Date: Mon, 04 Dec 2000 20:33:16 -0500
From: Gabriella Morrison <sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Surprise Romance 48

Hi y'all!

It's me again....again. And back with another installment of MSR.

There are some *author's notes* at the bottom. I'm gonna let you enjoy the
story first :)

As usual, thank you to everyone (the few and far between) who wrote me
about the last installment. If I haven't gotten back to you yet, trust me,
I will :) I've just become ungodly busy lately and can barely breathe.

For those of you who give a damn :) I got an 80 on my bio test, one of my
posters was picked to be reprinted at school and MSR won an *NSYNC
Fabrication award (Best Lance story! Yippie! So did Dale of Lottery
Winner--go read his story once you're done with mine...and The Prep Meets
the Pop Star...and Sentimental Journey...plus a ton of others that I can't
remember now)

Once again, I'd like to thank the people who keep reading and sending me
mail. Damon, Ethan are just two of the names that are popping into my
caffeine addled brain.  Khiemy....I'm still alive...just busy and I got
your mail. =)

One last thing here: A big thank you to four special people. Killian who've
I've been ignoring lately with my emails (sorry honey!), John, my #1
hubby!!! Val...God, what would I do without you sweetie? Thanks for being
here when I need you. And of course, Justin. My mentor and muse...thank you
for being there for me whenever I needed you. I love you. Thanks.

And of course, http://sweetheart.homepage.com -- Go, go go! There's a
picture of Stephen's new body art on it :)

And now...the DISCLAIMER: Blah, blah, blah...you gotta be 21 or something
like that. M/M relations. Not implying that Lance is gay, nor Justin. Got
it? Good. Don't sue me. And now...


My Surprise Romance

The Better to Dream of You

Chapter 48

I Didn't Know You Cared


I remember when there was a time in my life when I was completely
miserable. My downfall had occurred a couple of years ago when I was fresh
out of high school. I was lonely. The friends I had were few and far
between and to top off all matters, I knew I was gay. But I kept my mouth
shut (except to Cynthia, who kept it under lock and key unless she wanted
to die a quick and horrible death). The few `crushes' I had on other people
of my gender were kept hidden from knowledge (except when Cynthia could
decode them of course)...

It was during that time period that I also had my first, true dalliance
with, um, shall we say...uncontrollable urges? You know what I'm talking
about (you're not stupid--if you were, you wouldn't have stuck with me for
this long). And of course these urges just happened to coincide with my
awkward stage.  I used to be filled with so much sexual longing, that I
seriously considered to seek out the services of someone that would `help'
me out. I mean, downtown Ridgemont was only a few minutes away and I could
have easily found something...someone...there...

I didn't do that of course, but the thought had always lingered in my mind
like the smoke that curls around a stubbed out cigarette. Sometimes those
thoughts would fill me up with a healthy amount of Catholic guilt (ha ha,
funny huh? Especially when homosexuals are still frowned upon by the
church--shouldn't I be filled with guilt 24-7?). And sometimes I'd be
filled with pride--proud that I, Stephen Peterson, would have even thought
about something like that, since it was so out of character for me....

And now that I lay in Lance's bed, I realized how sad I was back then. How
confused and fucked up was I. To me, the idea of sex without love was wrong
in itself. There was no way I could have gone through with the whole
prostitute idea, simply because of the morals I had embraced. And thank God
for that, because now, I was happy. Disgustingly so. No one except Lance
could have made me feel like this.

Oh, I'm sure that I would have met someone like him soon enough, but right
now, no one could have filled the spot that Lance took up in my life. It
just wasn't imaginable...

As these thoughts ran through my head, I let out a sigh that could have
been audible all the way back home. I turned my head to see Lance's
reaction, only to find that his body wasn't lying next to mine. Instead, a
sheet of white loose leaf paper lay in his place. Looking at it curiously,
I picked it up and my eyes traveled over Lance's scribbly handwriting that
had become so familiar to me.

`S,', it read ,the blue letters looping into each other. `I let you sleep
some more...we had a rough night *smile* I went out to get lunch for
us--I'll be back soon. I love you. Love, L.' Smiling at the words that the
ink had left behind, I knew that they came from Lance's heart. My eyes
continued to run over the words, as I read the p.s. at the end of the note:
`You're beautiful when you're asleep.'

As my eyes scanned over this last line, I felt something in my heart
snap. It was things like that which confirmed the fact that Lance was *the*
one. I knew it. My gut told me. My heart told me. Every bone in my body
knew it. `You're beautiful when you're asleep'. The idea that my boyfriend
had been examining me when I was sleeping sent shivers down my spine, and
another happy sigh left my lips.

Not wanting to spend all morning in bed, I decided to get myself up and
maybe take a shower before Lance got back. Despite the good feelings that
were running through me, nothing could take away the hungover feeling that
I had. Still clutching the slip of paper in my hands, I swung my legs over
the side of the bed and placed the soles of my feet on the ground.  The
thick carpet underneath them felt a little comforting, but not *that*
comforting. As I stood up, my head felt like it was spinning around
wildly. I licked my dry lips and felt as though someone had thrown a ton of
sand into my mouth. I ached all over...I felt hungover...because I was...

Once I had steadied myself, I searched the floor underneath me to find some
article of clothing. I hated being naked, except of course, when Lance was
around. Then I didn't mind my nudity so much. But without Lance? Blech. My
body was something that I'd rather not look at. I felt way too skinny and
weird, bony in some places, too fleshy in others . You'd think after 21
years in the same body, I'd become accustomed to my skin, but nope...

I finally found a pair of boxer shorts on the floor, picked them up and
pulled them over my hips. Immediately, I felt better and I began to make my
way to the bathroom so I could splash my face with some cold water. Slowly
making my way out of his bedroom, I soon found myself face to face with
Lance, as he walked into the room.

"Hey," Lance said, his eyes lighting up as I nearly bumped into him. "Where
do you think you're going?" After saying this, he greeted me with a rather
amorous good morning kiss and I felt my knees grow weaker as the seconds
ticked by. Lance's kisses always did that to me... always...

"Bathroom," I murmured once we parted, wrapping my arms around his waist,
careful not to disturb the white paper bag in his hands. "I have to go..."

"Well, get back here soon," Lance said before kissing me again.

"Why? So we can eat?"

Rolling his eyes at me, Lance gave me another happy smile as his eyes ran
slowly over my body, sending shivers through me.  "No, silly--because I
miss you." Not letting me out of his grasp, Lance pulled me closer to
him. "And you know what Stephen..." His eyes slowly trailed past my
waist. "You're wearing my boxers."

"Really?" I asked blankly, as I looked down at myself. In my haste to get
dressed, I hadn't noticed what pair of underwear I had put on. I chuckled
at the sight of myself dressed in Lance's boxers. I don't know why I found
that so funny, but I did.

"Ooh, don't tell me you're not wearing any underwear?" My words were
hopeful as I met Lance's eyes. Holding my gaze deftly, Lance's poker face
finally crumpled as he burst out laughing.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I noticed how deep and seductive his voice
sounded as he giggled, and another blush fell across my face. Lance reached
up to trace a path down my cheek as his laughs subsided and he continued on
with his thoughts. "But the answer is no....I am wearing a pair of
boxers....I took a shower before I left, you know!" Leaning closer to me,
Lance stretched his neck out, so I could sniff at it. "Can't you tell? I'm
wearing cologne and everything..."

I deeply inhaled the spicy scent that graced my boyfriend's neck and
blushed at the reaction that my body had. The smell of Lance's skin and his
cologne mixed together, made me dizzier than I already felt. He smelled
wonderful...and my own skin tingled at the idea that only hours before,
Lance's body had been pressed against mine, holding me...I could barely
stand it...I had to change the subject.

"Aww, you took a shower without me?" I protested, sticking my lower lip out
into a unhappy pout. "Oh, you're no fun anymore."

Lance remained silent for a minute, a half embarrassed, half devilish look
appearing in his eyes as he paused in thought. "Stephen..." he began
slowly. "There was....*stuff* in my hair...I couldn't go out looking like
that."

It took me a few seconds to get the full effect of what Lance meant. And
when I did get it, I let out a laugh that nearly shattered the
windows. Obviously, my laughter was contagious because Lance began to laugh
like a maniac as well. We stood there for a few seconds, until we were just
staring into each other's eyes, a feeling of serenity overcoming our
goofiness. Leaning over, Lance placed a soft kiss on my lips, causing my
eyes to close allowing me to fall into the moment.

"Nice," I heard him whisper once we parted. "Now go to the bathroom and get
back here as soon as you can." Punctuating his words, Lance gently slapped
me on my ass and gave me a push towards the door. Laughing, I disentangled
myself from his embrace and began to hurriedly walk to the bathroom. I felt
good and I was almost feeling like my old self.

Almost.





A few minutes later, Lance and I were downstairs sitting at the kitchen
table. We had tried to have a picnic in Lance's bed when I returned from
the bathroom, but as we soon found out, that was impossible to do. First
off, the bed is not a good place to set down drinks. Cups of coffee do not
stay still on a mattress. Second of all, I found that whenever Lance got
into a bed with me, eating food was the last thing on my mind...there were
yummier things that I would have rather had in my mouth...

So we sat there at his spacious kitchen table, eating the lunch that Lance
had bought us. There was a nice array of fancy sandwiches and and various
sliced fruits drowning in a syrupy sugar sauce. But the kicker was the
desert that Lance had picked up: two huge slices of vanilla cake with
strawberry filling, topped off with a thick layer of buttercream
frosting. I stared at the pieces of cake for what seemed like forever until
Lance caught me looking at the desert.

"Hey," Lance said as he shoved a forkful of fruit into his mouth. He
chomped on that for a few seconds before swallowing it, and tapped me on
the arm with his fork. "You okay there?" He looked at me with a goofy grin
on his face. "What's wrong Stephen? You want desert first?"

"No," I smirked. "I had my desert last night..." Reaching over, I ran the
prongs of my fork up and down Lance's arm, causing him to shiver slightly
at the touch of the cool metal. "It's just that...this is the exact cake
that I make Natalie for her birthday every year..."

"Huh?" Lance asked, not getting what I was talking about. "You make cakes?"

"No...I mean, yeah...I just mean...this is the cake--vanilla with
strawberry filling. I make it for Nat every year..." I told him a bit
mystified at the coincidence. "It's just weird that you would buy it. Did I
tell you that I make Natalie that?"

Lance stared at me, his green eyes wide with awe. "Nope...not at all." He
looked over at the slices of cake that sat on the table. "Wow...you know
what that means, Stephen?"

"What?" I asked curiously as I picked up my sandwich and took a bite of
it. Chomping on the mixture of bread and cold cuts, I waited for Lance's
answer.

"It just means that I'm a psychic," Lance quipped as he leaned over in his
chair towards me, a cocky grin on his face. "Does that bother you,
Stephen?"

"No," I laughed as Lance's mouth drew closer to mine. I chewed quickly on
my sandwich and swallowed it. "It just means that you know everything I
think, all the time, every minute of the day."

"Yeah," Lance laughed, leaning closer so that our lips were only inches
apart. "That means you better be thinking of me twenty-four hours a day,
Mr. Peterson. I don't want you thinking of anyone else." Before I could
come up with a comeback, Lance silenced me, by placing a rather passionate
kiss on my lips and I could taste the remnants of the sticky liquid that
the fruit had been floating in.

"Mmmm," I sighed dreamily as we pulled away from each other, satiated grins
on our faces. "Keep kissing me like that and I'll think of you for
eternity..."

"That's what I like to hear," Lance giggled as he settled himself back in
his chair. Just as he was about to say something else, the cordless phone
sitting next to him began to ring.

"Oh no," he muttered, staring at the telephone like it was poison. "I don't
even want to know who that is..." Picking it up as though it were on fire,
Lance hit the button that switched it on and held it up to his
ear. "Hello?" I watched his face turn from happy to disgusted in a blink of
an eye. At first I thought it was Cynthia--or Josh or Justin or someone
from the group. But as I kept listening, I learned it wasn't.

"Hey Johnny...yeah long time no hear..." Lance leaned his head in one of
his hands and tried to stifle the sigh that desperately wanted to leave his
lips. "Uh-huh...Johnny, I know that there are interviews and stuff, but
this is my vacation from it all..." Lance sighed as he shot a sad, puppy
dog eyed look in my direction. "I *know*..."

Using my keen sense of intuition as well as good old fashioned guessing
tactics, I assumed that Johnny was Johnny Wright, the band's manager and
judging from the conversation, the party for Lance and I would be over
soon....that thought was more depressing than anything else.

"Johnny, look--give me five more days...I have to head up to Wisconsin at
the end of the week...and then I'll be back doing promotions and interviews
and whatever else you want me to do...I just need five more days..." Lance
drummed his fingertips on the formica tabletop and rolled his eyes in dread
while I continued to listen to the one-sided conversation.

"Please...no it doesn't have to do anything with Stephen...and wait--"
Lance flashed a worried look at me. He had never told Johnny that he was
gay, nor did he tell him that he now had a boyfriend. "How do you know
about him? I never mentioned him to you..." Lance rolled his eyes again as
the mystery was solved. "Oh...Marshall...yeah..."

Groaning, I buried my face in my hands. Another person to have found out
about Lance and I. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Is *nothing* secret or sacred
anymore?

"Lance," I hissed, tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Is everything
okay?" Shrugging my hold off of him, Lance motioned for me to grab him the
notepad that sat on the countertop.

"Okay, okay...August 11, Planet Hollywood party...August 17 and
18....TRL...for FreeLance...got that....I know, Johnny...I *will* be
there." Lance rolled his eyes once more. "And I won't miss another
interview...I promise..." The serious, business-minded expression on my
boyfriends's face suddenly switched, as a happy, goofy grin crossed his
lips. "Yeah...and thanks, Johnny. Thanks for understanding...I'll see you
around. Bye." And with that, Lance hit the `off' button on the phone and
placed it back down on the table next to him.

"Ugh," Lance moaned as his face dropped to meet the tabletop. "Ugh, ugh,
ugh..." Now there was one of two things I could have done at that
moment. Either I could have bitched and moaned with Lance, or I could just
take it with a grain of salt. Sensing that the latter would have to do, I
just smiled.

"What?" I asked, my voice light as I reached out to run my fingers over his
back. "Does my poor baby have to go back to the real world of being a pop
star??? All that glitz and glamour?? All of those interviews and concerts
that you get paid millions of dollars for? Life sucks that bad, huh??" My
teasing must have worked, because Lance picked his head off the table, and
as much as he wanted to scowl at me, he just couldn't bring himself to do
so.

"Ha ha ha....very funny, Stephen...look at this..." Lance said, shaking his
head as he pointed to the notepad in front of him. His demeanor shifted
gears once more as a sad sigh escaped his lips. Reaching over and placing
his hand on top of mine, Lance twisted his face up into a frown.  "And just
so you know--Marshall told Johnny about...us."

"I figured that out," I told Lance, as his fingers closed tightly around
mine. "And what did he have to say? Did he kick you out of the band? My
guess is no..."

"Very good, Stephen," Lance smiled. "Johnny said that he didn't care about
my sexuality one way or another," His face lit up like a Christmas tree
thinking about his managers acceptance of him "And that he bitched out
Marshall for his rudeness....and then he wished me and you the best of
luck." Lance paused thoughtfully before finishing off the thoughts that
jumbled his mind. "And he wants to meet you soon."

"Great," I grinned happily as Lance looked over the appearance list in
front of him. "I'm glad that he understood."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Lance said relief in his voice, as he got up
from the table and walked over to the sink. "But you know what this means?"

"What?" I asked as I leaned back in my chair and speared a slice of fruit
from the plastic container in front of me. "What does it mean, Lance? Tell
me, o wise one," I said mockingly, turning around in my chair and bowing to
him. I waited to see the reaction that would get from my boyfriend. Lance
let out a deep laugh at my silly actions and ran a hand through his
attractively mussed up hair.

"Wise one, eh?" he laughed casually as he walked back to the table, glass
of water in hand. Raising one of his perfectly arched eyebrows at me, his
lips curved upwards, revealing his beautiful smile. "Sounds like someone
has to get down on his knees and start worshiping me."

"Worship?" I asked, a mischievous grin forming on my lips, as Lance sat
back down and immediately fastened his hand to my kneecap, slowly moving it
around in circles, knowing the effect it was having on me. "That sounds
*awfully* good to me...but first, I wanna know what you were gonna say."

"Say?" Lance asked, cluelessness swimming in his eyes as his mind reeled
back to his past thoughts. "Oh, yeah, I was gonna say, `You know what this
means?'"

"What does it mean, Lance?"

"Well, both of these appearances means that the amount of time we have
together just decreased." Another depressed sigh escaped his lips, while
his touch present on my kneecap grew heavier and heavier, driving me
insane. A smile flickered across his face as he noticed the distracted look
on my face.

"But," he added quickly. "That doesn't mean we can't have fun in the
meantime--" Noticing the hopeful expression that appeared on my face, Lance
just let out a laugh that reminded me of the ringing of church bells. I
don't know why--it was just special to hear him laugh..."Not that kind of
fun--although I am hoping there will be some more of that...no Stephen, I
mean..." He trailed his words off slightly before picking up his train of
thought once more. "I want to go out--have a good time. Just so we can say
that we actually enjoyed ourselves on our vacation, you know?"

I nodded as I examined the gloomy look that suddenly overcame his eyes. I
wasn't sure if he was just upset that Johnny had called him with a new list
of commitments, or because he felt like I was holding him back. The latter
thought killed me...I didn't want Lance to be unhappy...I hoped that he
wasn't ruining his life just because of me. But the way he said his
words--that was what worried me the most: `I want to go out--have a good
time..'

Lance must have sensed my discomfort, because he scooted his chair closer
to mine, removing his hand from my kneecap in the process. "Stephen, it's
not that I'm miserable...I just want to get out and explore the world." The
words caught slightly in his throat as his face crumpled into an expression
of regret. "God, that sounded corny, didn't it?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "We've been spending all this time wrapped up
in each other--I think we've kinda forgotten what the real world is
like...right?"

"Right," Lance agreed, looking relieved that I had understood what he was
trying to get at. "So what do you say? Let's eat lunch and then get out
there." He motioned to the outside with his hand, staring at me, as he
waited for my response.

"Sounds great," I smiled as I tapped my fork against my container of
fruit. "But Lance, can I ask you something?"

"What?" Another worried look crossed my boyfriend's face. "What's wrong,
Stephen?"

"When do I get the chance to get on my knees and worship you?" I asked
innocently, allowing my eyes to grow round as the question lingered in the
air between us. A smile appeared on his lips, and Lance leaned over, moving
his face inches from mine.

"Be a good boy, Stephen," Lance whispered huskily, his breath tickling my
skin. "And later tonight, you can worship me all you want." And with those
words, Lance brushed his lips softly against mine, causing any amount of
sanity that I had left to fly out of the window...





As Lance and I drove along in the bright Florida sunshine, I couldn't help
but ask myself `What were we going to do?' I mean, I know that Lance and I
didn't care where we went as long as we were together, but where were we
really gonna go? Or hang out? I mean, your talking about a person who's
idea of a good time is to be locked up in his painting studio and laboring
over some new canvas. But that was the old Stephen. The new one...he just
wanted to lay around with his boyfriend and do nothing...

The question was quickly answered as Lance and I started off our afternoon
by walking around town, hitting these little, quirky boutiques and shops
along a strip of the Orlando boardwalk. Lance had managed to disguise
himself by wearing one of his many big, floppy fisherman hats and a pair of
dark sunglasses. Not very original, but you'd be surprised how many giggly
teenie girls passed Lance by without a second glance.

After that, Lance and I went to have drinks at this outdoor cafe, where
once again, no one noticed us. And I have to admit--it was wonderful to sit
there in public with my boyfriend, not even being noticed by the people
that passed back and forth. Lance and I sat a good distance away from each
other, so no one would suspect that we were a couple (obviously groping
each other right then would NOT have been a good idea), although I would
feel Lance's foot occasionally hit mine. When I'd look up at him, Lance
would just give me a shy, toothy grin, knowing that he had got my
attention. I couldn't help but smile back...I was just so...happy....

But I'd be happier if I didn't have a monkey on my back...

That's right. The phone call from that morning had been haunting my mind
all morning. It nagged at me like the spare change burning a hole in a
shopaholic's pocket. I hated it...I just wanted to be free of the whole
ordeal that I had gone through...

And now, I had this on my mind.

Lance and I were still frequenting the outdoor cafe, and from behind my
plain, gray tinted sunglasses, I peered at Lance. He was staring intently
as his iced coffee, sloshing the liquid around in the glass, watching as it
coated the sides before sliding back down once more. I needed to talk to
him. As much as I didn't want to ruin his afternoon, I needed to talk to
him because that was the only thing that would soothe my soul.

"James?" I asked quietly. I had been using his real name all afternoon, so
that no one would hear me call him Lance. Someone might have heard and
realized that the handsome man hidden by the disguise was Lance Bass of `N
Sync. And neither of us needed that.

"Yes?" he asked as he broke his hypnotic gaze away from his drink. Giving
me a smile, Lance set the cup down on the frosted glass table and folded
his hands casually in his lap. God, I wished I could have looked into his
eyes then, instead of looking into tinted, mirrored glass and seeing my own
reflection, but that was life. Oh well...

"I need to talk to you. About the phone call this morning."

I saw a frown briefly cross my boyfriend's face as I mentioned this and I
couldn't blame him for being a little upset. Why the hell would I bring
this up now? We had such a good time before, dodging in and out of those
tacky little gift stores, laughing at the novelty items that made us burst
into peals of laughter, causing the salesclerks to look at us strangely. We
laughed everytime a store carried some of `N Sync's somewhat lame
merchandise. I mean, really...who would want a lip balm with a picture of
Lance on it? But more importantly, why would I want to ruin such a perfect
afternoon by dragging my mother into it? Well I had my reasons...

"Yes?" Lance asked suspiciously, as he peered at me over the top of his
sunglasses. "What's wrong, Stephen?" I avoided his gaze for a couple of
seconds, choosing to watch the people surrounding us instead. When I had
enough of that, I turned back to Lance, who was still staring at me
intently, wanting me to continue with what I was about to say.

"I was thinking..." I began slowly, twiddling my thumbs in my lap. "I mean,
about what your Uncle said this morning. My mother's will and how I get the
house and one-third of everything..."

"Yeah?" Lance asked, looking at me seriously. "What about?"

"I was thinking that when I go back home, I'm gonna get my own
apartment..." I trailed off, averting my eyes from Lance's. When I did
garner enough nerve to look back at him, I found that he had removed his
protective sunglasses and was now staring at me with a look I had never
seen before.

"What?" I asked defensively, rendered uncomfortable from Lance's intense
gaze. "What's wrong?" I shifted in my seat, when it hit me that he had
taken his glasses off. I began to panic inwardly, hoping that no one was
watching us. The last thing I wanted was crazed 12 year old girls wanting a
chunk of Lance to take home with them.

"James," I hissed under my breath, so I wouldn't draw attention to us. "Put
those back on."

Lance complied with my request, but I could tell that he was still staring
at me in disbelief. "Stephen--why? After you fought for the house--you
wanna sell it now?" He shook his head slightly, trying to comprehend with
what I was getting at. "Maybe if you explain why, I'll understand better."

"Yeah," I agreed, reaching out for my iced mochachino. I took a long sip
before speaking once more. "Well, I was thinking this morning...do I really
want to go back to my house? And, La--I mean, *James*," I said slyly,
grateful that I had caught my slip up before someone around us had heard
(how many guys do you know named Lance?). "The answer is no."

"No?" Lance repeated, shifting his seat closer to mine. His voice had
dropped a little, so that eavesdroppers around us couldn't hear one word of
our conversation. "Why not, Stephen? I mean, you'll have a home paid in
full--the only thing that you'll have to worry about is utilities and
stuff, right?"

"Yeah," I said, tracing my finger around the puddle of condensation that
had formed underneath the glass. "But the idea of going back to a place
where my mother took her own life?" My voice had taken on a whispered
tone. "I can't. I just can't...so I decided that when I get back to New
York--and that will be soon enough--I'm gonna call a real estate agent and
have them sell the house for me."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Lance asked, his voice filled with a bit of
apprehension. "Really serious." Nodding, I took a huge noisy slurp of my
mochachino to punctuate my words. I *was* serious. Dead serious. It was
time for me to move on with my life and this was the first step towards it.

"James...there's no way I can go back there...old ghosts..." I mumbled
under my breath, looking down at my lap. I stared at the lower half of my
body for a few seconds, focusing in on my legs. I had funny looking legs, I
observed while my mind drifted away from the subject matter on hand. And
then I when I realized my mind had floated off to ga-ga land, I looked back
up, meeting Lance's eyes once more and what I saw nearly knocked me out of
my chair.

He had removed his sunglasses again, which as I noticed, didn't really
matter, since a lot of the people that had surrounded us at first, were now
gone. But what took my breath away was the sheer amount of caring and
understanding that was present in those amazing eyes. As our gazes locked
together, I could tell that he *knew*. He knew what I meant when I said I
couldn't go back. He understood and he cared. And that was what mattered
most to me.

"Stephen," Lance said slowly, as he reached over to gingerly brush his
fingertips against my wrist, before pulling back. "It's okay with me...I'm
glad that you decided to confide in me. You know..." he trailed off while
flashing an exuberant grin. "I'll even help you move out--and even find a
new place if you want to." Leaning over slightly, Lance whispered the next
words so that they were audible only between us. "Just make sure that
there's enough room for a huge bed--and while you're at it, get a mirror on
the ceiling as well."

I felt a flaming blush climb up my neck and onto my face as Lance settled
back in his seat, a self-satisfied smirk on those cute little lips of
his. He *knew* that what he said would embarrass me and judging from the
smirky expression on his face, Lance was proud of it. And as much as I
wanted to strangle him, I also wanted to lean over and kiss Lance. I just
wanted to show him how much I cared for him at that particular
moment....damn America and their values of what's considered normal. If it
weren't so weird for men to kiss each other, I would have been all over
Lance like white on rice.

But I couldn't and I knew it. Before I could say another word, Lance had
slipped the sunglasses back on and took the final sip of his coffee. "Well,
Stephen," Lance said slowly, as he placed the empty cup back down on the
table. "Where to next?"

"No idea," I said as I reached for my wallet in the back pocket of my
shorts. "But I'll pay for this...." As my fingers fumbled through the green
bills that lay in the folds of the leather wallet, my skin came in contact
with a photograph. Curious to what it was, I pulled it out, looked at it
and immediately, I felt a smile cross my lips.

It was a picture of Lance, Natalie, Angela, Beth and I, taken the very
first night I had met him. I had completely forgotten about it--it was
taken by the photographer that worked for the concert venue. Lance and I
were standing there, next to each other, his hands gently resting on my
sister's shoulders. As I continued to examine the picture, I noticed that
Lance's eyes, though trying their best to look into the camera, were
shifted over to where I was standing.

"What are you looking at Stephen?" Lance asked playfully, as he watched the
smile playing on my lips. "Come on...share..."

"It's this picture of you and me--"

"Oh no!" Lance growled, shaking his head. "Not *that* picture! I thought I
packed that away in my bags so no one would find it!" My mind remained
boggled, until I realized that Lance was talking about the picture that his
father found. The picture that revealed Lance's sexuality to his
father. How a simple picture could carry so much weight--luckily, this
wasn't one of those...

"No, silly," I said, tapping him lightly, though lovingly on his head, my
fingers coming into contact with his soft, spiky blonde hair. "This picture
of you, me and Natalie taken the first night that we met." My words had
softened automatically at the end of my sentence and I couldn't help but
kick Lance under the table. I had to. It was an automatic reaction to the
closeness I suddenly desired.

Lance kicked me back as he plucked the photo out of my fingertips. "You
know," he said, shaking his head. "I completely forgot about this
picture... " A happy smile flashed on his lips. "Awww, Stephen--you mean
you carry this around with you?"

I felt another blush creep across my face. "Yeah...I guess I do...but," I
allowed my voice to take on a haughty tone. "Only for Natalie--and not for
that weirdo in back of her," I teased him. I could tell that behind those
glasses, Lance rolled his eyes and let a little groan escape his mouth.

"Weirdo!" Lance exclaimed, trying to sound offended. His voice took on a
seductive tone as both of us began to get up from our seats. "I told you
Stephen...in order to worship me later tonight, you have to be *good*."
Pushing his chair in, Lance took this opportunity to move his lips towards
my ear. "But I guess I can handle you if you've been bad as well."

I felt a strange heat rush throughout the veins in my body, unable to
control the desire that pumped through my blood. `Thanks, Lance,' I thought
pointedly as I walked up to the cashier to pay for our drinks, trying to
shuffle my feet so that the blood madly rushing to a certain area of my
body would go elsewhere. While I did this, I noticed that Lance was milling
around in back of me, examining our surroundings.

I tilted my face up to the sun, while the cashier rang up our order. I paid
her and while I waited for her to make change, I realized my life was
slowly beginning to fall back into place. Past regrets were slipping out of
my mind. My future plans were slowly starting to take shape....still,
things were nagging inside of me, and since I didn't feel like dealing with
them, I pushed them away, determined to just let loose and kick back this
afternoon.

As the cashier counted my change back to me, and I placed it back in my
wallet, a hand suddenly wrapped itself around my arm. Saying a hasty "thank
you and have a good day" to the cashier, I looked over to see Lance pulling
me towards the direction of a photo booth, a devilish smile playing on his
lips.

"Come on," Lance laughed as he pulled me into the small, secluded booth,
and away from prying eyes. "I want some pictures to remember this day with
you, Mr. Peterson..." Leaning out to insert a dollar in the slot outside,
Lance quickly ducked back into the booth with me and waited for the camera
to start clicking away.

Click. Lance and I laughing like fools.

Click. Lance and I choking each other in mock annoyance.

Click. Lance and I perfectly poised and smiling at the camera.

Click. Lance and I kissing. It was a simple kiss...but sometimes, simple
kisses are the best, don't you think? In that one kiss, so much was relayed
to each other...the love and desire that we felt for each other, as well as
the understanding and need. As we parted and the camera shut down, a strip
of photos came whirring out of a slot inside the booth. While we waited for
them to develop, Lance and I stared at each other for God only knows how
long, bathed in a magical silence. That moment, that particular moment was
so wonderful....I can't even relay it into words. I just know how it felt
to me, and how lost in the moment I became.

"Stephen," Lance whispered, his eyes clearly mesmerized as he reached up to
trace a finger down my cheekbone. "Seeing that picture of you and me...the
one in your wallet...it brings back so many memories. I want you to know
that..."

"Really?" I asked, a little breathless as his hand worked it's way to the
nape of my neck, massaging the skin there in small, smooth circles.

"Yup--Stephen..." Lance murmured shyly, briefly shifting his gaze downwards
before looking at me once more. "When I met you, I *knew* you were the
one....when you walked into that room..." He hesitated with his words
before finally gathering the courage to continue. " My body knew it, my
mind knew it...I knew I was going to fall in love with you..." Brushing his
lips softly against my earlobe, he continued. "I want you to know that
everyday I wake up, I look over and watch you sleep and at that moment--"
His deep voice faltered out on him, eyes slowly filling up with tears as he
managed to choke out the next words. "--I thank God that I met you."

I felt tears spring to my eyes as Lance's hand dropped down to grasp
mine. "I love you, Stephen," Lance whispered, looking overwhelmed at the
feelings that were running through his mind. "More than anything else in
the world...I want you to know it."

"I know you do...Lance...I love you too. I love you..." I trailed off,
blinking rapidly to hold my tears back. His words...Lance's words...they
were perfect. They summarized everything that I felt inside of me. How
could he nail them so perfectly? So perfect, that the world could have
ended then and I wouldn't have cared. I was loved...and by a person that I
loved back with my whole heart and soul. At that moment, I had reached
nirvana and I never wanted to come back down from it...

 And then we kissed once more, not wanting this moment between us to ever
end...





"So what do you wanna do next?"

"How `bout a club?"

The sound of a pair of shoulders shrugging.

"Okay."



And so Lance and I hit the dance clubs, and as much as I usually disliked
them, this time I actually wanted to go to one. I wanted to get out, mingle
with other people--maybe even dance a little, even though I dance terribly
and look as though I'm having a seizure, instead of moving to the
music. But that was okay--as long as Lance could overlook that part of me,
I could overlook it as well.

Once Lance and I arrived at some hip, trendy club, we were automatically
rushed inside. Grinning at me, Lance gave me the thumbs up at the preferred
treatment, and as we entered inside, I felt a seed of agitation grow in my
stomach. People. Lots of people. Some drunk. Some stoned off their
asses. Some both. I mean, it was a club. And thankfully, during the time I
had spent with Lance, the only thing we had done was gotten shit-faced
drunk. Big deal, I thought as we walked up to the bar and ordered ourselves
some drinks (a gin and tonic for him, a vodka on the rocks for me). I
looked around, thinking how ironic it would be if I saw one of the other `N
Syncer's here...

And as though my thoughts were magically granted to come true by some
club-going fairy godmother, who else would float past me but my very own
cousin, dressed to the nines in a silver halter dress, her bobbed hair
pulled into an upswept style.

"Stevie?" she screamed over the loud, pulsing techno beats that were
rapidly giving me a headache. Looking at Cynthia, I noticed that her eyes
were shining and not just because of the sparkly glitter that she had
applied around them. She was as high as a kite...Lord...what the hell had
she taken?

"Cynth?" I asked cautiously as he eyes were practically pinballing around
in her head. "Are you alright? Are you here with Josh?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, exerting a high pitched giggle as she said
this. It took all of my composure not to pick up my cousin, throw her over
my shoulder and carry her out to Lance's 4-runner to come down off of
whatever she took. "Why wouldn't I be alright Stevie? Huh? Huh?" Her violet
eyes darted around nervously, as though she was trying to take in the whole
atmosphere of the club with a few looks. As I watched her, my cousin
suddenly reminded me of one of those bobbing head dolls--you know the ones
that people stick in the back of their cars? That was exactly what Cynthia
reminded me of at the moment and let me tell you--it's *not* a good thing.

Suddenly Lance came up to my side, drinks in hand. As he handed me my vodka
on the rocks, his mouth dropped open as he took in the sight of my drug
addled cousin.

"Cynthia?" he asked, his eyes moving over her flushed face and glazed over
expression. "Are you okay?" Nervousness had filled his voice and I realized
that he cared about my cousin, despite her pain-in-the-ass qualities. How
could you not care about my younger cousin? No matter how annoying she
could be at times, she was a wonderful person. And here she was, doing
strange, exotic drugs in some Florida nightclub. Nice. Really nice.

"Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay?" Cynthia screamed at us, as
Josh came waltzing by in the nick of time.

"Hey you two," Josh greeted Lance and I, attempting to be heard over the
music and shouts of the other dancers. "I think our whole band is here
now," he snickered as he leaned in towards us.

"The whole band?" Lance asked curiously, as he took a sip of his
drink. "What are you talking about, Jayce?"

"The whole band is here," Josh laughed as he placed a protective arm around
the waist of his spacey girlfriend. "Justin is here with Harris, Joey came
with Cynthia and me--"

"We made up," Cynthia interjected monotonously as she began to fiddle with
her dress. She began to shimmy in place, her eyes still darting around as
she did so. "Me and Joey made up...." The rest of her words trailed off
into an unintelligible babble, which caused Josh to look at her with
concern.

"Cynthia--you didn't take anything while I was gone, did you" Josh asked
her suspiciously, touching her chin so that he could look her directly into
her creepy violet stare. I saw worry fill his eyes as he drew her lithe
body closer to his.

"Nope...I was just saying that me and Joey made up, that's all," Cynthia
said innocently, before choosing to stare hypnotically at the pair of
silver platform heels that were strapped on to her feet.

"Cynthia, are you sure you're okay?" Josh asked once more, his voice
growing frantic with worry. "You're just acting strange..." Looking back
over at Lance and I, the three of us exchanged curious looks. And then
that's when the tears began.

"Oh Josh..." Cynthia began to wail, as she wrapped her thin arms around his
neck, holding on to the tall `N Syncer for dear life. "I'm so
confused...where am I?" Tipping her head up to look at him, the tears
rolled down her neck, spotting her shimmery dress. "I took some
pills...please take me home...please?" I had seen the look on my poor
cousin's once before--back in high school when she had smoked some
pot. Cynthia just couldn't handle drugs--which I thought had always been
odd, since she could certainly handle her alcohol.

A distressed, but panicked look appeared on Josh's face as a still-crying
Cynthia buried her face into his shirt. "Oh my God," he breathed as he
wrapped his arms around her. "Cynthia--I'm gonna take you home,
sugar...don't worry."

Looking up at him, a scowl suddenly appeared on her face, though she was
still crying. "I told you Josh....I *hate* when you call me sugar..." she
snapped before burying her face in his chest once more. Shrugging at her
words, Josh just scooped up my cousin in his arms and looked back at Lance
and I.

"I guess I'll see you two later, `kay?" he asked, worry still lurking in
his eyes. "I'm gonna take my girl home...oh and just so you know, Justin
and Harris are in the VIP room...so is Chris and Danielle, I think." Josh
paused, looking around the crowded, dark club once more. "And Joey...he's
off somewhere...he said he was meeting some girl..." Looking back down at
his girlfriend in his arms, Josh's face softened. "I gotta get her home--or
to a hospital..."

"Okay, man," Lance said as Josh began to push through the crowd, my cousin
in his arms. "I'll see you later."

"Yup," Josh called over his shoulder. "See ya..." And then he was gone,
swallowed up by the flailing bodies of the dancers surrounding us. Lance
and I remained silent as we stood there, thinking about Cynthia. I knew
she'd be all right...or at least I hoped so.

"You think she's gonna be okay?" Lance asked worriedly as he cradled his
drink, his eyes flashing concern at the thought of my cousin drugged out of
her mind.

"Yeah," I nodded, taking another sip of my drink to calm my nerves. I was a
little worried, but not that much. I knew my cousin--and judging from
Josh's quick reaction to her distress, I knew that she was in good hands.

"Josh really cares about Cynth," Lance began, only to be cut off as a group
of dancers jostled me against his body, causing my half-full glass of vodka
to spill over the sides and onto my shirt.

"Nice," I sighed as the clear alcohol began to seep into a dark circle,
staining the porous cotton. "Nice place here..."

Lance watched as I attempted to brush the drops of liquid off of me, but
only caused it spread around even more. I wasn't mad. In fact, the spilled
drink didn't even faze me. So I was surprised when Lance suddenly touched
my arm.

"Stephen...I know how you hate clubs...so if you want to go home, it's
alright with me, you know," Lance offered. Smiling, I just shook my head at
him.

"Nah," I laughed. "Don't worry about it, Lance...I mean we're here and I
want to be here...so..." I trailed off, looking around me. "What do you say
we, uh, get down or something?" I accentuated my remark by giving my
boyfriend a goofy grin. "But I'm warning you--when I dance, I look like I
have a broken hip."

Laughing at my words, Lance just shook his head and reached out, grabbing
onto my forearm. "Oh big deal, Stephen...I don't care if you couldn't dance
to save your life...the important thing is that..." Moving closer so that I
could hear him, Lance gave me a shy smile. "I'm here with you. That's all
that matters..." And with those words, Lance pulled me off into the crowd,
ready to make the best out of our night.




Hours later, Lance and I headed upstairs to the club's VIP lounge. We were
sick of dancing and just needed a place to escape from the people around
us. But, I thought brightly, I had danced with more girls that I had ever
dreamed of, which if I were interested, would have been a wonderful thing.

As I sat in a booth in the VIP lounge, I checked my watch. It was almost
three-thirty in the morning and to be honest, I could feel my eyelids
drooping a little. I was tired and the alcohol that I had consumed earlier
wasn't helping matters much.

I turned my attention from my thoughts to the action going on around
me. Lance had gone to the bathroom ages ago and was nowhere to be
found. The lights in the lounge were even dimmer than the ones downstairs,
making it extremely hard for me to make out the figures surrounding
me. Squinting in the darkness, I looked around, trying to see where Lance
had wandered off to. My eyes finally fell onto a spiky, haired blonde,
cornered by some slutty looking girl who clearly wanted to get into his
pants. She was dressed in a slip of a top, and attempted to draw as much
attention as possible to her ample cleavage as possible. A few more seconds
passed, and I could tell that the blonde was none other than my boyfriend,
and judging from the uncomfortable look on Lance's face, he wanted to get
away from her as soon as possible.

Trying not to laugh out loud, I diverted my attention back to my last drink
of the night. I had been a good boy, stopping myself from getting too
wasted. Eyes still roaming around the nightclub, they finally landed on
some random couple who were making out like there was no tomorrow. And as I
became a Peeping Tom for a few seconds, a shot of envy flew through my
blood.

`Must be nice,' I thought as I polished off the remnants of my drink in one
gulp. `Sometimes', I thought as my eyes drifted back over to Lance, who was
still cornered by that girl in the nightclub. `Sometimes...I just wanted to
reach out and grab him when we were in public and kiss him...oh well', I
thought as I looked at my watch, `maybe one day'

These thoughts were quickly forgotten as I saw a large framed man amble
over to where I was sitting. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness once more,
I finally realized that the person coming over to me was Joey, his arm
slung around the shoulders of a somewhat pretty brunette.

"Stephen!" Joey called out as the two of them drew closer to me. Standing
on two wobbly feet to greet them, I saw the girl's face light up as her
eyes rested on my face. Blushing slightly, I wondered if I knew her from
somewhere or if I had met her somewhere along my travels. Her face still
drawing a blank, I just shrugged my shoulders and plastered a smile on my
face as they walked up to my booth.

"Hey Joe," I called back as I gave him a slight wave of my hand. "How're
you doing?"

"Good," Joey answered, a broad grin on his face as he turned to look at the
girl next to him. "Stephen, I want you to meet Amber--this is the girl you
talked to on the cell phone the other night." Still blushing under Amber's
scrutinizing gaze, I stuck out my hand, to which Amber immediately grabbed
at.

"Hi, Amber," I said politely as she shook my hand, gently stroking her
thumb up and down my palm as she did so.  My face turned even hotter and I
did my best to pull my hand away from hers like it was on fire. "How're you
doing? It's nice to meet you."

"I'm fine, Stephen...it's *very* nice to meet you as well," Amber said, her
voice as soft as it was the night before. Eyes glittering, they traveled up
and down the length of my body, stopping for more than a second as they
reached a certain spot under my belt. Looking down to see if I had left my
fly open, I found that my pants were zipped up. By this time, my face was
on fire as Amber's gaze grew even more intense while she began to speak
once more. "Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk more..." Suddenly, she
turned back to Joey, her brown eyes sparkling as she looked up at
him. "Joey, sweetie?"

"Yes?" he asked, staring into her eyes as she flashed him a flirtatious
smile. Batting her eyelashes at the `N Sync member she had snagged, Amber
seductively slid a hand up and down his arm.

"Could you get me a drink, sweetheart?" she cooed, her voice suddenly
changing from soft to sticky-sweet. Still peering into her beautiful eyes,
I saw Joey practically turn to a pile of mush under Amber's persuasive
gaze. Within seconds, he had hightailed it out of there, heading to the
bar, but not before leaving his new girlfriend with a passionate parting
kiss.

`So much for Cynthia's theories on groupies,' I thought somewhat smugly as
Amber slid into the booth next to me. Her body moved closer while her hips
bumped against mine, and her hand suddenly slid onto one of my thighs. The
smile she flashed at me was different than the one she had given
Joey...this one was much more seductive, filled with wanton lust that made
me extremely nervous. For some odd reason, the word, `Uh-oh' began to flash
through my mind, over and over.

"So...Stephen," Amber whispered somewhat breathlessly, as she continued to
press her body next to mine. "Are you really good friends with Joey? How'd
you get to know him?" For a few seconds, I was at a loss for words. Why in
God's name was this strange girl practically sitting in my lap? `I want
Lance', I thought pitifully as I looked back over to where he had been
standing and this time found him cornered by not one, but two slutty
looking girls. There was a somewhat desperate look on his face as the first
girl placed her arms around his neck. It took all of my composure not to
stand up and scream, `Hey! That's my boyfriend you're groping, bitch!!' And
maybe I would have, if Amber hadn't started running her fingers up and down
my arm just then.

Snapping my attention back to Joey's....uh...girlfriend, I felt a new wave
of panic run through my veins. "I...I...uh..." I stammered, not wanting to
be rude to this girl that I had just met only minutes ago. What the hell
was she doing? "Uh...."

"You know..." Amber began, her voice dropping a few notches as she moved
even closer to me, swinging a leg over my lap. "You're kinda cute....in
fact, you're much more that cute.." The amount of discomfort I felt at that
moment was monumental. I had never been good with girls, for obvious
reasons...and this was one of them. She was doing *nothing* for me...in
fact, the only thing I could think of at that moment was Lance. Lance and I
in bed. His arms around my body and his lips against mine. Our bodies
twisted into odd positions. Screaming his name out in joyous ecstasy. All
of these feelings ran through me as this girl pressed herself closer and
closer to mine.

"Uh...Amber...look...I'm already involved with someone," I said, before I
realized how pathetic I must have sounded. "I really am." Even more
pathetic. I just used the oldest excuse in the world.

The girl looked up at me with uninterested mahogany eyes, not giving a crap
that I was telling the truth. The present was what mattered the most to
her. "Oh come on, you're way too young to tie yourself down to one
person....let's have a little fun..." As I stared at her, my eyes
inadvertainly watched as she undid another button on her clingy minidress,
causing my eyes to be drawn to her breasts. I had made the mistake of
looking at them and now, for sure, Amber thought I was interested in her.

"Look, Amber," I croaked, my voice faltering with every word as I attempted
to back myself away from her, causing her to move closer and closer. She
reminded me of a tiger, stalking out their prey. "I'm...I'm gay...I like
guys."

She stared at me for a few seconds and I could tell that she was trying not
to laugh. I wondered how many guys had told her that one before. I didn't
have a chance to think, before Amber slid her hand up my arm once
more. "Yeah, right..." she laughed, as her face drew closer to mine. "I'm
*so* sure you are..." And with those words, she placed her pouty, gloss
covered lips on top of mine.

I froze. My body literary froze as Amber wrapped her arms around my waist
and knocked me onto my back in the cramped confines of the booth we were
in. I could feel the warm vinyl meet my back as Amber pressed me down onto
it. Her lips still on top of mine, I felt as her hands snaked their way
down my torso and then....

"Hey!" I screamed out, finally pulling my mouth away from hers. The feeling
of this strange girl's hands on my groin was odd, very odd...She looked at
me with a startled expression on her face. I wanted to say that I felt
violated, but I didn't. Instead, all I wanted to do was laugh my ass
off--right in her face. But I didn't do that either. Instead, I struggled
to pull myself back up into an upright position in the booth.

"What's wrong?" Amber purred, as she knocked me back down. Staring into my
eyes, she slowly began to place a trail of kisses down my neck. "You don't
like to do it in public? Okay, how about we go back to my place...I'm sure
Joey won't mind another guy in bed with us..."

"NO!!!" I exclaimed as I finally pulled myself up for good, nearly sending
Amber flying backwards into the opposite side of the booth. I cleared my
throat a couple of times and suddenly I wished that I had a large bottle of
vodka sitting there. If I ever needed a drink, now was certainly the
time. "Look, Amber," I began cooly as I straightened out my shirt. "You
seem nice, but I told you...I'm gay. I have a boyfriend."

`And his name is Lance,' the voice in my head spoke up, as my eyes drifted
back to where my boyfriend had been standing.  But he was gone. All I saw
were the two girls standing there, talking to each other, angry expressions
on their faces. Something must have happened, I thought, shaking my
head. Amber and I remained silent in the booth, and I began to scoot myself
away from her, just as Joey came back to the booth, drinks in hand.

"Hey sweets," he greeted Amber, who paid no attention to him as she
adjusted her dress, buttoning up the button that she had just undone for
me.  "I'm back." Looking up at Joey, Amber gave him a wan smile, as she
vainly continued to fix herself back up. She began to frantically dig
around in her purse, while Joey stood there, an odd expression on his
face. He knew something was up and the thoughts began to swirl through my
mind. Could he tell that Amber had kissed me? I wiped my lips, hoping that
there weren't traces of her bubblegum flavored lip gloss on me.

"Great," Amber finally sighed, allowing her eyes to drift back over to
me. A smile lit up her pretty face once more, as she winked at me. In the
blink of an eye, she leaned over while Joey took a seat next to her, and
somehow managed to slip me a scrap of paper. Looking down at it, I saw the
words, `You have a great package' scribbled on it, while her phone number
was hastily scrawled underneath the phrase.

I stared at her for a few seconds, completely open-mouthed at her
boldness. `She did that right in front of Joey', I thought in disbelief as
I slid out of the booth. I had to get out of there, before I wound up in a
room with both Joey and Amber later on.

"I'll see you two around," I said as I gave Joey and Amber a parting
wave. "There's someone I have to find." When I met Joey's eyes, he just
nodded quickly at me, knowing exactly who that person was. As I walked
around the club's elegant VIP room, I marveled at how strange my life had
become. Clubs, preferred treatment, strange girls hitting on me...I just
wanted some normalcy.

I wanted Lance.

As soon as this thought entered my mind, my tired, weary eyes sought out my
boyfriend. I wanted to talk to him...I wanted to be near him. I never
wanted to be an overly dependent boyfriend, but....I missed him. I
continued to look around the room, until I finally saw Lance. The slutty
girls were gone, and now replaced with none other than Justin and Harris.

"Hey," I said casually, as I walked up to their private little group. As he
turned to greet me, Lance immediately flashed me a happy smile, though I
could have sworn that something was bothering him. I know Lance. I know him
well enough to know when he's trying to hide something from me and this was
one of those moments. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but I knew better
than to ask when Justin and Harris were around. I just wasn't comfortable
with them yet, especially since last night...

"Hi Stephen," Justin welcomed me, moving over so that I could stand next to
Lance. "Uh...how have you been...since...I uh...last saw you." Immediately,
the image of a naked Justin holding a whip entered my mind as fast as a
bolt of lightening. My cheeks flushed at this, and I felt myself wanting to
burst into laughter, my previous worries about Lance now forgotten as my
mind refused to let the image of Justin go.

"Fine," I answered as I bit my lip, desperately trying to hold my laughter
back. The three of them were looking at me strangely as I tried to compose
myself. I'm sure they just thought that I was drunk or something. "I'm
okay...and you?"

"Fine..." Justin trailed off, looking as though he wanted to fall through
the floor. "Uh..I have to go to the bathroom...and..." I saw as Justin met
his lover's eyes briefly, before moving to mine. "Um...Stephen? Could I
speak to you for a second?"

I stood there, caught off guard to why Justin would want to talk to me. And
in the bathroom, no less. I felt my forehead wrinkle up in confusion as I
followed Justin to the men's bathroom. I looked back over my shoulder,
hoping that Lance was watching me, but to my dismay he wasn't. Harris had
already caught him in what seemed to be a heavy conversation, and Lance
wasn't even looking in my direction. Trying to stifle a sigh, I continued
to follow Justin to the bathrooms. I was nervous. I know what happens in
bathrooms, especially to gay guys. I'm not stupid.

"Look, Stephen," Justin said as we reached the stalls. "I don't really need
to go...I just wanted to ask you something..." I'm sure my eyebrows shot
clear off my head at that point. What could the curly haired lead singer
want to talk to me about? It's not as though we had so much in common. In
fact, despite the little talks I had with him on exactly two occasions,
Justin and I never spoke much. So what could he want from me, I thought as
Justin gave me a shaky smile. Hesitating, the blonde finally opened his
mouth as the shocking question fell into the dead air between us....




Minutes later, I had gotten out of that bathroom with my pride still
intact. I was freaking out. My heart was beating like a jackhammer and I
still couldn't believe it...

As I approached Harris, I noticed that Lance was gone. Panic overswept me
once more as I strode up to him, Justin trailing behind.

"Where's Lance?" I asked, trying to control my shaky voice. I just wanted
to get out of there, and I wanted Lance to come with me. I needed him. I
needed him to tell me that I wasn't overreacting like a hysterical two year
old.

"He, uh...left. He said that he'd meet you outside," Harris stammered, his
face scarlet. This was the first time I had seen him not looking calm and
controlled. And then I wondered if he had asked my boyfriend the same
thing. Lord...

"Shit," I swore under my breath as I turned back to Justin, who was staring
at his shoes with a perverse interest. "Look, I'll...I'll see you two
around, okay? Maybe we'll run into each other again..."

"Sure," Harris croaked out as I turned away from couple. "And Stephen?"

I didn't want to turn around. I really didn't. But I did.

Harris took a deep breath as our eyes met once more. "Look, I'm really
sorry about blowing up at you and Lance the other night...I was a
little..." He looked away for a second. "Drunk...and I really didn't know
what was going on...I was drunk...so I'm sorry if I seemed a little angry."

`A little angry?', I thought to myself incrediously, as I thought about his
temper last night when he had discovered Lance and I in the closet. `That
was an understatement.'

"It's okay," I heard myself saying. "Don't worry about it...I have to go
find Lance..."

And with that, I was heading towards the VIP room's exit. I needed to get
out of there and I wanted to make my getaway as soon as my feet would carry
me.

But I wasn't fast enough...

"Stephen?" a voice called out, causing me to spin around once more. At
first, I thought it was Justin or Harris calling me back, which accounted
for the scowl on my face. But that expression quickly changed once I saw
Chris standing there, his arm around the waist of a beautiful, smiling
blonde.

"Oh," I said, allowing my face to relax into a half-caring smile. "Hey
Chris--what's up?"

"Nothin'," He said, as a lopsided grin appeared on his face. "It's just
that I haven't seen you since the tour ended, man..." Leaning over to punch
me in the arm, a worried look appeared on his face. "You okay? You
know... I mean..."

I knew that he was talking about my mother, but right now, that was the
last thing on my mind. All I could think of was Lance, and him waiting for
me somewhere downstairs in the mass of people. But I didn't want to be rude
to Chris...

"I'm fine," I lied as I smiled at the pretty blonde next to him. "And who's
the beauty here?" I asked him as I lifted the girl's hand and kissed
it. God only knows why I kissed her hand. I was in a weird mood. Plus, she
didn't look like she was about to jump me like Amber did. The girl looked
over at Chris, an impressed look in her eyes.

"Stephen, I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Danielle...Danielle, this is
Stephen, Lance's boyfriend..." I snapped out of my mood once that word left
his mouth. Boyfriend? Did he go around telling everyone that Lance and I
were a couple?

"Oh!" Danielle exclaimed, her eyes brightening as she recognized my
name. "So you're Stephen..." she said, clasping her hand in mine and
holding it to her chest. "I've heard so many good things about you from
Chris." I looked back at Chris, hoping that he would explain. Soon.

"She knows, Stephen," Chris explained somewhat apologetically as he ran a
hand through his black hair. "It kinda slipped out that Lance was gay...and
that he met you...but don't worry about it." He smiled at his
girlfriend. "Danielle is one hundred percent trustworthy...I've been with
her forever."

Looking at the blonde, she gave me a firm nod of her head and I knew that I
could trust her as well. There's some people you just meet and you *know*
that they're good on the inside and outside. Danielle was one of them.

"I met your cousin..." Danielle said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "She
seems very...uh..." I could tell that she was trying to find a
complimentary word to describe Cynthia. "Outgoing," she finally settled on,
as a look of worry passed through her eyes. "I'm not sure, but she might
have taken some of the stuff they were handing out downstairs..."

"Yeah, that's my cousin," I muttered as I ran a hand nervously through my
hair. "Josh took her home already...she freaked out on him..." Shaking my
head at the memory, I then realized that Lance was still gone. I needed to
talk to him.

"Look, it was great meeting you, Danielle," I said, shaking her hand once
more. "And it was great seeing you too, Chris, but I really have to find
Lance..." As the words left my mouth, the two of them gave each other a
knowing look, as though to say, `Wow--he really is infatuated with Lance.'
And maybe I was, but something was wrong with both of us. I needed to find
Lance.

As I turned away form them, I finally left the VIP room and headed back
downstairs thorough the mass of sweaty, high-as-a-kite dancers. They were
bathed in an eerie darkness, thanks to the black lighting that shone from
the ceiling. Trying to make out the people around me, I came to the
conclusion that I would never find Lance in here.  But as I stood there,
surrounded by bodies that jerked to every pulse of the music, I suddenly
felt someone grab my hand. They spun me around, and before I even had a
chance to see who it was, their lips met mine in a frenzied display of
passion.

My first instinct was to pull away, but I couldn't. My second thought was
that the person's lips attached to mine were Amber's, who perhaps chased me
in a fit of craziness. But I knew that kiss...I would know it even if I had
amnesia. It was familiar and warm, loving and completely unexpected...my
blood pressure shot up about 100 points as Lance held on to my face,
holding me there so that I couldn't pull away from him. But he had no
worry, because I didn't want to...

Finally we broke apart and I stared into Lance's beautiful, expressive
eyes, which under the lights of the club, took on a red, demonic glow. He
looked possessed...scary...

"Lance," I whispered, knowing that he could hear me over the blaring, bass
heavy music. "What was that about?" I quickly looked around us,
half-expecting to see the gaping stares of the people around us, but they
were too lost in their own world to notice two guys kissing in the middle
of a crowed club, thank God.

"I need to talk to you..." Lance said, before pulling me by the wrist once
more. We wove in and out of people, in and out of dancers....until we
finally made it outside, the sweat on our bodies evaporating as the humid
night air hit our skin. Passing the throng of people still lined up
outside, someone yelled out Lance's name, but he ignored them, pulling me
into the darkness of the parking lot. Questions flew through my mind as the
soles of our shoes pounded against the pavement, but we kept running...

Finally stopping, Lance pulled me into the doorway of a darkened shop, and
pulled me close to him. I didn't even have a chance to say anything, before
he kissed me again, massaging my temples before running his hands down my
back. I felt a chill run down my spine as he did this....he moved his lips
to my neck...his body moved lower, until he lifted the hem of my shirt and
placed frantic kisses on my skin down there. My body began to respond in
ways that I couldn't control, and I had to stop this...I had to...

"Lance," I said, sliding my hands underneath his arms. I pulled him
upwards, yanking his mouth away from my body. "What's wrong? What are you
doing?"

"I love you, Stephen," he said anxiously, wanting to pull in for another
kiss. "I love you..."

"I love you too, Lance," I whispered, still holding him up. "But I need to
know why you brought me here? Why did you want to leave?? Tell me."

Lance grew silent for a few seconds, not sure what to say to me. The quiet
between us grew unbearable, and I was itching for Lance to say something,
anything...and he finally did.

"Stephen..in the club...so many things happened..." Lance disentangled
himself from my grip, straightened out his shirt and gazed at the ground
beneath us. "First, some strange girl...she kissed me...." The look on his
face was distraught with worry, as he finally looked back up at me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he reached out to touch my face. "Stephen, I
didn't want to kiss her, but she did..." My mind flashed back to Amber and
the lip lock she had given me earlier. Why hadn't I felt as guilty as Lance
did? Amber's kiss hadn't bothered me immensely...it was more humorous to me
than anything else. And now, there was Lance standing there in front of me,
sweating bullets and ready to fly off the handle. I felt terrible for
him...

"What kind of kiss was it?" I asked cooly, wanting to see what Lance had to
say. I leaned against the wall and folded my arms across my chest. `Let
Lance think I was angry,' I thought trying to hide the smile that dared to
appear on my lips.

"She rammed her tongue down my throat..." Lance said, his words barely
audible to my ears, while a fiery blush swept over his face. Running a hand
through his messy hair, Lance was unable to meet my eyes...

"Stephen, I'm so sorry," Lance said, sadness filling his eyes. "I'm so
sorry..." As I watched Lance plead for my forgiveness, I became
confused. Why was he freaking out on me here?  So a girl had frenched
him--big deal. I was mauled and attacked by Amber and had thought nothing
of it....

"C'mere," I said softly, opening my arms up. Lance fell into them
immediately and held onto me for dear life. I could feel his heart beating
against mine as his arms tightened around my body.

"Lance, I'm not mad," I whispered in his ear, while I stroked his back. I
wasn't. Anger was the furthest emotion from my mind at that moment. Right
then, I just felt lucky and blessed to have such a wonderful man in my
life. Someone who felt like kissing another person constituted as
cheating...

"You're not?" he asked, tipping his head up to mine. Smiling down at my
boyfriend, I just shook my head and gently kissed him on the tip of his
nose. I looked up and smiled at the safety of the doorway we were hidden
in. I liked it.

"Nope--in fact...a girl kissed me tonight too," I confessed, holding Lance
to me. "Amber...Joey's `girlfriend'...if you want to call her that..."
Hearing my news, Lance's eyes grew wide, and then another thought entered
his mind. And I had a feeling it pertained to Justin and Harris.

"But that's not it," Lance protested as he looked back down at his
feet. "Something else happened and it completely freaked me out..." The
smile disappearing from my lips, I *knew* what had happened.

"Stephen...Harris asked me if you and I wanted to..." A blush shot up
Lance's neck. "Get together...with him and Justin and..."

"Have hot wild monkey sex?" I interjected as I pulled my boyfriend closer
to me and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Yeah," Lance swallowed, looking as though he was going to start
screaming. "Exactly." The blush began its ascent up his face. "The four of
us...and Stephen...I said no." Relief filled my heart, thankful that I
wasn't about to have some kind of sex date involving Lance's bandmate and
his opera singing boyfriend.

"So did I," I sighed as I held him tighter. "I know...Justin asked me in
the bathroom. That's what he wanted to talk to me about." Lance and I
remained wrapped up in each others arms for a couple of seconds, not
wanting to move from the safety of each others arms. It felt good to hold
each other. Lance rested his head on my chest, disturbed by the wild night
that we had gone through and let out a sigh, before looking back up at me
again.

"That's all you did in the bathroom, right?" A look of mock suspicion
appeared on his face. At which, I couldn't help but laugh at. He looked
cute. And I suddenly felt like a balloon that had it's air let out. I felt
better. Knowing that Lance had freaked out at the proposition like I had.

"Well..." I began teasingly, watching as Lance's eyes grew round with
shock. "Nah--that's all Justin did, don't worry," I said thankfully. "He
didn't get a free feel up or anything."

"Whew," Lance smiled as he kissed me on the nose. "I feel better..." He
grew silent for a few seconds, placing his head on my chest as we stood
there in the doorway of the closed shop. He looked back up at me a few
seconds later, question marks for eyes.

"Stephen...aren't gay guys supposed to want to get together and
have...um..." I could tell that the thought was making my boyfriend
uncomfortable. He didn't want to say the words. "You know..." he stammered,
his face scarlet at the thought.

"So shy at times," I laughed. "But so naughty at others." Watching as Lance
flushed even more, I continued. "I know what you mean though...huge,
freaking orgies, right? Caligula would have even blushed..." Tipping
Lance's chin up so I could look straight into his eyes, a smile appeared on
his lips.

"Yup." Not breaking our gaze, Lance continued to talk, wrapping his arms
around my waist a little tighter. "Stephen...I can't imagine sleeping with
anyone *but* you. You're... you're..." He hesitated for a second as the
words rushed out of his mouth. "You're my everything. I love you."

"I love you too, Lance," I sighed as his lips met mine once more. "No one
else. No matter how many strange girls kiss us, I still love you the most."
Another kiss, this one even sweeter than before, only to be interrupted by
the giggles that started to escape our lips.

"Hey, you could have gotten lucky," Lance teased me, sounding much more
relieved than when we had first come here. "In fact, we both could have
gotten some..."

"Nah," I said shaking my head, as I placed a quick kiss on his
forehead. "The only person I want to be getting any from is you."

"Aww, thanks," Lance said, trying to sound and look bashful. It didn't
work. A mischievous grin appeared on his lips, as he reached out to touch
my cheek. "So you wanna go home and do it then? You can finally start
worshiping me." Laughing at my boyfriend's eagerness, I could only nod as
we walked out of the dark shadows and onto the well lit street. Side by
side, we walked closely so that everytime our hands swung next to our
sides, our hands would brush against each others. Emerging from the dark,
we began to pass a couple brightly lit shops, still open for late night
business.

One of the storefronts caught my slightly sleepy eyes, and I was drawn to
it like a firefly at a campfire. Mesmerized by the activity going on
inside, I watched through the panel window. Noticing that I had stopped
dead in my tracks, Lance walked back over to where I was standing.

"Come on, Stephen..." Lance whined, tugging on my sleeve. "Unless you want
to get a tattoo...." A soft laugh escaped his lips at the idea and I looked
back at him with a expression of complete seriousness on my face. The
tattoo parlor that I had passed had immediately piqued my interest
because...well...I had always wanted one.

"Maybe I do," I answered quietly as I turned back to the window and watched
the man inside of the shop get a design poked into his skin. "Nothing too
ugly...just something small...like the ones you have on your ankle."

"Stephen, I got these when I was drunk in Hawaii," Lance explained as he
lifted up his pant leg to show me his two tattoos. "And when I woke up the
next morning, they hurt like hell..."

"So?" I asked as I turned to give him a grin. "Are you saying that I can't
handle a little pain? Calling me a wuss?"

"Yes," Lance answered seriously, not even cracking a smile. "It hurts
Stephen and besides, what would you get?" His words faded away as I walked
into the establishment, and looked around. It seemed clean enough--not some
huge, scary, burly guy doing the needlework. In fact, the tattoo artist was
an older, punk girl who, as I continued to watch her, seemed to know what
she was doing.

"Come on, Stephen." I looked over my shoulder to see Lance standing in back
of me, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're not really gonna get one,
are you?"

"Why not?" I asked, before looking back at a menu of designs that lined the
walls. "I don't see the harm in getting one, do you?"

"It's so...spontaneous..." Lance argued. "It's not like you, Stephen...sure
you're not drunk?"

I had to laugh at his comment. Him asking me if I was drunk...usually it
was the other way around. "No, Lance, I'm not....it's just that I've always
wanted one. For the longest time, but I never knew what I wanted. I was
gonna get one on my twenty-first birthday, but I never knew what I wanted
to get...." As my eyes continued to search the possible decorations on the
wall, I had an idea. I knew what I wanted to get and to be honest with you,
I was surprised such an intricate design had popped into my mind so late at
night. Suddenly, an idea for a very funny tattoo popped into my brain.

"Hey, I have an idea," I murmured excitedly under my breath to Lance, who
was looking around the place. "How about if I get a tattoo on my ass that
says, `Property of Lance?'" I snickered. My suggestion caught Lance
completely off guard, as evidenced by the way he reacted. His face turning
bright red, my boyfriend began to choke on his own spit like a madman.

"Stephen," Lance managed to croak out, while I pounded on his back, trying
to stop his wild coughs.  When he finally calmed down and regained the
power of speech, a mischievous grin flew across his lips. "I have an even
better one..." Leaning his mouth to my ear, I heard him whisper, "How about
one on your ass that says, `Property of JLB--no other entry permitted?"

A snort of laughter ripped out of my nose, as I doubled over, trying to
control my hysteria. This caused the girl who worked there as well as the
man she had just worked on to turn from their places and stare at me as
though I had started screaming at the top of my lungs. Holding his hand to
his mouth, Lance laughed silently to himself while I did my best to regain
my composure.

Finishing up with the customer, the girl working there chose that moment to
walk over to us. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked politely, though a
curious look remained on her face as we attempted to push down our giggles,
and act like decent members of society.

"Yes," I answered, doing my best to keep Lance's aforementioned tattoo out
of my mind. I swallowed another fit of giggles and I attempted to turn
professional and wipe the tears of laughter out of my eyes. "I was
interested in getting a tattoo tonight..."

"Okay," the girl nodded. She gave me a a bright smile, while grabbing onto
my elbow, she began to lead me over to a counter. "My name is Lynda and you
are..." She looked up at me, waiting for my answer.

"My name is Stephen," I said, before turning my head back towards
Lance. "And *that* is my, uh...friend, Lance." My words were awkward and
clumsy, as I lied to Lynda. But I wasn't gonna come out and just say that
Lance was my boyfriend. Lydia's bright gray eyes critically examined my
boyfriend for a couple of seconds, lighting up once she realized who he
was.

"You're the guy from `NSYNC aren't you?" she asked, trying her best to act
unimpressed as she walked in back of the counter. Walking over to me, Lance
nodded and looked a bit uncomfortable at her mediocre interest in him.

"Yeah, I am," he said almost apologetically, as thought he really didn't
want to admit it. And to be honest, I don't think I would have wanted to
admit it either. The tattoo parlor, though clean and well-lit, had posters
of old-school punk bands tacked onto it's walls. Pictures of the Sex
Pistols, the Runaways, and the Ramones surrounded us, as well as images of
older goth bands like The Birthday Party , 70's-era Siouxie and the
Banshees and Bauhaus. This was not exactly the type of place where `N Sync
and their slick, slightly over-produced music would be welcomed, I thought
with worry. Lance and I both fell silent as Lynda rummaged around
underneath the counter. When she popped back up to look at us, a ear-to-ear
grin was slapped on her face.

"You know," she laughed shyly. "I'd never admit it if you weren't here, but
I *do* like your songs." Shaking her head as she said this, a bemused
expression appeared on her lips. "You know, `Bye Bye Bye' and all that,
but--" She held a finger up to her violet colored lips, "Shhhh, don't tell
anyone." Lynda rolled her eyes at us. "If this got out to anyone else that
worked here--" she ran a finger over her neck. "Forget it, the guys
would*never* let me forget about it." Lance and I laughed, our frayed
nerves eased and calmed by Lynda's easy going demeanor.

"So what kind of tattoo were you interested in?" she asked. Flipping her
shocking red hair over one shoulder, Lynda patiently waited while I thought
about what I wanted permanently etched on my skin.

"Do you do custom designs?" I asked, desperately hoping that she would say
yes. And as though my prayers were answered, Lynda nodded her head in
agreement.

"Yup--as long as their not too bizarre or intricate--but let me tell
you--I've been doing this for about eight years and I have *never* met
something that I couldn't do." She smiled before continuing. "So what were
you thinking of getting?"

Sliding a black felt tip pen and a sheet of white paper over to me, I began
to draw out the idea I had in mind. Once I drew the simple shape, I slid
the paper back over to Lynda. Leaning over, Lance looked at it, his
eyebrows immediately dipping into a frown. As I waited for her answer,
Lance gave me a swift kick in the leg.

"What the hell is that?" he hissed, looking confused at the symbol that I
had drawn. Smiling mysteriously, I just shook my head at him, not wanting
to explain it right in front of Lynda. Although she was nice--much nicer
than I had even expected--I wanted the symbol that was about to be tattooed
on my skin only to be a secret between Lance and I.

Still staring at the paper, a smile creeped across Lynda's face. "Yup, I
can do this..." She squinted at me for a second, before sliding a set of
papers for me to fill out. "You *are* eighteen aren't you? `Cause if you're
not, I'm gonna need your parent's permission."

I began to laugh. "Yup, I'm twenty-one...and it would be kinda hard to ask
my parents," I began as I scribbled out my information on the forms. "Their
both dead..." Next to me, I felt Lance stiffen in slight shock. I guess he
hadn't expected me to say that. And honestly, neither did I. The words just
kinda left my mouth unexpectedly. But I gave Lynda credit; she didn't even
flinch at my remark.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said politely, looking down at the paper in front of
her. "I really am--trust me, I know--both of my parents died in a car
accident when I was fourteen." A brief, unintentional sigh left her lips as
she stamped a section on the form before meeting my eyes. "And don't say
your sorry," she warned me, wagging a silver-ringed finger in my
face. "I've gone through enough `I'm sorry's' to last me a lifetime...it's
tough at first though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed as Lynda walked around from her place in back of the
counter, and motioned for Lance and I to follow her. "It is...it's just
weird." I paused, not sure if I wanted to really spill my feelings to a
girl I had just met. But then I figured, `Why the hell not.' It wasn't like
I'd ever see her again. "I don't know how to react," I pushed on. "It's
like I want to feel guilty, but I don't want to lull in this gloom for the
rest of my life."

As the three of us reached the back, Lydia parted a brightly beaded
curtain, allowing us to walk into the room. "Oh yeah, I know what you
mean--I don't know about your situation, but my parents died on their way
picking me up from a friends house." Lynda stared off into space for a few
seconds, before snapping back to life and looking at Lance and I once
more. "I felt guilty for ages--I kept thinking that it was my fault." I
thought I saw her black rimmed eyes briefly fill with tears, but faster
than you could blink, Lynda gave us a bright smile, the tears
gone. Motioning towards me to take a seat on the reclining chair, Lynda
began to get the needle and the ink ready.

"That's exactly how I felt," I mumbled under my breath as I lay in the
leather chair, thinking that Lynda wouldn't hear me--I was wrong.

"Oh you're gonna feel like that for awhile, Stephen," Lynda said wisely, as
she spun back around to face me. "It's gonna take a long time for you to
get over that feeling--" She let out a bitter laugh as she popped out a new
needle from a sealed package. "But once you do, you're gonna know it."

"Really?" I asked hopefully, surprised by how motivating Lynda's simple
words were.

"Yup," she nodded, smiling at me as she took a seat on the stool next to my
chair. "You will--take it from someone who's been there, I know you will."
She playfully slapped me on the knee and let out a girlish laugh. "You seem
like a toughy, Stephen." Looking up at my boyfriend, who was watching our
interaction curiously. Noticing Lance's interest, Lynda's eyes took on a
mischievous sparkle. "After all, you're hanging out with a member of a
boy-band--you've gotta be tough to do that."

"Hey!' Lance protested, looking offended at her sly comment. "You said you
liked our songs!"

"Shhhh," Lynda whispered, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at us. "*I* never
said that." All three of us broke out into laughter at her remark and for
some reason, I felt good. I felt really good. It was as though the ray of
sunlight that had been trying so hard to appear in my life, finally broke
through, flooding me with a newfound giddiness that I hadn't felt in
ages. Part of it was Lynda's words, but part of it was Lance. He was still
here with me. Through all of the ups and downs I had endured, Lance was
still by my side, wanting to be there for me every step I went through. And
what really made me feel happy was that I wanted to be there for him as
well. I had lived the past two months with him by my side and now without
him, my life would have been so empty...it was a scary thought. As these
thoughts swirled throughout my mind, my brown eyes met his green ones
instinctively. And as we gazed at each other, I knew that he was thinking
the same thoughts as me. I just knew it. A small smile appeared on his rosy
lips and I knew at that moment, the tattoo I was getting on my back would
be perfect.

Suddenly, the harsh buzzing of the tattoo needle brought me back to
life. My neck snapped round to where Lynda was sitting, needle shining in
the bright overhead lights, ready to poke a design into my skin. She was
staring at Lance and I a bit oddly, but just ignored our intent gazes and
got down to business.

"Well...are you ready?"

I couldn't help it. My eyes were magnetically drawn to Lance once more,
where he was watching me with a look of concern. Moving closer to where I
lay, I could tell that he wanted to grab onto my hand. I don't know why he
was so worried...

"Stephen, are you sure you want to do this?" Lance asked, his voice
cracking as he said those words. All I did was smile at my anxious
boyfriend and nod my head up and down.

"Yup," I answered. "More than ever. You have two of them yourself, so
what's the big deal...a tattoo's a tattoo..." But for some reason, this
tattoo wasn't one that I wanted to share with everyone. I wanted it to be
personal. Something secret between Lance and I.

"Is it okay to have it placed on my lower back?" I suddenly asked Lynda as
I pointed to the spot I wanted to be permanently marked. "More over to the
left, if you could?"

"Yup, no problem there, Stephen," Lynda agreed as her hands brushed against
the material covering my back. "You just have to lower your pants a
little--" She looked up at Lance as she said this, grinning like a
maniac. "This is one of the perks of my job, you know. Do you know how many
cute guy's asses I get to see?"

Chuckling to myself, I unbuckled my belt and lowered my pants a little,
feeling the warm air hit my bare skin. I felt around the area on my back,
making sure that the skin I wanted tattooed was exposed. I laid face down
on the chair and pointed the area of placement out to Lynda.

"Right here," I told her, craning my neck to show her the spot. Giving me
one last reassuring smile, I felt as she wiped my skin off with a wet piece
of cotton, while the strong scent of rubbing alcohol filled my nostrils. I
took a deep breath as the whirring of the needle seemed to get louder. A
brief flash of fear passed over me, and then I was calm once again.

"Ready, Stephen?"

"Yup," I answered, closing my eyes as I felt the sharpness of the needle
began to hit my skin.

I kinda faded out of reality then, since the pain of the needle was greater
than I had even imagined. Had I had a moment of insanity when I decided to
get this? I slammed my eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to
escape. `Lance was right,' I thought. `I am a wuss...what had I been
thinking, deciding to welcome a pain that wasn't Lance-inflicted??' I
wanted to scream out loud, hoping that would alleviate the pain that was
coursing throughout my body at that moment.

As I was thinking this, I suddenly felt Lance's hand wrap protectively
around mine. Opening my eyes a crack, I saw my boyfriend staring at me with
more than a look of concern in his eyes--I saw love and caring. And it
nearly melted my heart. My previous pain was forgotten, replaced by the
feelings that I had for Lance.

"You okay, Stephen?" Lance asked softly, reaching out to move a lock of
hair out of my eyes. I managed to nod without whimpering pitifully, like a
sad dog would do. Part of me wanted me to pull away from him--as I had done
so many times before--so that Lynda wouldn't see us holding hands. But a
larger and more forceful part of me refused to let our hands part. And to
my surprise, I listened to it. I held onto Lance's hand like my life
depended on it, never letting go, never loosening my grip once. Peering
into his chartreuse eyes, I felt my breath catch in my throat...

"All done," Lynda announced brightly, shutting off the needle. The buzzing
stopped and I felt my heart slowly regain normal beating status. "It looks
great," she declared, sounding proud of her handiwork. "Want to see?"

"Yeah," I called out a little weakly, as I my slipped hand from
Lance's. "I'd like to see." Handing me a mirror, Lynda flashed me a bright
smile as she watched me attempt to look at my lower back. There, on my
skin, was the black tattoo. It was just as I imagined: two Taurus symbols
placed end to end, with an infinity symbol locking them together. And
although it was red around the edges and a little bloody in some spots, it
looked great.

"Hey, thanks Lynda," I said, impressed by how skillful she was with the
needle. I continued to move the mirror around, examining it from as many
angles as I could. "It's exactly like the drawing..." Placed the mirror
down, Lynda began to tape and bandage my freshly inked skin. While she did
this, Lynda also gave me a few tips on taking care of it over the next few
days while Lance stood there and watched, the concern gone from his eyes,
now replaced with a look of pride. Once she finished, I got up, pulled up
my pants and buckled my belt. Peering at Lance, who was watching my actions
like a hawk, I smiled and reached out to brush my fingers over his
hand. Beaming at my actions, Lance grabbed for my hand, only to drop it
like a hot potato when Lynda looked at us.

"You two can come up front and I'll ring you out, okay?" Lynda asked
brightly, as she picked up my paperwork and began heading towards the
door. Nodding, Lance and I began to follow her, sneaking silent glances at
each other as we walked back through the beaded curtain and down the hall.

Suddenly, Lynda spun around to face Lance and I. "Look--I promise my lips
are sealed about you two...you know..." Giving us an innocent smile, Lynda
finished off her all-knowing thought with a wink. "Together."

Lance and I stopped dead in our tracks at hearing her words. "W-what?"
Lance stammered, holding onto the wall next to him trying to support his
now-shaky knees. His face turned pale and I could that he was freaking out
inside. I know I was.

`I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,' the voice in my head suddenly spoke
up. You slip one time by holding hands and everyone figures out that you
and Lance are a couple. `Are we really that obvious?' I questioned myself
as my brain searched for some kind of answer to give Lynda. While the
adrenaline surged through my body, Lynda was now leaning against the wall,
arms folded calmly over her chest, a look of mischief on her face.

"How did you know?" Lance asked weakly, glancing off to the side at me. He
reluctantly shrugged his shoulders in an `I give up' sort of way. Lynda's
innocent smile suddenly changed to a devilish one as she turned away from
us, heading back to the register, calling her response over her shoulder.

"I didn't."




Lance and I managed to leave the tattoo parlor in pretty high spirits. Sure
I was forty dollars poorer, but I was happy. After we had sworn Lynda to
secrecy about us being together ("Don't worry about it," had been her
answer. "I'm kinda like a hairdresser in a lot of aspects--I know tons of
secrets, but I never spill any of them."), and bidded her a good night (she
had also given Lance and I her phone number just in case we ever needed to
talk-- "I'm a kick ass listener, you know."), we hit the street once more,
heading back towards the club in search of Lance's 4-runner.

We walked in the surprising silence of the night. The streets seemed to be
empty, and no other souls, except for Lance and I seemed to even be
around. It was a nice change of pace from the earlier moments of the night,
when I had been surrounded by all those people in the club.

As we continued down the cobblestone street, I was a bit taken aback as
Lance suddenly grabbed my wrist once more and pulled me into the darkened
doorway that we had taken shelter in earlier. Before I could even say a
word, Lance pulled my face to his and kissed me. It was a hot, demanding
kiss, curious and inquisitive but still comforting at the same time. I felt
his hands creep around my waist, his fingertips slowly brushing over my
bandaged up tattoo, before sliding up the material of my shirt, touching my
skin and bringing me even closer to his body. All of my breath was sucked
out, as Lance's mouth demanded another kiss from mine, and I eagerly
succumbed to his needs, falling almost limp in his arms.

"Whoa," I whispered once our mouths parted. It was the only word my larynx
could form. Any other coherent thoughts were forgotten, turning to mush as
Lance's eyes stared into the depths of my soul.

"Yeah, I know," Lance murmured, moving his lips to my cheek, brushing over
the slight stubble that covered my face. We remained entwined in each
others arms for a couple of seconds, before he pulled away again, peering
inquisitively at me this time.

"Stephen? Can I ask you a question?" Lance asked, his words coming out in
breathless gasps as the pads of his fingertips slowly massaged my back in
small circles.

"Shoot," I managed to say, as I felt his groin pressing into mine. I was
going to die there, right in that darkened doorway, if Lance kept doing
this to me.

"What does your tattoo mean?" His eyes flickered over my face as he asked
me this, needing to know what symbol I had gotten permanently inked onto my
skin.

I felt a slight redness creeping over my face. `He's going to think I'm
insane', I thought silently as I leaned over to gently press my lips to his
neck. "You really want to know?"

"Of *course*," Lance murmured, closing his eyes at my touch. "Yes,
Stephen--tell me, you're driving me insane..."

"Okay...well...I had been thinking...your astrological sign is Taurus,
right?"

"Uh-huh--and if I'm not mistaken, so is yours, right Stephen? May 14,
right?"

"Yup--good boy, you remembered my birthday...anyways...that's what the two
hooked symbols are...they're both the astrological symbol for Taurus--the
bull..." I explained, my voice faltering a little bit. I didn't want Lance
to think I was some obsessive nut. But by the look in his eyes, Lance
seemed be more enchanted with my explanation than freaked out.

"Go on..." he said slowly, urging me on with a kiss. "I'm waiting..."

"Well, the thing in the middle is the infinity symbol--you know, it links
us together... forever..." My voice faded off as I said this, hoping that
Lance wouldn't burst out laughing at my lame explanation of why I had
chosen this design.

Lance stood there, looking a little floored by the words I had just
spoken. It took all of my composure not to crumble into bits as I
desperately waited for some kind of answer from him. But it was worth my
wait...

"Stephen," Lance whispered, looking up at me, meeting my eyes in the dim
shadows that were casted by the streetlights. "I didn't know you cared so
much..."

"You didn't know?" I asked him, placing a teasing light kiss on the tip of
his nose. "Oh come on..."

"No! I mean, I did know, but you know..." Lance said a bit bashfully, a
blush spreading across his face. "I'm just really touched that you put so
much thought into it--and just didn't get any old tattoo like I did."

"Aww, shut up," I laughed as I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I like
your tattoos--I think their nice."

"But I like yours even better," Lance murmured as he wrapped his arms
around my neck and kissed me on the chin. "And I certainly don't mind
looking at it."

"Well, get used to it, because you're the only one who's seeing it,
Mr. Bass," I warned him. "Not another soul is going to know about my
tattoo."

"Ooh, a secret!" Lance laughed as he kissed me once more. "I like these
secrets,you know? The ones between you and me and no one else." His face
softened in the moonlight, his eyes turning jade as they took on a dreamy
cast. "I love you, Stephen...more than anyone in the entire world."

"I know, Lance," I sighed as our lips met once more. And as his warm mouth
met mine again, I knew that I would never forget this moment. Never, ever,
ever. It was just too perfect. The sweetness of his kiss, the passion
lurking behind it, and Lance, right there, his arms wrapped tightly around
me. I wanted to say something, transcribe my feelings into something more,
but I was at a loss for words. And then I realized there was only one thing
that fit this moment. Pulling my mouth from his, I looked into his eyes
once more, so overwhelmed by everything that had happened...there was only
one thing I *could* say.

"I love you too."


********** And now here's where I become a big, whining bitch :)

Author's Note: I hate to do stuff like this, but I feel I have
to...basically, I'll get right down to it. I want to know if MSR has become
unbelievably boring and dull and in short, does anyone even read this
anymore? I know there are a few who still do, but I guess I just want to
know if anyone hung around after the long chapters I posted last month. I
hate begging and I guess this is what I'm doing, but *Please*, if you think
MSR totally sucks, drop me a line at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com

Thanks if you're still reading. I love you all =) Take care and I'll see
you the next time around, poodles (W&G all the way there!). Thank you and
good night.

Love ya, Gabriella