Surprise surprise! It didn't take until Thanksgiving for this chapter! Well, I guess having a three-day weekend helps. Lots of extra time to write well into the morning. :-) Anyway, I'm going to keep this header short, maybe. As a side note, me getting this out in a week is probably a fluke. School's coming down even harder now, and I quit writing at about 2:30 on many a night cuz I just was so damn TIRED! So the next chapter...Thanksgiving. Not a guarantee...if you're lucky, it'll be out sooner, like this one! But as a reminder, I'm a STUDENT first, a PERFORMER second, a SLEEP-DEPRIVED person third, and a WRITER fourth. So, yes. There we go. Much love and thanks go out to my friends who keep in touch...Ken, Jake, Ryan, Kris. Special thanks to Michael McCall, author of "Lance and Michael," and Jeff, author of "Twist of Fate" (JLS!) And to you, Rob...you know what you've done for me. Nothing special...just...THANKS. I love you, and you, and you and you you you and you! All of you! Thanks for reading!
OK, and here are the boring, various disclaimers. This is a FICTIONAL story involving the band NSync, specifically member Lance Bass. I do not know NSync in any way, shape, or fashion with the exception of what I can get off of fan pages, their official site, various interviews, and the like. I do not know the sexual orientations of any members, although a guy can dream, can't he? :-) I do not claim to know the personalities of any member of NSync either, and all reactions are the product of one deranged author.
If you're part of NSync, please e-mail me! If you're not, e-mail me anyway!
Iff (test your math/science terminology here!) you are offended by homosexual relationships, or are under 18 or the legal age in your area, or your local laws/customs do not permit the reading of such material, then don't continue. I'm not one for writing porn stories, so don't expect pure sex. This is (hopefully!) a real story with emotions beyond passion. If those rules apply to you, then don't get caught reading this if you do decided to go on and read it.
Previously in "Every Little Thing I Do"...
"Looks like we're here, and we've got a crowd." He pointed out the window. I stretched across Lance's lap to look out the other side. A billion screaming girls were standing behind NYPD sawhorses, waving signs. I had seen this scene before - on TRL, safely from 100 miles away, in my own home. Now I was in the middle of it. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. I was all worked up, and I knew that I would break out in a sweat soon. I kept telling myself that it would be alright, that I wouldn't have to say anything. Lance will take care of me, I thought. Lance'll take care of me.
Every Little Thing I Do
Chapter 11
By Mahka
"Oh God, are we going to have to sign autographs?" whined Chris.
Justin grabbed his cell phone and talked directly into it. I realized that I had never gotten my own little care package from Evan, even though I had read the guidelines and agreed to them.
"N1 to J, over."
A pause, then some static. "J here."
"Johnny, we were wondering how we were going to get into the studio with all these people here."
"We're gonna have to brave the crowds. NYPD's got a section blocked off. Just do a little waving and smiling, but look like you're in a hurry, and get inside ASAP. We've got five minutes, and we haven't done make up yet."
"Alright. N1 out."
Justin put his phone back in his pocket. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get going."
At that moment the limo pulled up next to a break in the crowds. Police surrounded the area, and we could see a clear path directly into the studios. 1515 was prominent above the doors. Cool, I finally get to see the MTv studios! This was exciting. And terrifying at the same time.
Lance popped the door open, and we hustled out of the limo, moving briskly towards the door. The screaming was intense, high-pitched, and painful. The guys smiled and waved, but kept moving. Arms reached out over the lines, trying to touch them. I followed Lance, scared to death and not knowing what to do.
We entered the building, where an important-looking woman stood, holding a clip board and wearing headphones, similar to the ones used by the crew at the shows.
"We're gonna have to delay the conference slightly. Get up to the TRL dressing rooms for make-up. The press is already here," she said, pointing us toward a bank of elevators. "Go!" she added when we didn't move right away.
We entered the elevators and rode it up to the second floor.
"Sheesh, what a bitch!" commented Justin.
"Go!" mocked Chris.
"C'mon guys, we're late already. Let's just get this over with," said JC with a sigh. My sentiments exactly.
The guys knew their way around the studios, and we were soon getting foundation and blush powdered onto our faces. There were only three make-up artists, so I quickly signed the agreement as Joey, Justin, and Chris were prepared. These people were quick. By the time I had finished signing the 15 lines, they were done. It took them a little longer to work on me, since they didn't have the foundation pre-matched. Apparently they record what foundation was used on which person. Still, five minutes later I was done. We were told that Mel, Johnny, and Evan were ready as well, and that we were to meet them by door four, wherever that was.
My heart continued to race, and my hands started to sweat, as they always do when I get nervous. I could feel the paper of the agreement soften under the sweat. Euw, yuck. Turn, turn, turn, forward, turn...I followed the veterans through a maze of corridors. Door four suddenly loomed ahead. I saw that the red light next to the door was on, indicating a show in progress. A sign on the door said "NSYNC PRESS." Odd, what was being taped? We weren't even inside yet!
The three people from management stood right there, flipping through papers.
"You guys ready?" asked Evan. He sounded stressed and high-strung, like his tie was too tight. He reached up and adjusted the knot slightly, loosening it. OK, so it was too tight.
There was a quiet chorus of affirmative noises, and Mel opened the door.
The lights were bright, but not blinding like they were on tour. A raised stage stood in the middle of the room, which I recognized as the room that TRL was taped in. The shades were drawn, and behind the stage was a large backdrop screen with "MTv News" scrawled all over it in small logos. A podium stood in the middle, with at least ten microphones sticking out of the holder. Was it news THAT important? Someone had to feed the gossip papers, I figured.
Mel walked up to the stage, Evan following. The rest of the guys trooped obediently on to the stage and stood behind her. Johnny stood next to me, surveying the crowd. Cameras clicked, flashes flashed, and the video cameras rolled, their little red lights blinking.
"Good afternoon. On behalf of Nsync and Wright Entertainment Group, I'd like to thank you for coming to this meeting. We're here to clear up any questions about last night's incident here in New York." Mel flipped a page in the packet she carried. She cleared her throat and continued.
"Last night, members Lance Bass and Justin Timberlake were shopping on 5th Avenue. They took Mark Bechent, the son of one of our crew members, with them. Mr. Bass was crossing the road when a car being pursued by the police came around the corner. With little time to react, Mr. Bechent managed to push Mr. Bass out of the way. He was struck on the ankle, but suffered only minor injuries. Mr. Bass suffered only minor scrapes. The two were taken to St. Mary's hospital, where they were treated and released. The shows scheduled here in New York are unaffected and will continue as planned." Mel took a breath, gazing into the crowd. Lance shifted uncomfortably beside me. "Any questions?"
The press exploded into a flurry of noise, pads waving, hands flying through the air. Mel drifted back toward us as the band and I moved up to the podium. FLASH! My vision was temporarily blinded as a flash went off near me. So this was the life of celebrities. I don't think I could really take it. I'd be blind by the time I turned 30.
Finally Lance pointed into the crowd, and I recognized Brian McFayden from MTv News as he stood.
"What is your relationship with Mark?" I caught my breath. If I had been asked that question, I don't know what I would've said. Yes, I had memorized our story, but the pressure was on. Lance fielded the question smoothly, though, answering as if there was no problem.
"Like Ms. Bell said, he's the son of one of the crew members. Since Justin and I are closest to his age, we've become good friends."
His answer satisfied, Brian sat back down. Another round of questions erupted. This time JC picked the winning reporter.
"David Rolston, New York Times." Ugh, it was the reporter. "Why is there a non-staff member on the tour?"
"Well, Mark's mother is a wardrobe manager with us. Since we're on tour, and it's the summer time, she didn't want to leave him home alone. She talked to management, and they OK'd it." JC ended it there, not revealing any more information than needed.
"Why is he hanging out with the band?" pushed Rolston. Damn him, I hate really pushy reporters. Oh wait, oops, that's me.
"Like Ms. Bell said, we're close in age, and we just have a good time together, like regular friends. That's all," responded Justin. You could tell that he was getting annoyed.
Rolston opened his mouth as if to say more, but a glare from Justin made him sit back down. The next barrage of noise came once again, and we were back to answering the tide. This continued for the next half hour or so, and I fielded some questions on my own.
We kept to the script, which I found somewhat difficult to do as almost everything about me was a lie. I wasn't related to a single person on the crew. Hell, I didn't even know anybody on the crew. The only reason why I was here was because I ran into Lance, and he fell for me. The reason why we were in this room was because I didn't want to lose a friend, and the world lose a pop icon, who would probably fade away in five years or so.
Finally Mel broke in, and ended the session. We filed out of the room as cameras flashed and reporters made last minute notes on their pads. Some already had laptops hauled out, others were on their cell phones. I was feeling dizzy from the fast pace of the conference, and I was thirsty. Luckily there was a table piled with food just outside the studio. I grabbed water and a few pieces of fruit. I stood by the table while the guys grabbed food and downed the water. Before I could finish, though, we were off again.
"Hey, wait! I'm not done!" I protested.
"We're going back to the hotel," said Joey, dragging me along.
"What about make-up?" I replied. I never went out after a show with my make-up still on. Of course, that was the cake make-up, but still. Guys walking around in make-up...not the greatest of things. True, we WERE in New York City, but it just didn't seem quite right.
"Later," was the curt reply. We fought the throngs of girls once again, and luckily made it back inside the limo without incident. This time, however, the guys paused briefly to sign a few autographs. The result was, as usual, swooning. Really, these girls needed to get a clue. The guys of Nsync aren't going to marry some random fan. Ten years later, when Nsync was just another New Kids On the Block, they'd look back on the posters and wonder what the hell they were thinking.
But I, I was lucky. I really understood what was going on with them. I felt special, in one way, but not special in another. Special on the fact that I was dating one of the members of Nsync, and not special in the fact that I was just another person to them. Which, actually, I liked. Because I then could see the real Lance, Joey, Justin, JC, and Chris, not the image.
Lance...Lance was...Lance is. It was hard to believe that it had only been four days since we met, a collision in the mall. This was something that only happened in fairy tales and fictional, optimistic romance novels. After everything we had gone through in those four days, I knew that I wanted us to move on in our relationship. I know that just that morning I had explained to him why I hadn't slept in the same bed with him, but that seemed like ages ago. The whole press conference made me realize that he was the one for me.
I waited in the limo, on one of the side seats, for the guys to finish. One by one, they entered. Not surprisingly, Lance was the first inside.
"Hey you," he called softly, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.
"Careful, Lance. We've got company. LOTS of it." Still, I snuggled up to him, brushing my head against his chin.
"Nah, we're ok. They can't see us through the windows." He slung an arm around my shoulder and drew me close. I could feel a slight stickiness clinging to him, probably from a mix of humid August air and sweat from the conference. I didn't care though. He was cute and sexy no matter what. I had decided that a while ago, and it stuck now.
"You did a good job today, for a rookie," he laughed.
"Thanks, I think." I grinned and looked out the window. Joey and Chris were heading toward us. I removed his arm from my shoulder and scooted away from him.
"Hey! What's that for?" His eyes contained a look of hurt. "I thought you-"
Lance was interrupted as Chris popped his head inside. Lance shut up and gave me a nod, now knowing the reason behind my action. We still hadn't talked about what we were going to do, and when, or if, we were going to tell the rest of the guys.
"Whew, now THAT was a pain," groaned Joey as he settled in opposite me. "Hey, how come you never get so many requests, Scoop?"
"I guess I'm just not as popular as the rest of ya." He shrugged. I felt bad. I remembered the McDonald's commercial that promoted the Nsync/Britney Spears CD. Lance waving a sign for himself in the crowd. That was sad. "But it's OK. I happen to know that I'll still be making millions in ten years because of FreeLance." He grinned evilly, if that was possible with my angel.
"Ooo, ok, I'm sorry Mr. Hotshot manager," responded Chris. I could tell that this exchange had happened many times before, and that it meant no harm.
The limo shook once again as Justin and JC crawled inside. A few quick waves, a yell, and they slammed the door shut.
"Whew, now THAT was exhausting!" exclaimed Justin. "I'm ready for bed."
"What, AGAIN?" asked JC. "You got up no more than five hours ago! Lazy bum!"
The chauffer entered the limo and we headed off into New York once again.
"So? I need my beauty sleep! Notice how all those girls out there were swooning?" Justin leaned back and ran a hand through his curly hair.
A round of laughter came from the guys and myself. Man that Justin was vain!
"Ha, you wish!" said Lance. I nudged him lightly in the ribs, and he gave me a knowing wink.
Our ride back to the hotel was much more relaxed than our ride to the studios. Jokes flew back and forth, including some rather off-color ones that I'm sure fans would have been shocked to hear, coming from a goody-two-shoes band like Nsync. But I understood where they were coming from, being musicians and all. Our music department was always full of sex jokes, especially after school.
"Hey, what do you guys say to another round of shopping?" asked Justin.
Lance recoiled in his seat, bumping into me. I winced as my ankle was jostled. "After what happened yesterday? Are you kidding me?"
"Why not? That was such a freak accident that I doubt anything like it would happen again."
"Well...I dunno. I mean, Mark is still in some pain I think."
"That's what you THINK Mr. Bass," I chided. "I'm up for some shopping, as long as we don't have to trek all of Manhattan again."
"Coo," responded Justin. "What about the rest of you? Wanna join us today?" He looked at the other three guys.
"Sure, sounds good to me," said Joey. "But it's Sunday, y'know."
"Yeah, but the stores here in New York tend to open longer even on Sundays," Justin countered.
"Hey, speaking of shopping," interrupted Lance. "What happened to our stuff from yesterday?"
"Yeah," I chimed in for lack of anything better to say. Besides, it was some of my stuff too, and Lance and Justin had picked out some pretty funky outfits that I really liked and wanted to keep. It wasn't my money, but...hey.
"It's in our room. We picked it up after you guys left, and Justin's been poking around in it trying to remember what's his and what's not," JC said.
"Oh, ok. We'll take a look when we get back." Lance leaned back in his seat, his leg rubbing up against mine. Any casual observer would've thought it was an accident, but I could tell from the extra pressure behind it that it was more than that. Geez, only four days. Wait...five. This was moving pretty quickly. But not as quickly as my previous relationship that just stunk.
We finally arrived at the hotel, our plans for the evening figured out. We'd go shopping, then return to the hotel somewhat early for a quick bite to eat and then catch a show. A general consensus agreed on Rent, which I was happy to agree with. I'm a big Rent fan, and I wanted to see it on Broadway.
Lance and I ended up not stopping by JC and Justin's room to pick out our stuff, quickly changing into something more casual and then heading out again. Nothing happened in the room despite everything that had happened in the limo, which was somewhat disappointing. But it was understandable, as we were pressed for time. Johnny, Mel, and Evan had vanished off to wherever management people go, and we were free for the day. Even security seemed more relaxed around the hotel. I took a look at the guys assembled in the hall. With their various disguises, a hat here, sunglasses there, and more casual clothes, they seemed like normal people. Now if I could get by without being recognized. If we were lucky, no news channel had broadcast our press conference, and I was still an unknown.
We hit the town, six hyper, unruly guys. Being daring, Chris suggested the subway to take us into the heart of the city. Why not? The rid was uneventful, just more chatter and laughter. Some of the guys looked silly with sunglasses on in the subway, but hey, it was "style." Hitting a few stores and running up a bill that must have totaled in the ten-thousands between the six of us, we completed our shopping spree without incident. Lance was very keen on looking for what might be used as wardrobe for the next video. He really was the business-minded one, looking forward.
We hopped the subway back around six, and staggered into the hotel laughing thirty minutes later. McDonald's was declared the official dinner for the night, since it was quick and there was a McD's just a block over. The guys dumped off their bags in their rooms and were ready to go again in under a minute. I wasn't sure if I could keep up with all this hyper energy. My ankle was hurting somewhat after three hours of walking, standing, and balancing as I tried on countless pairs of pants. I decided to take a break and rest before heading out once again to see Rent.
"Hey, guys? I think I'll stay here and order room service or something," I announced to the group.
"What? Why?" asked Joey.
"My ankle's hurting somewhat," I replied. "I just want to give it a rest. Go on, I won't mind."
"Hell no, we're not leaving you here alone! We'll run down and get the food to go and bring it back." JC was being the compassionate one again.
"I'll stay with Mark," offered Lance. Figures.
"Alright, cool. So what do you want?"
Lance and I gave him our orders, and the quartet headed down the hall to get our food. Lance jogged after them, stopping JC and briefly conversing with the guys. I turned back to our door and patted my pockets, searching for the card key.
"Problem?" asked Lance, coming up behind me.
"Hmm, seems like I left my key in the room," I said, flustered.
"Nah, that's ok. I've got mine." Lance took his own key out and opened the door. I moved forward to enter the room, but Lance surprised me by sweeping me off of my feet and carrying me in. I was surprised he could do that, since he wasn't exactly the strongest man in the world and I wasn't exactly anorexic.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I cried, laughing.
"Well, you said that your ankle was hurting you. Can't let you walk on it too much, can I?" He chuckled, and I let myself melt, absorbing the bass of his voice. "Why, do you have a problem with this?"
"Well, y'know, it...it's just that...y'know, carrying somebody into a room in this particular fashion is usually for..."
"A married couple?" he finished.
"Heh, yeah."
"But they usually go in all gentle and everything, don't they?" We were approaching my bed. I could feel his muscles tense under me.
"Yeah..." I was getting nervous, trying to figure out what he had in mind.
"Well then, I guess we're not married!" he shouted as he dropped me onto my bed rather unceremoniously. My ankle smacked the edge of the bed, sending needles of pain up into my brain.
"OW! Crap!" I cried. I grasped at my ankle, rolling over and curling into the fetal position. "Thanks a LOT Lance!" I said through gritted teeth.
Once again, his expression instantly went from playful to concern. "Oh my God, I'm sorry Mark! I didn't mean for that to happen!" He was instantly by my side, holding me, comforting me in his arms.
"Agh!" I moaned. I rolled about for a few more minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. All the while Lance sat, stroking my shoulder and apologizing. My ankle finally returned to its original state, with only a dull ache coming through.
"I'm sowwy," he said once again, a puppy dog look on his face. "Want me to give it a kiss and make it all better?"
I had to laugh at that. "With my shoes on? If you want!"
Lance turned over and gave my ankle a tender kiss, and then moved up my body. At any other point I would've slapped him silly, but it just seemed right. Even though we were fully clothed, I felt chills running down my spine. He worked his way up and finally ended up on my forehead, having bypassed my lips.
"Have I told you that I love you?" he whispered.
"Uh, I don't think so," I responded. I looked across the mere inches that separated us, into his green eyes that revealed so much.
"Well, I do." Once again, those eyes revealed every last bit of meaning behind that statement. "I love you."
He moved his head even closer, closing the gap. His eyes began to close, and I knew where this was headed. This time as I felt his lips brush against mine, I didn't pull away. They moved off again, and then returned, this time with more pressure and more intensity. I responded, parting my lips just slightly. His hands danced across my back, grasping me and pulling me even closer. Lances soft lips parted as well, and suddenly our mouths were open wide, tongues exploring the other's. My tongue entwined with his, exchanging volumes with the muscle in our mouths. The feeling was incredible, and all thoughts of pain vanished instantly. I reached up, grasping his hair and bringing him closer. I could feel his hardening cock through his jeans, and I was sure he could feel mine.
We continued to make out, coming up for air for only brief amounts of time. Both his hands and mine traveled down towards the other's waist band. He pulled away briefly, closing his lips. I opened my eyes just in time to see him attack once again. We met, kissing once again as we explored each other. My hands snuck past the waist band and I could feel his soft butt cheeks through the thin fabric of his boxers. He gasped slightly as I squeezed softly.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and we pulled apart quickly. My bed sheets were a mess from our squirming. We were both panting from the exchange of passion, despite its rather non-physical nature.
"Lance? Mark?" came a voice.
Lance bolted from the bed, checking his appearance in the mirror. His hair had no difference, as its natural style was a mess. He straightened out his clothes as I put the bed back into some semblance of order. I patted myself down, trying to dislodge any incriminating wrinkles, smoothing out my unmovable hair. I walked over to the hallway leading to the door just as Lance opened it.
"Hey," said Lance. JC turned back to face the door.
"Hey! You're alive! We thought you guys had gone out or something. Here's your food." He stuck a bag through the door, then let himself into our room. "Everything OK? I thought I heard a scuffle or something."
"Yeah, we're fine. Just a little rough-housing." Lance stood back, trying to look casual.
"Really? With his bad ankle and all?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, actually," I said. I sat down on the bed, and JC was none the wiser. "It only hurts when something hits it or if I'm on it too long."
"Ah, well, cool. We're eating over in our room. Wanna come over?" asked JC. He stood by the door, his hand on the handle. "You can look through your stuff before we go out again."
"Sure," Lance and I responded in unison. We looked at each other and laughed.
"I think we've been together way too long!" I chuckled. I meant the remark in good humor, but the change in Lance's ever expressive eyes told me something else. I gave him a look that hopefully set his mind at ease. Luckily JC was already half way out the door and hadn't witnessed our exchange.
We walked the twenty feet next door and entered JC and Justin's room. We walked in on a war zone. Fries were flying through the air, salt packet being chucked and ketchup packages were acting as bombs.
"What the hell is going on?" shouted JC. Hey, it was his right. After all, it WAS his room.
The three hooligans stopped and stared at JC looking like a bunch of five year olds caught with spilled grape juice on mom's fancy white evening gown.
"I leave you alone for FIVE minutes and you can't control yourselves? GEEZ, I mean, you, Chris, of all people, the oldest...but obviously not the most mature or responsible. And Justin, this is MY room as much as it is yours, and I don't feel like sleeping on fries tonight!"
I had never seen JC explode like this, and from the looks on the faces of the accused and even Lance's, they hadn't either. What was going on?
"JC," began Justin, rising from the bed. "I'm-I'm sorry. It was kinda my fault. I started chucking some fries at Chris, and...and I guess it just got out of hand." Justin stood in the middle of the room, shuffling his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, head down.
Joey and Chris walked next to Justin and mumbled apologies. JC strode over to them and walked around them, giving them a slew of verbal abuse. Lance stood behind me as I watched in amazement. Talk about the other side of the performance!
"Does this happen often?" I asked Lance, turning to face him. But before I could get any further, I was bombarded with fries as Lance turned the bag he was holding upside down over my head. The four other members ran over and started sticking fries in my hair, down my shirt, breaking open ketchup packages and dumping it on me. I struggled in vain, but the five of them overpowered me and I was helpless. They were laughing as they tormented me, and finally stopped. I was covered in red streaks with bits of golden yellow. It was then I realized that I was standing on top of plastic sheeting that had been cleverly concealed.
"Welcome to the group!" chuckled Lance.
"You didn't think you'd make it this far without some sort of initiation, did you?" asked Joey.
"Well, I-" I tried to say, but a fry nestled against my chin tickled me, and I was forced to stop.
"Your REAL food is in the bathroom. Go get cleaned up and then come back. We've got about 45 minutes before we have to go." JC pointed to the door.
"THANKS guys," I finally managed to say as I made my way out the door. I walked to our door, and then realized that my key was still inside the room. I sighed and turned around to walk back to JC and Justin's room, but walked instead into a mass of flesh.
"Looking for this?" came a southern bass.
"Lance, you jerk! Yes! That was some prank you pulled off in there!" I grabbed the key and let myself into the room.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, but we always do something to a new member. I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but the rest of the guys have really accepted you as just another friend now, not an outsider. We usually do something with water, but obviously, since we're in a hotel with carpet, we couldn't do that."
"How'd you know this was going down?" I asked as I grabbed a towel and started wiping off the ketchup. Maybe a shower would be a better idea.
"Well," started Lance.
"Oh, wait, stupid!" I smacked myself as I remembered that Lance had talked to JC just as they were leaving.
"Hehe, yup."
I finally managed to wipe off all the ketchup with the help of a little water and walked into the room searching for clean clothes.
"And what about everything after that?" I asked. "Was that part of the plan too, to get my guard down?" I knew it was harsh, but I felt it had to be asked. I turned back to him, and I knew the answer before he said it.
"No, that was just me." Lance sat down on the bed and pouted. "You think I did that just because we had an evil plan hatching? Hell, I haven't even told the guys yet! That was me, and my expression of love for you. I can't believe you even thought of that idea."
Damage control team 1, report to Lance Bass immediately. Damage control team 2, report to Lance Bass immediately. Hell, all damage control teams, report to Lance Bass immediately.
I sat next to him on the bed, my clean clothes next to me. I took his hands in mine and lifted his chin. "Lance, I'm sorry. I love you too. I just wanted to make sure. I know how much you guys act occasionally. It was just that it was so...so intimate, I wanted to make sure that it was permanent and was going to last. Because..." I took a breath. "I enjoyed it."
"Really?" His eyes finally met mine. "You don't hate me for doing all that to you?"
"For the ketchup, maybe," I grinned. "But for the nice little make-out session, hell no! I think an encore would be nice, actually!"
His face lit up, and he leaned over, opening his lips once again. But this time I pulled back and stood. Lance fell over onto the bed.
"Hey! I thought you wanted an encore!"
"Not now, blondie. I gotta get changed so we can eat! I'm hungry!" I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I changed, and checked myself in the mirror just before I left again.
You're crazy, you know that? I told my reflection. You've gone completely crazy, and so has the world. But you don't care, and you're happy, and that's all that matters. Now, what happens at the end of the tour?
I mentally chided myself for leaving me with such a troubling thought, but slapped a smile on my face and walked out to meet Lance.
He whistled at my appearance, as I was dressed in one of the new outfits he had picked out for me.
"Lookin' nice! A change from the t-shirt and jeans combo you always do." He opened the door for me.
"Wait, I'm not forgetting my key this time!" I sprinted back into the room and looked for my key. I checked the table, the night stand, under the bed. It was no where to be found. Where was it? "Hmm, I can't find it."
"We'll get the front desk to make you another one. C'mon, our foods going to be frozen by the time we eat it."
We ate quickly, the guys complimenting me on my new look. I didn't think it was that different. It was still a casual style, but it seemed more pop star-ish than my usual outfit. After finishing our brief, calorie-laden meal, we headed for the elevators once again to go see Rent.
The elevator arrived, and as the doors opened a man stepped out onto our floor. He mumbled something and proceeded down the hall.
"Odd, I thought we were the only people on this floor. And I don't recognize him from any of the crew," commented JC.
"Maybe he's a hotel employee, or a temp on one of the crew," suggested Joey.
"Maybe, but I don't like that," responded JC. "I'm gonna give Mel a call." He pulled his phone out of his pocket as we descended toward the lobby.
"C to M, over."
"M here. What's up?"
"We just had some person walk out onto our floor, and none of the guys recognized him. Did we get a new crew member?"
A pause. "Not that I know of. I'll have security check the floor right away. M out."
JC returned the phone. "Weird," was all he said as we picked up our tickets at the front desk and walked into the humid August night.