Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2001 19:17:49 -0500
From: Gabriella Morrison <sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Surprise Romance 50

Hi y'all =)

Betcha didn't think I'd be updating so soon? But alas, school has been out
for awhile and what not, so....I had some free time on my hands, instead of
studying for Biology. And so here's another installment of MSR and yes,
this one kicks off Part 3 - People Change.

First before I go any further - thank you to the people who took the time
out to write me last time. I *always* appreciate feedback. *Always*.
Whatever you want to send, whether it be adoration mail, or hate mail
(Flames! I want a flame!!!!) can be sent to sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com
. That's the address. Use it, love it, know it.

Second, I need to thank a couple of people here. Killian and John for being
wonderful. Brian for sending me the email that kicked my butt into gear and
got me writing again. Clarkey for that talk on Saturday night--it put *so*
many things into perspective. And of course, Justin and Val for...just...
everything. Words can't even describe how much you two helped me through my
crisis. It meant so much, and I'm so lucky to know you two guys. I love you
both =)

Third, go and visit my website - http://www.freespeech.org/gabriella . It's
fun. It's purple. It's got Lanshy on it. Go. =)

And with that, I present to you, Chapter 50 of MSR...the "smutty/sappy"
chapter.

DISCLAIMER: Do you think I know Lance? Hell, no. Even if I wanted to, he'd
probably hear my my name and run away from me as fast as he could...you
gotta be over 18/21 to read this stuff...blah, blah, blah


*******************

My Surprise Romance

People Change

Chapter 50

Reality Bites

Copyright 2001 Gabriella Morrison



Knock, knock, knock

At first I thought the soft knocking against my front door was just a
figment of my imagination. I thought that maybe it was all part of some
crazy dream I was having...things that were only present in my mind.
Content with this answer, I just turned over in my king-sized bed, pulled
the sheets closer to my chin and closed my eyes.

I had been living at my new apartment for the past month or so. It's
location was closer to the University, and although I arrived at school
sooner than before, it also meant I was farther from my sweet, comfy
suburban upbringing. I didn't have a lawn anymore. I didn't have a
backyard.  And I didn't think I would miss those things that much, but I
did. I missed those things like crazy but there was nothing I could do
about it.

And my neighbors...don't even get me started on those nutjobs...If I wasn't
being waken up by the crazy woman who lived in the apartment next door (it
seemed that she only liked to organize her pots and pans at four a.m), then
I was being harassed was the drunk girl who pounded on my door at five
a.m. She had seen me in passing once, and I guess I must have resembled one
of her ex-boyfriends, because when she first laid eyes on me, her automatic
reaction was to wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me.

And this was on the first day I moved in.

I hated every second of my new life. I hated everything I had gone through
in the past few weeks--selling the house, dealing with the stuck-up, snotty
as hell real estate dealers and agents. I hated going back to school,
having to deal with assignments and projects and classes. This wasn't the
life I was used to..

I missed Lance. Terribly. We had been apart for as long as I had been
living on my own, and I missed him. We had never been separated for this
long. My nights stretched on restlessly and I desperately missed the warmth
of his body next to my own. I woke up every single morning miserable,
cranky and well..lonely. I wasn't well-rested.  As I tossed and turned in
my bed, I momentarily stared at the ceiling, desperately wishing that the
morning would come already, the sun would rise and another long day in my
miserable life would be over and done with.

What scared me the most was the realization that I must have grown
overdependent on Lance. That in itself was embarrassing for a good deal of
reasons, that I don't feel like getting into at that moment. So instead, I
turned over in bed once more and sighed. I had to get to sleep. I had a
government exam tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp. It counted as
one-third of my grade and I *needed* to get a decent grade on it. I needed
to...

Knock, knock, knock.

I tried to ignore the knocking, this time by stretching myself onto my
stomach, rolling my body into the spot where Lance's body would have
laid. He was off in Los Angeles, attending some kind of awards dinner. And
a few days before, he had been in New York City, singing and dancing and
accepting awards at the MTV Video Awards. I missed that performance. I
didn't have cable hooked up at my apartment. But it wouldn't have mattered
even if I did, because when Lance was on stage, I was sitting in the
sculpture room, located in the basement of the University. I was covered
from head to toe in goopy plaster crap.  Noticing my black mood, my friend
Marianne did her best to cheer me up, standing on the work table and
singing showtunes..

She didn't know the reason for my crankiness. Marianne had just assumed
that I was such a miserable wreck because I had been trapped inside of the
school since eight a.m. Boy, was she ever wrong...

Knock, knock, knock

"Goddamn it!" I finally screamed out in frustration while sitting straight
up in my bed. In a show of anger, I threw my pillow to the floor and stared
at it for a couple of seconds, until the persistent knocks started up once
more. Angrily, I swung my legs out of the bed and began the short walk to
the front door. On the way there, I managed to collide right into my easel,
knocking my current painting right to the floor.

"Fuck," I swore under my breath as I roughly kicked the half-finished
canvas to the side. Normally, I took much better care of my paintings than
what I had just done. I treated every painting like my first born child,
but at that moment I didn't care. All I cared about was seeing who the hell
was knocking on my door at 4:34 a.m.

I didn't look through the peephole. I didn't care if they were planning to
kill me, because it was highly likely that I would kill them first. All I
did was unlatch the chain, unlocked the lock that kept the burglars away
and threw the door open, ready to scream bloody murder at the person who
wouldn't stop their incessant knocking.

But I didn't scream. Any sane or insane thoughts flew out of my head. My
heart dropped to the floor as a shaky smile crossed my features. It was the
first smile I had cracked in days...

"Stephen?" Lance echoed softly, his eyes bleary-looking as he stared at me
from his place in the hallway. A smile formed on his lips and my eyes drank
in the sight of him, standing there, leaning against the frame of the
door. "You okay?" He reached out to touch my cheek, and once his fingertips
began to stoke my skin, I felt the anger inside of me melt the same way an
ice cube would do on a hot, summer day...

Lance wasn't supposed to even be here. He was supposed to be in Los
Angeles. Tomorrow, was supposed to have been some kind of interview or
something. I don't know. The men of *NSYNC had more interviews than I had
mood swings lately...

"Yeah," I breathed, blinking a couple of times, just to make sure that
Lance was really there, and that he wasn't like a mirage in a desert. He
wasn't. He was really and truly there, standing in front of me, living and
breathing and well...just grinning like a maniac. I felt relieved that
Lance was just as happy to see me as I was to see him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep the happiness out of my
voice. "You didn't call....I thought you were coming to visit me in a few
days..."

"I know," Lance said, his eyes lighting up as he noticed the clear look of
astonishment written all over my face. "I kinda...um..." He paused
sheepishly and he stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. Eyes
falling to the floor, the green eyes I had been longing to look at finally
met mine as he finished up his thought. "...Lied to you...hope you're not
mad at me..."

"Mad?" I asked, my voice filling with amazement. "*Mad*? Lance," I said
softly, as I opened the door to my apartment wider. "Lance...you don't know
how happy I am to see you right now..."And then I realized that my
boyfriend--the person I had been longing to see for the past few weeks--was
still standing outside my apartment.

"Come on in," I said hastily as Lance gave me another smile. Hands still
shoved into his pockets, my boyfriend walked into the apartment, and as he
did so, he purposely brushed his body gently against mine. Closing my eyes
at the shocks his touch sent throughout me, I did my best to ignore him.

`You have to get up early tomorrow,' I told myself. `You promised you'd
meet Marianne at school to study for the exam. The last thing you need
right now is to knock your concentration off just because Lance is here...'
While the subconscious part of me rapidly sifted through my lame-ass
reasoning, the sensible side took one glimpse into those bright, green eyes
and all thoughts died right on the spot.

`Forget it,' I said to myself, shaken by the look of yearning that lingered
in his eyes. `There's no way I'm gonna be able to get back to sleep...'

"Thanks," Lance smiled as I closed the door and locked up. Taking a deep
breath, I turned back to my boyfriend, ready to greet him with a smile and
a, "So, how have you been doing?", but I never had a chance. The next thing
I remembered was Lance shoving my body against the door, covering my mouth
with his own in a dizzying array of passion. I didn't have time to
breathe. I didn't have time to speak. All I knew was that Lance's body was
pressed against mine, while his mouth sought out what it wanted. Our kisses
seemed to last forever and his hands...oh God, his hands began a dance over
my bare chest. His fingertips briefly lingered over my nipples, before
traveling upwards and lazily tangling themselves in my hair. Giving me a
sexy lopsided grin, Lance slid his hands back down my body, and slipped
themselves past the waistband of my drawstring pants. I found myself
shivering from his touches and before I knew it, those strong hands passed
the elastic band of my boxer shorts and then gently cupped my ass, bringing
the lower half of my body closer to his. I could feel his covered erection
brush against my own, and a muffled groan managed to escape my lips. He was
*killing* me.

 "Stephen," Lance murmured, his hot breath tickling my skin. "I missed
you...I want you..." Placing wild kisses around my mouth, I felt him thrust
his groin into my own, the hardness pressing against mine. My knees grew
weaker and weaker, and I felt like I was going to fall to the floor in a
slump.  Picking my chin up so that he could gaze into my eyes, I noticed
how Lance's had already taken on a seductive, heavy-lidded look. I felt the
emotions inside of me stir, lust filling every inch of my bones. And then,
Lance suddenly pulled his body away from mine, knowing that his sudden
departure would just leave me begging for more.

"I want you Stephen," Lance whispered as he took a step back. He reached
for my hand and allowed his fingers to caress my palm. My throat went dry
and I attempted to speak a coherent sentence.

"I know," I breathed, taking a step towards the man I desired. "I've been
missing you like crazy, you *don't* even know. I'm so miserable and I think
I'm going insane..." With those words, I reached out for him, placing my
hands on his waist and pulling his body next to mine once again. Smiling at
my touch, Lance eased my newfound grip, and slid his hands into
mine. Without speaking one word, he began stepping backwards, his gaze
locked with mine. He instinctively knew the path to my bedroom, and
continued to lead me in that direction. His clear green eyes glowed in the
shadows of the moonlight and his grip on my hands grew even tighter as we
approached my bedroom. Even if someone paid me to speak at that moment, I
knew that I couldn't. I had become riddled with an immense amount of
desire. If we hadn't been so close to the bed, I would have knocked Lance
onto the ground and just ravaged him right there, on the hardwood floor
because I *knew* what he wanted. Hell, I knew what *I* wanted....

Our gazes never broke apart, as we finally stepped into my bedroom and
quickly fell onto the rumpled sheets. Our arms wrapped tightly around each
other's bodies, and our mouths met in frantic, hurried kisses, seeking out
what we both needed...

"God," Lance whispered as he rolled me onto my back while kicking off his
shoes. "I've needed you, Stephen...you don't know how much I've needed
you..." Quickly, Lance began to tug at my pants and boxer shorts, moving
them past my hips until they were scrunched at my ankles. "Every single
night I go to bed...lonely...wanting you...." And then he pulled my pants
off, throwing them off to the side. With that accomplished , Lance rose his
body back over mine so that he could kiss me again. I wrapped my arms
around his neck, not wanting him to move back down. I needed to look into
those eyes, kiss those lips and touch his face. I wanted Lance. I *wanted*
him.

He smiled at me briefly, allowing me to examine his handsome face before
kissing him. "You don't know how many times I think of you during the day,"
Lance whispered as tipped my head up so I could place kisses over his
eyebrows. "Every *fucking* moment..."

The intensity of his words caught me off guard, until I realized that I
felt the exact same way. "Me too," I finally managed to choke out. And at
that moment, it hit me. I realized how much I missed holding that man in my
arms. No amount of daydreaming or fantasizing could make up for the real
thing. Old memories began to stir inside of me which led to the stirring up
of other feelings... feelings that I was sure we'd be taking care of soon
enough.

"Shhh," Lance shushed me, placing his fingertip over my lips. "No talking."
And with that, Lance pulled his body into a sitting position, straddling my
waist. And then he pulled off his shirt, exposing his smooth alabaster skin
to my eyes. Throwing it into a dusty corner of my bedroom, his pants and
boxers soon followed the path his shirt took.  Giving me a sexy smile,
Lance finally laid his body on top of mine, and I closed my eyes at the
feel of his heated flesh against my own.

Lance then began to grind the lower half of his body into mine, causing my
head to drop back helplessly in response. Taking advantage of this, Lance
began a slow trail of kisses down the length of my neck, pausing briefly to
suck on my Adam's apple, before moving lower to lick the hollow at the base
of my throat. Shuddered breaths escaped my lips, and my fingers tightened
around the sheets curled around them. My body sunk deeper into the mattress
as Lance continued his downward pursuit, hovering over my body while
staring into my eyes. He licked his lips hungrily as his eyes trailed down
my chest, and suddenly, I felt like an animal being stalked for prey. Not
that I minded...

Lowering his head, Lance began to gingerly lick around each of my nipples,
allowing them to harden underneath his tongue. My hips bucked in response,
and I let go of the sheets. My arms wrapped themselves around his torso and
with each flick of his tongue, my nails dug deeper and deeper into his
tender skin. The feelings swirling inside of me were building rapidly,
causing me to realize how a few of weeks of separation from Lance wrecked
havoc on my libido.

Satisfied with his work, he began to slide the tip of his tongue down the
center of my pectoral muscles, while staring into my eyes at the same
time. My breathing had grown raspy, and I swore that I was about to pass
out from what Lance was doing to me. Lower...lower...Lance moved slowly and
defiantly, momentarily dipping his tongue in my navel before moving to
where the most attention was needed. He flashed me another mischievous
smile, before closing his mouth over my erection.

My head swam with pleasure as Lance worked me into a frenzy. Strange sounds
left my mouth, and I almost felt like I had never had sex before. There was
a bizarre mixture of heaven and desire I was feeling...something I was
unaccustomed to. It all felt new to me, like I was going through some kind
of rebirth. Part of it was that I wanted Lance more than I had ever wanted
him...I can't explain it. All I knew was that the feel of his tongue and
lips, gently sucking and lapping at my hardness, made me want to scream out
in pleasure.

And then I couldn't hold on any longer. I gently ran my fingers through the
thick mop of dark blonde hair that I loved so much and managed to speak.

"Lance..." I whispered hoarsely. "Lance...I'm gonna..." I could barely make
out the words. "I'm gonna come..."

Lance never answered my mumblings, and instead took advantage of my aroused
state by running his hands up and down my thighs, caressing the skin as his
lips continued to move over me. His eyes met mine one last time. I saw the
twinkle that lurked in them as he dove down once more. That was it. My body
finally released itself, and a series of odd sounding moans left my
mouth. Lance's name was mixed in there somewhere, but I doubt he even
recognized it. I felt a soft path of kisses work back up the length of my
body, until Lance's smiling face appeared in my line of sight.

We stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, just basking in the
glow of what we shared. And since there was nothing we could really say,
our lips met in a impassioned kiss, trying to convey our feelings to each
other. "Stephen," Lance finally whispered, his eyes full of
satisfaction. "You don't know how long I've been thinking of that..."

"I know," I murmured, giving a slight laugh as I spoke. "'Cause that's all
I've been thinking of too.." As I lifted my hand to wipe the sweat off his
brow, I just kept thinking how my restless night had taken a turn for the
better. And to think of how miserable I was before Lance surprised
me....All thoughts flew out of my head as Lance kissed me again, this time
wrapping his arms around my waist as our mouths met. I broke our kiss, only
when I felt something poking me in the leg.

"Sweetie," I laughed, as I brought a hand up to trace a path down his
flushed cheek. "You're gonna hurt someone with that thing..."

"Oh, I know," Lance replied, arching an eyebrow at me as he spoke. "And the
person I'm planning to hurt is lying right under me..." Before I could say
a word, Lance pulled his body away from mine and into a kneeling
position. The streams of moonlight cast through the shades caused odd,
misshapen shadows to appear on Lance's nakedness, but I didn't mind one
bit. He was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen...clothed or unclothed
(but I have to admit, I had a tendency to enjoy the latter much more).

Slowly Lance began to run his hands down my stomach, leaning over to place
soft kisses here and there, before sliding his hands to my thighs. Humming
under his breath, Lance gently moved them apart and then gave me another
smile.

"Ready?" he asked teasingly, eying my readiness. I was surprised how fast
my body was coming back to life as Lance examined my body with those
beautiful eyes of his.

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely, wondering how much longer I could take this
torture. "What are you waiting for..."

"Impatient?" Lance giggled as he gently stroked my flesh. Under his fragile
touch, my skin seemed to quiver and melt from the heat pulsating from his
body. As one of Lance's fingers brushed slightly against my hole, I felt
like quicksilver, melting right into the mattress.

"Stephen..." Lance murmured as he touched me there, causing my hips to jerk
upwards. "*You* are all I've thought about for the past few weeks...I'm
taking my time with you..." And with that, I felt one of his fingers gently
work itself into me and I gasped at the feeling. I hadn't been touched this
way since Lance and I had parted and now...now...I could have died a very
happy man...

"You okay?" he whispered as he began to work another finger into
me. "Stephen..." And in a blink of an eye, tears began to roll down his
cheeks. His crying was sudden and swift and it took me by surprise.

"Lance?" I whispered, shocked by the wetness that streamed down his face
and onto his chest. I struggled to sit up, but as quickly as I responded,
was how quickly Lance pushed me back down.

"No," he said harshly, wiping away the tears with his free hand. "No,
Stephen...I'm fine...I just missed you so much..." And without another
word, Lance removed his fingers from me and moved the lower half of his
body between my legs. I felt him gently push himself into me and the
feeling of it was indescribable. I felt full again. Complete. Lance...he
made me feel this way and without him, I felt empty. My soul felt bare and
I felt naked and vulnerable. I felt like everyone could read my feelings
and thoughts. And with Lance there, with me...*in me*...I felt like my true
self once more. Safe and protected...*happy*...

These thoughts left my mind as soon as they emerged, since the amount of
pleasure that was coursing through my body was overwhelming. The sensations
moving through my blood made me forget any sort of conscious thoughts. It
seemed like forever had passed by. I couldn't help but watch as Lance moved
in and out of me, while his fingers gently stroked my body the entire
time. And he was still humming under his breath...

"And I want you like a Pisces rising, even though..." Lance whispered
softly, a serene smile of pleasure overtaking his face. "I love you crazy,
just keep on..." I watched with wide-eyed attention as Lance's body
suddenly tensed, every muscle in his body contracting as his breath caught
in his throat.

"I love you madly, just keep watch..." Lance choked out as he thrust
himself into me once more and I felt it. I watched as his face twisted into
a look of excruciating pleasure and then I closed my eyes, allowing myself
to sink into the moment. I felt as he came and my heart began to beat
rapidly, trying to keep up with the sensations of what had just happened to
us. My eyes flew open as I felt Lance's mouth briefly touching upon my
hardness, but that one touch was all I needed. My body was wracked with
shudders as I came for the second time that night.

I could barely breathe as Lance fell on top of me, exhausted and rested his
head against my rising and falling chest. What we had just shared...it was
undescribable. Almost magical, and I knew at that moment, *why* I loved
Lance. I loved him because he was a wonderful person. He was sexy and funny
and he made me smile. I loved Lance because he *was* Lance...and no one
else...

"You turn me on..." Lance whispered in my ear, before placing a small kiss
on my lobe. "My attentions are turned to you..." Softly, he nuzzled my
cheek with his lips before placing a loving kiss on my lips. "I love
you...and I missed you..." Lance spoke, his deep voice filled with emotion.

His simple words sent shivers throughout my body and I closed my eyes
again, not believing that this wasn't a dream. It just seemed too good to
be true. When I opened my eyes back up again, I found Lance just lying
there and smiling at me, his eyes fixated on mine as though he couldn't
believe we were together.

"I missed you too, Lance," I whispered, gently kissing his earlobe before
moving to his lips. My hand sought out his and our fingers intertwined,
holding onto each other. "I love you too. Always..." Another kiss. And
resting his head on my chest once more, Lance and I fell fast asleep, happy
to just be with each other...





Brrrriiinnnngggg.

The sound of my telephone ringing cut through my sleep like a knife. I
began to wonder if waking me up during a peaceful sleep was becoming some
kind of new trend.

Through sleep filled eyes, I looked down at the angel that was still
resting his head on my chest. `Only if all the interruptions were like
Lance," I thought happily. Smiling to myself, I would have been content to
just lay there for the rest of the morning. The phone kept ringing and I
didn't care.

And then I looked at the clock.

`Oh shit,' I thought. It was exactly 8:45 a.m. `Shit...' And then the
memory of my alarm clock going off made it's way back into my mind. I had
done the easy thing--I had rolled over and hit the `off' button. Reality
was such a terrible place to be, why would either of us want to voluntarily
wake up and enter the real world again?  As I turned off my alarm, Lance
had stirred briefly in my arms, and then rested his head back against my
chest, a content murmuring leaving his lips.

But now...I was in trouble. Big trouble. Jumping up, I knocked Lance body
off of mine raced into the kitchen, where the telephone was. I made a mad
dash for it, diving for the receiver as though I were a world class
gymnast.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly, placing the phone to next to my ear. Who
would be calling at this hour?

"Stephen? Where the hell are you? We were supposed to both get here early
and study for this thing..." Marianne Lewis's voice came through the
telephone loud and clear, causing me to wince. I looked at the clock
hanging over my stove and realized that I had roughly fifteen minutes to
get showered, dressed, somehow make it to school *and* get parking. Ha!
That was a laugh...

"I overslept," I said apologetically, absentmindedly running a hand through
my disheveled hair. "Look, Marianne, I'm really sorry..." As I babbled on,
a pair of hands suddenly wrapped themselves around my waist. I felt Lance
press his stubble covered cheek against my back and it took all of my
composure, not to slam down the phone and just forget about everything, but
Marianne's voice cut through my wishes, bringing me back to reality once
more.

"Stephen, I'm not mad," Her soft voice rang with flirtatious laughter
causing me to roll my eyes. "You're lucky I wasn't relying on your great
source of knowledge to make it through this thing, though." Marianne
rambled on and while she did this, I felt Lance place a soft kiss between
my shoulder blades, and slowly began to trail his lips down the curve of my
spine.  I closed my eyes at the touch, nearly crying out as his hands slid
around to the front of my chest, while his fingers gently pinched my
nipples. Lance was driving me insane, and he knew it. I felt myself falling
into the same haze of pleasure and happiness that I had attained last
night, when Marianne's voice jolted me back to the present *again*. "Just
get your butt over here and take this test, or you are *completely* screwed
for the whole semester."

"Okay," I somehow managed to squeak out as the palm of Lance's hand gently
drifted over my backside. "See you in fifteen..." I couldn't even finish
the sentence. So instead, I hung up the phone, spun myself around and was
immediately greeted by Lance with a long, lustful good morning kiss.

"Morning, sweetie," Lance whispered as we parted. We stared into each
other's eyes for a few seconds, before Lance's face twisted into a look of
mock suspicion. "And who's Marianne?"

"Ooh, aren't we nosy," I teased him, while forcing myself out of Lance's
warm embrace. "She's my best friend at school." Turning to walk out of the
kitchen, I noticed that the sound of Lance's footsteps weren't following
behind me. Curious, I turned back around, only to see Lance still standing
in the kitchen, frozen in his place. He was naked. His hair was a mess. And
a odd, vulnerable look had crossed over his face.

"I thought I was your best friend," Lance spoke quietly, his eyes downcast,
looking at the God-awful linoleum tiles that covered the kitchen floor.

"What?" I asked, shocked by his words. I walked back to Lance, and wrapped
my arms around his bare torso. In the few months that I had known Lance, he
had never acted this insecure. But then, all we had during those summer
months were each other. No one else. I had never spoken of Marianne,
because to be honest, I had forgotten about her.

"Lance, you know you're my best friend." I placed a soft, reassuring kiss
on the top of his head, while the soft blonde tufts of hair tickled my
nose. "Marianne is just this girl I'm really close to at school--" I
explained, only to have my words cut off as Lance looked up at me, a
devilish grin spreading out on his lips.

"Stephen," Lance laughed knowingly, pinching my cheek. "I'm fucking
*shitting* with you, sweetie...." I thought I saw an odd look pass through
his eyes for a second, and then he blinked and the look was gone.

His words had caught me completely off guard, and then I smiled
nervously. He was joking? Really joking? Or was he hiding something? I
wouldn't have time to figure it out, as Lance placed a sloppy kiss on the
spot he had just pinched.

"Shithead," I shot back, once I had regained my voice. I slapped him in the
back of his head before walking to the bathroom and this time, Lance
followed me. "You freaked me out there for a second..."

"Yeah," he said proudly, grinning like the cat who had just eaten the
canary. "I know I did--Stephen, if you didn't have any friends at school--"
Lance rationalized as I turned on the shower. "--I'd be kinda worried about
you."

"Why? Because it would mean that I was a friendless freak?" I asked dryly,
turning back to Lance. I ruffled his hair good-naturedly before
continuing. "I practically am, you know...I mean, I have friends,
but...Marianne's the only `real' friend I got."

"A *girl*?" Lance asked in mock disbelief. "Stephen, girls have
*cooties*..." We both laughed at his joke as I stepped into the shower and
closed the curtain behind me. Seeing Lance's outline standing right
outside, I pulled it back open, finding myself face to face with my
boyfriend. A hopeful expression appeared on his face as he eyeballed the
empty space next to me in the shower.

"Not today," I quipped, reaching out to tap his nose. I'll give Lance
credit--he tried to use guilt as a way to get into the shower, but I
couldn't say yes.

"*No*," I said firmly, closing the shower curtain once more. "Absolutely
not, Mr. Bass...I have to get to school in about five minutes. I have an
exam at nine. You get in here with me, I'll be lucky to make it out of
*here*," I laughed over the sound of the running water.

"Fine," Lance said, a smile in his voice. I knew he wasn't mad. Besides, he
knew that I'd make it up to him later... "I'll be waiting in your room for
you...I'll take a nap or something..."

"Good boy," I called out while lathering myself up. "Regain some strength
for later...we have some catching up to do..."

"I *like* that, Stephen!" Lance shouted back as he left the bathroom. I
heard the `click' of the door close and I found myself alone. Sighing, I
couldn't help but feel disappointed at passing up a fun opportunity with my
boyfriend. But I had to. School was important.

"Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch...who watches over
you...make a little birdhouse in your soul..." I sang while reaching for my
shampoo. I rarely sing since when I do choose to exercise my pipes, I sound
like a dog being strangled. But I was alone. And I was in a good mood,
despite the fact that I might miss a test if I didn't get out of the shower
soon.

"Not to put too fine a point on it...say I'm the only bee in your
bonnet..make a little birdhouse in your soul..." I continued to sing while
massaging my scalp. I stepped under the shower, and rinsed myself off,
allowing the water to cascade down my body. I let out another regretful
sigh before, reaching out and turning the knobs off.

"My name is blue canary...one note spelled l-i-t-e..." I murmured under my
breath as I shook off my limbs. And then I yanked open the shower curtain
and nearly screamed at the top of my lungs.

Lance was sitting on the closed toilet seat, a pile of neatly folded
clothes on his lap. A smile was on his face as he handed me a fluffy bath
towel to dry off with.

"Nice singing," Lance smirked, knowing very well how horrible I had
sounded. "Just don't expect to become the sixth member of *NSYNC any time
soon." I felt the rising blush creep up my neck. I had sang because I
thought Lance was gone, and here had been, sitting on the toilet seat the
entire time.

"Shut up," I shot back as I quickly dried myself off. "And I thought you
had left."

"Nah." Lance shook his head. "Miss the opportunity to see you naked? Come
on, Stephen...But," he added, holding up the clothes in his hands. "I
brought you some clothes to wear. You know...since you're in such a hurry
and all..." He frowned for a second. "But if you ask me, I think clothes
are overrated...at least they are on you." We laughed for a second, and
then I looked at myself in the mirror. Seeing the slight stubble on my
face, I fought with myself if I should shave or not. The latter won
out. That was the least of my worries. Instead, I put on some deodorant and
then grabbed for the pair of boxers that Lance was presenting to me.

"Thanks," I said as I pulled the boxers over my hips.

"Not a problem. I thought I would help out even if it meant being subjected
to your squawking," Lance laughed while sticking his tongue out at me. As I
leaned over to grab the pair of slightly rumpled khakis from his hands, I
nipped at his tongue with my lips and pulled Lance in for a long, sweet
kiss.

"Thought you didn't have time?" Lance murmured once we parted, staring into
my eyes as I stepped into my pants.

"Who says I don't have time for a kiss?" I laughed teasingly as I grabbed
for the shirt he was handing me. "And this isn't my shirt, Lance..." I
examined the light grey button down shirt that I held in my hands. "Armani
Exchange?" I looked over critically at a bright red Lance.

"I know, I know," he said hastily, rising from his perch on the toilet. He
took the shirt from me and shook out the wrinkles. "But I brought it with
me and when I was looking for some clothes for you, I saw this sticking out
in my knapsack..." Smiling, Lance lifted up my arm and slid it into the
shirtsleeve. "I just thought you'd look cute in it, that's all," Lance
explained, sounding a little defensive as he slid my other arm into the
sleeve.

I smiled at Lance's thoughtfulness and placed a quick kiss on his
nose. "Lance," I said, trying to sound stern as he began to button up my
shirt. But it was useless. Just watching him, taking care of me, melted me
down into a pile of mush. "You know, you make me feel more and more guilty
for not letting you in the shower with me..."

As Lance finished buttoning up the rest of my shirt, he looked up at me and
smiled.

"Yup," Lance said affirmatively, a knowing laugh punctuating his words. He
widened his eyes into the look I loved. The one that made him look young
and old all at once, filling his eyes with innocence and seduction. It
never failed to work and he knew it."But you love me anyways..."

"Damn right I do," I said a bit gruffly, as I leaned over and placed
another kiss on his lips. "But, I'll have to show you how much I love you
in a little while--right now, I have to get to school."




I guess there are a few things that you should know before I continue on
any further. First of all, I've never been a fan of school. Elementary
school. High school. I hated those early, formative years of my life. I was
only moderately smart, and it was always somewhat painful for me to take
tests, do homework...that kind of stuff. The only classes I ever
appreciated in school were art ones. Those were the only classes I wanted
to attend, and even if we were making stupid projects, such as clay
handprints, I still enjoyed doing that, because well..it allowed me to be
creative.

It was in high school where I was allowed to expand on my creativity. I
signed up for as many electives that I could, whether they were painting,
ceramics, photography--whatever classes I could take, I did. And it was
because of these classes, I decided to pursue my love for art, bite the
bullet and apply to the state colleges that loomed around the area. I
wanted to be an artist for a living, even if it meant ending up dirt poor,
living in a shack, because I just wanted to be happy with myself.

And now I *know* what you're thinking about me: art fag, right? Another
swishy Andy Warhol type? Or David Hockney or Jasper Johns? The list could
go on...Well, to be honest with you, I never placed my sexuality into my
art. During the past three years, I've seen enough documentaries on gay
artists than you can shake a stick at. And all of these artists usually
placed their sexuality into their work, whether it be by placing some kind
of phallic symbolism in their painting or by naming their artwork with a
blatant sexual title.  I'm not like that. To me, my art is *not* about
making some kind of sexual statement just for the sake of it. My art is
about myself, and if by chance, some representation about my sexuality fits
my objectives, I'll use it. Until then, expect no naked pictures of myself,
no penises or other strange objects lurking in my paintings. `Although', I
thought while driving around the University of Ridgemont's parking lot for
the hundredth time, `painting a naked portrait of Lance was quite an
appealing idea.'

By the miracle of some automobile God in the heavens above, I managed to
find a parking space. Usually, arriving late to class means parking fifty
miles away from campus means having to play a game of Frogger with the
traffic, dodging the cars whizzing past on Main Street, praying to God that
you won't get your door ripped off as you open it up, or that you won't get
squashed to death as you try to cross the street.

I got out of my car, and sprinted inside of the History and Sciences
building, looking at my wristwatch as I ran up the staircase that led to
the second floor. It was exactly 9:00 on the dot, and I marveled at how
fast I had gotten myself to school.

Reaching the second floor where my class commenced, I walked down the
hallway, trying to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. I passed lecture
hall after lecture hall of students, either paying attention to the
professor who was speaking at the head of the room, or furiously taking
notes trying to cram as much of the lecture into their notebooks as their
hands would let them.

And then I came to my room. And to my surprise, the door wasn't
closed. Instead it was open, and when I cautiously peered inside (I hate
being the last one to enter a class--all of those eyes watching you as you
try to creep to your seat), I noticed that everyone was talking, laughing
or trying to fit those precious last bits of information into their head.

My eyes swept across the room, and I noticed Marianne sitting where we
always sat: back row, near the windows. Her head was bent down, and she was
quickly glancing through the notes in her spiral bound notebook. I entered
the room, navigated myself through the rows of desks and people and made my
way to where my empty seat was.

Ahh, Marianne. Marianne Lewis. My best friend at school and confidant. We
had met each other freshman year. When I walked into my foundation drawing
class on the very first day of school, I knew not a soul. So I sat down at
one of the oversized drawing tables next to a girl who looked young enough
to be a freshman in high school. She had a short, almost pixie-like hair
cut and pretty aqua colored eyes that deftly ignored the fact that I took a
seat across the table from her.

I never said a word to her and she never said a word to me. We were sitting
at that drawing table together for the sake of sitting with someone.

It was on the third day of classes that Marianne and I finally started
talking. She told me she liked my Spinanes t-shirt. I was impressed that
she even knew who the band was, and I replied by asking her where she got
her Matador Records shirt from. One thing led to another and thus a
friendship was born.

Marianne and I have this odd relationship. We've spent three long years
knowing each other, yet the only time we've hung around with each other
outside of school was on my twenty-first birthday. She was one of the
people that took me out for a celebratory drink that night.

And here's the oddest thing about our relationship: I *know* she likes me
in more than a non-friendship way. I know because she told me. We had been
hanging out in the darkroom one night, just her and I, and she told me.

"Stephen?" Marianne asked as she moved her undeveloped photo around in the
tray filled with noxious paper developer. "Do you ever find me attractive?
Would you ever go out with me"

I looked over at Marianne from my place at the enlarger I was working
at. It was dark as all hell in that room, and I was thankful, since I
blushed like a man on fire. Sure, Marianne was good-looking. Throughout the
three years I had known her, she had grown into her young features and was
clearly one of the most attractive students in the art
department. But...you know why I didn't like her.

I never told Marianne I was gay. It just never came up.

"Sure," I replied in an off-the-cuff manner. "Of course I do. Lots of the
guys think you're hot. But dating? Um..." I managed to dodge the subject by
"accidentally" knocking my box of photo paper on the ground, causing both
of us to scramble around on the floor and pick it up, the question
forgotten.

And that was true as well. On numerous occasions, some of the guys in my
art classes came to ask me if Marianne and I were dating, since we acted
like we were going out. Or if she had a boyfriend. She didn't. And neither
did I. But I didn't tell them that.

And now, summer had passed and I felt like a completely different
person. The old Stephen would have never been late to class. The old
Stephen would have never stood up Marianne at the library. But the new
Stephen (who I should add here was now 100% happier since he had gotten
some that morning) did. And well...school seemed different now. It no
longer held the importance that it once did. I just wanted to be happy...I
wanted to feel the same way I did during those summer months, filled with
an attitude of, `Oh fuck it.' But I couldn't.  This was my final year of
school and I was on full scholarship. I'd be a fool to ruin this for
myself. Not to mention that I'd finally get my own exhibition at the end of
the year--well a joint one. Marianne and I had already signed up for a slot
together, to be held in the middle of May. I couldn't wait.

As I walked to where Marianne was sitting, I watched as she raised her aqua
eyes to mine, and a big smile appeared on her face.

"Stephen," she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Took `ya
long enough to get here..."

"Yeah, overslept," I mumbled under my breath, as I took the seat next to
hers. I pawed through my bag for a few seconds, removing my notebook from
it, before throwing it down on the floor.

"Why hasn't the test started yet?" I asked Marianne, flipping through the
wrinkled pages of my government notes. "I thought it was supposed to at
nine..."

"A secretary came in and said that Professor Greene had car trouble--he'll
be about a half-hour late," Marianne explained, as she closed her
notebook. I looked up at my friend, only to find her aqua eyes boring into
me, while nervously chewing on the eraser of her pencil.

"What?" I asked, a little more defensively than I wanted to. "What's wrong?
Why are you staring at me like that? And for God's sake, Mari, stop that
already..." I took the pencil from her hands and set it down on the
desk. "You know it creeps me out when you do that..."

Still staring at me, Marianne just picked up the pencil and rolled it
between the palms of her hands. "You look nice today, Stephen," she said
slowly. "Why are you so dressed up?"

`Because my boyfriend dressed me,' I answered silently, as I shifted my
gaze to the back of the person sitting in front of me. And as I thought
once more to the tryst Lance and I had indulged in that morning, I felt my
face turn hot. It was weird coming to school, acting normal and proper,
when only hours before, Lance and I had been...well...having sex. Every
morning I stepped foot into the school, I felt like an actor, taking on the
role of Stephen Peterson, dedicated artist and student (triumphant music
inserted here). And at the end of the day, once I stepped into my car, I
felt like Stephen Peterson...myself. No roles. No characters. Just
me--someone who couldn't wait to get home, and see if there was a message
on his answering matching from his boyfriend.

"I felt like it," I finally said after a long pause on my part. "You
know...just wanted to look nice today." The words had left my mouth
sounding somewhat strangled, and Marianne noticed this.

"Stephen?" she asked cautiously, as she shifted in her seat, tucking one
leg underneath herself as she did this. "Are you sure you're okay? You've
seemed kinda strange since we've started school again..."

"Strange?" The word leapt from my throat like it was poison. "What do you
mean, strange?"

"Just..." her voice trailed off and she set the pencil back down on the
desk. I could tell that Marianne was nervous by even bringing this subject
up. She's not the confrontational type at all--she's very calm and laid
back--the exact reason why I gravitated towards her in the first year of
college. If I *were* straight, there's a good chance we *would* be
boyfriend and girlfriend, but I'm not. Which is why Marianne is my best
friend instead.

"What?"

"I don't know..." She shook her head. "You just seem different...usually,
you're so high strung and nervous about things like tests." Around us, the
rest of the students had practically forgotten about the exam, laughing and
joking with the people that sat around them. Which was good. It made it
less noticeable that we were the only two people in about one hundred that
were having a serious conversation. "And now..." Marianne continued
on. "You almost missed the test. It's not like you, Stephen..." I watched
her aqua eyes zero in on my neck with an almost catlike precision. "And
what happened to your neck?"

I slapped my hand to the spot I *knew* she was talking about. It was a
bright red spot, the size of a dime, only possible to appear on my neck if
someone had been sucking at it. And I could thank Lance for that.

"Shaving," I muttered under my breath as I gently pressed my fingers
against my skin. "Nicked myself..."  And then I remember that I hadn't
shaved that morning. Shit. I sucked at lying.

"Uh..." she began, only to be cut off as Professor Greene bustled into the
room, examination booklets in hand.

`Thank God,' I thought with relief. I had never been more happy to see my
government professor than at that moment, because his presence meant that
we would have to be quiet. And that meant no more questions from Marianne,
who was being uncharacteristically nosy.

"Morning, students," Professor Greene announced as he set his belongings on
the table that sat in the front of the room. "Please put your books and
notes away...no talking..."

I could say "amen" to that.




Marianne finished the test before me, scooped her books and notes into her
arms and left the room, while I sat there, rubbing my temples as I stared
at the white paper in front of me. `Name three foreign policies that were
used by The Soviet Union and explain why they were needed. Please give
dates and specific examples to back up your statement.' Shit. Who cared
about this crap? It wasn't like I was even a history major for God's
sake...

I had another class after this one. Natural Science. It was just another
shitty class, designed to make us State University students more
"well-rounded" as the handbook put it. `Fuck being well-rounded', I thought
resentfully as I scribbled down any old answer to the question that mocked
me. I didn't want to be well-rounded anymore. What I wanted, was to get out
of here, go back to my car and drive home, where Lance was waiting for
me. That was what I wanted. I couldn't get the memory of this morning out
of my mind, and as I sat there, in that stupid, cramped desk, I felt myself
getting aroused.

`Oh Goddamn,' I thought as my body began to react to the thoughts swirling
around in my brain. `Stephen,' I scolded myself. `Think history. Think
Soviet Union and communism and oppression. Think of Stalin. He wasn't
sexy...like Lance. Lying in my bed...I wonder what he's doing now...I
wonder if he's sleeping...or if he's watching tv...or...' The blood running
through my veins rushed to not only my face, but to my groin and I felt my
pants tightening.

Within seconds, I had finished my test, putting down anything for the
Soviet Union question. Who cared about the past? I wanted to go home to the
present. And as I stood up, I quickly and strategically placed my newspaper
bag over the front of my pants, handed in my test and walked out of the
room.

`Fuck Natural science,' I thought as I made my way down the hall. `It's
Lance I want to fu--'

"Stephen? Where are you going?"

I spun back around, startled by the voice that had seemed to come out of
nowhere. I watched as Marianne pulled herself up from the floor and into a
standing position. `She must have been waiting for me to finish the test',
I thought in astonishment. We had that Natural Science class together. In
fact, at the end of our junior year, Marianne and I had signed up for the
exact same course schedule, so that we would always have someone in the
class with us. I thought that was a good idea at the time. Now, I wasn't so
sure...

"Home," I answered shortly, shifting my bag over the front of my
body. `Please God, don't let Marianne see...she might think it's because of
her...'

"But we have class after this," she spoke, her round eyes growing
wide. "You're skipping? You never skip classes unless you're really
sick..." I watched as Marianne's small hands fell to the hem of her red and
black plaid skirt and gave it a tug. Her hands moved back up to fiddle with
her hair once more and then fell back to her sides. And all the while, she
stared at me in amazement, shocked by the fact, that I, Stephen Peterson
was about to skip a class.

I had never been big on skipping classes. It wasn't my style. My philosophy
was that since I was *paying* for these classes, I should go to them. Not
that I always paid attention, but at least I went...

"I have a splitting headache," I lied once more, placing my hand up to my
head and feigned a pained expression. "Terrible..."

"Here," Marianne said, as her hands immediately grabbed for the purse that
lay at her side. She unzipped the black suede peasant bag and rummaged
around through it, triumphantly pulling out a green bottle full of
pills. "These are for migraines...take one..."

She began to twist open the bottle, and I just closed my eyes at her
persistence. "Mari--*no*. I'm going back to my apartment...take a nap or
something, okay?" I gave her a haphazard smile as I turned away. "See you
tomorrow in Sculpture, okay?"

"Yeah...bye, Stephen..."

I barely heard her words as I hightailed it down the hallway and down the
staircase. I was a free man. And I was going to go back to my apartment to
slide into the sheets next to Lance. Because that was where I needed to be.




"Lance?" I called out as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Lance?
You still here?" No answer except for the sound of light snoring coming
from the direction of my bedroom. Lance was still sleeping, I thought as I
crept quietly into my apartment and closed the door behind me. Carefully, I
took my newspaper bag off my shoulder and set it on the floor. I began to
step towards my bedroom, and shed my clothes as I went along. Lance's shirt
was the next thing to go. Then my shoes and my socks. I stopped in the
doorway to my bedroom and just *looked* at the man lying in my bed. Lance
was sleeping. His upper body was bare, and I could tell through the white
sheets that lay wrapped around his body, that the lower half was as
well. One arm was thrown over his eyes and as I watched him, he began to
stir.

But he didn't wake up. Instead, Lance just sighed and I saw traces of a
smile appear on his lips as he rolled onto his side, his back facing
me. Shedding my pants, I stepped into the bedroom, my footsteps silent as I
drew closer to the bed. Quickly, I pulled off my boxers, kicked them to the
side and then slipped into the sheets, next to Lance.

I reached for the warmth of his body and pulled him close to me. Resting my
head on his bare arm I just lay there, allowing our bodies to lie together,
and I listened to the sound of his breathing. It was steady and rhythmic,
matching the beating of his heart. Yes, I was aroused, but not just because
Lance and I were lying there, naked. It was so much more than that. It was
the fact that I was with him. Holding him. And after weeks apart, I missed
that so much I thought my heart was going to burst everytime I got within
five feet of him.

Everytime I came home and heard his voice on that answering
matching... "Stephen, it's me. I was hoping you'd be home, but I guess
you're not, so I'll just leave this message. I--" His voice would crackle
as he spoke the next words. "--Miss you, Stephen. I miss you so much....and
well...I love you. Talk to you later. Bye."

My heart broke everytime I heard his voice. He was so near, but he was so
far at the same time...

And now, he *was* here in my arms.

Lance began to wake then, and it was a good thing, since I was about to
wake him up myself.

"Stephen," Lance muttered groggily as he craned his neck to look at
me. "It's..." He squinted at the clock next to him, trying to make out the
glowing numbers that were hard to read in the broad sunshine. "What? 10:00
am? Didn't you say you have a class at ten?"

"Yeah," I admitted as I showered kisses on his shoulder. "But...it wasn't
important...I wanted to come home to you.."

Lance remained silent for a few seconds as I began to move upwards and
plant soft kisses up his neck. His skin was so warm and sweet. I could
taste Lance with every kiss I left. I thought he'd be happy by my
news. Thrilled that I had skipped a class to be with him.

Was I wrong.

"Stephen!" Lance exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and knocking my arms off
his body. "You can't do that." He propped himself into a sitting position
by resting his hands in back of him, and then gave me the evil eye. I
flushed under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Why?" I asked. "Why can't I? Aren't you happy that I came home?"

Lance rolled his eyes briefly and then flopped back on the
bed. "Stephen..." he smiled, reaching up to gently stroke my cheek. "Of
course I'm happy that you came home...but you can't skip classes for me. I
mean, I'd still be here when you got home at eleven thirty..." The smile
turned into a big grin as his hand dropped lower, and he began to trail his
fingers down my neck. "I just don't want you to fail, that's all.."

"I wouldn't fail, silly," I murmured as Lance ran his hand down my arm. "I
*won't* fail...I just wanted to come home to you and..." I trailed my
sentence off as Lance propped himself up again so that he could kiss me. It
was a long and passionate kiss, amazing and hot and everything that I
wanted.

As we parted, I peered into Lance's beautiful chartreuse eyes. I saw
everything I felt in my heart mirrored in that look. My heart began to beat
rapidly as Lance titled his face to mine, his lips finding their way
against my own as they closed in for another lustful kiss.

"So..." Lance whispered, clearly bowled over by how passionate we had
become. Looking down, my boyfriend looked embarrassed, but only for a
second. "What class did you miss, Stephen?"

"Science," I smiled as I reached up to trace over his perfect eyebrows,
before allowing my finger to drop down his cheek. "Why? You gonna give me
an anatomy lesson or something?" I teased Lance as he pushed me down on the
bed.

"Stephen..." Lance murmured, leaning forward and briefly nuzzling my
neck. "That was really cheesy, you know..." Then he looked back up at me,
his clear green eyes shining brightly now. "But I *have* always wanted to
be a teacher..."

"Mmmmm," I breathed as I ran my fingers through Lance's hair. "Then this
would be a perfect time to put that plan into action, Mr. Bass." We kissed
once more and I felt the weight of his body overtake mine, as he rolled on
top of me.

"Remember," Lance laughed as his kissed my neck, before moving lower. "I'm
grading you on this, *Mr.* Peterson..." And with that, Lance pulled the
sheets over us and we began rolling around underneath, whispering and
kissing and doing things that we missed doing...

I hope I got an A plus.




A few hours later, I woke up. Sleepily, I looked up at my pillow and
immediately smiled. My head had been resting on top of Lance's broad chest,
and my arms were wrapped snugly around his waist. The expression on his
face matched exactly to what I felt in my heart. Lance looked happy and
content.

`Perfect,' I thought to myself as I gently slid my arms from under his
back, since they were cramping up from being in that position for so
long. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. The sun was setting outside and
my natural curiosity kicked in. What time was it?

I swung my head around only to see my alarm clock reading 5:20 p.m. `Oh
crap,' I thought, sudden panic spiraling through my mind. `I have that
stupid painting to work on...and it's due tomorrow...shit.' I would never
finish it in time.

I leapt out of bed like something had bitten me, which in the process of
doing so, also woke Lance up.

"Stephen?" Lance murmured sleepily, as he blinked a couple of
times. "What's...where are you..."

"Go back to sleep, Lance" I whispered as I searched the floor for my
boxers. "I have homework to do..."

"Sleep?" he questioned, his face twisting up as he looked quizzically at
me. "I don't want to sleep anymore...and what homework do you have to do?"

"A painting," I smiled as I looked back over at Lance. He was still in my
bed, the sheets pooled around his body as he sat there and watched me rush
around the room like a chicken with my head cut off. I *was* panicking. And
it might seem like a stupid reason to you, but it usually takes me hours to
work on my paintings. If I don't, then they look like shit. And then I'm
embarrassed to put them up in front of my class for critiques.

"Ooh, I get to see the artist at work!" Lance exclaimed, clapping his hands
like a five year old boy. "Wheee!!!"

I rolled my eyes at my boyfriend's goofy behavior, and fell back on the
bed.

"Lance," I laughed as I leaned over for a quick kiss. "Did I ever tell you
how happy you make me?"

Responding with another kiss of his own, Lance just cupped my face in his
hands for a few seconds, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Did I ever tell you how happy you make me?" Lance whispered, moving his
lips against mine. He kissed me again and then gently let go of my
face. "Now, go and start working on your painting, Stephen. I certainly
don't want to be the one holding you back from it. I'll be out there in a
few minutes, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed as I rose from my place on the bed and headed for the
doorway. But before I walked out, I turned back around and looked at my
boyfriend. Opening my mouth to say something, I was cut off as Lance lifted
up a hand and pointed in the direction of where I had my easel set
up. Laughing, I could only shake my head at him as I padded barefoot
towards my work area, readying myself for a night of painting.




"You know, it just struck me now..." Lance trailed off as he took a swig
from the can of soda in his hand. "This is the first time that I've seen
you paint."

"Hmmm," I said as I dabbed a few splotches of crimson at the top of the
canvas. "You know...I think you're right." Placing the brush into the can
of turpentine that sat next to me, I turned to where Lance was sitting on
my futon. "And to think of all those times I've watched you do what you're
best at."

Lance paused for a second, while a thoughtful look crossed his face. A
devilish smirk replaced that one as he opened his mouth. "But
Stephen...you're always in the bedroom with me. And isn't that where I do
my best work?"

Instantly, I slapped Lance's arm and grinned at him. "So dirty," I sighed
as I flopped down next to Lance on the futon. "Why do I even hang around
with you? You're spoiling my virtue, you know."

"Please," Lance scoffed as he set his can of soda down on the coffee table
in front of us. "You? Virtue? Ha!" I was about to come back with a remark
of my own, when the buzzer to my apartment rang.

I looked over at Lance and grinned. "Pizza's here--and see how *normal*
people tell me that their here to visit?" I joked as I got off the futon. I
walked over to where the speaker was bolted on the wall, pressed the
intercom button and spoke. "Hello?"

"Yeah, I got a pizza here for Stephen?" It was a female voice, and I
thought that was odd, since I've always had male pizza delivery boys
deliver pizzas. But I shrugged it off. `It was the new millennium', I
thought. `I guess girls can be delivery people too'.

"Come on up," I spoke back into the intercom before shutting it off. I
turned back around to Lance. "I don't know about you but I'm *starving*," I
told him as I grabbed my wallet off of the table that sat next to the
door. I rifled through the leather, finding the appropriate amount of money
and before I knew it, the pizza girl was knocking on my door.

"Food!" Lance gasped desperately, as though he were dying of hunger. I just
gave him a smile as I unlocked and unchained the door, ready to pay for my
pizza. And like that morning, I didn't look through the peephole.

Big mistake.

I swung open the door, only to find three teenage girls standing there. One
had my pizza. The other two were clutching CD's and magazines. *NSYNC CD's
and magazines. And all three of them had big smiles on their faces,
practically jumping up and down in excitement.

`Oh My God,' I thought, panicking. `Oh my God. Who are these girls?' The
money in my hands dropped to the floor and I stood there, open mouthed as
the girls nearly knocked me over, trying to get into my apartment. I didn't
know what to do.

"Lance!!!" One of the girls screamed, waving her copy of No Strings
Attached around in the air. I looked in back of me and saw that my
boyfriend's already pale face had gone dead white. He stared at the girls
with a look of shock and horror as they squealed in excitement at seeing a
member of *NSYNC in the flesh. "Oh my God, Lance!  I love you!"

He had lost the power of speech and was just gaping, open mouthed, his eyes
nearly bugging out of his head at the sight of the three girls. Finally,
the realization kicked in and Lance got up from his seat on the futon and
walked over to where I was standing, helplessly guarding the door by
holding onto the doorframe for dear life.

"Um...do I know you?" Lance asked as he stood next to me and made a `back
away' motion at the girls. "And how did you find me here?"

The three girls looked at each other and giggled. They had to be no older
than, oh, thirteen or fourteen years old and they were practically bursting
with excitement at being so close to my boyfriend.

"Cindy's grandmother lives next door to him--" One of the brunette girls
pointed to the long haired blonde who was clutching my pizza. "And since
Cindy was visiting her last night, she saw you--" She pointed at
Lance. "--pounding on his door at five in the morning--"

"Four-thirty," Lance interrupted, trying to hide the irritation on his
face. "Go on, please." His words were stiff and cold, and the expression on
his face was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Lance looked
angry. Mad. And completely fed up with everything.

"And so Cindy called us and told us that you were staying here. And we
could hear your pizza order through the wall, so we went downstairs and
intercepted the pizza man," The brunette announced triumphantly, holding
out a CD and a pen for Lance to sign.

I looked over at Lance and watched as he took a deep, calming breath. His
normally light green eyes were now dark with fire. He knelt down to meet
the girls at their eye level, and began to speak.

"Look," Lance began calmly. "It was nice of you girls to come over here,
but first of all, listening to my phone conversation was an invasion of
privacy. You girls broke the law, you know that?"

Scared looks appeared on the girls faces, and they stood in their spots,
frozen in place as Lance reprimanded them. His voice was lower than normal
and I had to strain my ears to even make out his words.

"Second, this is my cousin's apartment." A slight blush passed over his
face as he lied. "You girls have no right to come up here and harass him
like this. When I'm visiting him, that doesn't mean you have the right to
stalk us..."

I saw one of the girls mouth's drop open at the use of the word `stalk' and
almost instantly, the excited looks were replaced by looks of shock.  I
don't think they ever expected Lance to be so...so...*rude* (for lack of a
better word).

"Now, how much was the pizza?" Lance asked as he knelt down to pick up the
money I had dropped.

"About ten dollars," the brunette spoke up meekly. "We paid the delivery
man ten dollars." Lance counted the money and then handed it to them.

"Here you go girls," Lance said, as he took the pizza box from the
blonde. "Now, thank you for visiting my me and my cousin and head on back
home." I watched as Lance stood up from his place on the floor, steadied
the pizza on his hip and then closed the door in the faces of three
dumbfounded teenagers.

Muttering under his breath, Lance locked the door and the turned to me.

"Welcome to my world, Stephen," he snapped while walking back to the futon
and threw the pizza down on my coffee table (one of the few pieces of
furniture I brought with me). "Nice, isn't it?" I stood at the door for a
few seconds, unable to speak. Did that just happen to us? Really? Did it?

"I can't believe they stalked you down," I sputtered, when I finally
regained the power of speech. I refastened the chain lock and checked the
lock before walking back to the futon. I was about to sit down, when an
idea popped into my mind. I walked to the window and closed the
curtains. God knows who was watching us. After what had just happened,
anything was possible.

"I can," Lance said flatly, as he flipped the pizza box open. "Happens all
the time...I'm not mad on my sake..." He pulled a slice of pizza from the
box, placed it on a paper plate and handed it to me. "I'm mad for you."

"Me?" I asked, pointing at my chest. "Why?"

"Cause," Lance growled under his breath as he took a slice of pizza for
himself. "Now your privacy is being invaded...and it's not right. Those
girls came here because of me." His face soured for a second. "Now, their
probably gonna tell all their friends and everyday you come home, either
there'll be girls waiting for you or you're gonna get shitloads of mail and
presents for me." He tore into the pizza and chomped down on it furiously,
his thoughts filled with the memory of our visitors.

"Lance, don't be angry," I said, patting his arm gently, but he just pulled
away.

"Don't patronize me, Stephen," Lance muttered. "Don't. I've been through
this--I'm surprised it hasn't happened to us earlier..." Disgusted, Lance
threw the plate down, sank into my futon and folded his arms over his
chest.

"I just wanted to come out and visit you, Stephen..." Lance trailed off,
looking up at the ceiling, his eyes wandering. "Just for one day. I wanted
to get away from all of the...the..." He thought for a few
seconds. "Crap. I guess that's the word. All of the screaming fans, the
business deals and the appearances." Lance turned to look at me, where I
was still chewing on my pizza. Smiling softly, Lance pried the plate out of
my hands and rested it next to his.

He then took my hands into his and stared at me for a few seconds, his
green eyes connecting with my brown ones. Lance leaned over and kissed me,
the grease from the pizza still lingering on his lips.

"Stephen," he whispered, lowering his eyes and examining our intertwined
hands. "I just want you to myself...I want to be with you all the time and
I can't. You don't know how difficult I've been with the other guys." Lance
sighed and then shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He rolled his eyes. "I've been a pain in the ass. You can call
up Chris or Justin or Joey and you can ask them yourself. I thought they
were gonna kill me every time I talked about you. I've been cranky and
mean. And--" A hint of a smile played at his lips. "It's your fault."

"Mine?" I laughed, breaking our grasp long enough to point at my
chest. "You've gotta be kidding me, Lance."

"Yup," Lance nodded, a bashful grin filling up his face. "I'm so miserable
without you, Stephen." He moved closer to me. "*So* miserable..." We kissed
again, slowly and leisurely and I felt his grip tighten on my hands.

"That's what I missed," Lance whispered. "You being there for me. I didn't
know it was gonna be so hard separated from you,. I thought I'd be okay. I
thought I was gonna be strong enough and I *hate* sounding so whiny,
Stephen..." He looked away for a second. "I hate sounding like I'm so
dependent, but I've become so used to you being with me, I feel like one of
my limbs is missing or something..."

"Lance..." I said softly. "I know exactly what you mean.." And before I
elaborated on my thoughts, I pulled my boyfriend into a hug, holding him
close to my chest. I wanted to stay locked in that position forever. I
didn't want to let him go...

We held each other for what seemed like ages. I listened to him breathe. I
listened to the way his heart beat next to mine and most of all, I just
reveled in the feeling of holding Lance so close next to my own body. And
then we parted, and he looked at me...

It wasn't the look I was expecting. I thought he was going to be
happy...relieved. He wasn't.

Those beautiful eyes were filled with sadness and pain.

"Lance?" I questioned, my voice shaky. "What's wrong?"

"Stephen..." He took a deep breath and I saw his hands shake. "I have to
tell you something...you won't be happy. I wasn't happy..."

"What?" I asked, wary at the weird way he was acting. The first thought
that ran rampant through my mind was that Lance was going to break up with
me. That's why he came over. To just tell me that the long distance thing
we had, wasn't working, and that he had found someone new in another
city. I began to wonder how life was going to be without him and a shiver
ran down my spine. I didn't like that thought at all...

"What?" I repeated, wishing that Lance would just get the news over
already. I had never been dumped before and I didn't know how I should
react. Surprised? Angry? Kick him out of my apartment and send him over to
Cindy's next door?

"Stephen...me and the guys met with our managers the other day..."

"Yeah?" `Here it comes,' I thought. `Get ready for it...'

"Yeah...and well they mapped out our lives for the next few months or
so..."

"Huh?" That wasn't what I was expecting. Unless they told him to drop me as
a boyfriend...Lord...

"Stephen, in two days I leave for Japan," Lance finally announced, trying
to hold back his tears. "We're doing a short promotional tour there for two
weeks. And then we come back to the states and do three more months of
touring. I don't get another break until mid-December. I won't see you for
almost three months."

Oh....whew. Wait.

*Oh*

Three months. Three months without my boyfriend...

Oh Lord...

I sat there, silent for a couple of seconds, not sure what to even say to
him. I wasn't mad at him. I mean, he was in *NSYNC*. This was his
job. Touring. Making appearances. That came with the fortune and glamour
and the money...

"Well," I began slowly, still not sure what to
say. "Lance...I...well...um..." I shut my mouth and stared at him. My heart
slowly split into two as I allowed my eyes to linger over his
features. Three long months away from Lance...

"Stephen," Lance choked out. "If you want to break up with me, I don't
mind. I understand you know..." He took another deep breath and spoke the
next words as though they were killing him. "I don't want you to feel as
though you're tied down to me. I want you to be--" He paused
again. "--Happy." Lance spoke the word haltingly, as thought that was the
final knife in his chest. "I want you to be happy."

Happy? Without Lance? Was he joking? One look at the serious, miserable
look on his face and I *knew* he wasn't kidding me. He was serious. Dead
serious.

I thought my words through. I knew what I was going to say, but I wanted to
say it right. I wanted the words to be perfect.

"Lance, you are kidding me right?" I finally asked, trying to hide the
smile that wanted to appear on my lips. I didn't want our short time
together to be filled with anger and sadness. I wanted us to be happy. "Or
are you just being a total jerk?"

"Oh thanks, Stephen," Lance sighed, biting his bottom lip. I could tell
that he wanted to smile, but he didn't. "Always insulting me..."

"Damn right I'm insulting you. If you ever say another stupid thing like
that again..." I trailed off threatingly as I pulled him into my
arms. "Lance, I love you to death, but you're an idiot sometimes." I placed
a kiss on top of his head, and cradled his body in my arms for a few
seconds. "Why in God's name would I want to break up with you just because
you have to go on tour?" I looked down at my boyfriend and already found
that he was peering up at me with those stunning eyes of his.

"I don't know...I just thought that maybe you'd want someone else...someone
who could be here for you when you need it. Not fifty million miles
away..." Lance surmised. I placed another kiss on the top of his head and
sighed.

"You are the silliest thing in the world," I laughed as I gently brushed my
lips against his forehead. "And I love you. And I'll come visit you on
tour--not when you're in Japan--" We laughed for a second and then grew
silent again, lost in our separate thoughts.

"I'll visit," I said softly, whispering the words in his ear. "I get some
days off from school, you know. And I'll fly out and visit you." I closed
my eyes briefly, pushing my fear of flying out of my head. "And we'll spend
some time together..."

"Really?" Lance asked hopefully, snuggling deeper into my arms.

"Really," I promised firmly, as I tipped his chin up to mine. We stared
into each other's eyes again and I watched as a genuine smile appeared on
his lips. "And remember, there's always the phone if you ever...uh..."
Instead of finishing my sentence, I just raised my eyebrows seductively at
him. A confused look crossed his face until it finally sunk in.

"Oh..." Lance laughed, kissing me once he got the joke. "I like that. I
like that idea a lot, Stephen.." Resting his head on my chest, I heard a
sigh of contentment leave Lance's throat and I wrapped my arms snugly
around his waist once more. We lay there, peacefully silent, before I heard
Lance clearing his throat.

"Stephen?" Lance asked quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Mind letting me go now? I'm really hungry and I wanna eat..." Lance looked
up at me, giving me his famous puppy dog look. Both of us laughed and I
unclasped my hands, allowing Lance to sit up.

"No problem," I smiled as Lance handed me my plate of pizza again. "But I
want you to know something, Lance..."

"What?"

"If you didn't have to eat, I'd never let go of you--never ever ever..."

An ear-to-ear grin broke out on my boyfriend's face as my words hit his
ears. "Stephen..." Lance whispered. "I love you."

"I know," I whispered back, reaching out to stroke Lance's cheek with my
thumb. "I love you too."




"I hate the fact that you're missing class," Lance said disapprovingly, as
we got into my car the next morning.

"Go to class and miss saying goodbye--" The word caught in my throat, but I
just swallowed it down and gave Lance a bright smile. "--To my boyfriend?
Never." As I examined him, I fought the urge to laugh my ass off. At that
moment, Lance could have passed as an identical match for the Unabomber. He
was wearing a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, and black, inconspicuous
sunglasses. What made him even more suspicious was the fact that Indian
summer was taking it's toll in Ridgemont, and the temperature was hovering
around, oh, sixty-five degrees already. And it was only eight in the
morning.

I started up my car and began to make my way to the airport. I weaved
through lane after lane of heavy traffic, while Lance just remained silent
next to me, hands folded over his lap, staring out the window through his
sunglasses. My mind ran through the events of last night, after he had
broke the news to me. We had talked and laughed. Lance told me stories
about how cranky Josh was without Cynthia (she had also started her junior
year at the University of Wisconsin and they had been separated as well).

And then Lance and I went back to bed. Sleep was the last thing on either
of our minds. Instead, we did things that would have even made the most
uninhibited person blush...

The memory of Lance's green eyes, almost iridescent in the shadows of the
night, would be burned into my mind forever. If I closed my eyes, I could
feel his hands still roaming over my body, his lips pressing against my
skin and the warmth of his body near mine. And now I had the marks on my
neck, the scratches on my back and the bites on my skin to remember him
by...

Not to mention that I ached all over. Lance...he really went to town on me
last night, and frankly I didn't mind it one bit. I knew that I would have
to hold on to those memories for awhile.

The ride to the airport was much quicker than either of us expected. As I
pulled into a spot and cut the engine, I felt a wash of sadness come over
me. As I turned to look at Lance, I saw a frown appear on his face. He
looked miserable, even though he was disguised by the sunglasses. We sat
there silently for a couple of second, not daring to say anything. Leaning
forward, I pressed a button on the radio that allowed the clock to light
up. 8:35. His flight left at 9:30. Less than an hour to go...

My thoughts were interrupted as Lance suddenly reached over and grasped my
face in his hands. I noticed that he had pulled the sunglasses off and drew
his mouth to mine. His lips touched my own...parting...and my mind swirled
into nothingness as we kissed, grasping onto each other for dear life. I
knew he was doing this for a reason. Once we were inside the airport, there
was no way we'd be able to act affectionate towards each other. I felt his
lips part from mine, as I came up for a breath of air and then pulled Lance
close to me once again. Eying him, I gave him a mischievous smile before
pressing my lips to his once more. And this time, our kiss was sweeter than
even before...

"There," Lance whispered triumphantly when we finally broke apart . "One
for the road, right? Since we can't do that in the middle of an airport..."
As I looked at him, I noticed that his green eyes were sparkling with
tears. He looked exactly the way I felt. But I didn't want him to know...

"Two for the road," I corrected him, mustering as bright of a smile as I
could. I pulled the keys from the ignition and placed them in the pocket of
my jeans. With that, I hit the locks and swung the door open. `Might as
well get this over with', I lamented. Lance slipped his sunglasses back on
and then got out of the car.

"Stephen," Lance spoke up from his side. "Thanks for bringing me here..."

"No problem," I said quickly, as I slammed my door shut and then checked to
make sure it was locked. "I was glad to do it."

"Oh, I know--you just wanted to get rid of me faster, didn't you?"

"Yup...damn right, I did," I teased Lance, as he fell into step besides
me. "How'd you guess?"

"I know you, Stephen," Lance said absentmindedly, as he eyed the building
in front of us. "I know you.." His voice trailed off, and I knew that his
mind wasn't focused on our bantering anymore and his thoughts were instead
focused on his flight.

I'm not going to bore you with the details of what happened next. You know
the standard--checking in your stuff, checking your tickets and all--It
wasn't much of a problem though, since he had just brought his oversized
knapsack along with him. He knew that he'd only be able to spend one night
with me. As we took seats in the waiting section of the airport, something
suddenly came to mind.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, slapping my forehead with the palm of
my hand. "I forgot your shirt."

Lance just waved that off. "Stephen," he smiled. "It's yours now. Forget
it. Wear it and think of me..." I blushed at his sentiment and let out a
sigh of relief.

"Thanks," I said a bit awkwardly, as I shifted in the uncomfortable plastic
seat. "Thanks, Lance..."

"Not a problem."

There wasn't a lot to say, although the urge to take him in my arms and
just hold him again was growing as the seconds ticked by. I stared off into
space when suddenly, I felt a set of fingertips dancing on my thigh. I
looked down to find that Lance was touching me, keeping his actions as
nonchalant as he could and when he caught me looking at him, he just gave
me a smile.

"Lance..." I murmured, feeling a blush creep over my face. "Stop that."

"Why?"

"Because--" I began, only to be cut off by the announcement that
reverberated throughout the airports PA system.

"Flight 246 - Ridgemont to Los Angeles, now boarding. Flight 246 -
Ridgemont to Los Angeles boarding at Gate 8."

Lance and I looked at each other then, and his hand suddenly froze in
mid-stroke. People around us began to rise from their seats and head to the
boarding gate. And Lance and I just sat there not wanting to move.

"Well," he finally said, standing from his seat. "Time for me to go..." We
began our silent walk to the boarding area. I didn't know what to say. All
I knew was that Lance was leaving and I didn't know when I'd see him
again. `Three months', I repeated to myself. Three long months...The
thought was killing me, and I felt as though a weight were crushing my
chest.

"Stephen," Lance spoke softly as he turned face me. "I'll call you, okay?
I'll call you every spare chance I can get. I'll charge all of the charges
to my phone bill, don't worry. I just wish I could say what I want to
say..." I knew what he meant. I desperately wanted to tell Lance that I
loved him, but both of us knew better. I saw a lump form in his throat and
he placed his hand in the pocket of his jeans. When he pulled his hand out,
he gave me a small scrap of paper, folded over many times.

"Here--read it when I'm gone..." And with that, Lance peered over the top
of his sunglasses and just blinked. I saw the pain and the longing in those
green eyes...and there was nothing I could do. Swarms of people surrounded
us and the last thing either of us wanted to do was draw more attention to
ourselves (people were looking at us strangely as it was, with Lance
covered up like some kind of freak). I wanted to hug him, kiss him...I just
wanted to tell him that I loved him. But I knew those were no-no's...not in
public.

"Bye, Stephen," Lance said softly, before fixing his sunglasses and walking
away from me. I watched his figure head over to the boarding area. I
watched as he handed the girl his ticket and saw him turn back, briefly, to
give me a little wave. I waved back and watched him disappear onto the
plane.

He was gone. For the next three months or so, Lance would be in different
parts of the world and I would be...here.

I stood in my spot, my feet frozen to the ground and I suddenly remembered
the square of paper in my hand. Fumbling with it, I struggled to open it up
as quickly as I could, trying not to tear the small paper. Drawing in a
sharp breath, my eyes read the simple, one liner that was written in
Lance's familiar scrawl.

"I love you, Stephen."

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to
spill over. `Not in a public place, Stephen,' I told myself. `No. You are
*not* a wimp..."

And I was proud of myself. I didn't. Instead, I just tucked the note into
my wallet, next to the two pictures that I had kept from our little
excursion in the photo booth, all the back in Florida. Happier days. And
then, I looked at my watch--I had to get to school, even though I hadn't
finished my painting. `Oh well', I thought. `So I look like an asshole in
front of the whole class. Who cares. At least I got to spend a night with
Lance.'

As I headed out of the airport, my heart suddenly felt a thousand times
lighter, all thanks to Lance's little note.

`It's only three months,' I reassured myself as I walked to my car. `It's
only three months....and when you'll finally see him, it will be worth it.'

Little did I know that I would be seeing Lance sooner than that.

***********************

Yeah, I'm teasing you. I know. I'm a bitch, poodles =) Feedback always
appriciated! sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com

Love ya,
Gabriella