to Justin instead of throwing it away. Hope? Or maybe just weakness? Regardless, I wasn't putting it back on, and I'd decide later what I was doing with it. I sat back down next to my bags, not really looking at Justin, and he sat next to me. 

"I thought I should come talk to you," Justin said, after a minute of silence. 

"Talk away," I said, staring at the floor. 

"Do you want to go get something to eat?" he asked. 

"I'm not leaving the airport, Justin," I said, looking at him. "I'm not going to go get something to eat, and I'm not coming home with you. I'm not even sure why you're here, or if I'm even interested in what you have to say." 

"I didn't say we needed to leave the airport," Justin said tersely. "Walk over there to that restaurant with me, let me buy you a coffee." 

"I can afford my own coffee, " I snapped, glaring at him. "I don't need your pity or your charity." 

"Fine, Jack, fine, buy your own fucking coffee," Justin snapped, getting up. He began to walk toward the restaurant. "And I'm not here for pity, either. I'm here for my friends. Do you need any of those?" 

"Which friends are you here for, Justin?" I asked, following him. "Are you here for Josh? Or maybe you thought you could get a little goodbye action from me? There's a bathroom over there." 

Justin turned and glared at me. He didn't look like he had when he punched Lance a few hours ago, not quite that angry, but I could see I was pissing him off. He breathed deeply for a second, visibly collecting himself. 

"You know what, Jack?" he asked. "How about if you try putting the hostility down, for just a second, and listening to me? It's not going to push me away, and I'm not going to make it that easy for you to leave, so you might as well save your effort, ok?" 

Grudgingly, I followed Justin toward the little eatery, a little surprised, and also a little resentful. He was barely older than my students, but he'd put me in my place pretty handily, seeing right through me when I wasn't even consciously aware of what I was doing. Perhaps the boy had something to say after all. We both ordered coffees, and took a seat in one of the booths. 

I stirred mine, annoyed with the silence, as Justin stared at me. 

"Well?" I asked. "Talk." 

"Sorry," he said. "I was trying to figure out how I should start. Considering your attitude, I guess I should just be direct. Jack, how do you feel about me?" 

I paused, considering. 

"Don't worry about hurting my feelings," Justin said firmly. "I'm young, but I'm not some babe in the woods. Just tell me how you feel." 

"Fine," I said. "I kind of like you as a friend, but I'm also not sure about you. I don't think you meant to come between Josh and I, but you have. Maybe you were just curious, or whatever was going on with you, but I think you've been a little closer to me than you needed to be. I don't think you were trying to move in on Josh's territory or anything, and even if you did, it wouldn't matter, because I don't like you that way. I don't see myself ever liking you as more than a close friend." 

"That's good," Justin said, sipping his coffee. "Because I don't like you that way, either." 

I must have looked surprised. 

"I'm not gay, Jack," Justin said. "I'm not even bi." 

"But what was going on, then?" I asked, confused. "I mean, it's almost like you've been pursuing me." 

"Well, it kind of was," Justin said, shrugging. "I was curious. When I saw you guys that first night, I wanted to just walk away, but at the same time I was just so surprised, because it was Josh, that I started to watch. And while I was watching, I started to get turned on, and I didn't know what to think. I didn't know you saw me, and when you guys were starting to finish up, I was afraid you might, so I just kind of bolted." 

I just stared at him, unsure of what to say. 

"I started to think about it some more, and then Josh told us about you and him," Justin continued. "I started to really think about it then, and that's when I talked to you, and Josh. I was thinking about how Josh said he never really thought about it, and never realized it, and then Brit and I started having problems, and I started to think that maybe that was what was wrong with me, too." 

"I don't know if I'd say it was something wrong," I interjected quietly. 

"Sorry," he said. "You know what I mean. I mean, I wouldn't have thought it, really, but I just couldn't get it out of my mind. It kept playing, over and over, in my head, and it was kind of hot. I mean, you're both really good looking guys, and the more I started to think about it, the more I started to wonder what it was like to be with a guy." 

"So you started throwing yourself at me," I said. 

"Not exactly," he said. "I mean, I didn't plan it, and it wasn't just you. I've been hugging Josh a lot, and finding excuses to be around him, but he thought it was because we're friends. I think you only noticed because you don't know me as well, and because you saw me. But it wasn't on purpose, like in a bad way. I just kept thinking about it, and Britney and I kept fighting, and I just kind of sort of hoped that one of you might, you know, make a move or something." 

"And you don't see a problem with that?" I blurted. "I understand that you were confused, but Jesus, Justin, you thought you'd just keep throwing yourself at us until one of us went for it? You tried to break us up, Justin. What the hell were you thinking?" 

"I wasn't, ok? Are you happy now? I wasn't thinking at all," he said. "But I didn't try to break you guys up. I didn't. I just, you know, I wanted to be with a guy, you know? Because I couldn't get it out of my head, and I just needed to know." 

"Justin, this can't possibly come as a shock to you, but you can have practically any guy you wanted," I said, shrugging. "You could scream it in the middle of this airport, and I'm willing to bet that guys would come running from every direction." 

Justin smiled. 

"Yeah, but I don't know them, " he said. "I know you guys, and I trust you. If I was gonna be with a guy, I don't want it to just be some random hookup. I wanted it to be with someone I trust." 

I looked at Justin. 

"Yeah, we'd hate for you to just meet some guy and then sleep with him," I said ironically. 

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't mean you and Josh. He said you had this connection." 

"I thought we did," I said, looking down. 

"I think you still do," he said. "And I'm sorry I came between it. I was being selfish, and I came here to try to catch you, to see if I could make up for it." 

"Justin, it wasn't just you, " I said. "Don't take all the blame." 

"I know," he said. "But Josh didn't mean what he said, Jack. He didn't. He's scared right now, and he's upset." 

"What's he scared of?" I asked, although I thought I knew. 

"All of this," Justin said. "He's scared of the way Lance reacted. What's going to happen when he tells his family? Or if the fans find out? Sometimes when people are afraid they lash out at people around them, even people they love." 

He wasn't saying anything I didn't know, but I still didn't want to hear it. I could feel my resolve slipping. 

"Justin, he hurt me," I said. 

"Oh, and you're the only one who got hurt?" Justin shot back. "What about him? Do you think he went peeling out of the parking lot because he was happy?" 

"I don't care, Justin," I said. I was lying. I did care, but I also knew I couldn't be hurt that way. 

"I think you do," he said. "I think you care a hell of a lot, and you're just as scared as he is." 

"Justin, what about the rest of it?" I asked. "You know, after last night?" 

Justin looked down, and then back up at me. His dark blue eyes stared into mine. 

"I left because I was scared, too," Justin said. "I was scared to talk to either of you." 

"Were we that bad?" I asked. He'd seemed to enjoy himself. 

"No, no, not like that," he said. "I just woke up, and you know, thought about what we did, and I was afraid, because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if Josh would be mad, or you would be, or what, so I just kind of bolted." 

I shrugged. I could sort of understand. 

"And the rest, well, you know, it was good," he said, blushing. "It was nice, and it was fun and all, but I'm really not, you know, I don't swing that way. I realized that this morning, too. I guess I was just, you know, curious." 

"I'm not really sure what to say, Justin," I said. "I guess I'm glad we helped prove you were straight." 

"Jack, what we had last night was amazing," he said, taking my hand. "I wouldn't take it back for anything in the world, and I don't regret it at all, but it just wasn't me. But, you know, Josh and I have been friends, best friends, for years, and now I feel even closer to him. And I feel pretty damn close to you, too. And I can't just let you leave, because you guys really do have something special, and because of the way I feel about both of you, I have to do everything I can, everything, to keep you guys from making a mistake." 

I pulled my hand away. 

"Justin, what if it's not a mistake?" I asked. "What if we're just not meant to be?" 

"Jack, I've never seen two people who were more meant for each other," Justin said. "Josh lights up when he's around you. He sees you, and it's like none of us exist. And you get the same look. It's like you guys are the world for each other." 

I didn't say anything. It was true, but I didn't want to face it. 

"Jack, you guys love each other," Justin said. "Love is worth fighting for." 

I sighed, and put my coffee down. 

"Justin, you're not at all the person I thought you were," I said. "I've misjudged you, and I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," he said. "I don't mind. You saw what I let everyone see, because it's all I feel like showing anyone. Nobody likes a smart blond, Jack, and I get a lot farther by being dumb and pretty." 

"This is unbelievable," I said, shaking my head. "Did you talk to Josh about any of this? What did he say?" 

"Jack, we can't find him," Justin said. 

"What?" I asked, leaning forward. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean he hasn't come back, " Justin said. "Jack, we can't find him." 

"We?" I asked. "Justin, it's been hours. What do you mean you can't find him?" 

"Chris went out to look for him," Justin said. "He checked the studio, and Josh wasn't there, so he came back, and we all sat down together and talked about what to do. Brit and Lance were going as soon as they got back from the emergency room, and Chris is still out." 

"He's not answering his phone?" I asked. Josh always carried his phone, always. 

"No," Justin answered, running his hands over the stubble on top of his head. "We've called everyone we know, and they're all still out driving around. We can't think of anywhere else to go, Jack. Josh is lost." 

Justin's breath hitched, and I looked up to see his eyes filling with tears. 

"No," I said, standing. "Justin, get up. We have to go find him. I have to find him." 

But we had no idea of where to look. 

Justin drove me back to the apartment, and I threw my bags inside. Running through to the bedroom, I frantically picked up the cell phone from the floor. If Josh was screening the calls from the others, using the caller ID on the phone, he would recognize this number. He might answer. If he felt anything like what I was feeling, he'd answer the telephone. The phone was broken. 

"Damn it, fucking damn it!" I yelled, throwing it again. 

"Jack, stop it!" Justin said, grabbing my arms before I could break anything else. 

"This is my fault, Justin," I said. "This is all my fault. I hurt him, and now he's out there somewhere, and he's alone. It's dark, Justin! It's dark, and Josh is out there, and none of us know where he is, and he's in pain." 

"Jack," Justin began, but stopped. He didn't seem to have anything else to say. 

"It's my fault, Justin," I said. "Call Chris, and let me talk to him." 

I sent Chris, with a few of the bodyguards, to the Beverly Center, to walk around and look for him there. I sent Britney and Lance to go check all the stores that Josh had taken me to. Justin knew of some music stores in an area downtown that Josh liked to look around at, for sheet music and old records, and I sent him there. I paced the courtyard with the cordless phone, the apartment not being big enough for me. 

Where was he? 

As the minutes ticked by without news, I somehow got it into my head that I should unpack, and that pretending none of this morning had happened might somehow make Josh come home. I was in the bedroom, frantically hanging things in the closet, when Lance walked in. 

My first impulse was to snap at him, to demand to know what he wanted, or if he hadn't done enough yet, but the look in his eyes stopped me. Lance's nose was puffy, and bruising a little already, wrapped in white tape. I hadn't realized Justin had punched him so hard, but his nose looked like it was probably broken. I almost said something anyway, but then I remembered that he had been out looking for Josh, too, and I decided to give him a chance. He stood uncomfortably in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. 

"I, Jack, can I talk to you?" he asked. "Britney thought we should come check the emergency rooms, so I sent her to go find a phone book." 

"Um, sure, Lance," I said. I didn't think he'd want to sit on the bed, so I gestured toward the living room. "Maybe, do you want to sit?" 

"Sure," he said, turning toward the living room. 

I followed him, and we sat awkwardly across from each other in the chairs. Lance stared at his shoes, and I looked at the coffee table. He tried to start a couple times, inhaling, or clearing his throat, and I sighed. 

"Can I help you in some way?" I asked, holding out my hands. "Maybe get you a drink?" 

"Yes," he said gratefully. "I'd like that." 

I was opening the cabinet, getting a glass out, when Lance began to speak behind me. 

"I don't like you, Jack," he said. This was an odd way to start. "I don't like you, but it's easy for me not to like you, because I don't know you. But I know Josh." 

I turned, leaning back against the counter, and just let him talk. 

"Josh is my friend," Lance said quietly. "I don't know if Josh still knows that. I haven't really acted like his friend. I haven't really acted like anyone's friend, and I don't know if I can say I'm sorry to Josh and let him know I mean it." 

He sighed. 

"Jack, what you're doing is wrong. It's not right, it's immoral, and it makes me not like you. And that's wrong as well. I've had, you know, a lot of time to think about this the past couple days, and I realized that I did like you. When I met you at Josh's barbecue, we talked for hours, and I was starting to really like you. You were Josh's friend, and I thought you might be my friend someday, too. And then Josh told us all about you guys, and I couldn't like you anymore. And I couldn't like him anymore, either." 

He was just kind of rambling, but hey, maybe he just needed to unload it all. I couldn't believe he'd sat this long in the same room with me and neither of us had used the word "fuck" in a sentence. I set his water down in front of him, and settled back into my chair. 

"I'm never going to understand why you are the way you are, Jack, but I don't have to. Josh and I talked, and he explained that it's the way he is, and that you didn't do anything to make him like that, and I didn't listen to him, because it wasn't what I wanted to hear. It's not what I was raised to believe, but I was also raised to believe that you're only supposed to hate the sin. And I don't want to hate you, either of you. Josh is my friend, and I think, maybe, I think maybe some day I might like it, if, you know, you and I got along. For Josh." 

"Lance," I began. I so very much did not want to blow this. "Lance, you're right. We're not friends. We've said a lot of nasty things to each other, but I appreciate you coming to talk to me. It means a lot to know that you came up here, and laid this all out for me, because I know it can't have been easy. I know that mostly you did this because of Josh, and your friendship with him, but I also think that maybe, someday, it might be nice if you and I got along, too." 

The two of us seemed unsure of what to say after that. Stripped of the ability to insult and curse and swear at each other, we'd run out of things to talk about. 

"Maybe we should go see if Brit's found anything yet," Lance suggested. 

"Great idea," I said, following him quickly out of the apartment. 

Any evening that ended with Lance and I almost apologizing to each other was entirely too surreal for my tastes. Fortunately, Brit hadn't found any trace of Josh at any of the local hospitals, or any of the private doctors she could think of. It was fortunate because it meant that Josh hadn't been in an accident, but it also meant we were no closer to finding him. Chris returned next, not having turned up anything at the mall, or any of the other places he had thought of while he was driving to and fro, and we sat around the table in the courtyard, a pile of cordless and cellular telephones in front of us. 

"Maybe we should get some food," Brit said. 

"Did anyone think to check restaurants?" I asked suddenly. 

"Yeah, we did," Justin said, walking in from the parking lot. He looked tired, and Brit jumped up from her seat and walked over, folding him in her arms. "Hey." 

"Hey," she said. Justin had explained to me on the way back from the airport that the two of them hadn't really talked yet, but they'd be staying in his place tonight, even if Justin did have to sleep in the second bedroom. 

"I think food would be a good idea," Chris said. "Suggestions?" 

"Jack, what do you like?" Lance asked. 

I thought Chris was going to swallow his cigarette. Justin and Brit, still hugging, watched without comment. 

"Maybe we should get Chinese, " I suggested. "Josh might come back before it gets here, and that's his favorite." 

"Good idea," Lance said. "I have menus in my apartment." 

Lance walked to his apartment quickly, and disappeared inside. Everyone watched him, and then looked back at me. I shrugged. 

"I'm going to go call JC's family, and see if they've heard from him," Chris said, pulling a phone from the pile. 

"Don't tell them anything," Justin said quickly. "We don't want to panic them." 

"I'll just tell them I'm out of town, and I'm trying to reach him and can't," he said. "They'll just figure he's not home." 

Josh's family had nothing to add. They hadn't heard from him all day, and told Chris that maybe he should check with Josh's friend Jack, who had come from out of town to visit him. 

"Thanks, I'll do that," Chris said. "Good talking to you." 

"There's no one else we can call," Justin sighed. 

"What are we going to do?" I asked. 

No one had an answer. 

We ate dinner mostly in silence, picking dispiritedly over everything. I tried to imagine where Josh was. Was he eating? Was he ok? When was he coming back? Chris raised another important point when we were done eating. Britney had brought some cookies down, having gone on a baking spree yesterday while she wasn't talking to Justin, and we were picking them over. 

"I can't believe you made six dozen different cookies," I said, biting into another one. 

"I used to make them all the time with my mom," she said, pushing the milk toward me. 

"Guys, we may have to call someone else," Chris said suddenly, looking at Justin and Lance. 

"No press," Justin said quickly. 

"Yeah, we have to keep this out of the papers," Lance agreed. 

"I'm not talking about reporters," Chris said. "Although we also need to put together a story about Lance's nose." 

"What did you tell the emergency room staff?" I asked. 

"Tennis accident," Britney answered. 

"Better stick with that, then, so no one compares notes," I said, shrugging. "Chris?" 

"If we haven't found Josh by morning I think we have to tell management," Chris said. 

"Do we have to involve them?" Justin asked. 

"This is a personal, internal matter," Lance added. "There's no reason to call them." 

Chris nodded, but didn't seem to agree. 

"Guys, we have an interview in two days," he reminded them. "All of us. We need Josh back, and ready." 

"Are you sure there isn't anywhere else we can look?" Britney asked. 

"I can't think of anywhere else," Justin said. "Anybody else?" 

We all shook our heads. 

"I don't want to call management in on this," Lance said. 

"Me either," Justin agreed. 

"We may not get a choice, guys," Chris said. 

Before they could argue it any further we heard a loud screeching of tires from the parking lot, followed by the hollow bang of one car hitting another. The long wail of a horn began to blare through the night joined by the shriek of a car alarm. 

"That's my car alarm," Chris said. 

We all stood with dream-like slowness. 

"No, oh no," I whispered, but it wouldn't change it. I knew. I knew it before Justin got to the archway, before he started yelling at us to hurry. 

His voice carried to me with the underwater sound of dreams, the slow molasses feeling of trying to walk through syrup. His words were marbles rolling across the floor. 

"Hurry!" Justin yelled again. 

Suddenly everything was moving at normal speed again, as if a stretched rubber band of reality had suddenly snapped back. 

"Hurry! It's Josh!" 

---

CHAPTER 18

---

We spilled through the entrance to the parking area, practically falling over each other, but I trailed back a little, already knowing what we'd find. I knew, before we got through the tiny ten steps of hallway that we'd find Josh, and he'd be dead. 

Dead. 

And it would be my fault. 

"Shit!" Britney screeched. 

"My Jeep!" Chris blurted. 

"Hurry!" Justin yelled again. 

"Oh, shit!" Lance added. 

When I came through the archway, I couldn't add anything. I couldn't say anything. My feet kept moving, pulling me forward, but my mind was frozen. 

Josh had apparently been trying to park next to Chris's Jeep, but had taken the turn too fast and too wide. The passenger side of the Jag was crumpled into the back of the Jeep, kind of mashed against it but also pushed beneath it. Chris's car alarm was still blaring, and it was mixed with the unwavering klaxon of the horn, a sound that could only mean that Josh was pressed against the steering wheel. I couldn't see, though, because everyone else was crowded around the driver's door of the Jag. 

"It's locked!" Justin yelled. He began to hit the window. "I can't get in!" 

"Chris, shut off your car alarm!" Lance said. 

Chris shut off the alarm almost absently, thumbing his key chain while trying Josh's door handle as well. 

"Is Josh," I began, walking toward the car, my feet suddenly dragging. "Is he.?" 

"Look, he's moving!" Brit screeched again. The noise of the horn cut off abruptly, and the parking lot was suddenly quiet. 

"He's rolling the window down," Lance reported to me, trying to peer over the shoulders of the other three. 

"Josh?" Justin asked. 

"Fuck off," Josh slurred from inside the car. 

"He's drunk," Chris sighed, shaking his head. "The fucking press." 

"We can cover this," Lance said quickly. "We have to get him out of the car, and we have to make sure he's ok." 

"Josh, are you ok?" Brit asked, trying to reach inside to unlock his door. I heard a loud smack, and Britney jumped back, holding her hand. "Ow!" 

"Josh, it's Curly," Justin said. "You hit Chris's car, and you smell like a fucking brewery. We need to make sure you're ok, Josh." 

"No," Josh said, holding his face in his hands. "I don't care." 

Everyone stopped as Josh began to sob. I still couldn't see him, blocked by everyone's backs, and I couldn't walk any closer to the car, knowing it was my fault he was in there, not knowing if he was hurt. 

"I fucked up," Josh sobbed, his voice breaking. "I fucked up with you, I fucked up Chris's car, I fucked up the group, and I fucked up with Jack. Just go away. Just go away and leave me alone." 

Chris and Lance turned to me, while Britney continued cradling her wounded hand. 

"Josh, I. I'm right here," I said, stepping forward as Chris and Lance slid aside. "Josh, we need to make sure you're not hurt." 

"Jack?" Josh asked. 

I could finally see his face, tear streaked, but his eyes were open wide, shining up at me. The look on his face was one of surprise and elation, pure joy. He hastily fumbled the door open, and started to climb out of the car, but his feet got tangled up somehow, and he started to fall. Justin grabbed his arm, but he pushed it away and staggered toward me as I walked quickly toward him, my arms out. He tripped and fell against me. 

Josh collapsed into my arms, folding his around me as his head flopped onto my shoulder. Justin was right; Josh did smell like a brewery, but I didn't care. The two of us just held onto each other, sobbing, clutching onto our life rafts. The others kind of looked away. 

"Jack," Josh whispered, sobbing against me. "You came back." 

"Justin brought me," I explained, cradling him. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?" 

"I'm ok now," he answered. 

"I'm gonna go call a doctor, " Lance said. "Someone discreet who can come out and look at Josh and keep this quiet." 

"Good idea," Chris said. "We'll take him upstairs, right, Jack?" 

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, not making any effort to move. 

"Justin, park the Jag," Lance said. "We can send the cars in separately for repairs, and pay for it ourselves instead of calling the insurance companies, so we won't have to report the accident." 

Chris had told me that Lance was the practical one out of all of them, and that he was the one who always thought of the group as a business as well as a family. I realized now that it was true. Watching him dole out orders, it was almost like he had a checklist in his head, and was running a mental pencil down it. 

"Brit, when they get upstairs I want you to start making coffee while Jack and Chris get Josh into bed, so we can try to sober him up," Lance said, as Justin started the car. "Jack, don't let him fall asleep until the doctor can look at him. I'll be up in a minute." 

"OK," I said, still just holding Josh. 

Lance ran through the archway to his apartment. Justin was trying to back the Jag up, but it was hung up on the Jeep, and Chris and Brit began pushing on it, trying to get it unhooked. They were making so much noise that we almost missed the sound of the gate opening. I started trying to pull Josh toward the archway, but he didn't really feel like moving, and began to struggle weakly against me. 

"Chris!" I hissed. "Chris, someone's coming!" 

"Shit!" Chris yelped, pounding the hood of the Jag with his hand. The car suddenly lurched backward, and Justin began maneuvering it into the parking spot as Brit and Chris ran over to me. 

"Is it the manager lady?" Brit asked, squinting at the headlights pointed toward us. We heard a car door slam. 

"No, she's at yoga," Chris answered. 

"Chris, help me!" I said, still fighting Josh toward the archway. 

"What if it's the cops?" Brit hissed. The neighbors might have called them. 

"Brit, go find out who it is and stall them!" Chris whispered harshly, grabbing Josh's other arm. 

Brit grabbed the bottom of her shirt, tugging it down so that her cleavage was front and center. I guess she was hoping it would be a male officer, and I admired her use of feminine wiles, praying it wouldn't be a gay guy or a straight girl. 

"Hi, I'm Britney Spears," Brit called cheerily. "Can I help you?" 

"Josh! Come on!" I whispered. Chris and I were practically dragging him as he giggled. 

"JC, this isn't a fucking game!" Chris snapped. "Pick up your fucking feet!" 

Josh lifted his head, opened his mouth, and spewed a foul smelling stream of vomit onto the parking lot. Justin, who had been running over to help us, jumped back. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?" we heard from behind us. 

Josh continued vomiting, and Justin seemed unsure of what to do, other than to step back again. Chris paused, and looked toward the headlights, which were now backing out of the driveway. We could see Brit, and a large silhouette. 

"Joey?" Chris asked. 

"Yeah," he answered. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Josh is sick," Brit began, as Josh wretched again onto the ground. The vomiting seemed to take a lot of the fight out of him, and I began to pull him along. "He's drunk." 

"Chris, help me!" I said, spurring Chris into moving again. 

"Sorry," he said. 

"Nobody picked me up at the airport," Joey said, taking the whole scene in. "Who are you?" 

"That's Jack, Josh's boyfriend," Brit answered. Joey raised an eyebrow. 

"Justin, see if there's blood in there," I said, pointing at the vomit as we passed it. 

"What happened to Josh and Chris's cars?" Joey asked, staring at them. 

"Josh ran into Chris's Jeep, " Britney explained, taking one of Joey's suitcases. 

Lance appeared in the archway. 

"Doctor's on his way," he reported. "Joey!" 

"Hey!" Joey said. It was the first his tone of voice had changed since he got out of the cab. "What happened to your nose?" 

"Justin broke it," Britney said, as Chris said, "Tennis accident." 

Joey looked from Brit to Chris and back again. 

"Brit, go with Joey to his apartment, and bring him up to speed," Lance instructed. "I'm going to wait here to let the doctor in. You guys, get Josh upstairs and into bed." 

"Nice meeting you," Joey called to my back. 

"Is he always like that?" I asked. 

"He's pretty mellow," Chris answered. 

We got Josh upstairs and into the apartment, and laid him down on the bed. Chris brought a garbage can and a wet washcloth from the bathroom, and I wiped off Josh's face, keeping the can nearby, as Chris untied his shoes. I heard Justin in the kitchen, fighting with the coffee machine. Josh kept his eyes open and fixed on me throughout this whole ordeal, as if afraid I might vanish if he closed them, or looked away. 

"You came back," he whispered. "You came back." 

"Yeah," I answered, smiling. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Yeah, I came back." 

Chris pulled the chair out of the corner, and I sat, holding Josh's hand, while we waited for the doctor. As the minutes ticked by, I heard the others filtering in, and then Britney leaned in with a plate of cookies. 

"Thanks, Brit," I said, taking one. 

"Coffee's almost done," she said, leaving quickly. 

"Thanks, Brit," I said again. 

The doctor finally arrived, checking Josh over. He asked if I could step out, but Josh refused to let go of my hand, so I stayed. The others waited in the living room anxiously, and when the doctor finished he again asked if I would step out, and join him there. 

"No, Jack!" Josh said, squeezing my hand. 

"Josh, I won't leave, I promise," I said, standing. "Josh, I promise. I'm only going to the living room." 

"Promise?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine. "Promise?" 

"I promise, Josh," I said, kissing his forehead. I didn't give a damn what the doctor thought. 

The two of us stepped into the living room, pulling the bedroom door shut behind us, and everyone immediately stopped talking. They turned toward us expectantly, and I realized that nothing that had happened over the last few days could really break what they had. Nothing could ever really come between them, because they had a bond of love, and trust, and actual, true brotherhood. And when Chris took my arm and led me to the couch I realized that I was now part of the family. 

"Your friend is going to be fine," the doctor said. The room breathed a sigh of relief. "He's intoxicated, as I'm sure you know, but he should sleep that off pretty well, as the vomiting appears to have purged a lot of the alcohol from his system. He has minor burns from the airbag, but I've left the names of some ointments that should treat that fairly quickly as well. He doesn't appear to have a concussion, and I discussed the symptoms of one with Jack here, so if he starts to show any, I want you to bring him in. Otherwise, I suggest you all get a good night's sleep." 

"Thank you," I said. The others echoed it. 

After the doctor left, everyone stood, and then Chris came over and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, hard. 

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," he said. "Or, you know, a cigarette." 

"Thank you, Chris," I said, smiling. 

"You guys'll get through this," he said. 

"I know," I answered. 

Chris stepped toward the door, and Lance appeared in front of me, holding out his hand. I shook it, but he didn't let go. 

"You know how I feel," he said, looking down. "But Jack, I, um." 

"It's ok, Lance," I said, squeezing his hand. 

"Make him happy," Lance said quickly, still looking away. 

He pulled his hand out of mine and fled out the door as the others looked on in stunned silence. 

"Wow," Chris said. 

Yeah, that summed it up. 

Joey grabbed me, and scooped me into a bear hug. I thought I heard my ribs snapping. 

"Welcome to the family!" he said, squeezing again. "Go make our Josh happy!" 

"Thanks," I wheezed. 

Joey and Chris left, laughing with each other about something else, and it was just me, Justin, and Britney in the living room. Britney gave me a quick hug. 

"Good night, Jack," she said. 

"Good night," I said, hugging her back before she stepped away. 

Justin folded me against him. I marveled again at how deeply he'd fooled me into thinking he was just a pretty face, and wondered if Brit saw past it, ever. Then again, that wasn't mine to know. 

"Brit and I have some talking to do," Justin said, holding me against him. 

"I know," I said. "Thanks for coming to get me, and for keeping me from making the biggest mistake of my life." 

"You'd have done the same for me," he said, finally letting go. 

"Yeah, probably," I answered, smiling. 

"Probably my ass," he said. He took Britney's hand, but then turned back to me. "When Josh is up in the morning, tell him I need to talk to him, too." 

"I will," I said, standing in the door as they walked over to Justin's. "Good night, guys." 

"Night," they both answered. 

I shut the door, shut off the lights, and stepped into the bedroom. 

"Jack?" Josh asked softly. I couldn't believe he was still up. 

"Right here," I answered, stripping down out of my clothes. 

While I was taking off my pants I felt the necklace Josh had given me in the pocket, and I pulled it out. Justin had been right after all. I hadn't really wanted to throw it away. I fastened it back around my neck, and then went over to the bed and helped Josh get undressed, stripping him down to his boxer briefs. We slid under the covers, and he spooned back against me. 

"Jack," he began, whispering. "I almost lost you." 

"I almost lost you, too," I whispered back. "We'll talk about it in the morning." 

"I love you," Josh whispered. 

"I love you, too," I answered. 

In the morning, I woke up first, and lay on my pillow, watching Josh, listening to him breath. His face was a mask of peaceful repose. His eyes danced behind his lids, but I could see them in my head, wide, blue, hopeful. I followed the strong line of his nose with my eyes, and the soft curve of his lips. I looked down the smooth line of his neck, and over the rounded curve of his shoulder as he lay facing me, breathing deeply, his powerful chest rising and falling with soothing regularity. 

I shifted on the bed a little, and his arm flung out toward me, grabbing my chest, as his eyes popped open. 

"Good morning," I said. 

"Good morning," he replied, snuggling close to me. 

He laid his head on my chest, and I stroked the hair on the back of his head with one hand while he ran lazy circles around my nipple with one of his. 

"Josh, there's something I didn't tell you," I said. "And I need to, so you'll understand why I ran yesterday." 

"You can tell me anything," he said. 

"I only had one boyfriend in college," I began, closing my eyes. "He wasn't out to anybody, and I was out to everybody, and I kept pressuring him to tell his family, and be proud of who he was. I told you I was pretty vocal for a while there, and this was during that time." 

He waited for me to continue, kissing my chest. 

"He finally told his family, and they stopped talking to him," I continued. "Disowned him, told him not to come home, pulled the whole 'I have no son' deal, and I told him that it didn't matter, because I'd be his family. He was on the baseball team, and when he told them, they kind of harassed him into quitting, and the coach looked the other way. I told him it didn't matter, because he still had me, and he told me he didn't care." 

"Jack, you never pressured me to tell anybody," Josh interrupted. 

"I know," I said. "This is why. He said he was ok with it, and that he didn't care, but he lied, Josh. He did care, and it ate away at him. He dwelled on it all the time, and it affected his personality, and his school work, and his mood. Finally, it affected him and me. He started to resent me, and to blame me for what happened. He kept saying I pushed him to it, and I ruined his life. Eventually, we broke it off, and it wasn't a good breakup." 

"Oh, Jack," Josh sighed, suddenly realizing where this was going. 

"When you said what you said yesterday, it was like the whole thing all over again," I said. "All I could think of was that I'd go through the whole thing all over again with you, and that I'd opened my heart up to you, and in the end I'd still be alone, and I couldn't do that again. I couldn't. I couldn't fight for us, so when you said it, I just decided to leave." 

"Jack, I'm sorry," Josh sighed again. "I didn't tell you something, too." 

"You don't have to tell me now," I said. "You don't have to tell me ever, if you don't want to." 

"I do want to," he said. "I told you that I was working a lot of stuff out during that year after we met, when I didn't call you, and that was almost true. I didn't tell you that one of the things I was working out was how I felt about Justin." 

I waited, the same as he had done for me, stroking his hair. 

"I've been friends with Justin for years," Josh said. "You know that. And Justin and I have always been really, really tight. When I slept with you, and I stopped lying to myself, I realized that I was in love with Justin, and I always had been. I started to think about it more, and more, and soon it was all I could think about. We got closer and closer, because all I ever wanted was more Justin, and he thought it was great. We were best buddies." 

Josh sighed, swallowed, and then continued. 

"I had it all built up in my head that I should tell him," Josh said. "I had this dream that I'd tell him I wanted him, and suddenly he'd want me, too, and we'd just be happily ever after. I worked out this whole plan, with dinner and everything, where I'd tell him, and when it rolled around everything seemed to be going right along. We got to the point where we needed to talk, but before I could say anything Justin started explaining to me how he'd decided to finally get together with Brit in a real, permanent way, and how he thought he might marry her. And I listened to him, and watched his face light up, and I realized Justin just wasn't for me." 

I waited for him to continue. 

"And then I thought about you," he said. "And I thought that maybe it was you I should have been thinking about all along. And for a while, it seemed like it was. Then, the other night, with Justin, everything came back to me. On the one hand, I suddenly felt like maybe I should push you away, because Justin had finally come around, and he and I could be together. And on the other hand, I was resentful, because I thought that Justin's only reason was because of you, and it was you he wanted, and I thought you wanted him, too. That's why I said all that to you, but then, when I said it, and I saw your face, and saw you running up the stairs, I realized it wasn't Justin I wanted anymore, and I didn't care how he felt about me." 

Josh slid up my chest, and pressed his lips to mine. 

"I only wanted you," he said. "I love you, Jack." 

"I love you, too, Josh," I answered, kissing him again. 

We snuggled against each other, just kissing and holding on. 

"I had a strange dream last night, too," Josh said, staring into my eyes. 

"Did you?" I asked. 

"Yeah," he answered. "I dreamed that none of this was real. I dreamed that this was all just a story, like a movie or something. You weren't a real person, and I wasn't really me, and none of this had happened." 

"That is a strange dream," I agreed, kissing him. "So this dream of yours, how did it end?" 

"That's the funny part," he said. "It ended just like this. You and me, laying in bed, just being together." 

I thought about it for a minute. 

"So is this the end, Josh?" I asked. 

"Maybe," he said, kissing me again. "Or maybe it's just the end of the beginning." 

---

CHAPTER 19

---

After we talked, Josh fell back asleep, his head resting in my chest as he pressed against me. I ran my fingers over his hair, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how lucky I was to have him, and how lucky we both were not to have thrown this away. His hair, just below my face, smelled faintly of smoke, and I felt a twinge of guilt realizing that he'd been so sure he'd driven me away that all he could think of to do was go to a strange bar somewhere and drink. That was extremely unlike him, and it drove the whole point home to me again that he had felt as much pain as I had, if not more. 

With as much as we had gone through, though, I was still concerned about the other guys. Justin and Lance had both had time to patch things up with me, but neither of them had talked to Josh, and I wasn't sure if Josh really wanted to talk to them right now, anyway. Justin's actions were pretty confusing, even after he'd explained them, and I think Lance was still several apologies away from being completely forgiven. I still had a lot of issue with his behavior, despite the fact that he and I had agreed to try to get along for Josh's sake, and I couldn't imagine what Josh thought about him after hearing all the things he'd said. 

I sighed, shifting a little, and Josh clung even tighter to me, letting out a little whimpering noise. Even in his sleep he was afraid I'd leave him again. We had a lot to rebuild, but I think we'd both learned a lesson about being honest with each other. 

With that thought in mind, I fell back to sleep. 

When I woke up again, Josh was still out cold, breathing softly against my chest. My arm was asleep, from the warm weight of him pressing against it, and I carefully pulled it out from under him and began gently working it back and forth, wincing at the pins and needles feeling of blood returning. I carefully slid out of bed, trying very hard not to wake him, but still Josh's hand flailed out, trying to reach me. 

"No," he murmured, still half asleep, his fingers crawling across the empty sheet. 

His eyes were still closed, and I gently kissed both lids. 

"Shhhhh," I soothed. "Go to sleep, Josh, it's ok." 

"Promise," he mumbled, his face crushed against the pillow. 

"Promise," I whispered back, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead. 

The sheet had pulled back when I got up, and I grabbed the end of it, slowly sliding it back up over him. His smooth back still had bruises and scratches from the other night, lightly scattered over the tanned expanse of muscle that fell in a natural V to his waist. I saw the powder burns from the airbag on both his arms, angry red against the muscle, blemishes on his velvety skin, and I winced, thinking again of the pain we'd both gone through in the past day. I looked down at him again after I dropped the edge of the sheet onto his corded, strong neck, and thought again about how lucky we were. 

Brushing my teeth, I thought about going out to look at the cars, to see how bad it might be in daylight, but I decided against it, not wanting Josh to wake up in an empty apartment. Instead I went to the kitchen and began trying to force the monstrosity on the counter to stop withholding coffee from me. How none of us had managed yet to throw it onto the floor was beyond me, but every morning I spent pleading with it to give me just one cup of caffeine was another morning closer to death for that machine. I made myself some toast, and while it was in I ducked back into the bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants, not sure which of us they belonged to, but really not caring. 

I left the bedroom door open, and when I heard Josh beginning to stir, I popped in some toast for him as well, changing the setting so that it would be light, the way he liked it. As I was buttering it, and sprinkling the cinnamon on, I heard Josh groan. 

"Jack?" he asked quietly. 

"Right here, Josh," I said, kneeling by the side of the bed. 

Josh was curled up on his side, facing me, and I brushed his hair back out of his eyes. He nuzzled against my hand. 

"How do you feel?" I asked, gently caressing the side of his face, feeling the bristle of his morning whiskers. 

"Bad," he sighed. "Really bad. I feel sick." 

"I thought you might," I said, handing him a glass of water. "Drink this, little sips." 

"Thanks," he said. His voice was low, and sounded a little scratchy. He set the glass on the nightstand by the bed. 

"You drank quite a bit last night," I said. "So you're probably going to feel kind of hungover. Do you remember what happened?" 

"Everything," he whispered. His eyes began to water. "Jack, I'm so, so sorry." 

"Shhh," I soothed again. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "We already talked about this, Josh. And I'm sorry, too." 

"But the cars," Josh began. 

"No one cares about the cars, Josh," I said, stroking his face, swiping away his tears. "We're just glad you're ok." 

"But Jack," Josh began again. I put a finger over his lips. 

"No, Josh," I said. "We can talk about it later if you want, but not now. Right now I just care about you. How does the rest of you feel?" 

He swallowed. 

"I have a headache, kind of, " he said. "And my whole body is kind of sore." 

"That's probably from the accident," I said, losing myself in his eyes. They were still filled up with tears. "When I got in a car wreck, my arms were sore for days from holding the wheel." 

"My arms hurt, too," he said, drawing a hissing breath as he ran his hand over the burns. 

"The doctor said there was some cream we can get for that," I said, wishing I could just take the pain away somehow. "I can go get it later." 

"Thank you," he said, staring up at me. His lip trembled, as if something else was fighting its way out. "I love you so much, Jack, and I'm so sorry." 

"No more with the sorry," I said quickly, as Josh reached up slowly to flick my own tears away. "I made you some toast, with the cinnamon like you like it, and I want you to eat it. It'll soak up some of the acid in your stomach. While you eat it, I'm going to run downstairs and see if Chris has some Tylenol or something, ok?" 

"You'll be right back?" he asked, eyes wide. 

"I promise," I said. "Now drink this water while I'm gone, and try to eat the toast. Maybe if you feel up to it we'll have some juice when I come back, ok?" 

"Sure," Josh answered, dutifully reaching for the water. I pushed the garbage can over, closer to him. 

"Just in case," I said, pointing at it. 

He nodded and grimaced. I had a sudden urge, almost motherly, to just scoop him up and fold him in my arms, and somehow make him all better. I prayed the day wouldn't end with me standing over the stove making chicken soup and sandwiches with the crust cut off, and wondered why I was suddenly feeling so sentimental. Regardless, if he wanted to stay in bed all day, it was fine with me. I thought about putting the stereo on, maybe with something relaxing, but then thought the noise might bother him, so I quietly left the apartment and ran down the stairs to Chris's. 

I knocked, and then fidgeted, dancing from foot to foot waiting for the door to open. 

"Chris, hi, I," I began, turning, but it wasn't Chris who answered the door. "Oh, I'm sorry." 

The girl who answered the door was easily six feet tall, if not more, and wearing some sort of barely covering halter and skirt ensemble that left no doubt that there was nothing underneath. It was rather wrinkled, as if it had spent the night crumpled on the floor, but on a woman like this even wrinkled was flattering. Her catlike green eyes peered at me inquisitively over large cheekbones, and her smile, although a tiny movement of the severe slash that was her mouth, was friendly. 

"Gut morning," she said huskily. 

"I know you!" I exclaimed. "You're one of the models we danced with at the club the other night! I'm Jack. Is Chris up yet?" 

"Da," she answered. "Chrees?" 

Chris appeared in the door, only as tall as her shoulder. She towered over both of us. 

"Hey, Jack," he said, smiling, wearing only boxers and a tour t-shirt. "Everything ok?" 

"Do you have any Tylenol?" I asked. "Josh doesn't keep any drugs in the apartment." 

"Yeah, sure," Chris said. "I was just about to walk Vlada out to a cab, and then I'll grab it for you." 

I stepped aside and watched them walk out. Vlada's knee-high boots made a flat clacking noise on the courtyard tiles, and Chris padded along barefoot next to her, casually gripping her upper arm with one of his, but otherwise not touching. A lot of women will do the walk of shame in the morning, skulking out of apartments on their way back to theirs as if praying no one sees them, but Vlada walked as if down the runway, head high and shoulders back. Chris gave her a quick peck on the cheek as they stood in the archway, and then waved. I heard a car pulling away, and assumed it was a cab taking her back to her place. 

"Sorry about that," I said, as Chris rejoined me. 

"Oh, don't be," Chris said, opening his door for me. "She was on her way out." 

"I didn't realize you were seeing anyone," I said, standing in Chris's living room, a virtually identical copy of Josh's upstairs. 

"I'm not," Chris said, emerging from the bathroom with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of Tylenol in his hand. "How is Josh this morning?" 

"He's in some pain," I said. "I have to go later and grab that cream for his arms, but the doctor said it's over the counter stuff, and I can just grab it at the drug store." 

"This is probably kind of personal, and if you don't want to answer, that's ok, but how are you guys?" Chris asked. 

"I think we're good," I replied, sitting on the back of the couch. "We had a talk this morning, and I think we're ok, but we've got some stuff to work on. He's pretty upset right now, but I think some of that is hangover, and he's worried about the cars." 

"Tell him not to," Chris said, shaking his head. 

"I already did, but it'll probably help when he hears it from you," I said. "I better get back upstairs. Thanks for the Tylenol." 

"No problem," Chris said, seeing me to the door. "Hey, Jack, are you a runner?" 

"Yeah, why?" I asked, momentarily thrown by the non-sequitor. 

"Because I jog in the mornings, and I don't really have anyone to go with," Chris said. "JC and Justin are gym boys, Lance works out with some church group or something, and Joey just doesn't. You think you'd like to hit the neighborhood with me?" 

"I'd like that a lot, actually," I said, feeling included. "Tomorrow?" 

"Sure," he said, waving me away. 

When I got back to the apartment, Josh was still in bed, curled up on his side. The water glass was empty, but there was only one bite taken out of the toast. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and he rolled toward me. 

"No deal with the toast?" I asked. 

"No," Josh answered weakly. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," I said. "You'll be better soon. I'll go get you some more water, and you an take some of these, and then I want you to go back to sleep, ok?" 

When I came back with the water and the Tylenol, Josh was holding his pillow, sobbing softly into it. I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling him tremble, and he jumped. Turning toward me, he swiped roughly at his eyes with his hand. 

"Josh, what's wrong?" I asked. This level of angst was all out of proportion to what was going on. "Why are you crying?" 

"Because I don't deserve you, " he said, staring up at me. His bottom lip trembled, and his eyebrows were scrunched together. "I did a really bad thing, Jack." 

"No more," I said, cutting him off again. "We already talked about this. You only did half a bad thing, if you insist on taking the blame. I did the other half, and you're not doing yourself any good being this upset about it. That's probably half of the reason why you can't eat right now." 

"But Jack," he began again. 

"Later, Josh, please," I said. "Right now I don't care about any of it, I don't. We're both here, and I'm not leaving. I just want to get you out of this bed, and on your feet, and then later we can talk about whatever you want to, but I need you to be ok first, and you're never going to be if you keep doing this. I love you, Josh, and it's tearing me up to see you sick, so please, let's just work on getting you up and around, and the rest can wait, ok?" 

"Yes, ok," he agreed, blinking. "I love you, Jack." 

"I love you, too," I answered. "Now take your Tylenol, and then I'm going to get in the shower so I can get to a drugstore, ok?" 

"OK," Josh answered. 

When I got out of the shower, Josh was asleep again. I watched him while I got dressed, seeing his face twist as he pulled at the sheets, and wondered what he could be dreaming about. Something was going on that I didn't know about, but what? Why did he seem to be in so much pain? Had the doctor missed something? Was he maybe injured in some way that none of us knew about? But why would he hide it? I peeled the sheet down to look him over again. I didn't see any suspicious bruising, and nothing looked swollen, but I wasn't a doctor. All the medical knowledge I had came from watching "ER", and that didn't really qualify me to triage Josh. I tucked the sheet back up, and made sure the water glass by the bed was full before I went down to the pool, leaving Josh a note that I went to the courtyard for some air, and would be right back if he needed anything. 

As I collapsed onto one of the lounge chairs, I noticed four suitcases standing beside the archway, and wondered what was going on. Britney and Justin stepped into the courtyard, followed by a cabbie. 

"Justin, could you help bring the bags out?" Britney asked. "I want to talk to Jack for a minute." 

"Sure," Justin answered, nodding to me as I waved casually at him. He grabbed two bags, and the cabbie took two, and then Britney and I were alone in the courtyard. She settled down on the edge of the lounge next to me. 

"What's up?" I asked, trying to read her mood behind her sparkly purple sunglasses. 

"I just want to talk to you for a second," she said. "You know, before I leave. We started to talk yesterday, and we never got to finish." 

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head as if to shake out the memory of everything that had happened. 

"I was wondering if maybe I could ask you a favor," Brit began. 

"Ask away," I said, sitting up. 

"I'm going away for a while, to work on stuff for my tour, and just to give me and Justin some breathing space," she said, rushing quickly through the words. "We're not breaking up or anything, just, you know, taking a little time, and I was kind of hoping maybe you could keep an eye on Justin for me." 

"Keep an eye on him?" I asked. "I'm not going to spy on him, Brit, if that's what you're asking. What goes on between you two is your business." 

Except for when my boyfriend and I give your boyfriend a tag-team blowjob. Oooops, bad thought. 

"I don't mean like that," she said quickly. "Just, you know, be his friend. Justin keeps to himself a lot, and he doesn't really have a lot of friends outside of all this, or even inside. He and Josh aren't as close as they were, and he's got Wade, but Wade isn't here right now. I think he honestly likes you, because you're a real person, and you like us for who we are. If he needs you, do you think maybe you could be there for him?" 

I wondered again if she'd be so quick to trust me with her boyfriend if she'd known what I did with him the last time she sent him to our door, but I pushed the thought away again. Justin and I had talked about that, as had Josh and I, and it wouldn't be happening again. It was just a one time, heat of the moment thing, and had brought about more trouble than it was worth. 

"Sure, I can do that," I answered. "You really didn't have to ask." 

"I know," she said, standing. "Now give me a hug before I leave." 

"Sure," I said, hugging her as she squeezed me surprisingly tightly. "It's been interesting." 

"It's not always like this," she giggled, stepping away. 

"Hey, you movin' in on my girl?" Justin asked, walking back into the courtyard. 

"Slim chance," I said, laughing. 

"No, silly," Britney said, hugging him. Justin's blue eyes sparkled at me over her shoulder. "Just saying goodbye." 

"I'm not silly," he said, squeezing her. "You're silly." 

"No, you're silly," she said happily, as he led her off to the car. 

I stared after them, wondering what Justin was really thinking. Justin really did love Britney, and she loved him back, but why didn't he love her enough to be honest with her? And why couldn't she see that so much of his behavior with her was an act, as he'd admitted to me? Justin wasn't half so foolish as he pretended. Was he afraid that people would treat him differently if he let the mask slip for a while? Or was he hiding something else under there? 

And why was I suddenly so suspicious? Didn't Josh and I have enough problems to work through without me inventing more? 

I turned to go back up the stairs when I heard Justin calling me. 

"Jack, wait!" he yelled, jogging in from the archway, tanned arms flexing, hair glinting golden in the sun. "Hey." 

"Hi, Justin," I said. He didn't look especially broken up about Brit leaving. "Everything ok?" 

He glanced toward the parking area, and then back toward me. 

"Yeah, it's fine," he said, shrugging, pulling his sleeveless shirt tightly across his chest. "We worked everything out, more or less, and she has tour stuff to work on. Costumes and dance moves and stuff. How are you guys?" 

"Josh isn't feeling too good this morning," I said, shrugging as well. "We talked a lot, but he's still kind of upset, and he's got a hangover, and he's kind of sore from the cars, too. He's not out of bed yet." 

"The doctor said he's ok, though, right?" Justin asked, concern stamped across his face. 

"Oh, yeah, that's fine," I sighed, shaking my head. "I think it's just the rest of this stuff." 

Justin looked away, and I did as well. 

"Is he awake?" Justin asked. "Like, do you think, maybe I could talk to him?" 

"What are you going to say to him?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. I tried to suppress it, but Josh was already upset enough. Josh had already told me he wasn't in love with Justin any more, and Justin had explained to me that he wasn't interested in Josh, so why was I acting like this? "I just don't want him any more upset right now, Justin." 

"I understand," Justin said, taking my arm and leading me toward the staircase. "I just thought maybe I should explain to him, you know, like I did with you yesterday. It might make him feel better, at least about where he and I stand." 

"I think that's a good idea, " I said carefully. "If he's up for it." 

Justin followed me up the stairs, and I quietly opened the apartment door. 

"Jack?" Josh called from the bedroom. I walked over quickly, motioning at Justin to stay back by the door. 

"I'm right here," I said, kneeling by the bed again. He looked a little less pale, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded some. "How are you feeling?" 

"A little better," he said, squeezing my hand. "Could you get me some more water? Or some juice?" 

"Sure, Josh," I said, taking the glass. "Josh, Justin is here. Do you want talk to him?" 

Josh's eyes went wide. 

"Is he mad?" Josh asked, grinding the bones in my hand together. 

"No, Josh, no," I said, smoothing his hair back again. "He's worried about you, and he's worried that you're mad at him. I think you should talk to him." 

"Did you?" Josh asked. 

"Yeah, when he came to get me at the airport yesterday," I said. "When he stopped me from leaving you. I think you should hear what he has to say." 

"Are you mad at him?" Josh asked, his eyes boring plaintively into mine. 

"No, Josh, I'm not," I said. "Justin is your friend, Josh. I think you should hear him out." 

"OK," he said. 

I waved Justin in as I went to the kitchen for some orange juice, and when I came back Justin had settled into the chair across from the bed. We really needed to put that thing back in the dining room. 

"Josh, I'm going to go get that cream for your arms, ok?" I said. "Then you guys can have some privacy." 

"Sure," Josh said, staring out at me from the covers. He smiled weakly, but hey, it was an effort. 

"Thanks, Jack," Justin said. 

"No problem," I said. "Do either of you know of a drugstore nearby?" 

"There's one up the street, by the diner," Justin said, handing me his car keys. "Take my car." 

"Are you sure?" I asked, thoughts of totaling the Mercedes in the traffic here flashing through my head. 

"What does it matter if we add another wrecked car to the fleet outside?" Justin asked, laughing. 

"I'll be back soon," I said to Josh. 

"I love you," Josh said, squeezing my hand. 

"I love you, too," I answered. 

I was only gone for about twenty, maybe thirty minutes. After I found the drug store, it took me forever to find somewhere to park, as I was afraid to put Justin's car near any other car on the road or in the parking lot. I couldn't afford to replace a hubcap, much less anything else on it. I grabbed the ointment, a bottle of Tylenol, some stuff for Josh's stomach, and a couple newspapers, just to give us something to distract ourselves with. 

When I got back to the apartment, Josh and Justin were still talking, but everything seemed to be all right. They were both laughing softly, and Josh was sitting up in the bed, while Justin was still in the chair. The sheet had fallen away to Josh's waist, and I thought again about how beautiful he was as my eyes followed the curving lines of his smooth torso. 

"Things appear to be going well here," I said brightly, setting the bag down on the dining room table. 

They both smiled. 

"Yeah," Justin said. 

"We're good," Josh said. "And I think I'm going to get in the shower now." 

"Oh, good," I said, smiling as well. "I'll start some lunch." 

"I'm gonna head out, then," Justin said, taking his car keys from me. 

"Do you want to stay for lunch?" I asked, as Josh walked slowly to the bathroom. I could tell from the way he was moving that his body was stiff. 

"No, that's ok," Justin said. "Thanks for letting me come up." 

"No problem," I said, as Justin gave me a quick hug. 

"Just remember that he loves you, Jack," Justin whispered, quickly letting go of me. 

"OK," I said, perplexed. 

While Josh was in the shower, I made some sandwiches, and put on some water to boil for a quick pasta salad. When he got out, he sauntered across the room in his towel, and I handed him the cream for his arms, which he took into the bedroom with him. When he finished dressing, I was just draining the pasta, and I quickly tossed it with the dressing. 

"Do you wanna put that in the fridge for a couple minutes?" Josh asked nervously from behind me. "I have to tell you something." 

"Sure," I said, putting the bowl in the refrigerator. 

I wasn't really sure of what else to say. The look on his face was tortured as he took my hands and led me over to the couch. We sat, and he looked at me, and his eyes filled up with tears before he even started speaking. 

"Jack, I'm so, so sorry," he said. "I never meant to hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you so much." 

"Josh, please tell me what's wrong," I said, squeezing his hands. "We already apologized for this. Please just tell me what's bothering you, so we can get past it." 

He looked up at me, tears gushing down his cheeks. His eyes were wide pools of sorrow. 

"Last night, yesterday, when I was out," he began, squeezing my hands even tighter. "While I was out, while I was drinking, I fucked everything up, Jack, and I'm sorry." 

"Josh," I said, confused. "You didn't fuck anything up. Everything is ok." 

"No, it's not," he said, taking a deep breath. "Last night I was with someone else." 

---

CHAPTER 20

---

I pulled my hands out of Josh's, feeling his go limp as he began to sob. Standing, I walked away from the couch. He tugged at my pant leg, grabbing blindly at me, and I jerked away from him. 

"Jack!" he cried, an anguished bark. "Please don't walk away from me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry." 

Josh's voice trailed off as he slumped into the couch, pressing his face into the back, his body shaking as he cried. I stopped halfway to the bedroom. What was I going to do? Leave again? If I walked away this time, there wouldn't be anyone to pull me back. I'd be walking away from the first man I'd allowed to love me in years, and it would destroy us both. Love was worth fighting for. 

I turned back, and walked back to the couch, sitting next to Josh. I put a hand on his shoulder, and then gathered him against me, feeling his wet tears through the shirt on my chest. 

"It's ok, Josh, it'll be ok, " I soothed, holding him. I didn't want to know what had happened, didn't need to know, but he needed to let it out. "Tell me what happened, Josh, please, just let it out." 

He looked up at me, still crying, but not with those great, body wrenching sobs any longer. He gripped my hand tightly in both of his as I used my other one to stroke his forehead and the side of his face. 

"You don't really want to hear it, do you?" he asked. 

"Well, no, not really," I admitted. "I don't want to hear, but I need to hear it, as much as you need to let it out. We have to be honest with each other, Josh." 

He sniffled, collecting himself. Keeping my hands locked in his, he began to speak, his voice cracking. 

"When you ran up the stairs yesterday, I got in my car, and I just drove," he began. "I wasn't watching where I was going, or how fast I was going. I was upset, and I was just driving, and thinking about how I'd hurt you, and thrown you away. I was thinking about how I'm a bad person, and how I don't deserve to have anyone love me, because I just hurt them." 

"That's not true, Josh," I said, pulling him closer to me. "That's not the truth at all." 

"But it was," he said. "I threw you away like garbage, like you didn't mean anything to me, and I realized that I was trash. All I wanted was to forget everything, and then I saw this bar. I think it was in the valley." 

No wonder we hadn't been able to find him. Chris told me that nobody ever, ever went to the valley. 

"It was little, and dark, and there were men there, a lot of men," he said. "It had a triangle on the front, so I knew what kind of bar it was, and I went in, because I didn't care anymore. I didn't want anyone to love me, I just wanted to let someone use me." 

"Oh, Josh," I said, rocking slowly back and forth as I held on to him. The thought of him in this terrible place, some dark bar, in the state he had been in, was killing me, every word pounding into me like a nail, stabbing at me like a pack of crows with razor sharp beaks. 

"I went in, and I sat at the bar, and I just started drinking," he continued, his voice fading into an alarmingly toneless whisper. "I drank, and drank, and people bought me drinks, and I just kept taking them. There was this music playing, and I got tired of drinking, and I went to dance. There were all these guys on the dance floor, old guys and young guys, and they started dancing with me, and they started touching me. They put their hands on me, all over me, and I let them, and some of them kissed me, and their mouths were dirty, and I let them do that, too." 

"Josh, it wasn't your fault, " I said, trying to push the images away. "You were upset, and you were drinking. You didn't know what you were doing. It's not your fault." 

"But I liked it!" he screamed, and I froze as he continued to scream it all out, until his voice cracked again, and he collapsed against me. "I liked it! They had their dirty hands all over me and I liked it! And then I ran. I ran and got in the car, and drove back here, and I remember coming through the gate, and then I remember looking out the window and seeing you." 

"And I'm still here, Josh," I said, swallowing my own tears. "I'm still here." 

"But they had their hands on me, and I liked it," he whimpered into my chest. "I'm so ashamed." 

"Josh, no," I said, grabbing the sides of his head. I pulled his face up, level with mine, and looked into his eyes. "Josh, you have nothing to be ashamed of, not now, and not ever. None of it was your fault." 

"How can you even look at me?" he asked, trying to turn his head away. I kept it locked in my hands, not letting him break the contact. 

"Because I love you, Joshua, " I said. "I don't care what you did yesterday, or what I did. None of it matters. We're here now, and I love you." 

I let go of his face, and he collapsed against me again. I leaned back into the couch and let him cry himself out against me. While he did, nestled against me, I thought about what he'd just told me, and tried to decide how I should feel. I was a little jealous, and a little hurt, but mostly I was concerned, because he seemed so upset about it. Really all he'd done was go dancing, and dance with some guys, and let them kiss him. While it didn't leave me wildly ecstatic to hear it, it wasn't really that bad as cheating went, and he wasn't really in his right mind when it happened. He was so upset now that I was sure it wouldn't happen again, but I needed to make him understand that I wasn't as hurt as he thought I'd be. I had to help him realize that I understood why he did it, and that I didn't want him to beat himself up over it. 

Josh leaned off of me and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and then pressed back against me, pressing his head against my chest and wrapping his arms around me, pulling him closer. My hands slid up his torso, feeling the muscles jump, feeling them shift beneath his warm, smooth skin. I felt his bare shoulders, rounded knots of tanned muscle, bunch beneath my hands as he pulled me even closer to him, and I ran my fingers up and down the curve of his spine, feeling his shoulder blades moving like wings beneath the silken skin of his back. Running them down, I felt the small of his back begin to curve outward again as my hands moved toward his waist, and the hard muscled curves of his ass, pressing out the fabric of his jeans. 

Josh's hands slid up my chest to cup my face and turn it toward his, and I felt his mouth on mine. The little strip of his beard tickled over my chin as his wet lips pressed against mine, their smooth texture mirroring my own, his tongue dipping across both ever so quickly, almost as if it hadn't been there at all. My hands were still on his ass, pulling his pelvis against mine as his invading tongue penetrated my mouth, and I felt his hard cock grinding against my own, pressing into me through our pants. 

"Touch me, Jack," he whispered, pulling his mouth off of mine with a small sucking noise. I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged gently before letting it go. "Put your hands on me. Make me forget." 

"Are you sure, Josh?" I asked. Two minutes ago he was in tears, and now he was in heat. 

"Love me, Jack," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine. I stared into the sapphire pools, thinking of the sky, and the sea, and the way the color could conceal the depth in both. I stared deeply into Josh as he stared into me. "Love me." 

I did more than love him. Running my hands all over him, sliding them across his smooth curves, feeling the muscles jump and shift, and the short, soft hairs on his body slide under my palms, I worshipped him. I showed him with the brush of a thumb over a nipple, or the caress of a hand over the side of his face, the slide of my fingers through his hair, just how much I loved him. With every soft touch, every whisper of my skin against his, I showed Josh everything in my heart, every feeling kept behind the doors in my soul. I poured myself into him, and he drank it like a desert nomad at an oasis, pressing against me, throwing his head back and surrendering to everything. He was warm and pliant in my hands, lolling against me like a rag doll. 

Groaning, eyes closed, Josh shifted, turning in my arms so that he was straddling me on the couch, his firmly muscled thighs stretching tight the denim legs of his jeans as they slid down on either side of mine. My hands cupped his ass for a moment as he ground his hard cock against mine, pressing against me as he writhed atop me, his hands on my shoulders, eyes closed, head thrown back. It was like he was dancing to music that only he could hear, a sexual rhythm counter pointed with his sighs of pleasure. My hands slid up his back again and began kneading the spot where his traps met his shoulders, working at the base of his neck as he ground against me. For a second all I could do was watch him as he rode me on the couch, his eyes closed, face peaceful, his head thrown back in total abandonment. His tanned, muscled chest was a study in sepia, his skin graham cracker and sand, the curving rise of his pecs capped with chocolate brown nipples. 

Still massaging his shoulders, I leaned forward as I pulled him toward me, pressing my lips to the hollow of his throat. My mouth slid over, feeling the tendons and cords of his neck, and I felt his pulse throb beneath my kissing, parted lips, and I nipped lightly with my teeth, just barely scraping them over his smooth, fresh skin. I felt his neck vibrate beneath my mouth as he groaned in pleasure, and his hands slid off of my shoulders to catch in my hair as he continued his slow gyration astride me. I kissed and sucked at his neck, moving from one side to the other, passing over his adam's apple, swiping my tongue down the line of his jaw, tracing it up toward his ear. My head dropped down, tracing his collar bones, moving up to where his neck met his shoulders, responding to his sighs and whimpers as he continued to thrust his hard cock against mine. My hands grabbed at his shoulders, bending him backward as my chin and lips slid down the sloping curve of his pecs, until my mouth fastened onto his nipple. 

Pressing my lips into a firm circle over it, I sucked hard as I swiped my tongue over the tip. Drawing back from it, I inhaled, pulling air over the wet skin as Josh stiffened and sighed in surprised bliss. 

"Bite it," he whispered, pulling my head against him, pressing my face to his firm chest. 

I felt his heart beating beneath my lips as he writhed against me, and then I fastened my mouth, vampiric, over his nipple again, my teeth grabbing the swollen tip and pulling. He winced, but tugged my head closer, and ground his pelvis into mine even faster. As my head drifted across his chest to the other nipple, my teeth scraping over his pectorals, my hands drifted down to his legs again, feeling them stretching, flexing against his pants, and I grabbed them as I stood, quickly. Josh wrapped his arms around my neck, hooked his legs around my waist, and pressed his mouth into mine as I carried him into the bedroom. 

I dropped Josh onto the bed and stood, looking down at him for a second as his half- lidded, glassy eyes stared back at me. There's something extremely sexy about seeing a well-muscled man in nothing but a pair of blue jeans, seeing the way the well-worn fabric clings to him just enough to hint at what's underneath but not give an outright show of it, noting the contrast between the tone and texture of his skin and the roughly casual fabric. Jeans on the right guy just radiate sexuality, and Josh was definitely one of those guys. 

As I kicked off my shoes, and tugged at my socks, Josh leaned up into a kneeling position on the bed, and one of his hands snaked down to cup the crotch of his pants. He ground against his own hand, maintaining the gyrating pulse of thrusting movement he'd had on the couch, and as I tugged my shirt off he popped the top button on his jeans, slid the zipper down, and tugged the fabric aside. Jamming his hand into the opening as I threw my shirt aside and began removing my own pants, he brought his throbbing cock out, jerking it furiously. I pulled my pants down and kicked them aside, and stepped toward the bed. Josh's hips jerked toward me as he fisted his dripping cock, his hand sliding easily over it with a wet, slapping sound. 

"Take it, Jack," he hissed through his gritted teeth. 

Josh was leaning back on one hand, all of his muscles knitted and protruding, his chest flexing and his abs crunching into bas relief with every breath, as his hand continued to slide over his prick. Dropping onto the bed, I pushed his hand aside as I swallowed him, tasting the salty traces of his precum and sweat, feeling the firm spongy head of his cock slide past my lips and over my tongue. He leaned even further back on that one arm, so that his cock was stabbing almost straight upward as his hips thrust urgently against my mouth, and with his free hand he grabbed my hair and began to jerk my head up and down on his cock as he thrust it into my face. It was a little more take charge and forceful than he usually was, but I just relaxed my jaw and went with the flow, washing my tongue around his head and shaft as he pulled out of me, and just holding on as he pushed all the way back in. He jerked my head back and forth as vigorously as he rolled his hips upward, pushing into me, and I could see the veins in both his arms standing out as he gripped my hair tightly. 

He didn't last very long, having already been pretty worked up before we even got to the bedroom, and I heard him yelp as his hand pushed my head all the way down, almost chocking me. I could think of worse ways to go. Still gripping my hair, he pulled me off of his cock, and I let it slide out of my mouth. It jerked again before my face, seeming almost to flex, the head swelling slightly, and a fat drop of cum spilled from the slit. I flicked out my tongue, licking it off before it could go to waste, and swallowed. Josh, staring down at me as he still leaned back on that one hand, pulled me up by my hair, sinking back into the bed as he did so, until my face was level with his. His tongue pushed into my mouth, seeking himself, as my hard cock ground and throbbed against his steely wet prick. The feeling of his jeans scraping on my bare legs was extremely erotic, and I groaned into his mouth as I lay atop him, pressing him down into the mattress. 

"Jack," Josh whispered, pulling my head back so that he could stare into my eyes again. "I want you to fuck me." 

"Are you sure?" I asked. He'd never done that before, with me or anyone else. "Josh, don't do it because you're sorry." 

"It's not that," he whispered. "I love you, and I want you to take me. Make me yours, Jack." 

He kissed whatever parts of me he could reach as I leaned over him to get into the nightstand. I leaned back, and he slid up the bed, so that his head was in the pillows. His eyes were enormous as I grabbed his jeans and tugged them down with his boxer briefs. He lay back beneath me, his exquisite body sprawled on the thin blanket, breathing fast and looking a little apprehensive, his eyes enormous blue pools, widening even more as I brought my lubed fingers down to his hole. He drew in a sharp breath as they brushed over his virginity, and I thought maybe he wasn't as ready as he thought. I began to pull my hand away, but he grabbed my arm and held it there. 

"Do it, Jack," he urged. "Do it." 

I was as gentle as I could be with my fingers, going very slowly, watching him tense and trying to soothe him through it. I tried to distract him with kisses, telling him I loved him as his sighs were punctuated by the occasional whimper. When I thought he was ready, I kissed him again. 

"How do you want to do this?" I asked, trying to make sure he was comfortable. 

"I want to see you," he answered, staring up at me. 

"OK, Josh," I said, lifting his legs. "I'll go slow, but if you're uncomfortable, please tell me." 

"I love you," he said, kissing me. "Only you." 

I pressed against him, urging him to relax, keeping the pressure firm, but not forceful. All of his muscles, which I spent so many hours admiring, were tensed, and I ran my hands over him soothingly. My chest was pressed against his, and I felt his heart fluttering beneath mine as his body arched up against me. He let out a high pitched sigh, almost a yelp, as I finally pushed inside, and I froze, kissing him, as his hands gripped at my ass, pulling me closer. His face was tightly scrunched, and his teeth were gritted, but he was trying very hard to relax, and I showered compliments on him, telling him he was beautiful, and that I loved him. 

We lay like that for a minute, my cock just inside of him, motionless, as I waited for him to relax and guide me. His hands, gripping my ass as tightly as the handles on a roller coaster, pulled me forward ever so slightly, and I slid in a little more as he groaned again. 

"Are you ok?" I breathed into his ear. 

"Hurts a little," he admitted. "But it's ok. Just go slow." 

"Sure, baby, sure," I whispered. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," he said, pulling me forward. "Love me, Jack. Love me." 

His sighs continued as I began to move very slowly in him, gently thrusting back and forth, not all the way, but working toward it as he stretched and relaxed. I continued to watch his face, not wanting to hurt him, but wanting this so badly. He wanted to prove that he loved me, and while I didn't think it was necessary, I didn't want to reject him when he was giving me so much of himself. He'd had me like this, but this was his first time, and I understood how special that could be, especially for someone like Josh, someone who was a romantic at heart, and really did believe in true love and soul mates. I wanted this to be beautiful and special for him, and I wanted him to feel like he was in control, so I let his hands guide me with their gentle pressure, and I watched his face for a guide. 

I gripped his chest, tracing lazy circles around his nipples with my thumbs, brushing the tips now and again. Leaning down, I showered him with kisses, painting them wetly over his face, his chin, his neck. I continued raining compliments on him as well, and I watched as his face smoothed, and lost some of its strained tightness as I continued to thrust slowly against him. Almost imperceptibly at first he began to move back against me, rotating his hips in time to mine, tugging at me with his hands as he let his fear and nervousness drain away. He began to kiss me back as he relaxed more, opening wider, and I watched his face twist in surprised pleasure as I finally hit his prostate, his eyes popping open. 

"Oh," he breathed softly, head tilted back toward the ceiling. 

I smiled and hit it again, changing my angle a little to make sure I was jabbing it with my cock on every thrust as his hips jerked beneath me. I felt his calves and feet brushing over my legs, and each time I thrust in I watched his entire body smooth out as he arched backward into the bed, his muscles flowing over each other as he threw his head back, moaning and sighing. He chanted my name over and over, like a mantra, and we fell into an easy, yet urgent, rhythm. I picked up speed as he arched himself up beneath me to meet every thrust, and he raked his hands up and down my back as I speared forward into him. He gripped and pulled at me, urging me forward, pulling me down into him. 

His cock was hard again beneath me, grinding against my abs as I worked against him, sliding easily between our sweaty, slick torsos. With one hand I held his shoulder in a vice grip, using it to push and pull, and I let the other drift down, wrapping my fingers around him. I began to quickly jerk him in time to my thrusts, and he writhed and bucked wildly beneath me. Screaming my name, he bit my shoulder, the fingers of one hand raking up my back as the other pulled my ass against him, and he threw his head back, his entire body tightening as come shot out of his cock, splattering us both. 

He yelped again, his entire body convulsing, and I came harder than I ever had in my life, pushing all the way forward, spearing him beneath me like a butterfly on a pin. I groaned his name, crushing myself against him as my own hips jerked involuntarily against his. Collapsing on top of him, I tried to catch my breath, panting hard, even as he panted hard beneath me, our heartbeats mingling inside our sweating, heaving chests. I kissed him, and then licked the side of his face, relishing the salty taste of his sweat. I started to pull out of him, but he grabbed me, and locked his legs around mine. 

"No," he panted into my ear. "I want you to stay in me." 

"I love you, Josh," I sighed into his ear. "Was it good?" 

"The best," he said, nibbling at the side of my neck. "You're the best." 

We drifted off to sleep for a little while, without even realizing it, me completely spent atop his smooth, muscled body, him clenching beneath me to keep me in place. We woke up an hour or so later when the phone rang. I rolled off of Josh, finally, as he reached for it, and I grabbed some tissues to tidy myself up as he answered. 

"It's Chris," he said. "He says him and Joey bought some steaks, and he wants to know if we want to eat dinner with them." 

"Sure," I answered. "If you want to." 

"Sure, we'd love to," Josh told Chris. "Yeah, I know you only asked us so you could use our grill. Yeah, call them, too. We'll be down in, um?" 

"An hour or so," I supplied, looking us both over. We needed to hit the shower before we went anywhere. 

"Yeah, an hour," Josh agreed into the phone. "OK. Bye." 

He hung up the phone, and I kissed him again. 

"What was that for?" he asked, holding the side of my face. 

"For saying it was our grill, " I answered. 

"It is," Josh replied, smiling. "It's ours, because we bought it together. I love you, Jack." 

"I love you, too," I said. "Let's hit the shower." 

Josh and I showered together, as we were in the habit of doing. We didn't talk, not really needing to, and we washed each other, as we usually did. I did his hair, he did my back, and I carefully washed the burns on his arms. When we finished, we dried each other off as well, and went to the bedroom to dress together. We were both being very affectionate, which slowed us down, because we kept stopping to hug, or just run a hand over each other. 

"How do you feel?" I asked. "Are you, you know, ok?" 

"A little sore," he admitted. "But it's ok. I love you." 

"I love you, too, Josh," I said, sitting next to him on the bed as we pulled our shoes on. "Are you ok with the other stuff?" 

"Are you?" he asked, turning toward me. His face was a mix of hope and fear. 

"Of course I am," I said. "I told you, it doesn't matter to me, Josh. Don't think about it any more, ok?" 

"OK," he said, kissing me on the forehead. "Maybe we should take that pasta salad down." 

"Good idea," I said, going to the refrigerator for it. 

We left the apartment, holding hands as we walked downstairs where Chris and Joey had already started the grill. They'd already started the beer, too, with several bottles resting in that metal tub Chris had brought to the last barbecue. Hopefully this one would go better. As we walked over, Joey handed me a beer. 

"Oh, no, I don't like beer," I demurred. 

"You do now!" Joey exclaimed, smacking me on the back. "Can't have steak without beer!" 

"OK, sure," I said, taking it. His enthusiasm was infectious. 

"Jack," Joey began, draping an arm over my shoulders and leading me toward the grill. "Have you ever grilled a steak before?" 

"No, mostly just chicken," I said, shrugging. 

"We got a lot to teach you," Joey said. 

Joey took me under his wing at the grill, offering pointers and telling me about Labor Day barbecues with his family and learning the fine points of grilling from his grandfather. I dutifully tried to follow his advice, nodding when I thought it was appropriate, listening carefully to discussions on color and texture of the meat, and knowing when to turn it or when to poke it with a fork. It was very much like one of those television shows where the father stands out by the barbecue pit with the son, splitting beers with him, and having one of those male bonding moments. It was also completely outside of my own experience. My family wasn't the cookout type, and I didn't have a lot of straight male friends. 

"This salad looks good," Chris said, peeking under the foil. 

"It's been sitting all afternoon," Josh said, sipping his water. He passed on the beer, explaining that his stomach still wasn't settled from last night. "We made it for lunch, but never ate it." 

"Why not?" Joey asked. 

Josh and I both stammered and turned red, looking at each other and looking away. Joey laughed loudly and smacked me on the back, almost pitching me face forward into the grill. 

"Jesus, you two," Chris said, shaking his head but smiling. "It's like a honeymoon or something." 

Josh and I smiled at each other, and I blew him a kiss from the grill. Joey finally pronounced the steaks ready, and I blithely agreed, so we all settled in at the table, Josh and Chris setting the newspaper aside as Joey and I plopped a steak onto everyone's plate. 

"No word from Justin?" I asked. 

"Or Lance," Chris added, shaking his head. 

"Speaking of, did you see Lance in the paper?" Joey asked, pointing. 

"No," I said, taking it from Chris. 

Joey directed me to the entertainment section, where I found a short article mentioning Lance and Britney's trip to the emergency room. The article was accurate, or at least accurate to our story, detailing Lance's tennis accident and the fact that Britney drove him. It mentioned that neither of them could be reached for comment, and that Lance's management had not yet issued a statement on whether this would affect the recording of the next album. 

"I hadn't thought of that," I said. "Will it?" 

"Probably not," Chris said. "His nose isn't broken. They just packed it to stop the bleeding." 

"That's not the only place where we made the paper," Joey said. "Turn to the gossip column." 

I did as I was told, and followed the trail of steak juice his finger left down the page. When I read what he was pointing at, a chill washed over me. 

"Jack?" Josh asked, leaning forward. "Jack, are you ok?" 

"This is about you, Josh," I said slowly. "Someone knows about you." 

 

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