Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 03:39:54 EDT
From: Gabriella Morrison <sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Surprise Romance 4-5 (ignore 1st message!!)

Hi everyone!

I cannot...stop...writing! This is the third installment of my story, "My
Surprise Romance". I'd like to thank everyone who's written me with their
positive feedback. Ya'll are really sweet :) (especially you, Justin!) and
encouraging, as well. I love getting e-mail, so remember, any positive or
negative feedback is welcomed at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. I promise
that there is `good stuff' coming up in further chapters, but these next
two chapters are to provide a background for the rest of the story. Plus,
there's a happy ending in chapter 5!

DISCLAIMER: This story is not in any way meant to represent the sexuality
of `N Sync or Lance Bass or anyone mentioned in this story, except for my
characters. This story is not true and involves a m/m relationship. If
you're not of legal age, then please turn away and pick up something else
to read or click on a different website or something . If it makes you
uncomfortable, then...go away, or..I don't know... Just enjoy
yourselves.... And now...

My Surprise Romance

Chapter 4

I woke up the next morning, tangled in the sheets of my bed. I rolled
myself over to look at the clock. It was exactly five minutes to nine, and
without even thinking, I hit the `on' button on my radio.

"...in time for our special interview with `N Sync. Get ready fans--because
this is a WKSS exclusive!" I heard the DJ announce. I sat up in my bed, and
for a brief second, I thought that last night was a dream. Then I saw my
autographed CD and everything that previously happened came flooding back
to me. The concert...the girls...Lance...

It had taken me awhile to fall asleep. When I had finally gotten home, I
had went straight to my bed, ignoring my mother (who was full of questions,
I should add), and fell into bed. But I couldn't sleep. Instead, I had lied
there, staring at the ceiling and the watching the headlights of the
passing cars making strange shadows on my walls. I couldn't shake the image
of Lance from my mind, his asking me to spend the day with him. If I wasn't
so sure that Lance was straight, I would have almost guessed that he had
asked me out on a date.

I didn't bother to listen to `N Sync's interview, instead opting to pick up
the telephone and call up my place of employment, and source of income. I
had conveniently forgotten that at noon today, I had to show up at work and
actually do a job. I hit the buttons, and waited for someone to pick up the
phone.

"Good morning, Manor Lanes retirement home, how can I help you?" The
receptionist answered rather perkily.

"Hi, can I have the kitchen please?"

"One moment." I waited to be transferred, turning off the radio, and began
to tap my foot. It seemed like this call was taking forever (when in truth,
I had been on the phone for about thirty seconds). I hate calling into work
sick--I actually enjoy my job. And under normal circumstances, I would have
never been so irresponsible. It was just that I had much more important
things on my mind today.

"Kitchen, Denise speaking." Thank God, Denise had answered. Denise, or
Denny as I called her, was one of my supervisors--and the only one who
actually like me there. To all my other supervisors, I was just a punk kid
coming in and requesting daytime shifts. It's a hard concept to explain,
the nursing home kitchen scheduling and right now I didn't feel like
getting into it.

"Denny? It's Stephen," I said. "I can't make it in today. I have a terrible
migraine," I lied, while crossing my fingers. What else was I going to
say--I had plans to meet a member of `N Sync instead of coming in to scrub
pots and pans and scrape uneaten food from plates? Uh-huh, sure and maybe
Santa Claus is a real person, too.

"Yeah, sure--you're just too tired from last night," she said in a knowing
voice. "I know I'd be absolutely dead if I went. How was the concert?"

"Great, great. The girls had a blast. I'm surprised Natalie went to school,
but I think she just wanted to show off her autographed stuff."

Denny laughed. "Well, okay--but promise that you'll come in tomorrow, okay,
Stephen?"

"Promise. Gotta go, Denny."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." I hung up the phone and continued to sit there on my bed. I still
couldn't believe that I was going to hang out with Lance today. I just
couldn't believe it.


After going through my closet about a hundred times, I silently cursed
myself for not ever being that interested in my appearance. For once in my
life, I didn't just want to throw on a t-shirt and jeans. I wanted to look
as though I gave a damn about how I looked. I finally settled on a light
blue button down shirt and a pair of black pants. I stared at myself in the
mirror and tried not to overanalyze the thoughts that were whirling around
in my head. If I did, there was a good possibility that I would have had a
nervous breakdown and would've been rushed off to the psychiatric clinic
for analysis.

I gave myself one last look in the mirror. My hair, usually sticking out in
every direction possible, was neatly combed down. I had shaved and put on
some expensive cologne that my mother had bought me. There was nothing that
I could do about my crooked nose, but oh well, I thought to myself, that's
life for you.

I shut the lights in my bedroom off and headed down the stairs. I saw my
mother sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her herbal tea and walked
over to her. She was flipping through a magazine, and when she saw me, she
gave me an awkward smile.

"Hi, Stephen," she said, looking me over. "You look nice today. Going
anywhere special?" I could hear the suspicion in her voice, and her eyes
questioned me. I've never been good at lying, and almost immediately, I
felt the heat crawling up my neck.

"I'm...um, going out to meet a friend," I managed to say, hastily grabbing
my car keys off the table.  My mom tilted her head, and continued to give
me that scrutinizing stare.

"Oh," she said, shortly. "Who is it?"

I paused. I didn't want to tell her who I was meeting , God forbid she
would go into a frenzy like last night. I did not need to see that today,
nor did I ever want to see it in my life. And if I told her I was going out
to meet a guy, she would have broken down in tears, wailing, "where did I
go wrong?" Again, not another thing that I needed.

"A friend," I said curtly, as I headed out the back door. "I'll see you
later." I didn't even wait for her reply. I just got into my car and drove
off. As I did this, I noticed that my nosy mother was standing in the front
window, watching me leave with a sad expression on her face.




I pulled up to the hotel at noon sharp. I didn't want to pull up too soon
(making me look way too eager and desperate) or too late (making me look as
though I didn't give a shit). I pulled into a space so far away from the
entrance, I was surprised that I didn't need a trolley to take me to the
front door. As I made my long walk, I noticed little camps of teenage girls
huddled outside the doorway, clutching homemade signs (`We love you
Justin!!!' and `JC forever' being some of the catchy slogans I noticed) and
`N Sync CD's, posters and magazines.

`Oh if you girls knew where I was going', I thought to myself with a smile
as I entered the hotel. I immediately headed for the desk and told the man
behind the counter who I was here to see. He looked at me as though I was
insane, but all I did was lean forward and say the magic word:

"Natalie..." I said, my voice above a whisper. The stern expression on his
face changed to one of surprise and almost shock.

"Oh, sorry sir. I just assumed you were another gentleman trying to sneak
up there for their sisters or something." He let out a nervous
laugh. "Happens all the time." I excused his behavior and to tell you the
truth, I was too nervous to even care. I was more concerned with the beads
of sweat that were beginning to form on my head.

In a matter of seconds, I was led to the elevator, the counter guy still
apologizing profusely, as I entered the elevator. The doors closed,
shutting me off from the rest of the world and I found myself alone in the
elevator. I could feel my ears pop as the car traveled from the first floor
to the twentieth without a stop in between. And then I heard a `ding' and
the doors opened.

Standing there, as the heavy silver doors parted, was Lance. To tell you
the truth, I wasn't expecting him and seeing him just standing there nearly
gave me a heart attack.

"Hey," he said, giving me an adorable lopsided grin. He looked great--
short sleeved t-shirt and a pair of perfectly faded jeans. "Heard security
down there gave you a hard time."

"Not really," I said, as I stepped off the elevator and into the hallway. I
looked around me, and looked back at Lance, my eyes wide with
amazement. The hallway alone was one of the most elegant places I'd been
in. I looked at Lance, who was watching me with a bemused expression on his
face.

"My house had to be a dump compared to this place," I said to him. He just
laughed.

"Nah...you get used to this--" he gestured with his hand, "--after a
while. To tell you the truth, this place isn't that great. I miss my home a
lot lately." He looked at me. "Let me just get my vest and we'll be on my
way." Lance disappeared into the one of the suites and I walked around the
hallway, studying the paintings that lined the walls. I became absorbed in
studying the brushwork and contrasts of lights and darks, when I heard the
muffled yelling of voices.  They were coming from the room that Lance had
disappeared into, and as hard as I strained my ears, I couldn't make out
the words. I could tell that one of the voices belonged to Lance, but the
other voice could have belonged to anyone.

A few seconds later, Lance reappeared in the hallway, and he was visibly
upset. His face was red from obviously yelling, but all he did was give me
a smile.

"Ready?" Lance asked me, while throwing on a red fleece vest, and zipping
it up. He gave me that smile again and all thoughts of whoever Lance had
argued with flew out my mind.  The reality had sunk in--I was going to
spend the entire afternoon with Lance





Chapter 5


Lance and I had to take the service elevator in order not to be noticed by
the mob of young girls outside. I had to run around the building, get my
car and then drive it back around to where lance was waiting for me. By
that time, my perfectly combed hair was a bit wayward, I noticed with
disgust.  He once again had his ever-present fisherman's hat and sunglasses
on, trying his best to blend in with the scenery.

"Door to door service, sir," I said, swinging the passenger's side door
open. He grinned at me and got in, slamming the door shut. I pulled away
from the back of the hotel and up to the front. I looked over at Lance and
saw that he had taken his `disguise' off. Big mistake.

As we rounded the corner, the villages of teenage girls came into view. One
of them looked over, and promptly screamed out Lance's name at the top of
her lungs. Obviously there aren't many guys out there with a beautiful face
and spiky blonde hair--at least not at that hotel.

"Oh shit," I muttered as my foot hit the gas. I sped through the parking
lot, and I looked in my rearview mirror to see the once-sitting girls now
running frantically after my car. They were like the bulls in Spain. Seeing
this, Lance began to laugh. His laughter grew louder when he looked over at
me and saw the nervous expression on my face.

"You think this is funny?" I asked him as I kept checking the mob of girls
in the rearview mirror. For such young girls, they sure could run fast, I
thought as I sped the car through the yellow-as-it-was-turning-red light.

"I can see you've never been chased before," Lance said setting himself
comfortably back in the seat. He continued to chuckle to himself, as he
slipped his sunglasses back on.

"They would've taken a chunk out of this car, y'know," I said, pretending
to be mad at him. As we approached the intersection, I looked over at Lance
who was still smiling over the incident. I felt my guard fade. I just
couldn't stay mad at him--even pretend mad.

"So where do you want to go?" I asked him, as he turned on my radio.

"Somewhere to eat--I'm starving. You'd think hotel food would be first
class stuff, wouldn't you?" Lance complained as he fiddled with the
buttons. "Anyway, I love going out to eat. So anything is fine with me."

"Then where?" I asked, turning down the nearest street that I knew housed
numerous fast food restaurants.

Lance looked over at me, flashing those green eyes. I couldn't resist
smiling at him when he looked into my eyes. It was as though he was
directly connecting with my soul, and he fully understood me. I had never
felt this connection with anyone before, and I thought sarcastically,
`isn't it great? First person you could probably truly be friends with and
not only is he straight, but he's a mega star who'll probably forget you
once his bus pulls out of this town'.

"Wherever you hang out," he replied simply, still playing around with the
radio. "But please, not the mall. Me and the guys went there once and I
swear to God, I thought those girls were gonna rip me apart from limb to
limb. They just wanted a piece of me to take home with them."

`Who could blame them,' I thought to myself, as I slowed the car to a stop.

Once the car cameto a standstill, I turned to him and asked, "So, wherever
I hang out, huh?" I began to search my mind for a perfect place.  "You
sure?"

"Positive," Lance answered, as he finally settled on a radio station that
played country music.  I looked at him in surprise, not just by the trust
that he had placed in me, in finding a good hangout, but by his taste in
music.

"You like this stuff?" I said in surprise. Lance's face turned a shade of
red, and he leaned over in a hurry to change the station. I stopped him,
placing my hand over his.

"Don't," I said. "I love this kind of music. I just don't tell anyone I
do," I added with a grin. "I didn't think you were into this though?"

"You think I sit around listening to our albums, all day?" Lance exclaimed
in humorous surprise. "Oh, man, Stephen--you've got a lot to learn about
me," he said, looking out the window, avoiding my gaze. "An awful lot."


We were driving down an almost deserted strip of road, trying to eat the
food that we had just bought. Lance told me that Mexican food was his
favorite (I should have picked that up at last night's dinner) so I wound
up going through the drive thru of the local Mexican fast food chain.

"Much better than Taco Bell," I promised him, right before we placed our
order at the electronic board that drives me insane. He just gave me this,
I-can't-believe-a-word-you're-saying look, but ordered anyways, making me
promise that I would owe him if it wasn't.

And now we were driving to the place that I hung out at the most. It was an
odd, obscure place and I wanted to show it to Lance.

"Where are we going?" Lance protested. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Wait and see," I said mysteriously, as I turned onto a side street. Around
us, the suburban strip malls and businesses had transformed into rows of
beautiful evergreen trees and spacious fields of wheat. "We're almost
there," I said as the sign of the sculpture garden came into our sight. I
turned into the parking lot and shut the car off.

"Well, were here--the place that I hang out most at--Lawrence Sculpture
Garden," I announced with a mock flourish. I could tell that Lance was
confused by my bringing him here, so I just took a deep breath and began my
explanation as we got out of the car,

"See, I know this is gonna sound flaky, but I'm an art student. That's what
I'm going to college for," I said, as I made sure the doors were locked. I
noticed that we were the only car parked there, and for some reason, I was
glad. Usually the sculpture garden was filled with older ladies meeting to
gossip, photography students crouched in unusual positions taking pictures
and whoever else came along.

"You never told me you were an art student," Lance said in surprise.

"It never came up," I said with a smile. "Anyway, one day our sculpture
class had to come out here for inspiration and I've just never stopped, I
guess. I love this place and it just inspires me and my work. Whenever I'm
having an artist's block, I just usually drive out here, look around and
think. It's great therapy," I added, as we walked through the open
gates. "And it's free, which makes it perfect for poor, struggling artists
like me."

Lance laughed at my joke. "That's really interesting--I'm surprised you
never told me you did art."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please--the gay artist--that's such a...a," I
struggled to find the right words, but Lance just looked at me and gently
smiled.

"I know what you mean," he said, nodding.  We walked over to a vintage
looking wire bench and sat down, ready to eat our lunch. Lance and I had a
good, long conversation about different subjects, which surprised me since
none of the guys in my classes ever wanted to talk. All we did with each
other was complain about project deadlines and borrow different art
supplies from each other.

But Lance was a talker. He told me about the first concert he went to
(Clint Black, if you're interested) and all of the singing that he used to
do in his choir groups when he was a kid. He told me how he got into `N
Sync and all of the places that he had visited. I was surprised he was
telling me so much about himself--after all we only knew each other for
less than twenty-four hours. I was still a stranger to him, as he was to
me. But I was comfortable in his company and the feelings that I felt for
him grew stronger than ever.

We finally finished our lunches and shot the garbage into the wire
wastebasket that sat next to the bench. I leaned back on the bench, quite
full from my food and I grinned at him.

"What did I tell you about the food? Better than Taco Bell?" I asked.

"Much. Man, I'm gonna start making trips out here just for the food," Lance
said, leaning back. He folded his hands over his stomach and stared at the
blue, cloudless sky.

"So you'll come for the food, but not to visit me," I complained. "Thanks a
lot."

"Hey, I told you I was using you to get to your sister," Lance shot back
and we laughed.

If there was one thing that I had inherited from my mother, it was the gift
of curiosity. My mind kept wandering to the argument that I knew Lance had
been involved in earlier, and I wanted to ask him what it was about. So I
did.

To my surprise, his face turned a bit pale. "Aw, just some stuff," he said,
clearing his throat. "Joey and me were arguing. He wanted me to hang around
with them this afternoon for some interview for some local station."

"And you didn't go?" I said, shocked. "Why didn't you tell me when I came
to get you?"

"Hey, I made plans with you--I'm not the type to go and break plans just
for stuff like that. Besides, I'm sick of those interviews. It's the same
questions over and over and over," he said, giving me that grin.

"But still..." I protested, but Lance put his hand up in front of my mouth
to shush me.

"We're here and there's nothing I can do about it now, can I? I wanted to
hang out with you, Stephen. I wouldn't have asked you last night if I
didn't." He got up off the bench just hen and looked at me. "So you wanna
show me around this place?"

We walked around the park for an hour and I pointed out the different
sculptures that dotted the green landscape. Lance seemed interested, but I
could tell he had something on his mind.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, as we approached the lake that ended our
walk. "I mean if you're bored we can go back. I know this isn't the most
interesting place in the world," I laughed nervously.

"No it's not that," Lance argued, his green eyes focusing on the water that
stretched out far and wide. "I like it here. I can see why you come out
here a lot. I would too, if I lived here."

"Then what is it?" I asked him with concern. I hated to see him so
distressed about something.

"Look, Stephen," he said, turning to me. "I gotta ask you something." Gone
was the smile and carefree expression that he had worn all afternoon. His
eyes had turned dark green and for the first time all afternoon, I thought
he was going to tell me that he really didn't want to have anything to do
with me.

"Ask away," I said, placing my hands in the pockets of my pants.

"When you came out--what was it like?"

I looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and amazement. Did he just ask
me what I thought he asked me? What was it like for me to come out? Did he
mean...

"Are you serious?" I heard myself saying. I had retreated into this inner
world where thousands of thoughts were running through my head. Lance was
gay? I felt a bit dizzy with excitement and just good old confusion.

"Yeah, I am. I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't, Stephen," Lance said, with a
short laugh. "One hundred percent serious." He stared at me in my eyes,
waiting for my reply.

"It was strange," I said, trying to remember how I felt when I told my
mother. Yeah, I had been nervous, but I also felt relieved. Relieved that I
wouldn't have to talk about girls anymore so my mom wouldn't suspect
anything about me. And relieved that I wouldn't be lying to myself anymore.
"But it made me honest with myself. And my cousin loved it," I said,
smiling. "She loved the fact that she had a gay cousin--weird girl, Cynthia
is."

Lance smiled at that and then turned serious again. "What if I told you I
was gay?" he asked simply. "Would you hold it against me?"

I had to laugh at that. "Lance--you *are* kidding me, right? Why would I
hold that against you--I'm gay too, remember? That's why you asked me in
the first place."

He remained silent for a few more seconds, and then looked up at me. He
lifted his hand and touched the side of my face. I almost closed my eyes,
not believing that this was happening. Instead, I kept my eyes opened and
watched him.

"What if I told you I thought I was gay," he repeated slowly, his deep
voice lowering to a whisper. "And that I thought I was falling for you?"
His hand finished tracing a path down my cheek and then fell back to his
side. He watched me carefully, waiting for an answer.

"You mean..." I trailed off, comprehending his words. Lance liked me. *Me.*
The idea was insane, really, I thought to myself as my mind realized the
intensity of his words. No one had ever liked me before. Lance nodded
shyly, and instinctively, we leaned forwards, our lips meeting in a soft
kiss. My eyes closed at the touch and when we parted, I opened them, to
find he still had his shut.

"You can open them now," I told him gently. They slowly opened and he kept
staring at me. I almost wish he didn't though, because his green eyes were
driving me to distraction. The good kind.

"Stephen, I...." Lance was at a loss for words and I couldn't blame him. I
was surprised that I was able to even speak whole words, much less full
sentences like the one I had just spoken. I felt the blood race through my
body and I quickly looked around us. Happily, the park was still
deserted. I placed my fingertips on his lips to shush him and drew him
closer to me. I couldn't believe where this side of me was coming from. I
ignored that thought and guided his lips to mine once more and we kissed
again, this time a bit more passionately than the first. When our lips left
each others, I felt my heart beating rapidly as though it was about to
burst out of my chest. I had never been happier in my life, and the goofy
grin that began to form on my lips revealed my feelings.

"Happy?" Lance asked softly, as he took my hands in his.

"Complete understatement," I remarked. "You?"

"Honestly?" He waited for my nod. "I've never felt better."

I know I should have answered him, but all I could do was pull him in for
another kiss.


So that's it--chapters 4 and 5. I hope everyone enjoyed these chapters. I
know I enjoyed writing them! Please, please e-mail me at
sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com (I'm on my knees again, begging!) I'm not
sure when the next installment will be out, but I'll be working on it as
fast as I can type. Thanks for reading everyone. Love, Gabriella.