JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 36

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"Josh? Josh?" I yelled, standing on the end of the dock, peering into the murky water. 

They had only been in the water for a second or two, and they were obviously still alive, since it was churning and bubbles kept coming up, but my heart was racing as my head spun. Why was Justin here? The dog stood next to me, barking hysterically at the water, and I prayed that neither of them were hurt. They broke the surface, Justin struggling to get Josh's hands off of his neck. 

"Josh!" I yelled. "Josh, stop! Please stop!" 

Josh glanced at me, and the fight abruptly left him. He pulled Justin over to the ladder as Justin sputtered and coughed, and they climbed out. Josh unceremoniously dropped Justin on the dock, where he coughed and spat water. His face was red, and I could see Josh's handprints standing out in livid red relief on his neck. I went to help him, and Josh grabbed my shoulder. 

"Leave him alone, Jack," Josh said, breathing hard. His fingers dug into my shoulder. 

"Josh, you're hurting me," I said, pulling away from him. 

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling me into a hug, drenching me in lake water. "I'm sorry." 

Josh began to walk back down the dock, ignoring Justin's hacking, water filled coughing as Justin knelt on his hands and knees, staring at Josh's back. I didn't know which of them to go to. 

"Leave him," Josh said coldly. "He isn't worth it." 

"Josh, please," Justin began behind us. 

Josh spun, advancing on him. I was terrified for a second that he was going to start kicking Justin as he loomed over him. 

"Please what?" Josh barked. "Please what? Please listen to me? Please be my friend? Please let me lie to you? How could you do that to Lance, Justin? How could you? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

"I didn't mean to really hurt him," Justin said, staring up at Josh, eyes wide, face innocent. "I just, I was really mad, and I wanted to get back at him, and it just got completely out of hand." 

"Bullshit!" Josh spat. "Don't look at me like that. You knew what you were doing, you knew! Do you know what it's like to feel that way, Justin? Do you know what it's like to have those feelings, and to realize that, and to have to decide what it all means? Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how bad that hurts inside? How bad you feel, and how imperfect, like there's something wrong with you, and you can't help it because it's just the way you are? Do you know what that feels like, Justin?" 

Justin stood, arms out apologetically. 

"I didn't," he began, and Josh pulled his arm back to hit him. 

I grabbed Josh's arm, and held it, hard. 

"No, Josh," I said, shaking my head. "Please, no hitting." 

"He's lying, Jack," Josh said, dropping his arm. He turned back to Justin. "You know what it feels like, because I told you. Because we had all those long talks after I told you about Jack, and we had all those discussions. You know what it feels like, and what I went through, and you knew Lance was going through the same thing. You knew how he felt, but it didn't matter to you, because you don't feel anything. Why are you here?" 

"I came because you're my friend," Justin began, and Josh cut him off again. 

"No, I thought I was your friend," Josh said. "You don't know what a friend is, Justin. A friend wouldn't do that to Lance, and he wouldn't use me like you did." 

"What?" I asked, feeling dizzy. I thought I was going to fall off of the dock. "He made you, what he did to Lance, with you?" 

"No, Jack, no, not that way, " Josh said, grabbing me. We were clinging to each other, staring at Justin. "You knew all along, didn't you Justin? You knew I was in love with you, and you used it to keep me around. I worshipped you, and you ate it up and didn't say a word. Every time you wanted to go somewhere, or do something, there I was, because I was always at your beck and call. I was so happy to spend time with you, and you knew why, and you just ate it up, so that you wouldn't be alone." 

"Yes," Justin said weakly. "But it wasn't all like that." 

"Don't tell me what it was like!" Josh said angrily. "You knew! All those nights I laid in bed, thinking about you, hoping that tomorrow would be the day. Every time you called, I ran to you, I did whatever you wanted, because I hoped that today would be the day that you decided to love me back. Every day I agonized, I hurt inside, trying to decide if I should tell you, so scared to death that you'd reject me, and I'd never be around you again, and you knew! You used me! You turned me into your lapdog, kept me around, dangled yourself like a string in front of me. All those times you got hot and had to take your shirt off, or suddenly wanted to change, or wanted to wrestle! You knew, and you kept me around until you found something better so that you wouldn't be alone." 

"Yes," Justin agreed again, looking away. "But it wasn't just that." 

"I don't believe you," Josh said simply. 

Josh had a firm grip on my hand, and I realized that the only way he could stand up to Justin was by drawing support from me. I had realized the other day in the back of my mind that Justin must have known Josh was in love with him, but I had thought that their friendship would have prevented him from playing games with Josh. I don't know why I thought that, since it didn't prevent him from playing games with me. For Josh, though, I couldn't imagine what he must have been feeling. He thought Justin was his best friend, as close as his brother, and now he was realizing that it had never been that way. It had just been part of the game Justin played with everyone, the way that he kept people around him, the way he made sure that he wasn't just liked, but adored. 

"Why do you do this to people?" I asked. I had to know, and Justin seemed beaten down enough to be truthful. I know it sounded cold, but it was the way he would have treated us. "Why are you like this?" 

"Because he's a spoiled child," Josh said, glaring at him. "I know him, Jack. He's like this because he can be." 

Justin glared at him, his lip quivering. 

"You don't know shit about me," Justin said, stepping toward us. "You don't know anything! Look at you! You always had everything. Look around, Jack! He's never had to go without anything. He's never had to want anything, ever, or listen to the other kids at school make fun of his clothes, or where he lived. He has his family, and they're together, with their house, and their dogs, and everything else. You don't know anything about what I feel!" 

Justin had begun to cry, as Josh stared at him, open mouthed. I'd never seen Justin cry, ever. His voice rose, louder, cracking painfully. 

"You never needed anything!" Justin cried, turning away from us. "When we were on Mickey Mouse Club, you always treated it like a big game, because you didn't need it like I did. I needed to get out! I needed to buy things, and be somebody, and I thought that would be the way. I thought that I'd make it. I thought I'd show everybody, and then it all stopped. We got cancelled, and I had to go home, I had to go back to everybody. You didn't have to do that! You got to go off to Nashville, and LA, and just wait for your next big handout. I had to go back home, where I didn't have shit! Where I was nobody. And I don't want to be nobody anymore." 

He barely squeaked this last part out as he dropped to his knees on the dock, tears streaming down his face. 

"I never had anything," Justin said. "I never had anything anybody wanted but the way I look. Nobody ever wanted me for who I am, only for what I could give them, and I thought that if that's what people wanted, and that's the only thing people liked about me then it was ok to use that to get what I wanted, too." 

Josh and I stared down at him. I wanted to reach out to Justin, but I also wondered how much of this was real. It looked real, it sounded real, he seemed to be breaking down right in front of us, but was it what it looked like? Or was this just another stage show? Even if Justin was reaching out to us, I couldn't bring myself to meet him halfway. I just didn't trust him. 

"Why did you come here?" Josh asked again. His voice was razor sharp, his face completely without warmth as he stared down at Justin. 

"I came here because I didn't know where else to go," Justin said. "I didn't have anyone else to go to. What I did, to Lance, and to everyone, what I did was wrong. I just, everything got completely out of hand, and I didn't know where to go. You're my friend, you're the only one who looks at me like you believe in me, like you think I'm somebody. You're the only one who's ever looked at me like that." 

"I only looked at you like that because I didn't know what I was seeing," Josh said sadly. "I only looked at you like that because I believed. I don't believe you anymore, Justin." 

I squeezed Josh's hand. 

"I want you to leave now, Justin," Josh said. 

"Josh?" I asked. 

"I don't want you here, Justin," Josh said. His voice was cold. "I don't want to think about what you've done, or what you're going to do. Whatever you came here for, I'm not going to give it to you. I want you to go back to the airport, and go back to Los Angeles. When we come back, maybe then I'll know how I feel about you. Maybe then I'll be able to say what you want to hear. Right now I just want you to go." 

Justin stared up at Josh from his knees, both of them still soaked with lake water, and then he got to his feet. I watched him walk down the dock, and then up the backyard toward the house. Josh watched him go, and once Justin was out of sight, he turned to me, and threw his arms around me. I thought he'd cry, but he didn't. He just held on tight, his head on my shoulder, pressing against me as a breeze began to rise from the lake. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to. We just held on to each other. 

Eventually we went inside to find Josh some dry clothes. Karen was still sitting in the kitchen, idly petting the dog's head. 

"Is everything ok?" she asked. "Justin left in kind of a hurry." 

I thought it rather diplomatic of her to avoid mentioning that he had also left soaking wet, much like Josh was. 

"Things aren't really ok, no, " Josh answered. He held up our joined hands, and smiled. "But I'm ok, and right now, that's all that matters. Mom, can Jack sleep in my room?" 

"Wha?" I blurted, surprised. 

"We won't do anything, I promise," Josh continued. "I just want him close to me, where he belongs, and I know he won't ask, or even sneak across the hall, because he doesn't want to be disrespectful, but I'd like to have him with me." 

"That's fine, Joshua," Karen said, sipping her coffee. "Why don't you go up and get changed, and then maybe we'll go into town and get some lunch." 

Josh smiled, and I wondered again if I would ever understand this family openness that they all seemed to have here. 

Surprisingly, the rest of our visit with the Chasez family was rather uneventful. We went into the city a few times, to see the sights, and Josh made much light of the fact that I considered places I'd seen in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" to be legitimate sightseeing locations. We enjoyed more evenings of board games and cards, and ate in more than we ate out. A lot of the time, though, we just walked around the property, or sat on the swing and held hands, watching the boats go by on the lake. We also spent a good deal of time in the boathouse, making love every chance we got, and the rest of the family was nice enough to pretend they had no idea what was going on. Well, except for the time Tyler pointed out that there were leaves stuck all over the back of my sweater. 

By unspoken agreement, we didn't talk about Justin, or about the Basil Morgan situation. We talked to Joey and Chris, and I called Lance a few times to check on him. He seemed to be doing well. He told me that he was talking a lot, and letting a lot out that he'd held in for a long time. One afternoon I was sitting out on the swing talking to him when Josh asked if he could have the phone. 

"Lance, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said the day you came to apologize," Josh said. "I was hurt, and that's all I was thinking about. I'm sorry for not stopping to notice that you were hurt, too, even after Jack told me to." 

The two of them talked for about five minutes after that. It wasn't a lot, but it was a start. 

We decided to fly back two days before the awards show. Josh called the guys, even Justin, and let them know that they were going to be meeting at the studio the day before, and that it would be a closed meeting. The timing was good, as Lance was going to return to his apartment the same day we landed, and Britney was going to be flying in as well, since she was supposed to be performing. We weren't going to see a lot of her, since she'd be in rehearsals, but maybe her presence would stabilize Justin a little. 

Josh's family saw us off at the airport, with much hugging, and encouragement for us to come home again soon. When we flew back, Joey and Chris picked us up, again with much hugging and back slapping. I think they could tell by looking that everything was ok with us, but when Chris asked about the other stuff, Josh cut him off, saying that it would be dealt with at the meeting. After we stopped for a quick dinner, we went back to our apartments. Josh was on the phone, trying to set up some fittings for clothes for the awards show, and I was unpacking when we heard knocking at the door. Neither of us was expecting anyone, so I shrugged and answered it. 

"Lance!" I yelped, grabbing him. I pulled him into a quick hug, unsure of why I was so happy to see him. Maybe I was just happy to see him alive. "Get in here." 

"Welcome back," he said, walking in as I shut the door. 

"You look good, Lance," I said, and he did. The circles under his eyes were gone, and he didn't look so pale and shaky. "Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, I think so," he said, shrugging. "I'm still going to see Dr. Centano, and I think I will be for a while, but I'm getting a lot of stuff worked out, you know?" 

"I'm glad, Lance," I said, smiling. 

"I just wanted to come and, um, you know, welcome you back," he began, looking at the floor, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "And I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for saving me." 

"Lance, I didn't save you," I said. "You saved yourself. I just helped." 

Josh stepped quietly out of the bedroom, stopping to lean on the doorway. 

"Hi," he said, almost shyly. 

"Hi, JC," Lance said. They stared awkwardly at each other. "Welcome back." 

"You, too," Josh said. "I know I already apologized, but I want to say it again. I'm sorry, Lance." 

"It's ok," Lance said. "I wanted to know if I could ask you guys a favor." 

"Sure," Josh said, glancing at me. I shrugged, having no idea what he needed, either. 

"Can I, um, can I stay in your spare bedroom tonight?" he asked. "I thought I'd be ok, but I just, I don't know, I don't feel right. I came in, and I saw Justin, and I was really scared, and I still am." 

A sense of history repeating itself washed over me, and maybe over Josh, too, based on the look he gave me. Last time we had let a sexually ambiguous friend sleep over we'd all ended up in bed together, and it had created a hell of a lot of problems. I needed to nip this one in the bud right now, regardless of the fact that I wasn't attracted to Lance in the least. 

"Lance, Josh and I are kind of tired, but we're probably going to have sex of some sort tonight, and you might be able to hear it through the wall," I said, holding up my hands. "We'll lock the door, and try to keep it quiet, but if that's going to bother you, you need to say so now." 

"I could bring my earplugs," Lance said, swallowing uncomfortably. "If you don't want me here." 

"Of course we want you here, " Josh said, hugging him. "Let's go back to your apartment and get your stuff. I don't want you downstairs alone if you're not comfortable with it." 

In the morning the three of us had a quiet breakfast together, and then Lance went back to his apartment to get ready for the meeting. Josh and I took a quick shower together, and I watched him get dressed. 

"Josh, what are you going to do at this meeting?" I asked. 

"Decide what happens to the band," he answered simply. This must have been what he was brooding over during our visit. "I'm putting everything out on the table, all of this, and we're going to talk about it. We're going to talk about who we are, and how we treat each other, and where we go from here." 

"You're going to talk about everything?" I asked, thinking of the Justin and Lance situation. 

"Yes," Josh answered. "We're not leaving that room until we settle everything." 

"What if they don't want to settle everything?" I asked. "What if they don't want to discuss some of this?" 

"I already thought of that," Josh answered. "And I told them all that if we don't work this out, I'm done. We talk, or I walk away. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life with guys who aren't watching my back. It's not going to be easy to talk about some of this, but we have to, or it's going to destroy us. If that's going to happen, I'd rather it end now on my terms than later on, when we could all get hurt even worse." 

"I'm scared for you, Josh," I admitted. 

"Don't be," he said, kissing me. "As long as you're still here, none of this matters to me. I know what's important, Jack, and it's that I love you." 

"I love you, too," I said. 

Josh left, meeting the other guys in the parking area. I watched from the balcony, waving goodbye, and began waiting. I couldn't find enough things to fill my time. I did the breakfast dishes, wondering why we even had a dishwasher when we never used it. I went for my morning jog, although it was a little later than usual, and took another shower. I went out to the pool to read, and then to swim. I went back upstairs to clean, but realized the apartment was already spotless. The only thing I could find to tidy up was the cards and clippings, still in the side pocket of my suitcase. I burned them in the sink, lighting them with the stove burners, and then washed the ashes down the drain. 

And then, just like that, the waiting was over. I turned around, and Josh was already inside the apartment, crossing the room, spinning me into his arms. He shut off the television and began to pull me toward the door. 

"Come on," he said, leading me down to the parking lot. 

I clapped my hands excitedly when I saw that the Jag was back from the body shop. 

"Where are we going?" I asked, walking all around the front of the car. "You can't see a single mark. They did a really good job." 

"I need an outfit for tomorrow night," Josh answered as we climbed into the car. When the guys were performing they usually went for a theme, like all denim or something, but when they were just presenting, like they would be tomorrow, they went for more individual looks. "So do you." 

"What?" I asked, surprised. 

"You need an outfit for tomorrow night," he said. "You don't have to, but I'd like it if you came to the awards with me." 

"Josh, are you sure? What did the guys say?" I asked. 

"I'm sure, and they're sure, too," Josh said, heading toward Rodeo Drive. I was really learning my streets. "This is who I am, and I'm not going to hide it." 

"What about Basil Morgan?" I asked. "Aren't we playing into his hands?" 

"Nope," Josh said. "He doesn't get the story. We get out of the limo, and the story's out there for everyone. Maybe later, if you want to give out some more of it, we can find someone." 

Visions of being on "20/20" with Barbara Walters danced through my head, but I realized there were pieces missing. 

"Josh, what happened today?" I asked. "Is everyone all right?" 

He sighed. 

"More or less," he said. "We still have a group, and everyone knows everything. Everything, Jack. They know about Justin and Lance, and Justin and me and you, and the whole thing with you and Peyton and the notes." 

"Wow," I said. No wonder they had been gone so long. "Everyone's ok with that?" 

"They are now," he said. "I thought Joey was going to kill Justin. Chris and I had to hold him in his chair until we could calm him down. And Lance is the one who told us all about him and Justin. You would have been really proud of him, Jack. You could see that he was scared, and that he's still ashamed, kind of, but he made Justin admit it all. And then I did, too. I made Justin admit what he did to me, and then what he did to us. I think he might actually be sorry, Jack." 

"If you believe it," I said carefully. "How did you make him do it?" 

"Just laid it out plain and simple," Josh answered. "Justin isn't allowed to be alone with Lance, period, until Lance is comfortable with it. He also has to go to therapy, for an indeterminate time. We'll decide as a group, as he goes along." 

"You can't force someone to go to therapy," I pointed out. "It won't help him if he doesn't want it." 

"He suggested it," Josh said. "When we decided to kick him out of Nsync. He might be able to make it on his own, maybe, but we're all he has. He wasn't ready to leave that. He begged us to let him stay, and when he suggested that, we agreed to it." 

Wow. 

We ended up at the stores Josh had called, and it was every bit the shopping experience I had seen on television. People brought us drinks, and fawned over us, and showed us practically everything in every store. I wanted something subdued, and Josh wanted something that matched whatever I picked out. My only stipulations were that it not be leather, plastic, or denim, because I was thinking of the number of times Carla and I had watched award shows on television and mocked everyone's outfits. This was my first awards show, even if I couldn't remember what it was (Daytime Emmys? Tony awards? Blockbuster? Billboard?), and I wasn't going to be on national television looking like crap. 

The outfits we picked out, finally, looked very good in the store, almost identical suits. Mine was in black, and Josh's in blue, with matching cuts and accessories. When we got dressed the next afternoon, I thought again of how nice we looked. I kept thinking about little things like that because it kept me from thinking about what we were about to do. 

I was even more nervous when we got to the courtyard. Justin and Britney were there, Britney heavily made up for her performance and Justin looking nice, if a little subdued. She and I hadn't seen each other yet, so we quickly hugged and kissed our hellos, and I kept my distance from Justin, even thought he did look at me with big, sad eyes. I wasn't ready to let him back in yet. Lance and Chris joined us as we walked to the limousines, where Joey as waiting with three large bodyguards. 

"What are they for?" I asked. Surely this place would have security. 

"You'll see," Joey said. "I think you'll like it." 

I suddenly realized that no one else had dates, just Justin and Josh. We were going to be glaringly obvious, and there probably wouldn't be any question as to what was going on. I was on pins and needles all the way there, and a glass of champagne from the bar in the back did nothing to settle me. What if this went horribly awry? What if the fan reaction was terrible? What if this ruined Josh's career? Every time I had one of these thoughts Josh, as if reading my mind, would smile, squeeze my hand, and then kiss me. We sat in traffic for a while, in a long line of cars outside the arena, and then it was time. 

We had planned this before leaving. Justin and Britney got out of the first limo, followed by Joey, and then the three bodyguards, who faded into the background. After that limo pulled away, Chris, and then Lance, stepped out of ours, smiling, waving and joining the others waiting on the red carpet. Josh climbed out of the car next, and then I was supposed to get out, and that was the end of our plan. Once we were on the carpet, we were going to wing it. Josh turned around and held out his hand, and I grabbed it, already blinded by the flashes, listening to girls screaming as they realized who was here. 

Josh pulled me from the car, and laced his fingers through mine, not letting go of my hand. Like the others, he waved to the crowd with his free hand as I stood soaking it all in and trying not to pass out. We began to walk as a group down the carpet, a little spread out, so that commentators could talk to Justin and Brit, and then each of the guys. As soon as we were all in view you could sense the shift in attention, and I heard people outside the ropes asking who I was, and why Josh was holding my hand. The television commentators, picking up on it, realized something was going on. 

"You ok?" Josh whispered through his smile. 

"Great," I lied, wanting to bolt back to the car. "Is it always like this?" 

"You're doing fine!" Josh smiled, squeezing my hand. 

Off to our left, I suddenly saw Basil Morgan's head pop out of the crowd. 

"JC! Jack!" he yelled, waving a tape recorder. Before he got another word out Joey's trio of bodyguards grabbed him and vanished into the crowd with him. I thought I heard him screaming that he'd sue, but I wasn't sure. 

We continued our slow walk down the carpet, and I kept myself focused on Chris's back and Josh's hand in mine, using them both to block out everything else. So many flashbulbs were going off that I wondered about retinal burns, and I kept smiling dreamily at the cameras, praying that Carla was taping this like she said she would. 

We would find out later that as we walked down the carpet, on live television, that the internet exploded with people messaging each other, and phone lines across the country lit up as people called their friends, and told them to hurry up and put it on. At the time, though, all I could do was wonder how a carpet that looked so short from the car could look so long once you were on it. 

Another series of flashbulbs went off right in my eyes, and then Josh was pulling me toward a television camera. 

"Brian McFayden, MTV News, here with JC from Nsync!" I heard. Oh my God, it really was Brian McFayden. We were on MTV! "JC, how are you guys feeling tonight? Happy to be here?" 

"Couldn't be happier," Josh answered, grinning. 

"Who's this with you?" Brian asked, grinning and pushing the microphone toward me. 

"This is my date, Jack Springer, the man I love," Josh said, beaming. 

Before I could say anything, Josh pulled me against him, tilting my head back, and kissed me. His tongue slid into my mouth, and so many people inhaled at once that there was probably a vacuum around the arena for a second. Josh held the kiss, and held it, and held it. It was completely unrehearsed, but I melted into it like an extra in a Big Red commercial, eyes closed, head back, entire world around us blotted out. 

My eyes popped open when I heard the clapping begin, right next to us. Opening them, I saw Joey, Chris, Lance, Justin, and Britney, grinning and applauding. The crowd picked up on it, and suddenly broke into spontaneous applause as well, hundreds of people clapping and cheering at once as Josh kissed me in front of a live television audience that grew by the second. And it wasn't just the crowd, either. The other celebrities on the carpet were watching and clapping, too. Everyone was caught up in the moment, and it seemed like a thousand flashbulbs went off at once. 

Josh pulled off of me, staring down, his blue eyes locked on my green ones. 

"I love you," he said. 

"I love you, too," I answered. 

He leaned in for another kiss, and we heard the cheering redouble itself, the applause even louder. 

In the morning, no one would remember who won what. We would see ourselves on the news for days, and the band's publicity machine went wild trying to cope with the calls from reporters. The official web site got so many hits it crashed, and was frozen for days, and the price of anything Nsync, especially anything with Josh on it, on the internet spiked through the roof. 

Right then, though, none of that mattered. All that mattered to me was that I was holding Josh, and he was holding me, and everything was ok. 

This was the night. 

This was the moment. 

And it was ours. 

END SEASON 2 

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CHAPTER 37

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BEGIN SEASON 3 

I took another drag from the cigarette I'd bummed off of Leonardo DiCaprio in the kitchen and listened to the party raging in the house behind me. Leo hadn't been able to find his lighter anywhere, but Fiona Apple had hers handy, and waved it toward me without pausing in the rambling discussion of global megacorporations and Amazon basin deforestation that she had Leonardo trapped in. I lit up quickly, and fled out the first door I saw, which luckily led to an empty deck. My head was spinning, and I needed air before the walls started closing in on me. 

I had no idea whose house we were at, or how long we would be staying. The house was massive, as I'd always expected that houses in California would be, and was packed with so many celebrities that I felt like I'd wandered into a photo shoot for Tiger Beat, or maybe a cameo studded Robert Altman movie. I pulled on the cigarette, half my mind thinking of how nice it was to have one, and the other half marveling that Leonardo DiCaprio had given me this. I was so grateful for it that I didn't even ask him what the hell he was thinking when he thought making "The Beach" was a good idea. 

Josh had held my hand through the entire awards show, leaving me only when the guys had to go backstage to get ready to present. Britney was also gone at that point, getting ready to perform after the next commercial break, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by well-dressed seat fillers. I greeted them warmly, but they weren't very talkative on the whole, probably trying to figure out where they were supposed to be next. Chris told me that they would spend the entire evening moving around the auditorium, making sure that people in the audience at home never saw a blank spot. I kind of envied them. They were so good at their jobs that people didn't even notice them, barely nodding to them as they slid into the empties. I, on the other hand, caught people glancing at me every time I looked up, and their expressions, for the most part, were inscrutable to me. 

What were people really thinking? Did they think I was some kind of gold-digger? A celebrity wanna-be? Did they think I'd corrupted Josh in some way? Would this serve as confirmation for all the people out there who insisted that all of the guys in every boyband were actually gay? I realized that I was letting my ego run away with me. Most of these people had no idea of who I was, and I was probably beneath their notice. I might be dating a celebrity, and Josh's public outing of himself on national television might be a hot topic of discussion for a little while, but I was still just a guest in the world that these people lived in. Chris and Joey had warned me that a lot of people out here were pretty fake, and it made me kind of wary of anyone who had spoken to me at the party. 

When the guys took the stage to read their lines off the teleprompter, Josh looked right at me and winked, grinning widely. I smiled back, even as I heard another flurry of whispering sweeping through the crowd around me. Josh was on cloud nine, practically floating across the stage with the rest of the guys, and he was giving me huge puppy dog eyes like a lovesick teenager. He was completely at peace with his decision, and I inwardly applauded again that he had decided to completely be true to himself, and be honest with the world, and that the rest of the guys had backed him on it. At the same time, though, I was a little afraid. Sure, people had clapped and cheered, but at some point people were also going to start saying ugly things, and I wasn't sure how Josh would take that. Josh had explained to me once how much it hurt him that most people didn't consider him a real musician, and how much he struggled to be taken seriously sometimes, and now he had just taken on another set of issues entirely. 

When the guys returned to their seats, Josh immediately laced his fingers through mine again, and he leaned over to whisper to me that he loved me. I felt his lips brushing my cheek as his breath tickled my ear, and I wondered if a camera was watching us. I leaned over, inhaling his aftershave, and told him I loved him, too. After the awards were all given out, and the curtain closed on the final performance of the night, the seven of us evaded the press and slipped into our pair of limousines, heading up to this house for an after-show party. 

"You guys were amazing," Lance said, sitting across from Josh and I. "I can't believe you did that." 

"Only one of us knew we were going to make out on live MTV," I said, leaning back against Josh. He pulled me close as I snuggled up against him. 

"Yeah, well, we knew you were coming, Jack," Chris said, smirking. "We didn't know JC was going to put his tongue in your mouth." 

Chris had opted to ride with us, as he still wanted to punch Justin in the face a couple of times. We had agreed to keep everything from Britney until Justin decided to tell her, but no one was requiring him to. Maybe he would decide to be honest with her at some point, or maybe not. Either way, I had my fill of involvement in Justin's personal entanglements, and the rest of the guys seemed to feel the same way. The only reason Joey was in the other limo with them was because it would have looked pretty suspicious for all of us to pile into one car and leave the two of them in the other, both to Britney and to the media. 

"I told you I wasn't going to hide any of this anymore," Josh said, smiling. He turned and kissed my forehead, his lips soft, but firm. "Jack and I are in this for the long haul, and I want everyone to know." 

"You're so amazing," Lance repeated quietly, looking away. He frowned, as if he wanted to add something, but he didn't let it out. 

"Jack, you're quiet," Chris said, looking at me. 

"I'm sorry," I said, glancing away from Josh. 

"You ok, babe?" Josh asked, brushing my hair away from my forehead. His wide blue eyes stared into mine, his joyous enthusiasm immediately melting to concern. 

"I'm fine," I said, shrugging. "It's just, you know, been quite a day. How do you guys do this all the time? All those cameras, and reporters, and having to smile, and all those people." 

"You get used to it after a while," Josh said, hugging me tightly against him. I could feel his muscles bunching under his suit. 

"It's just so draining," I said, resting against him. 

"I know, Jack," Josh sighed, kissing my forehead again. "But now we're going to go have some fun, and then we can go back to the apartment and relax, ok?" 

"Sure, Josh, whatever you want," I sighed, kissing his cheek. 

Chris clapped his hands excitedly. 

"Yay! Jack's going to his first Hollywood party!" he said, grinning. Lance summoned a wan smile for me, too. 

As exciting as my first Hollywood party promised to be, though, it got old fairly quickly. Except for the fact that most of the party goers were really famous, and I had spent large portions of my life seeing them in magazines or on television, it was almost like being at a high school party again, just in a much bigger house. There were still little cliques of people who didn't talk to each other. Maybe no other house party I'd ever been to had waiters and caterers, but otherwise it was pretty similar. Stereo cranking in one room filled with people dancing, lines for the bathrooms, people making out in darkened corners, popular guys and girls surrounded by crowds of hangers on. If I turned back the clock about ten years, I could be back home in Ohio, although I'd probably also be in acid-washed jeans and a Bugle Boy shirt. 

I lost track of Chris and Lance within the first twenty minutes of the party. Josh, Justin, Brit, and I ended up in the big room where everyone was dancing, and Joey was off to the side talking to one of the girls from Destiny's Child who wasn't Beyonce. There were a lot of people I didn't know, and a lot of people whose faces I knew but couldn't put names to. A lot of people stopped to talk to Josh, to tell him that they thought it was just great that he'd come out, and they seemed excited to say the same to me when Josh introduced me, but it was hard to tell who meant it. None of it seemed real. Josh didn't seem to be feeling any of the same unease, but after we danced for a while I decided I needed air, which is how I'd ended up out on the back deck, with the cigarette I'd bummed from Leonardo. 

"Hey," I heard Josh say from behind me. 

I turned and saw him stepping out of the kitchen. I could still hear Fiona speaking loudly about slash and burn agriculture, but Josh closed the door behind him, the light from the kitchen washing over his profile. His hair was tousled, and curling, like it tended to do when he sweat, or when it was humid out. He had pushed it back with his hand, brushing it off of his high forehead. My eye followed the curves of his cheekbones, and the straight line of his nose, but as he walked toward me, backlit, all I saw was the sparkle of his ocean blue eyes and the soft white gleam of his smile. He'd undone his shirt collar while we were dancing, leaving the strong cords of his neck out, offering just a hint of the rise of his pecs below the hollow of his throat, where I liked to put my mouth. 

"Julia Styles said she saw you head toward the kitchen," he said, wrapping his arms around me, crushing me against his chest. 

"Did she?" I asked, suddenly amused, hugging him back. 

Josh's long, tanned fingers reached up and plucked the cigarette out of mine. 

"Where did this come from?" he asked, frowning at it. 

"DiCaprio," I answered, shrugging. "He offered, and, you know, I'm a follower. Peer pressure and all that." 

Josh sighed, dropping the cigarette to the deck and crushing it out beneath his shoe. 

"Can I have a real answer now?" he asked, leading me over to the railing by the hand. We sat, and he lifted a hand to my face, turning my head toward his, fingers brushing feather soft over my cheek. "Jack, are you all right?" 

"I don't know, Josh," I said, shrugging. "This is, all of this, is just, you know, it's a lot to deal with. I mean, you're used to this, but I'm just worn out. There are just so many people, and there were all those cameras. I just feel like everyone's looking at us, and I'm not sure how to act, or what I'm supposed to do." 

Josh hugged me again, holding me tightly against him. His hands were on my back, sliding over my shoulder blades, and we were cheek to cheek. I could feel his heart beating next to mine, through the layers of our matching suits, and the smell of his sweat was mixed with our cologne and aftershave. 

"Jack, I'm sorry," he said, his lips close to my ear. "I didn't think about how you'd take this. We're used to it, but we've had years to get that way. I forgot, I guess, that this was your first red carpet, and all the rest of this. I don't know what's wrong with me." 

"Josh, there isn't anything wrong with you," I said, kissing him quickly on the lips, feeling how smooth they were as his little strip of beard scraped my chin. "I'm just kind of overwhelmed. I can't believe you're not." 

"I think I will be later," Josh admitted, squeezing my hand. The two of us stared into the kitchen, watching everyone pass by the glass as if on a television screen. "Right now I guess I'm just still really excited. My heart's been pounding all night, Jack, and I feel like everything is just spinning. I feel so, I don't know, so alive, like I'm on top of the world." 

"I'm glad," I said, bringing his hand up so I could kiss the back of it. "I'm proud of you, Josh. I'm proud to be your boyfriend." 

"I know," he said, draping his arm around my shoulders to pull me closer to him. "And I know you'd be proud of me either way. I remember when I first flew out to see you, I asked if you would move in with me, and you asked if I had thought about what it would really mean to tell the world who I was. Well, I've told the world, and I feel completely free. And I know it's not going to be easy from here. I know that there are going to be people who still make fun of us, and people who are going to speak out against me because of this. I know that everyone isn't going to be happy for us, but it doesn't matter to me, because I'll still have you, and you're all that's important to me." 

"I love you, Josh," I said, brushing his hair back away from his eyes with my hand. 

"And I love you," he answered, pulling me in close. 

Josh's lips pressed against mine, sliding against them like smooth silk as his hands gently caressed the sides of my face. I felt his tongue pushing gently against mine as our teeth pressed against our lips. Josh groaned softly, and I felt it vibrate through my mouth as well as our tongues fought each other, sliding and pressing against each other like snakes as I tasted him and he tasted me. He pulled back, but I leaned forward, kissing him again, and then again, before he finally pulled back a second time, his lip caught between my teeth, sliding through them as I gently let go. Josh's eyes stared into mine, wide and blue, and I saw myself reflected in them, in the low light escaping the kitchen. His face was flushed, but smooth, and then it crinkled as he smiled. 

"Hey, I have an idea," he said huskily, his voice low and sexy. 

"What's that?" I asked, staring at him. 

"Why don't we go tell Chris or Joey that we're leaving," Josh purred, standing and pulling me off the railing as well. "And then why don't we go home and make love until neither one of us can walk?" 

"I think that's a great idea, " I said, dropping my hand quickly to his crotch, to squeeze his hard cock. His hips jerked toward me. "Oh, Josh, you're as hard as I am. I want you so bad right now." 

"Why don't we go home, and you can show me?" he suggested, grinning wickedly. 

We practically ran, hand in hand, back to the kitchen, leaving the back deck behind, completely unaware of what was going on below it. 

---

Below the deck, the well landscaped backyard spread in a wide expanse of rolling lawn, dotted here and there with groupings of trees, and the occasional bench. In some parts of the city, lots were so expensive that there was no yard at all, just a massive house and, frequently, a pool or a tennis court. Once you started getting into the hills and canyons, though, houses started having a little land around them, or, in cases like this, a lot of land. There were party lanterns hanging in the trees over the benches, made to look like Japanese paper lanterns, but obviously electric, as no one was going to play with fire in high summer. Here and there a partygoer or two sat on the benches, talking and laughing, but for the most part the backyard was empty. 

That suited Lance just fine. He didn't want company, and had gone into the backyard through the door in the game room specifically to avoid being around so many people at once. It wasn't that he didn't like people. Normally, he was just the opposite, outgoing, fun-loving, extremely social, but now, now he didn't know how he felt. Thrown into a room with so many people, he just wanted to leave, to get away, before someone else started talking to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk. He just didn't know what to say, because everything was so jumbled up inside of him right now, and he didn't know how to feel. Everything was confused right now, and he felt like if anyone started talking to him things would just start to spill out, all kinds of things, things he wasn't ready to think about yet, or worse, things he thought about too much. 

He had been in the game room when Christina Aguilera had tugged on his arm and begun gushing about how awesome she thought it was that JC had decided to come out. 

"I mean, it's like, so amazing that he's just going to be who he is, and it's too bad, because he's you know, kind of hot, not hot like Justin hot, but kind of hot, but I guess that doesn't matter now, because, you know, it's like more important that he's true to himself, you know, instead of like, living a lie or something. I never thought, not ever, when we were on the Mouse that he was like that, but I guess he was, and maybe he was just hiding it really well, but aren't you excited for him, Lance, that he, you know, is being true to himself, and found somebody, and he's not going to keep hiding it or let anything hold him back, you know? I wanted to, like, talk to him about it, because I know a lot of gay guys, but he was dancing with that guy, the boyfriend, you know, and they just looked so cute together I didn't want to interrupt. It's so cool, too, that you guys like totally support him on it, too, because coming out can be really hard, I heard, and it's so great that you're all ok with it, right Lance?" 

Lance had stared at her, his mind reeling, before he quickly mumbled something about needing air and ducked out into the backyard. 

Not for the first time, Lance looked up toward the sky, and wondered why he was being tested like this. He didn't know what to do about the feelings that were churning inside him. He'd been talking to Dr. Centano, and was supposed to go talk to him again tomorrow, but he was still torn about what was going on inside him. On one hand, he felt a strong attraction to other men. He had for almost his entire life, but it was wrong. His parents had told him that, his minister had told him that, hell, everyone he knew always told him that. Everyone knew it was wrong, and that there was something wrong with guys who felt that way, and acted that way. They called them "queer" for a reason, after all, because they were abnormal. 

On the other hand, Lance had never been sexually attracted to a girl, never. He had girlfriends, but never very serious ones. He'd barely ever even kissed a girl. Most of his relationships never went beyond handholding, or occasionally hugging. Sometimes a girl tried to take things a little past that, tried to tempt him or force him into doing something he didn't want to do, but he quickly broke things off with those girls. They weren't the girl for him. He told himself all along that someday, when he met the right girl, and it was true love, when it was meant to be, that he would feel the right way, and that these other feelings that he had sometimes would finally go away. 

But what if it wasn't the right girl that he was waiting for? What if it was the right guy? What if this wasn't just a passing phase? After all, he'd certainly felt those feelings when he was with Justin. 

Lance shook his head violently at this thought, trying again to push it away. Dr. Centano told him not to run from what had happened, to accept it, and find ways to work through the pain, but every time Lance thought of Justin, every time he saw him, he felt dizzy. He felt bile rise in his throat, felt his stomach turn and his knees shake, every time he thought about Justin, and what Justin had done to him. And what he had done to Justin. And how he had felt about it. 

How he had liked it. 

Because that was his real problem, when he got down to it. That was the real feeling he didn't want to face. Justin had abused him, yes, but Justin hadn't really forced anything on him, when you got right down to it. Sure, Justin had a way of talking you into things, and suggesting things, and making you do things you wouldn't do otherwise, but deep down, hadn't Lance wanted to do those things? Hadn't he really wanted to all along? And he'd liked it, hadn't he? Even now, when the memory of the times he'd knelt before Justin with his mouth open, begging for it, filled him with shame, it also sent a little shiver through him. He'd wanted it, he'd deserved it, and what kind of person did that make him, really? 

Lance was shaken from his own introspective reverie by the sound of people arguing off to his left. It was too dark for him to see who it was, but he thought he recognized the voices of the two silhouetted men. Standing under the deck, hidden among the supports and the plants put up to camouflage them, he knew they couldn't see him. He also knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but he didn't want to go back inside, and he was curious. 

"For the last time, I don't care, ok?" the taller one said. "We talked about this, and you said that you would go along with whatever we decided, and that's what you're going to do." 

"Oh, sure, what you all decided," the shorter one said, sounding sad. "What about me? How is it supposed to make me feel?" 

"If you didn't feel like this, we wouldn't have these problems," the taller one spat. "I told you, I don't care what you do with your life, but you keep it to yourself! Keep the rest of us out of it." 

"But the other guys would come around if you weren't always so loud, and so angry, and so upset about everything," the shorter one pleaded. To Lance he sounded almost like he was begging, but for what? "Please, we could do it, you could let me just be honest about it, and no one would care. You saw that tonight." 

"No," the taller one said, his voice cold. "Tonight, no one cares, but you wait to see what people say tomorrow. They're already saying it now, whispering behind their backs, making jokes. I'm not going to let them do that to us, too. You said we'd decide this as a group, and we did. The answer was no, and I don't want to argue about it anymore." 

"If you would just think about it," the smaller one began again, sighing. He seemed to know his cause was futile. 

"No, for the last time, my answer's no," the taller one said, turning away. "I'm going back to the party. Why don't you just stay out here, and be yourself?" 

He stalked away, around the side of the house, too far and too shrouded in shadow for Lance to get a good look at him. He caught a flash of blonde hair, but that was all. Turning back, he saw the other guy, the shorter one, punch the tree, and then yelp in frustration, cradling his hand. 

However inappropriate it might be to eavesdrop, Lance couldn't leave someone else in pain. 

"Careful," he said, walking over slowly. "The tree might decide to hit back." 

Lance's breath caught in his throat as the guy turned toward him, wide, chocolate brown eyes meeting his green ones. He took it all in at once, the firm jaw, speckled with just a hint of stubble, the tanned, honey gold skin, the short dark hair hanging down over his ears and almost covering one eye, the smooth lips, not pink, but almost brownish. Somehow his feet tangled in each other, as if he'd never walked before, and Lance almost tripped and fell as he walked over toward the tree, where Howie was crouching and holding his hand, trying very hard to look like it didn't hurt. 

"New feet?" Howie asked, mustering up a smile. How much had Lance heard? 

"No, I think there was a tree root there or something," Lance said, shaking his head as if to prevent himself from noticing the way that Howie's pale blue sweater clung to his chest, highlighting the muscles there, drawing his eyes along the curve of Howie's pecs to his nipples, which he could almost see through the thin, tight fabric. 

What was wrong with him? He'd seen Howie, and all of the Backstreet Boys, before, and had spoken to all of them, dozens of times, if not more. The media and the public might consider them rivals, but they were actually all on a nodding sort of acquaintance with each other. With both groups making their home in Orlando, and the guys traveling in so many of the same circles, it would be hard for them not to speak to each other once in a while. But why did he suddenly feel so clumsy, and why was his heart pounding? And why was Howie looking at him like that? 

"Did you hurt your hand?" Lance asked, afraid to say anything else. He felt almost tongue tied, as if he had to force the words out. 

"I'm not sure," Howie said, still holding it. "I guess that was kind of a dumb thing to do." 

"Hey, somebody has to show the trees who's boss," Lance said. He sat on the bench. "Come over here under the light, and we'll look at it." 

Howie sat down next to Lance, still cradling his hand. It stung, but he was a little afraid to take his other hand off and actually look at it. What if he had to go to the hospital? God knew he'd never hear the end of it from Kevin on that one. Lance held out his hand, his eyebrows raised, and Howie gingerly placed his wounded hand in it. Lance took it, noticing how smooth and soft Howie's hand was, noting the scattering of dark hair on the back. He was suddenly so nervous that he worried that his own hand would start shaking. Why did he feel like this? 

"You skinned your knuckles a little," Lance said, reaching into his shirt pocket. "Here, I have a handkerchief." 

Lance blotted at Howie's knuckles with it, dabbing at the blood. Howie flinched a little. 

"Sorry," Lance said, suddenly realizing that he was still holding tightly to Howie's hand, even as he swiped at the slowly oozing blood with his handkerchief. He held it out to Howie. "Here, you can do this." 

"No, it's ok," Howie said quickly, avoiding glancing at his hand. "The blood is, you know, I get a little squeamish." 

"OK," Lance said, pressing the handkerchief down onto Howie's knuckles. "Does it hurt to move it?" 

"No," Howie answered, squeezing Lance's hand. Another little shiver raced through Lance, moving up his arm and spreading over his whole body. 

"I didn't really hear what you guys were saying," Lance began, still pressing down with the handkerchief. "But, you know, you looked pretty upset. Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, I think so," Howie sighed. "Nick's just being Nick. It's just stupid band stuff. How are you guys doing?" 

"Well, you know, you kind of saw tonight," Lance answered, shrugging, not wanting to get into it. "It's been pretty intense." 

"I can imagine," Howie said. He sounded strained, but he smiled quickly, as if forcing himself to. "I hear you guys are doing some recording here." 

"Yeah, we'll be out here for another couple of weeks," Lance said. 

"I'm going to be out here for a few more days, too," Howie said. "I'm doing a cameo in a movie, so I'll be here until they get that done. The rest of the guys are leaving tomorrow, I think." 

"You'll be all by yourself?" Lance asked. "Do you know anybody out here?" 

"Well, I know you," Howie answered, smiling. 

Staring across the bench at Howie, their faces only inches apart, Lance suddenly felt dizzy. He realized he was still holding Howie's hand, and he quickly let it go. 

"It looks like, um, the bleeding stopped," Lance said, standing. "And I, uh, have a lot of, you know, stuff to do tomorrow, and it's getting really late, so I think I'm going to call it a day. It was good talking to you." 

"You, too," Howie said, staring up at him. Lance started to step away, and Howie spoke again. "Lance, do you want to maybe get together tomorrow, and grab some dinner or something?" 

"Um, sure," Lance said, reaching into his pocket for one of his cards. "Sure, I'd like that. My cell phone number is on here. Why don't you call me in the afternoon, and we'll figure something out?" 

"OK," Howie said, taking the card. "Good night, Lance, and thanks for the first aid." 

"No problem," Lance said quickly, turning away. "Good night." 

Lance hurried away toward the house, his heart fluttering and his head spinning. Why couldn't he get Howie's eyes, Howie's wide, warm brown eyes, out of his head? Why did his hand still tingle where Howie's had been? And why was he suddenly looking forward to dinner tomorrow, more than he'd looked forward to anything for weeks? Howie eyed Lance's back speculatively as he walked away. 

---

CHAPTER 38

---

Josh and I had the limousine to ourselves on the way back to the apartment. None of the other guys had been ready to go yet, or at least none of the guys we could find. Justin and Britney were doing some sort of sleazy, practically intercoursal bump and grind in the middle of the dance floor, cheered on by the people around them, and neither one of us wanted to get in the middle of that. Chris was in the middle of some kind of argument with Jimmy Fallon, although it seemed friendly, not hostile. When we stopped to tell him we were leaving, he waved, and Jimmy shook both our hands. 

"We running tomorrow?" Chris asked, some girl hanging on his arm. 

"Sure," I answered, smirking. "You seen Lance?" 

"I think he went downstairs, " Chris answered, shrugging. "Ask Joey, and have a good night!" 

I giggled at the salacious wink he'd added to the end. 

Joey was sitting on a couch in one of the quieter rooms, talking to some people I didn't know, and he also waved us away, wishing us a good night. We looked for Lance again, but he wasn't around anywhere. I felt bad leaving him, but Joey and Chris would keep an eye out for him, and Josh and I both had our phones if he really needed something. We found our driver out talking with a bunch of other drivers by a huge line of cars, which somehow struck me as funny. As Josh and I climbed, hand in hand, into the back, a camera flash caught us. Josh smiled naturally, giving the camera a little wave as he leaned over me to pull the door closed. 

"Anyone we know?" I asked. 

"Don't think so," Josh answered. 

I realized that he was still draped over me, his torso pressed against mine, his arms on either side of my waist. Josh's face was just inches from mine, his hot breath on my lips, as his eyes, wide and blue, stared into mine. He leaned in closer, closer, his tanned face covering the last couple of inches, and then his mouth was on mine as my finger frantically thumbed the switch to raise the glass between us and the driver. I moaned as his tongue pushed into my mouth, his lips sliding wetly over mine, and his arms bulged, straining against the tight fabric of his jacket as he crushed me into the seat. 

"Oh, Josh," I sighed, as his mouth slid away from mine, his lips crawling over my jaw before he caught my earlobe in his teeth. 

Josh's head slid lower, burrowing into my neck, and he hummed against me as his lips found my pulse. I wondered if he might be turning vampire as I felt his teeth scraping over my neck, nipping lightly. My hands slid inside his jacket, crawling up his sides, feeling the muscles bunch and shift as they climbed over his back, trapped between his jacket and shirt. We were both wearing way too many layers, but we were also in the back of a car. It wasn't exactly the place to disrobe. Curling my fingers, I raked one hand down Josh's spine, while gabbing his firm, hard ass with the other. He groaned again, hips jerking, his hard cock burrowing against mine through the layers of fabric between us. 

The car hit a pothole, suddenly, and we tumbled off the seat and onto the floor. 

"Sorry," the driver's voice buzzed over the intercom. "Construction." 

Neither of us was paying any attention to him. Josh rolled me, so that he was straddling me, his thighs coming down on either side of mine as he continued to grind our cocks together. He caught my hands in his and pressed them to the floor of the limo over my head as he smashed his mouth against mine again. He held my hands up there with one of his as I squirmed against him, both of us making little whimpering noises along with our groaning sighs, and I felt his other hand undoing the button holding my jacket closed. It fell open, and he reared up above me, his hair messy, his face flushed, as he stared down at me with glassy blue eyes. 

"I love you so much," he panted as I stared up at him. 

Josh's hands grabbed the front of my shirt, his fingers sliding into the gap, and he tugged hard. Buttons flew as he jerked it open, and then he grabbed the neck of my undershirt, grinning as he tore it open with a loud ripping sound. I bucked under him, grinning as well, as his strong hands crawled over my bare chest, kneading, pressing, and caressing. His hair brushed my chin as I felt his beard scratching at the skin between my pecs, and then I felt his nose drifting across my collarbone before his mouth fastened around one of my nipples, sucking hard. I jerked underneath him again, my back arching up as his hands slid under the shreds of my shirt, pulling me up toward him as his hot mouth drifted back and forth from one nipple to the other, biting and sucking and gnawing. My fingers caught in his hair as I pressed his head against me, steering him back and forth over my torso. I jerked his head up, bringing his wet mouth to mine again, and his eyes drilled into me even as his tongue fought its way past mine again. 

The car slid to a stop, and we heard the driver's voice over the intercom again. 

"Mr. Chasez, we've arrived at your apartment, sir. I'll come get the door now." 

"Just a second," Josh yelped, smacking at the intercom button. 

I laughed beneath him as he hastily pulled himself off of me, and then pulled me back onto the seat with him. It was one thing for the whole world to know we were dating, but it was quite another for a limo driver to find us straddling each other on the floor of the car. I tried to pull my shirt back together, but ended up just buttoning the jacket again and praying it wouldn't be too obvious that half my outfit was shredded. The driver opened our door, and Josh slid a large tip into his hand before the two of us ran, hand in hand and giggling, through the archway and into the courtyard. Nobody saw us running up the stairs, still holding hands, and I noticed that there were, once again, no lights on in Jackie's little apartment. 

"Josh, does she really exist?" I asked, pointing at her door as he fumbled with his keys. 

"Of course she does," he giggled. "What kind of a dumb question is that?" 

"I was just curious, because I've never seen her," I said, as he finally unlocked the door and got it open. 

Josh jerked me inside by my arm. Slamming the door behind us, he threw me up against it, and resumed his hard, sloppy kisses, his mouth pressed to mine as he ground into me, his hands crawling all over my body at once. 

"I don't want to see Jackie, " he whispered huskily. "Just you." 

His hands were undoing my jacket again, and it fell to the floor. He kicked it aside urgently as he tugged my shirt out of my pants, balling it up and throwing it aside as well. I tossed my head from side to side, sighing his name as his mouth ran up and down my neck, through the hollow of my throat, sucking and nipping again like he had in the limo. His hands grabbed the scraps of my undershirt and finished tearing it off of me, letting the pieces fall to the floor as he pressed himself against me, his mouth seeking mine again. He pressed me back against the hard door, writhing against me, grabbing one of my legs and pulling it against him as he ground his hard cock against mine through our pants. I was leaking like a faucet in my boxers, and could only imagine the state he was in. 

My hands climbed Josh's back, up to his firmly rounded shoulders, and began peeling his jacket off of him. I couldn't get it to just drop off, like mine had, because his hands were still all over me, pinching and stroking. One of them dropped onto my package, and began kneading my cock through the fabric of my slacks. I groaned, clawing and struggling at his jacket, and finally got it rolled down enough that it hindered his arms. He shrugged out of it and tossed it aside almost angrily, and my hands immediately began to work on the buttons of his shirt, crawling down his chest, trapped between our two straining torsos. As I roughly pulled the shirttails out of his pants, he grabbed my legs, hoisting them around his waist as he lifted my and began to carry me through the living room. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rained kisses on his face. 

Apparently deciding that the bedroom was just too far, Josh carried me to the dining room table, setting me down on the edge. Pushing me back as he leaned over, he swept the fruitbowl aside with one hand, knocking it to the floor with a muffled thump as it hit the carpet, oranges rolling everywhere. His hands went straight to my belt as I finished getting his shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white beater as he tossed my belt aside. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands, and, standing, peeled it off over his head in one smooth motion, throwing it to the floor as well. His hands slid down my leg, stroking over my thigh, squeezing my calf, before he deftly untied my shoe and let it drop to the floor, and then he did the same with my other leg. The edge of the table was right behind my knees, my feet dangling as he stood between them, sliding his hands up over the tops of my thighs as he undid the button and fly of my pants. Grabbing them and my boxers together, he began to tug them down, and I lifted my ass as the fabric slid over me. My cock sprang out, hard and ready, pointing up toward the ceiling as Josh let my pants drop toward the floor. 

"Jack, I want you so bad," he whispered, staring down at me. 

I raised myself up a little, resting on my elbows on the cold tabletop. 

"Here I am," I said, letting my legs fall open a little wider as he stood between them. "What are you waiting for?" 

Josh practically collapsed onto me, his lips seeking mine as his hands, strong and firm, crawled everywhere at once. I heard the table creak under us, but the taste of Josh's tongue in my mouth pushed it out of my mind. His hands slid over my chest, pinching my nipples as I tangled mine in his hair, pressing his face to me as he urgently ground his entire body against me. His hands trailed down my abs, fluttering over them, brushing past my navel, and then he wrapped both of them around my hard cock, rubbing them in opposite directions at once. I groaned, open mouthed, eyes rolling back in my head in pleasure, as Josh's head dipped down to my throat. He continued slowly stroking my cock, rolling a hand over the head as he slid the other up and down my shaft, squeezing, building slow pressure, and I continued to writhe beneath him, my back arching involuntarily as my hips tried to thrust toward him, beneath his weight. His tongues painted a wide line down the center of my chest, his licking interspersed with kisses as his hot mouth crawled wetly down my abs. His tongue flicked over my cockhead, just once, quickly, and I almost came right then. 

Humming, causing his mouth the vibrate exquisitely, Josh began to kiss up and down my hard shaft, sliding his lips over my cockhead every few seconds. My fingers twisted in his hair as he licked up and down my shaft, painting my cock with his spit, and then he slid further down, and began to lick at my balls. He bunched his tongue up, like another finger, and began using it to push my balls around, to lift them and roll them before taking them, one at a time, into his mouth, rolling his lips over my sack, sucking gently on each of them before going back to licking again. I hadn't ever really been a fan of ball play, and hadn't ever realized I had quite so many nerves down there, but Josh's mouth working over them was like dipping them in fire. 

"Oh, God, Josh," I whined, my voice high and almost unrecognizable. 

My hands were tugging at Josh's hair so hard it had to be hurting him, but he rolled his eyes up toward me, smiling around a mouthful of my balls, and they twinkled with lust. His face was flushed, but he was definitely enjoying himself. My balls tumbled out of his mouth with a wet kissing sound, and he smiled before sliding his tongue up my shaft again. His brownish lips, wet and glistening, rolled over my cockhead as he began to slowly slide his mouth down my shaft, swallowing me, and I closed my eyes again, almost against my will. He looked so beautiful that it hurt not to see him, but I couldn't help it, groaning again as my hips pushed toward him, feeding him more of my hard, throbbing cock. 

Josh swirled his warm tongue around my cockhead, running the tip of it around the ridge, hitting that bunch of nerves just below the slit over and over. My cock slid over his tongue, wide, wet, and warm, as his lips crawled down my shaft, and I felt the head bumping against the back of his throat. Instead of gagging, he swallowed, sucking me in, and my hands clamped down on his head, spearing his face as I thrust forward. He moaned contentedly, his mouth and throat vibrating around my prick. He began to bob slowly up and down my shaft, sucking gently, keeping his lips in a hard, tight ring around the shaft, running his tongue along my curves and ridges as I slid in and out of him. The only sounds in the room were my high pitched whimpers of pleasure, the occasional wet slurp, and the sound of him inhaling deeply through his nose each time I slid up to the tip, almost out of his mouth, before he sucked me greedily back down again. 

While his moist, hot mouth worked wonders on my steely prick, his hands were roaming all over me again. I felt them brushing over my thighs, bristling over the hairs there, raising little goose bumps and causing me to shiver uncontrollably. They caressed their way up my abs, pressing and almost tickling, and smoothed themselves over the rounded sloping curves of my chest. His fingers found both of my nipples at once, pinching them, pulling on them, rolling them between his forefingers and thumbs. I let out a sharp little cry, pushing upward into his mouth again. My own hands were still entwined in his hair, and I brought one around to the side of his face, caressing his cheek, running it along his opened jaw, feeling his face flex as he swallowed me again and again. He pressed his head against my opened palm, nuzzling against it, before pulling off of my cock with a wet popping noise to kiss my hand, and suck my fingers briefly into his mouth. 

"Hey, Jack?" Josh whispered, licking maddeningly slowly at my slit. 

"Jesus, Josh," I answered, twisting and straining beneath him. 

"You about ready to cum?" he whispered, his wide blue eyes tilted up toward mine. 

"Yes, Josh, yes," I panted as he went back to licking up and down my shaft. My cock was throbbing, jumping in time to my pounding heartbeat. 

"Oh, good," he said, opening his mouth and swallowing me again. 

"Josh!" I yelped, pulling his head down onto me all the way, pressing his nose into my pubes. 

One of his hands grabbed my balls, squeezing lightly, as the other brushed, feather light, over my asshole. I jerked off the table, held in place by Josh's mouth, and shot, hard, down his throat. His head bobbed as he swallowed, and I shot again and again into his mouth. 

I collapsed back onto the tabletop, stars dancing before my eyes, and felt Josh sliding up me. His bare chest slid over mine, his pert brown nipples gliding through the light sheen of sweat on me to press against my own. The fabric of his pants brushed against my now exquisitely sensitive cockhead, and my cock jerked against his as he brought his mouth to mine in one of his famously wet and sloppy Joshua tongue kisses. I tasted myself as his tongue twined around mine, and I opened my eyes to see his above me like pools, the twinkling blue of gaslights. He kissed me again, and smiled down at me as he ground his entire body against mine. My hands slid up his granite arms and over his smooth shoulders, dancing over the strong cords of his neck until I was cradling his perfect face above me. 

"Josh, I want you to fuck me, " I whispered, pressing against him as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Doubtlessly I was smearing a sticky sort of stain on the front of his pants, but he could afford the dry cleaning. "Now, Josh, I want it now." 

"I was hoping you'd say that, " he said, smiling. If he could get his voice like that on just one song on the next record they'd be sold out in seconds. He stood and pulled away from me. "Be right back." 

He trotted quickly off toward the bedroom, and I watched his smooth, tan back, before it dawned on me that I was laying naked on the dining room table with my socks still on. It struck me as rather absurd, suddenly, and I sat up and peeled my socks off. I heard the nightstand drawer slam closed, and wondered why we even bothered to put the lube and the condoms away. Maybe we should just start keeping a pile of them by the bed. I giggled at this, too, and fell into further giggling when it occurred to me that we needed to be sure to wipe the table down before we had breakfast tomorrow. 

Josh came slinking back from the bedroom, his bare torso glistening in the soft glow of the one lamp on over the sink. The shadows playing over his pecks, and the hollow of his throat, and the little interlocking plates of his abs were extremely sexy, but not half as sexy as following the dark brown line of his narrow trail of hair into the top of his pants. The front of his pants bulged alarmingly, shifting from side to side as he stood in front of the table, dancing storklike from one foot to the other to untie his shoes and kick them off. Once they were gone, he walked closer, as I sat up to meet him, and pull his face toward mine again. 

"So," he began, kissing me as he set the lube and condoms down on the table. "Where were we?" 

"I believe," I began, unbuckling his belt and pulling it slowly through the loops of his pants as he stared down at my hands, "that you were just about to fuck me senseless on the dining room table." 

"Oh, yeah," he said, smiling, as I undid his pants and let them drop to the floor. "How could I have forgotten?" 

"I don't know," I said, skinning his boxer briefs down. His cock sprang out at me, and he gasped as I wrapped my fingers around the wet head and smoothed them down his shaft. "Maybe it's 'cause all the blood went rushing to your other head." 

"Could be," he whispered, leaning down to kiss me as I slowly jerked him off. 

With my free hand I grabbed the tube of lubricant and pressed it onto one of his hands. 

"Why don't you get that open, and get me ready?" I asked, grabbing one of the condoms. "And I'll do the same for you." 

He opened the tube and squeezed some onto his fingers, rubbing them with his thumb to warm it up a little, and then his hand was sliding down between my legs, gentle, but thorough. 

"You're getting good at that, " I sighed, wincing a little as one, and then two, of his fingers slid into me. 

He leaned forward to kiss me as I tore the condom open, and rolled it down with both hands over his hard cock. 

"Practice makes perfect," he sighed, grabbing my hips and pulling me toward him. He reached down with his still wet hand and slicked himself up, and then guided himself toward my hole. I felt his head prodding at me. "You ready?" 

"Sure," I answered, tossing my head back as I felt him begin to slide in. 

Josh reached up with both hands, and took mine, which were on his neck. Gently, while just the head of his cock rested inside me, he laid me back on the table. He caressed my face, softly, and then his hands were sliding again over my chest and down my body as he returned them to my hips. 

"Lay back and relax," he whispered, smiling down at me. "Let me do the work for a while." 

His hands on my hips were firm, but not forceful, holding me in place as he slid slowly in, pausing to let me stretch. He began a slow rocking, working his way in a little further each time, and I felt little waves of warmth begin to roll through me as he insinuated more and more of himself into me with each gradual thrust. After the clothes ripping urgency we'd started with, this sudden dreamlike slowness about everything, this exquisite tenderness, was even more erotic to me. 

I looked up at Josh from my resting place on the table, and thought again about how beautiful he was. His hair, mostly brown but still streaked with blonde highlights, was a tangled mess from my hands, and starting to curl from being too long and from him starting to sweat. His face, with its high cheekbones and long nose, was flushed, but smooth, as he stared down at me, his delicate mouth open a little, his tongue dancing behind his pearl white teeth. His eyes were warm, but a little glassy, as he stared down at me, scanning for signs that I was uncomfortable, or that he was doing everything right, searching for the thousand tiny ways I might show him, by jumping or shivering or the expression that crossed my face. He saw me looking, and smiled down at me. 

"I love you," he panted, his tongue darting out to wet his lip as he continued to slide, ever so slowly, into and out of me. 

"I love you, too," I answered, smiling back, yelping in pleasure as he hit my prostate. He smiled, and hit it again. 

My eyes continued sliding down his face, over the firm, chiseled lines of his jaw, past that little strip of beard that somehow managed to look silly and sexy at the same time. I couldn't decide if I liked it or not, but I definitely liked the way it tickled my balls when he went down on me. I continued down, past the lines of his neck, watching the cords jump as he pushed into me, still slow, but picking up speed a little, falling into a rhythm. His chest, not huge, but well defined, rose and fell as his breathing deepened, his pecs dancing as his arms flexed each time he pulled himself into me, his brown nipples jumping on them like water on a hot skillet. His shoulders were rounded, and firm, well worth showing off in the sleeveless shirts he favored onstage. His abs flexed each time he pushed into me, crunching and then releasing, smooth and then rippled. The veins stood out in his forearms, snaking down from his elbows, crawling across the backs of his smooth hands. There was a stark difference in skin tone where his swimsuit covered him, but his pelvis wasn't chalk white. Instead it was sort of sandy, as his natural skin tones tended toward brown. 

He began to pump a little faster, reaching up with one hand to push his hair out of his eyes. His necklace, the Leo/Scorpio medal, bounced on his chest as he stared down at me, and I began to thrust back at him with my hips. I scraped my legs up and down the backs of his straining legs, feeling his calves and thighs flexing, and I wrapped mine around him, flexing as well, using them to pull him in deeper. I used one hand to prop myself up on the table, and ran the other over his chest, pinching his nipple and hearing him suck in a breath through gritted teeth, before I brought it to his neck, using him as leverage as I continued to thrust back against him. I could feel his pulse throbbing through his smooth, velvety skin. 

"Harder, Josh," I whispered, flinging myself toward him. 

"Yeah," he panted, sweat beading on his forehead. 

He began to pound into me, deep, hard thrusts that had me writhing and bucking beneath him as I pounded back, squeezing my ass around him. Sweat began to trickle down his neck, and the valley between his pecs, and I pulled myself up even higher, licking the side of his face before letting myself lean back again. His fingers were digging into my hips now as he ground himself into me over and over again. Every time he pushed in, a wave of pleasure washed through me, and I began to stroke my own hard cock as he pumped into me, faster now. I let out a little noise every time he pushed into me, and he began to make them as well, the sound of his breathing getting higher pitched and more urgently strained in the way that I knew so well. 

The table was creaking, unable to really move with my weight resting on it and its feet digging into the carpet. Josh continued to pound into me, harder still, and I bucked up to meet him on each thrust, my legs locked around his waist. I could tell that I was close to cumming a second time, and my hand continued to slide over my cock as I used my other hand to keep myself propped up, so that I could stare straight into Josh's eyes. His chest was heaving now, and his breath hissed in and out through gritted teeth as the cords in his neck strained out in vivid relief. 

"Yeah, Josh, yeah," I chanted as he strained into me. 

He pushed me back down on the table, straightening my torso as he pushed even deeper. His eyes popped open above me. 

"I love you," he groaned, and I lost it. 

Glistening strings of cum shot out from my cock, falling on my abdomen as his hard thrusting pushed me over the edge. My spasms drove him past the brink as well, and screaming my name he slammed into me, his fingers turning white as they dug into the flesh of my pelvis. I felt his hips jerking again and again as he spilled inside me, and then his heaving, sweaty torso collapsed against mine as he continued to yelp and push into me, spastically now. 

As Josh dropped down onto me, lost in his own bliss, there was a sharp crack, and we were falling backward as the table collapsed beneath us. There was a second of free fall, and then we slammed into the floor, my head cracking painfully against the tabletop. There was a wet splat as one of the oranges, trapped between the tabletop and the floor, exploded into the carpet. The chairs fell in every direction, and I wondered if Chris was home, and listening to this through the ceiling. 

"Oh, shit," Josh panted, trying to catch his breath, and I began to laugh. He looked down at me, and began laughing, too. "Are you ok?" 

"Fine," I answered, my arms wrapped around him. "That hurt my head." 

"Shit, we broke the table," he said, giggling as we lay amid the wreckage, his softening cock still inside me. 

"You know what this means?" I asked, staring up at him. The look of comical surprise on his face was priceless. 

"No refund on my security deposit?" he suggested, looking down at me. He leaned down and kissed my nose. 

"No, it means breakfast in bed from here on out," I answered, giggling. "Come on, let's go get cleaned up." 

"What about this?" Josh asked, standing carefully and then holding out his hand to help me up. 

"We'll take care of it tomorrow," I said, taking his hand. 

We stopped in the bathroom to clean each other off with tissues, and then brush our teeth. We slid into bed quietly, hearing the muffled thump of Justin and Britney's bed hitting the wall next door, and giggled. Josh slid against me, spooning me, and began to rain kisses across the back of my neck and the tops of my shoulders. 

"Jack?" he asked. 

"Yeah, Josh?" I answered. 

"Tonight was amazing, I think the most amazing night of my life," he whispered, laying his head on mine. "Thank you for sharing it with me." 

"Josh, it was the same for me," I said. "When you kissed me, right there on the carpet in front of everyone, well, I don't even know how to say it, Josh. I've never felt anything like that before. No one has ever made me feel that way, ever." 

He kissed the back of my neck again. 

"I love you, Jack," he whispered. 

"I love you, too, Josh," I answered. 

He was quiet for a minute, and I thought that maybe he had fallen asleep against me, but then he spoke again. 

"Jack, what's going to happen to us now?" he asked. 

"I don't know, Josh," I answered, sighing. "I really don't know. Are you scared?" 

"A little," he answered. "But it doesn't matter, as long as I have you." 

"Then you're going to be fine, Josh," I said, squeezing the hand he'd draped over my chest. "Because you'll always have me. And the rest of this we'll just take one day at a time." 

"Together," he sighed against my neck. 

We finally fell asleep, cradled against each other. 

---

CHAPTER 39

---

I woke up just before the alarm, but Josh was already out of bed. I slid out from between the sheets and got dressed, and poked my head into the other bedroom, where I saw Josh seated at his mixing boards. He had the headphones on, so I couldn't hear what he was working on, but he was working intently, sitting on the chair barefoot in his boxer briefs and a black beater. I crept up behind him and dropped my hands to his shoulders, kneading the spot where his neck met them. He rolled his head back and smiled up at me. 

"Hi," he said, sliding the headphones off of his ears. 

"Good morning," I said, leaning down to kiss him. "How are you feeling this morning?" 

"Good," he answered, blushing a little. "You running?" 

"Yeah," I answered. "I thought maybe Chris and I could stop by the bakery and grab some muffins when we go past. You want?" 

"Sure," he answered. "I'll go turn on the coffee maker. I love you." 

"I love you, too," I replied, walking out toward the door. 

I passed the table on my way out, noticing that Josh hadn't touched it. In the morning light, it looked pretty bad. The fruit bowl was still in the middle of the carpet, and there were oranges everywhere. There was clothing everywhere, too, and I grinned, remembering how much Josh had paid for those outfits, and how much trouble we'd gone to picking them out. Two of the chairs were still standing, but two were lying on their sides, where our falling bodies had knocked them over. Both legs had snapped off of the left side of the table, and it had come down right on top of an orange, which was dried in an attractive spatter across the carpet. I frowned. If Josh was going to let it wait, then I could, too, and I walked past the wreckage and out the door. 

As I came around the side of the walkway, heading for the stairs, I saw that Chris was already walking last night's lucky girl out to the parking area. Unlike his usual companions, who more or less strutted out to their cabs, this one was doing a definite walk of shame, with a hat and sunglasses on, and her head down. As a cab beeped out front she scurried from the archway, keeping her head down, and I caught a flash of sequins and leather pants as she vanished from sight. I tried to figure out where I'd seen her, and it clicked as Chris walked over to me, and we began stretching. 

"Morning," he said, bending. 

"Chris, was that Christina Aguilera?" I asked, pretty sure that it was. 

"I'm not saying nothing," Chris answered, grinning. 

"Nothing about what?" Joey asked, stepping out of his apartment in boxers and a t-shirt to go get his mail. 

"About Chris's genie in a bottle," I answered, giggling. 

Joey's face scrunched up. 

"Eyyyyew, Chris!" he said, shaking his head. "She's scary. Someone needs to feed her." 

"Oh, I fed her something," Chris said, standing, puffing his chest out with his hands on his hips. 

"You're disgusting," I said, smiling as I stood. "That was beyond an overshare. Living with you guys is like being locked in a frathouse." 

Joey laughed as he walked over to the mailboxes. 

"Oh, I'm disgusting?" Chris laughed. "What the hell was going on upstairs last night? I was going to come up and check on you, to see if you were both alive." 

"Nothing," I said, blushing. I could feel my face burning. "Can I ask you a completely non-related favor? Do you have any tools?" 

"For what?" Chris asked, cocking his head to one side. 

"We, um, kind of broke our table," I began, blushing even more. 

"Is that what that was?" Chris burst, clapping his hands over his mouth as he began to shriek with laughter. 

"What did I miss?" Joey yelped, hurrying over and jumping up and down. "Tell me! Tell me!" 

"Jack and JC had sex on their table last night and broke it!" Chris yelped, as the two of them collapsed in braying guffaws of laughter. 

"I hate you both," I said, grinning against my will, my face so hot it felt like it might melt. "Chris, let's go." 

"Maybe you should stop at the hardware store!" Joey screamed at our backs, tears running down his face. 

"I don't know why I tell the two of you anything," I muttered, as Chris and I began to jog through the neighborhood. 

Chris, in his wraparound sunglasses and ever-present jogging dewrag, was completely unwilling to elaborate any details about his encounter with that girl, who may or may not have been Christina Aguilera. We kept up a fair pace through the streets, noticing the same people we noticed every morning. I wasn't sure, but I thought people were glancing at us a little more than they usually did. Of course, it could have just been my overactive imagination. I had explained to Chris earlier that I wanted to stop at the bakery, so we jogged in. I wasn't too worried about us being all sweaty and in running clothes, because people in all states were at the bakery in the morning: dog walkers, executives, kids on their way to school, other joggers. 

We waited patiently in line, and when we finally got to the counter I began to pick out muffins, oblivious of the way the muffin girl was looking at us, her eyes ticking back and forth between Chris and I. 

"Chris, do you want any?" I asked, deciding that I should probably just get an even half dozen. Maybe we'd invite Joey and Lance up. 

"Chocolate!" he said, pointing, and that was when I heard one of the school girls behind him. 

"Oh my God, it is them!" she said loudly to her friend. "It's Chris, and JC's boyfriend!" 

"Oh, shit," Chris whispered as I fumbled for my wallet. 

"Oh my God! It is!" her friend squealed. 

"I thought it was you guys!" the counter girl said, ringing me up. She pointed at the pink triangle pin on her apron strap. "Rock on, brother." 

I wanted to fall through the floorboards. People around us were speaking, loudly, about who we were and how they'd seen us on television last night. 

"Jack, we need to get out of here," Chris whispered quietly in my ear, even as he smiled politely at everyone around us. 

"No shit?" I hissed, smiling as well. 

"Hey fag, is he your boyfriend, too?" someone in the back of the crowd said. 

My head whipped around as the people around us twittered. People might tell you that they think something is wrong, or that they always stick up for other people, no matter what, but the ugly truth is that most people will just stand by and watch something happen rather than get involved. 

"Hey, we don't take that talk in here!" the register girl barked as I took the muffin bag. 

"No, he's not my boyfriend, but he's my friend," Chris said loudly, scanning the crowd. 

"I bet!" someone else snickered. 

"Knock it off!" the counter girl yelled, smacking the countertop with her open hand. 

Chris and I began to make our way to the door, still smiling politely at everyone, offering a "Good morning" or an "Excuse me" as we brushed by people. 

"Maybe JC's just confused," one of the school girls suggested to the other. 

Chris and I pushed our way outside, and I wanted to sit on the sidewalk and wait for all of this to go away. 

"Jack, come on," Chris said, taking my arm. "Come on, just walk away. Don't let them see you upset." 

I jerked away from Chris, and then realized he was only trying to help. 

"Chris, I'm sorry," I said, as we began to walk quickly back up the street. "I, just, I don't know. Did you hear what they said? Did you hear them? And they were all looking at me." 

Chris sighed, and we began to jog again, muffin bag in hand. 

"Jack, you must have been called that before," Chris began, and I glared at him. 

"That doesn't make it hurt any less, Christopher!" I snapped. He looked away, flushing. 

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing away. "That was a stupid thing to say. It didn't come out right at all. I'm sorry, Jack." 

"I know you didn't mean it, Chris," I said, looking down. I wanted to cry. "I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"It's ok," he said, his eyes wide with concern behind his yellow glasses. "Let's just get home." 

I was trying really hard not to show it, because I just wanted to keep myself together long enough to get back to Josh, but inside I was a mess. I don't like to have people stare at me, or judge me. It had been a long time since someone had called me a fag in public, and I was well out of the habit of shouting back. I've never understood why some people feel threatened by the way other people live their lives, and I've always surprised by the casual way people can be so hurtful to others. All I wanted was to get back to the apartment, shut the door, and be with Josh. Chris didn't really say anything. I think he realized that I was pretty upset, and he was afraid of pushing me in the middle of the street. Unfortunately we had one more obstacle to get past before we could get back into the apartments. 

Basil Morgan was leaning against the wall by the archway as we rounded the corner. 

"No," I whispered, my feet carrying me relentlessly forward. 

"Not now," Chris muttered under his breath, shaking his head. I don't think he meant for me to hear, but then he raised his voice. "Come on, Jack, let's just go inside." 

We tried to ignore him and just walk past, but he stepped in front of us. No way was I going to push his slimy rat bastard ass out of my way. I might get grease stains on my clothes. 

"You owe me a story," he said, stepping right up into my face. 

"Leave me alone," I said, stepping around him. 

"He owes you shit," Chris said, stepping between us as I fumbled my keys out. 

"We had a deal!" Basil said, trying to step toward me. He seemed reluctant to touch Chris, or shove him out of the way, which I figured was probably a good thing. 

"I said I'd think about it," I said, not turning around. 

"Look, man, why don't you just leave them alone?" Chris said. I could tell by his voice that he was losing patience. 

"The public has a right to know!" Basil sputtered. Was he actually going to claim freedom of the press as a way of prying into my life? This was unreal. 

"The public already knows," Chris said as I pulled the gate open. "Now why don't you just leave?" 

"I won't forget this, Jack," Basil yelled over Chris's shoulder. 

"I don't care what you do," Chris said as I hurried inside. "Two words, Morgan: Restraining order. Now get the fuck outta here." 

"This isn't the end of this!" Basil yelled as Chris stepped back and swung the gate shut in his face. 

"Yeah, it is," Chris said, turning back to me. I shook my head, my eyes squeezed closed, as I forced myself to breathe. All I wanted was to go upstairs, back to Josh. Chris put a hand on my shoulder and began leading me toward the stairs. "Come on, it'll be ok." 

"No, it won't," I said weakly. 

We swung open the apartment door, and I wanted to laugh at the absurd scene before me. The table was now flipped all the way over, the two intact legs sticking up in the air as Joey and Josh hunched over it with a small toolbox, trying to reattach the other two legs. Josh had put on a pair of baggy track pants, and was talking distractedly into his phone as he handed Joey screws. Joey was cursing and swearing, and had his thumb in his mouth. Both of them looked up as we walked in, and they must have seen something in our faces, because they both stood, dropping everything, as I hurried over to Josh. 

"I'll call you back," he said, hanging up the phone and dropping it as I practically ran over and wrapped my arms around him, dropping the muffin bag onto the floor. 

"Jack?" he asked, his voice shaking a little as his strong arms folded over my back, pressing me against him. I could feel his firm chest against mine, but I didn't want to talk. "Jack, what's wrong?" 

"What happened?" Joey asked. 

"There was kind of a scene at the bakery," Chris explained, picking up the muffin bag. "People said some stuff, and then when we got back here, Basil Morgan was waiting outside." 

"That prick," Josh said, moving toward the door. I didn't let go of him, burying my head in his shoulder, and he stopped. 

"What the fuck did he do to Jack?" Joey asked menacingly. 

"He's pissed about not getting the story," Chris said. "I think he's probably gone now." 

"Jack, are you ok?" Josh asked again, squeezing me tightly in his arms, muscles bulging against me. "Jack, please talk to me." 

"Everyone was looking at me, Josh," I said weakly, my face pressed into his shoulder. I was pretty close to crying, but didn't want to. "And they said things, Josh, things about you and me. They were so nasty." 

Over Josh's shoulder, I saw Joey and Chris looking anxiously at us, as if unsure of what to do. Josh began to pull me toward the bathroom. 

"It's ok, Jack, it'll be ok, " he whispered, kissing my forehead. "I love you, and I'm here now. Let's go get you a shower, ok?" 

Josh's phone began to ring from the floor. 

"JC?" Joey asked, looking down at it. 

"Leave it," Josh snapped angrily. "Whatever it is can wait." 

"Josh?" I asked, noticing for the first time that he looked pretty upset as well. I realized that he had when we walked in, before I'd said anything. "Josh, what's going on?" 

"After your shower, ok?" he answered, flicking on the bathroom lights. "We'll get you rinsed off, and calmed down, and then we can talk about it, ok?" 

"Sure," I said, tugging off my shirt. 

Josh stared at me from the doorway, and then crossed back over to me. Tilting my head up, he stared me straight in the eyes. 

"Jack, I love you," he said again. "Whatever happens, we face it together. Do you want me to stay in here with you?" 

"No, I'll be ok," I answered, leaning in to kiss him, quickly, on the mouth. "I love you, too, Josh." 

I took a long time in the shower, mostly just standing under the spray and collecting myself. I didn't really understand why I was so upset. Like Chris said, I'd been called stuff like that before. And as for Basil Morgan, there really wasn't much else he could do. It's not gossip if it's true, and Josh had taken all the power away from him. I think I was just mostly upset by the sudden feeling of losing control of myself. It was when all those people had looked at me in the bakery, and all they were thinking was, "It's JC's boyfriend." Where did that leave me? I crossed the hallway to the bedroom, wrapped in my towel, and saw Joey and Chris still working on the table, arguing over which tools to use and where to put the screws. Behind them, Josh was on his phone again, arguing loudly with someone. 

"No, it was my decision," he said, pacing angrily across the living room. "No. No. No, I don't care. Look, it's my life. Isn't this what we pay you for?" 

That didn't sound good at all. I quickly got dressed and rejoined the guys in the living room. Josh hung up his phone and handed me a cup of coffee. 

"Feel better?" he asked, his hand on my shoulder. 

"Yeah," I answered. "Now what's going on?" 

The three of them looked at each other. 

"Well, it's been kind of a busy morning," Josh began. 

"There's a lot of shit flying around over last night," Joey said bluntly. "You're on the MTV News, of course, and Access Hollywood, and the E! News Daily, and Entertainment Tonight, and I think you even made the local news last night. There's also been a lot of chatter on the radio this morning, and the phone's been ringing off the hook." 

"Who's calling?" I asked, looking to Josh. 

"Management," he answered, shrugging. "I have to go in this afternoon and meet with them." 

"What?" Joey asked as his and Chris's heads jerked up. 

"You didn't tell us that," Chris said. 

"What are you meeting with them for?" I asked. Everyone else suddenly seemed really concerned. What was I missing? 

"They want to discuss all of this," Josh said, handing me a muffin. "I kind of didn't tell them what we were planning last night, and the publicity crew isn't sure of how to handle it. There's a list of magazines that want to interview us, not just the whole band, but also me and you, and reporters, too. And the website is down. So many people have tried to hit it today that it froze and crashed." 

"JC, you don't have to go to that meeting by yourself," Chris began. 

"Chris, I'll be fine," Josh said. "I'm not going to run away from this. This was my decision, and I'll deal with whatever comes of it. Jack and I will, together." 

"Not just you two," Joey said, crossing his arms. "We all agreed to support you on this. If you need us, call us." 

"Yeah, we got your back," Chris agreed. 

"I don't understand any of this," I said, sitting down with my muffin. "I mean, what's the big deal? Nobody acted like this when George Michael came out." 

"Yeah, but he hadn't had a hit in how long?" Joey asked, shaking his head. "Seriously, this isn't quite the same. He got caught. This was voluntary." 

"I just don't understand why people would be so upset," Josh said, sitting next to me on the couch. "Last night everyone seemed really happy." 

"Guys, I hate to break this to you, but last night, everyone was pretty caught up in the moment," Chris said, sitting across from us. "Last night, everyone was clapping, but this morning there's some minister on the news telling people to burn our records. It's going to be rough for a little while." 

"Wait, people want to burn our CD's?" Joey asked. 

"Yeah, I saw it on the news this morning," Chris said, shrugging. "Apparently we're promoting an unholy lifestyle, and corrupting the youth of America." 

"Fucking right wing assholes, " Joey said, shaking his head. 

Josh and I both sighed, leaning on each other on the couch. 

"I still don't understand," I said, looking at all three of them again. "Why is this turning into such a big story?" 

"Slow news week?" Josh suggested. 

"And Rolling Stone says we're the biggest band in the world," Chris added, grinning. 

"Please tell me you're not listening to your own publicity," I said, laughing. 

"We could turn on the TV and listen to some of yours, instead," Chris suggested, smirking. 

I looked at Josh, only to find him staring at me. His eyes were wide, his face smooth, except for the tiny frown of concern between his eyebrows. 

"Josh, this is insane," I said, shaking my head. "And it's only going to get worse. What are we going to do?" 

"We'll get through this," he said, leaning over to kiss me. 

"Don't you guys have a bedroom for that?" Chris said, throwing a balled up napkin at us. 

"You're just jealous," Josh said, laughing. I smiled. 

Whatever snappy comeback Chris was about to make was cut off by knocking at the door. The four of us looked at each other, looked at the broken, upended table, and looked at the door again. 

"Come in," Josh yelled, as we waited to see if it would be Jackie, come to bust us for wrecking the furniture. 

Lance walked in, a bundle of papers in his hand. He smiled at us, stepping inside. 

"Hi guys," he began, and then glanced down at the table, his eyes bulging. "Oh my God! What did you do?" 

"The nasty," Joey answered in a flat deadpan, chewing thoughtfully on his muffin. 

"Huh?" Lance asked, looking at the table again. Suddenly it all clicked in his head, and he looked up at Josh and I as we both turned bright, flaming red, his mouth dropping open in indignation. "Oh, you guys! I ate off that table!" 

Chris and Joey howled with laughter at this as Lance pulled one of the dining room chairs into the living room. I held out the muffin bag to him, and he took one as I looked at the stack of newspapers in his other hand. 

"What are those?" I asked, pointing. 

"Joey called me and said to pick up all the papers on my way home from the clinic," Lance answered. We all looked anxiously at him when he mentioned the clinic, our laughter briefly silenced, but he didn't seem to notice as he set the papers down on the coffee table. "Oh, corn muffin! Thanks!" 

Chris leaned forward, picking up the first newspaper. 

"So, let's see how you guys did," he sighed, scanning the front page. 

"We might as well turn on the TV, too," Josh said unhappily, reaching for the remote. I pulled myself in a little closer to him as I reached for a newspaper, and he absently wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Better see what people are saying before I go meet with the management." 

The five of us pored over the newspapers as we finished our muffins, taking tiny breaks to refill our coffee. Chris found a bunch of grapes in the refrigerator, and we began to pick those over, as well, as we paged through the news. Every once in a while we glanced up at the television, which we left on MTV (somehow none of us thought this would be newsworthy enough for CNN; we were right, of course), and we read the stories we found out loud to each other. Lance had grabbed a wide selection of papers, maybe twelve in all, and we were in every single one of them. Most of them carried that picture of Josh and I kissing, and I remembered the thousand flashbulbs going off at the time. At least now I knew who twelve of them belonged to. We were only a story on the front page of one paper, thank God, one of the local smaller papers that was only about show business, but we were mentioned in a box or a blurb on all of the other front pages, directing people to the entertainment section, the lifestyle section, and in one odd case to the world news area. 

Most of the newspapers included the story in their larger stories about the awards, which I thought was completely appropriate, and most of the tone was either neutral or slightly favorable. I guessed that we would have to wait a few days for the editorial columns to fire themselves up. Almost every story made mention of the fact that members of the band, the management, and the publicity department could not be reached for comment, or would offer no comment at this time. The most jarring thing, though, was seeing my own name in print. Every story included something like, "Chasez's 'boyfriend', identified by Chasez as Jack Springer, was also unavailable for comment". 

"Why would they want comments from me?" I asked stupidly, as Josh squeezed my hand. 

"Jack, you're a celebrity now," Chris said. "And you're half of the hottest story in music right now." 

"That's because you're half of the hottest couple in music right now," Josh said, kissing the side of my neck. 

"No PDA!" Joey said, grinning, pretending to shield his eyes. 

We were interrupted by another knock at the door, and Lance got up to answer it as we all stared at each other, shrugging. Lance pulled the door open, stepping back, and then turned sheet white when he saw who it was. 

"We heard there was a coming out party over here," Britney said cheerily, walking in. 

Justin followed a few steps behind her. He paused at the doorway, staring at Lance, and Lance stared right back at him. The rest of us were frozen in our seats, watching. 

---

CHAPTER 40

---

Justin stared at Lance as Britney, oblivious, walked into the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch where Josh and I were. 

"I just wanted to come see how you guys are doing today," she babbled. "Justin said we should leave you alone, but then I heard Joey laughing through the wall, so I figured it was safe to come over. How are you guys?" 

Her eyes darted toward the television, and then ticked over the newspapers scattered across the living room. She glanced at the upended table with one raised eyebrow, and I wondered how she could see all that and not notice the drama going on over on the other side of the room. All of the rest of us were riveted on it, barely noticing her at all. 

"Good morning, Lance," Justin said quietly, looking at the floor. 

"Justin," Lance said flatly, turning away from him and walking to the kitchen for more coffee. 

I wasn't sure if I should cheer for Lance or not. It probably took a lot of strength for him to even see Justin, much less cut him so dismissively, but at the same time, I wished none of this had happened, and that they could still be the friends Lance had thought they were. Then again, Justin had made that bed, not me. The consequences of his actions, all of his actions, were his to deal with. 

Even as I thought that I was struck again by the change in Justin. I had first noticed it when I went to talk to him before I flew out to meet Josh's family, but now it was even more pronounced. I hadn't really seen it last night, because he was in full public relations mode, like all the guys had been, but now, inside the apartments, that facade was down, and you could see how much this really was affecting him. When I first met Justin, he had this aura, a kind of golden glow of self-confidence and self-assurance that surrounded him like a cloud. Along with his energy, it was the first thing you noticed about him, and it was one of the things that had made him so attractive to me, and, apparently, to almost everyone. Now it was gone. It wasn't that we could see past it, because we all had. It was that he wasn't bothering to project it anymore. We could see the real Justin, the Justin buried under everything else, and there was nothing there. He didn't know how to act, so he acted like nothing at all. 

I wondered how Britney managed not to see it, and remembered the times Justin had told me that their relationship wasn't quite what we all thought it was. Maybe if you wanted to see things a certain way, you did, regardless of what was really there. I also wondered how Justin felt right then. Here were the guys who were supposed to be his best friends in the world, and the four of them were together and hadn't given him a second thought. Now that he was here with them, they were treating him as if he didn't exist, and he was accepting it, just standing by the door. He was an outsider, suddenly, and I wondered if it hurt. 

"We're doing ok," Josh said, finally looking at Brit. She seemed not to notice the long pause. 

"I'm so glad," she said, smiling at us both. "We saw all the stuff on the news, and we were worried, right Justin?" 

"Yeah," Justin answered, stepping toward us. He looked hopefully at Josh, but Josh looked away. 

"We're good," Josh said, standing. "But I have to go get dressed, to meet with management about this. Thanks for coming over, though. I really appreciate it." 

"Me, too," I said, realizing I hadn't spoken at all. I really needed to devote less time to watching everyone else. 

"Well, I just wanted to check on you before I left, too," Brit said, smiling. "I have to go do an interview while I'm in town, and then I fly back out tomorrow." 

"That was quick," I said, watching Josh walk toward the bedroom. He passed Justin without even looking at him. "You just got here the other day." 

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "This really sucks sometimes." 

Yes, being fabulously wealthy and world famous must be extremely difficult. 

"I'm sorry," I said, standing as well. "I'm gonna go check on the love of my life, ok? If I don't see you before you leave, have fun, and we'll talk soon." 

"Thanks," she said, hugging me. "Call me if you guys need anything, or just call Juju. He'll be right next door." 

"Thanks," I said. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Josh was already changed when I walked into the bedroom. I closed the door as he turned toward me, eyebrows raised. 

"Josh, I have to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me, ok?" I began, sitting on the bed. 

"I'm always honest with you, " he said, sitting next to me. I took his hand. 

"I know, but sometimes you sugarcoat things, and I don't want you to do that right now, ok?" I asked. He looked indignant for a second, but my tone of voice must have convinced him not to argue about whether he really did try to paint it fine every once in a while. "Josh, this meeting with your management, how much trouble is this going to be for you?" 

He thought about it for a minute. 

"Well, they're not happy, but there really isn't all that much they can do," he answered. "I mean, in the end, I'm under contract, but we have a lot of say, and they can't break it anymore than we can. Besides, it's my life." 

"I know," I said. "But is this going to damage your career? Are you going to lose something important to you because of me?" 

Josh sighed, and pulled me against him. 

"Jack, are you thinking about Peyton again?" he asked quietly. I nodded. "If what you're really asking is am I going to resent you someday, and blame things on you, the answer is no, never." 

He tilted my head up, so that I was staring into his eyes. 

"I mean that, Jack," he said. "You told me that you didn't care if I never came out, if I never told anyone about us, until I was ready, and I know you meant it. This was my decision, Jack, but this is also who I am. I'm never going to blame you for something that would have happened someday anyway, and nothing I lose because of this compares to what I gain by being with you." 

"I'm sorry," I said, standing. "I shouldn't have asked. I should have known you better." 

Josh came up behind me, folding his arms around me, and rested his head on my shoulder. 

"Don't be sorry," he whispered. "I'm never going to hurt you that way, Jack, never." 

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry." 

"Shhhh," he said, kissing the back of my neck. "Walk me down to my car?" 

"Sure," I said. 

When we walked back out into the main room, Justin and Britney were gone. Chris, Joey, and Lance were hunched together over the table, tools and hardware spread out around them, arguing about the best way to reattach the table legs. 

"If we had a little piece of wood that could go right there," Chris said, pointing. 

"These screws aren't long enough for that," Lance argued. 

"Why don't we just go buy a new table?" Joey asked. 

"I like Joey's idea," I said, as Josh snickered quietly. It's not every group of friends that will help rebuild the furniture you and your boyfriend wrecked during wild sex. Maybe I'd call them to help mop up next time Josh and I ripped down the shower curtain. "I'm gonna walk Josh down to his car. I'll be right back." 

"JC, call us if you need us, " Chris said. 

"Yeah, don't take no shit from them," Joey said. 

"Thanks, guys," Josh said, smiling. "I'll be fine." 

When we got down to the parking lot, Britney's car and driver were pulling away. Justin smiled hopefully at us, but Josh walked past him as if he wasn't there, and I followed as Justin walked away back into the courtyard. I gave Josh a quick hug and kiss by the car. 

"I love you," I said, hoping he would be ok. 

"I know," he said, kissing me again. "I love you, too." 

I watched him drive away, and then I walked back through the archway. Justin was sitting on one of the lounge chairs, staring into the pool. He didn't look up as I walked by, and I wondered if I should say something, but I couldn't think of what. 

"Jack?" he asked quietly from behind me. "I'm sorry we came over this morning. It was Britney's idea, and I tried to talk her out of it." 

I turned around, but he was still staring into the pool. 

"I, um, I appreciate that you guys were worried about us," I said slowly. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he said, still not looking at me. "I still care about you guys. I know you probably don't really believe that, but I do. And I know you and Josh don't really want to be around me, so I'm sorry if us coming over upset you guys." 

I looked at my hands, feeling almost chastised. It was hard to be mad at someone who just seemed so defeated. 

"Justin, I can't really speak for Josh, because how he feels about you is between you and him," I began. "I don't know how I feel about you, ok? I think you probably actually are sorry about the things you've done, and the way you've treated all of us, but I can't just give you a big hug and welcome you back, either. I don't trust you." 

He nodded, facing the pool. 

"I know," he said. "And I deserve it. I just wish I knew how to rebuild that. I miss being your friend." 

"I don't know, Justin," I said. "It's going to take some time for me to feel comfortable around you again. I can't just decide to trust you." 

"I understand," he said. "Thanks for being honest with me." 

I wasn't sure what else to say, so I walked away. Upstairs, I found the guys still kneeling around the table still arguing about the best way to fix it. 

"Maybe we should give up," I suggested. 

"Hell no," Joey said, grinning. "Chris and I are going to the hardware store." 

"You don't even know where the hardware store is," Chris said, smacking him on the arm. 

"Then we're gonna find one," Joey said, standing. "Come on, Twitchy." 

"Shut up, Joey Fat-One," Chris said, following him to the door. 

"Um, thanks," I said, watching them go. Joey waved dismissively as the two of them continued insulting each other. Lance and I snickered at them. 

"Let me help you clean up these papers," Lance said, walking over to the coffee table. 

While Lance picked up the papers, I began gathering napkins, muffin papers, and coffee cups. I loaded up the dishwasher as Lance methodically reassembled and folded each newspaper, stacking them neatly on the coffee table. 

"So, Lance, did your appointment go ok this morning?" I asked. 

"Yeah, yeah it was good," he said, shrugging. 

"I don't mean to pry," I said. "I just noticed that you're looking a lot better." 

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "I feel better, kind of." 

"Kind of?" I asked. That wasn't a very comforting statement. 

"Well, you know," he said, shrugging again. "I'm going back this afternoon, for group." 

"That's good," I said, unsure of what else to say. 

Lance smiled at me, as if to reassure me. 

"I wanted to thank you again for letting me stay the other night," he said. "I don't think I'm going to need it again, but I appreciated it a lot." 

"Lance, it wasn't a problem, " I said, and it really wasn't, since he hadn't busted into the bedroom and tried to watch or join in. Josh and I were fine with people staying over as long as they stayed in the other areas of the apartment. "If you need us, just call. You know that." 

"I know," he said, stepping toward the door. "I'm going to go get ready, ok?" 

I wondered what could be involved in getting ready to go to group therapy, but decided not to ask. Maybe he wanted to change his clothes, or something. 

"Hey, Lance, I don't know how long Josh is going to be, but do you want to maybe have dinner with us tonight?" I asked, concerned that he might be lonely. 

"Um, actually, I have plans, " he said, smiling shyly. 

"Plans?" I asked, intrigued. Was he blushing? "Who do you have plans with?" 

"I'm going to dinner with a friend," he said, turning pinkish and staring down at the floor. 

"What kind of friend?" I asked teasingly. 

"Just a friend," Lance said quickly. "I'm just going to dinner with a friend. That's all." 

"Anyone I know?" I asked, curious. 

"Um, sort of," Lance answered. "It's Howie, from the Backstreet Boys." 

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up my hands. I didn't know a lot about those guys, but everything I'd seen online led me to believe that there was some sort of rivalry between the two groups. "Aren't they the enemy, or something? You're not planning a defection, are you?" 

"No, no, I'm not defecting," Lance said, laughing. "And we're not like, hostile, or anything. Besides, it's not like I'm bringing him to the studio to hear what we're working on. We're just going to dinner." 

I realized that this actually was making Lance uncomfortable, so I decided not to push it. Maybe it was just an innocent dinner, although that didn't explain why Lance was nervous and blushing. Did Lance have a crush on Howie? Would Howie even be interested in Lance? I suddenly felt very protective of Lance, but didn't want to intrude into his life, either, if he didn't want me to. I decided to ask Josh about it later. 

After Lance left, I kind of puttered around the apartment for a while. The dishwasher wasn't full enough to run, so I pulled all of the dishes out and washed them. Josh and I hadn't really generated much laundry, either, so I couldn't do that, and the apartment was fairly clean from my frequent boredom related cleaning binges through it. I couldn't do anything with the table, and really didn't want to. If Joey and Chris wanted to play with it, I was more than happy to let them. I didn't feel like watching the television any longer, afraid that I'd see myself with Josh's tongue in my mouth on MTV again. Finally I decided to call my apartment and check my messages, thinking that maybe I'd call Carla, too. 

There were a few hang up calls, and a call from someone who identified themselves as a reporter for our local paper, which I deleted. The last message was a complete surprise. 

"Jackson, this is your mother. I would appreciate it if you would contact me, please." 

I wondered what I had done to receive a summons to call. I'd explained to Josh that I didn't really have a lot of contact with my family. They tended to be a little standoffish even before I told them I was gay, and they were almost obsessively biased toward my brother. We had this relationship worked out where I more or less never came home, or went to visit them, and we exchanged cards and gifts through the mail at holidays. It worked really well for all of us, however abnormal it might be for everyone else. I dialed my parents' number, hoping they hadn't moved and forgotten to tell me, which had happened once before. My mother answered. 

"Hello?" she said icily. 

"Hello, mother, it's Jack," I said, trying to sound friendly. 

"Ahhh, Jackson, finally you call," she said, her frosty tone thawing a little, but not by much. "I left that message hours ago, but I imagine you must be very, very busy." 

"Things are a little hectic here, yes," I said. "I just checked my messages now. Is everything ok?" 

"Actually, no," she said, sighing. "Your father and I are a little upset that you didn't warn us about this person that you're involved with. We saw you on the television last night, on the news. It would have been rather polite of you to let us know about that before it happened." 

"Josh and I aren't 'involved', we're dating," I corrected. 

"Whatever word you choose to use for the way you choose to live your life," she sighed again. My mother, the martyr. "I just wish you had told us. I mean, what must people think? I was at lunch today at the club, and everyone was asking about you and this musician of yours. What kind of mother does that make me look like, when I don't even know who it is you're carrying on with?" 

There were so many things wrong with what she'd just said that I didn't know where to start educating her. 

"Normally you don't like to hear about that part of my life," I said, resisting the urge to add, "Or any other part." 

"Regardless, if you're going to throw it all over the television, the least you could have done is call," she said. "I'm very disappointed in you, Jackson. Your brother is always so much more considerate of our feelings." 

"You know, is that really all you have to say?" I asked. "I kiss the man I love on national television, and the best you can come up with is that you're disappointed that I didn't tell you I was going to? Aren't you even happy for me?" 

"Jackson, you know that I'll never be completely happy as long as you insist living this lifestyle of yours," she said. "And now you just sound upset. I don't know if I want to speak to you in this state." 

"What state?" I asked. "California?" 

"You know what state," she said quickly. "I'm not going to argue about this with you. I have a social committee meeting. I have to go." 

"Been great talking to you," I said sarcastically. 

"Goodbye, Jackson," she said, hanging up before I could answer her. 

I wanted to throw the phone across the room, but it rang again in my hand. 

"Hello?" I asked. 

"Hi, babe," Josh said. He didn't sound happy. "Can you come down to the studio?" 

"Um, sure," I said, grabbing my keys. "I'll catch a ride with Lance. What's up?" 

"I don't know," he answered crossly. "They won't tell me. They just want to speak to you." 

"OK, Josh, I'll be right there," I said, locking up and walking down the steps. The courtyard was empty. 

"OK, good," he said. "I'll meet you in the lobby. You sound funny. Are you ok?" 

"I had a talk with my mother, " I said. "I don't want to get into it right now. I need to cool off a little." 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

Lance drove me down to the studio. I was lucky to catch him, as he was just about to leave for group. He didn't really have any idea of what the studio would want me for, either, but he wished me luck, and I told him to have fun with Howie. As he drove off, I reminded myself again to ask Josh about that. Speaking of Josh, he was waiting for me in the lobby, and gave me a quick hug. 

"We're down the hall in the conference room," he said, leading me by the hand. 

"They still haven't told you what they want?" I asked, looking around. 

"No, and it's pissing me off, " he said, shaking his head. 

"Has it been bad?" I asked, not sure of what kind of trouble he could get in. 

"Not really," he answered. "Mostly they just had a lot of questions, and I've been working with our publicists on putting together an official statement." 

"About us?" I asked, not sure of how I felt about that. 

"Just something generic they can give to the press," Josh said quickly. "Yes, you and I are dating, and the band fully supports my decision to make it public, but that it is my private life, and really we're still really just about our music. It sounds a lot better than that, but I want you to look at it, too." 

"OK," I said. 

When we reached the conference room, Josh introduced me to Stan, part of the management team, and Marshall, part of the legal team. 

"You don't have to stay for this, JC," Stan said. 

"I'm not leaving," Josh said bluntly. 

"Very well, then," Stan said, smiling as if Josh's tone hadn't been hard enough to bend nails. "Marshall?" 

"Mr. Springer," Marshall began, clearing his throat. "I'd like to begin by saying that I'm sure you have only the best of intentions toward our client, but I also must point out that we have heavily invested in Mr. Chasez and the rest of the group, and as a company we feel the need to protect our investment in whatever ways we deem necessary." 

"And you see me as a threat?" I asked carefully. Josh squeezed my hand, and glancing over at him I saw that his eyes were narrowed at Marshall. That wasn't a good sign. 

"Of course not," Marshall said, smiling. No one was laughing. "At present. But who's to say what could happen in the future? We make no judgments about the way any of the group chooses to live their lives, but they do have a reputation and an image that must be protected." 

"So what is it that you want from me?" I asked. Was he implying that I was planning to break up with Josh? Marshall began to slide a stack of papers toward me. 

"Our legal department has drawn up some forms that I'd like for you to sign and agree to," Marshall began quickly. "Confidentiality agreements, that sort of thing, and an agreement regarding Mr. Chasez's assets in the event that the two of you should part less than amicably." 

"Like a prenuptial agreement?" I asked. "We can't even get married. It's not like he's going to lose half his money in a divorce." 

"We're not worried about that, per say, but there have been some rather large financial judgments in civil suits involving domestic partners," Marshall said, still smiling. "We're just trying to safeguard JC. I'm sure you understand." 

"This is bullshit," Josh said, standing. The hand that wasn't holding mine was balled into a fist. "Don't touch those, Jack." 

"JC, please, we're only trying to do what's best for you and for the band," Stan began. 

"The fuck you are!" Josh said harshly. "Confidentiality agreements? Did you make Britney sign one? And a financial agreement? This is bullshit, Stan, and you know it. I wouldn't have called Jack if I'd know you were going to ambush him." 

"Josh," I began. 

"You should have asked me!" Josh yelled at them, pounding the table with his fist. "This is my life, damn it! I love Jack. Do you understand that? I love him, and I think I know him well enough to know what he'd do even if we did break up, which we won't. He's not signing those." 

"I think you need to calm down and think rationally about this," Marshall began. Was he sharing a dialogue coach with my mother? 

"Fuck you," Josh answered eloquently. 

"Josh!" I said sharply. This had gone on long enough. "Sit down, please. I know you're just trying to stick up for me, but it's not necessary." 

"What?" Josh asked, surprised. I saw Marshall and Stan's eyebrows rise, too. 

"I said it's not necessary," I repeated. I held Josh's hand, looking into his eyes. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard. "Josh, I love you. You know that. And you know that it's never been about what you do, or how much money you have. You know that, Josh. If they want me to sign this, fine, I'll sign it. It doesn't matter to me." 

"But, Jack, they think you're a fucking gold digger or something," Josh said. "You don't have to do this." 

"Josh, it's not their fault they're ignorant," I said, smiling at being able to get at least one dig in. "These papers don't mean anything. Just let it go." 

He sighed, nodding, as I reached for them. 

"I want a set, too," Josh said. "I want to sign papers about Jack." 

Marshall and Stan snickered. I wanted to deck them. 

"JC, with all due respect," Stan began. 

"Stop," Josh said. "Stop right there. When you say that, you aren't treating Jack with all due respect, are you? Regardless of how you see him, Jack and I are equals in this relationship. One of us isn't more important than the other. Anything you make him sign, I sign, too." 

"Very well," Marshall said. "We'll have those drawn up immediately." 

"Fine," Josh said as I pushed the signed forms back across the table. "I'll sign them in the morning. We're leaving now." 

"No hard feelings?" Stan asked, holding out his hand and smiling. 

"Save it," Josh said, taking my hand and leading me out of the room. 

 

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