The usuals: Don't read this if you are morally objected to gay relationships, or are under 18, or this is illegal where you live. Seriously: If the warnings on the website aren't enough, at least listen to me right now and stop if any of these conditions apply. This is a work of fiction: I don't know any of the members of N'sync, and I have no idea who they really are as people, including personality/sexuality, etc.
Thanks to everyone who wrote back. I'm trying to see if I can please everyone, so be patient. :) Still, email me at scottiescot@hotmail.com
We both whirled around to see who it was.
"JC, where in the hell have you been?" the person said. The parking lot was dark, and the guy was standing in shadow, so we couldn't really see him that well, but I recognized the voice. Besides that, the shadow was seven feet tall, so I knew who it was, although Josh looked a little apprehensive.
The guy took a step forward, and light shone on the face of Mike, my "jail keeper" from the concert. I heard Josh breathe a sigh of relief from behind me. I had been a little worried too, before I realized who it was.
"We have been looking everywhere for you!" said Mike angrily, and he stepped towards us, splashing through a puddle as he did so.
"Sorry, I guess I got a little caught up and I forgot to call," said Josh, and I wondered how much trouble I had gotten him into.
"You know that we are scheduled to leave tomorrow night, and that we have to be up at 6 tomorrow to work on some publicity photos," continued Mike.
"I know, I know," echoed Josh, and he looked a little hollow. "Don't worry, I can still make the appointment. Austin was going to drive me back to the hotel right now," he said, looking at me. I nodded vigorously as if that was what we had planned.
"You can't go running around town with some stranger with no protection! You freaked out everyone!" said Mike.
"Austin's not some stranger," Josh said defensively, but we both knew that Mike was right. Josh had a very busy schedule, and Seattle was simply a stop-over. He was supposed to be doing another concert in Vancouver in two days, then one in Portland just a few days after that. I hadn't realized that he would be leaving so soon until just now, and I suddenly felt abandoned.
Mike swore and berated Josh a little more, and seeing that Josh was properly told off, got into his car and left, after Josh assured him that he would be back in the hotel in a few minutes.
After Mike left, we got in my jeep, and we both sat there in silence for a few minutes. I didn't know what to say: we had had a blast. Josh was practically the only person in the world that I had opened up to, outside of Jen. I had told him everything about myself, and he had shared with me too. I don't know how to describe it: there was a real connection, and it had been made in just a few hours, and I already missed it.
I realized that it would be a few days before Jen would talk to me again, and I realized that I would probably be alone for most of that time. I have never really had many close friends, no best friends, that I could share as much as I had with Jen and Josh, because I have always been pretty quiet and introverted. I have a whole bunch of buddies, but no one that is really more than a classmate or teammate. When Jen and I started going out, I pushed away the few close friends that I did have in order to be with her. Without her or my new friendship with Josh, I realized how pathetic my life was going to be for little bit.
Well anyway, that was what I was thinking as I sat in the car. I have no idea what Josh was thinking; maybe he felt as weird as I did. I thought maybe we had had too much fun, because now that I thought about it, there was something different about Josh. He wasn't like any other guy I had ever met.
I looked over at Josh and saw that he also looked kind of down, so I decided to just say it.
"I'm going to miss you, Josh. I've never felt so alive before this night, and I've never shared so much with anyone. I feel really connected, you know?" I began, hoping to find the right words.
Josh just nodded, not looking at me, so I continued.
"Maybe its just me, but I think you feel the same way," I said cautiously. He was giving me some really mixed signals, by the way he wasn't even looking at me. Had I made him mad?
Before I could say another word, he looked up at me, his blue eyes catching the dim light from the street light outside and flashing owlishly back at me.
"I've never felt this way, even with the other guys, even with Justin," he said.
"Maybe we could e-mail each other," I suggested. That had worked when Jen had returned to California last summer.
"Maybe," he said woodenly.
"Well, when's the next time you'll be in town?"
"I don't know. The tour is almost over. After here we go to Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, Las Vegas, and a few other places in Cali, then we return to LA to do some studio work. Then I have some time off, sometime in the summer," he said, and I realized why he was so upset. My hopes similarly had been dashed. It was currently March, and his busy schedule likely wouldn't allow us to even see each other until July, at the earliest. I felt almost as bad when Jen had left to do a week-long research project on Valentine's Day, and I had planned a whole bunch of romantic things for us.
"No time off at all?" I said hopefully.
He shook his head. "I wish we weren't always on the road. God, this sucks!"
"Well, let's look on the bright side," I said. Ironically, it then started to drizzle. I didn't know if that was a further message of sadness sent by God, or inevitable, considering what city we were in. "At least you can get some sleep. God, I'm exhausted!"
He giggled a little, and I started the ignition. I didn't want Josh to get into any more trouble, so I decided to simply get it over with.
"Maybe you shouldn't be driving if you're tired," he teased.
"There's no way I'm letting you drive!" I challenged.
"Why not? Afraid I'll dent your 'ride'?" he said sarcastically, indicating my ten year old piece of junk Cherokee.
"Sorry, we can't all be million dollar popstars," I countered, watching as the oil light turned on.
"What hotel are you staying at?" I inquired, realizing that N'Sync probably wouldn't be crashing at Motel 6.
"The Marriot," he answered.
"Damn! I bet you have a whole floor to yourself, rich bastard," I said, and we laughed a little.
About ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the hotel, and I noticed a valet looking disdainfully at my car. Before I just dropped him off and peeled out of the parking lot, we sat in silence a little more, the reality of the situation sinking in.
"If I give you my email address, you have to promise not to give it to anyone," he said seriously. Being a celebrity made him worry about security constantly. He was worse than Mike.
"Josh, considering I didn't even know your name before tonight, I can think you can trust me enough not to go telling everyone in town I have your email." I joked, and he smiled.
"Give me a piece of paper then," he said, and I rummaged around in the center compartment for some.
He took it, wrote down something, then underneath wrote down his screenname. Hopefully, we could stay in touch when he wasn't at a concert, at an interview, in the studio, doing publicity, or taking photos. He wrote on the top: JC Chasez, and I realized that before right now, I hadn't even known his last name. He started to leave the car, but I put a hand on his shoulder. The paper had reminded me of something.
"Hey, what's with this JC thing? Why didn't you tell me that that's what everyone calls you? I felt like an idiot when that stupid studio guy told me 'JC wants you to follow me' and I'm like 'who?'"
He grinned. "JC is who I am to the group. All the fans call me that, but to all my real friends, the guys in the band and my family and stuff, I'm Josh."
I smiled. "I'm like, totally touched, dork. Now I have something else to tease you about."
He smiled. "Jerk." Then he walked to the front of the hotel, where another security guard quickly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him through the glass doors. He waved to me over the mammoth's shoulders, and I waved back, and left for home.
When I finally managed to return to my dorm room (up three flights of stairs, thanks to seniority), I just collapsed on my bed. I slept like a log, somehow managing to put aside thoughts about both my fight with Jen and how much I would miss Josh. He would still be here another day, but I doubted that he would have the time or that I would have the energy. Plus, I had practice that morning at ten.
My alarm woke me up less than five hours later, and I felt like I had just woken from the dead. Normally I'm a morning person, but staying up until nearly four took it out of me. I knew that this would seriously hurt my game. I could already hear Coach Blackwell chewing me out for my lack of hustle, and practice wouldn't start for another two hours.
I poured myself a bowl of cereal from my minifridge and vaguely remember eating it. My roommate, Rye, wouldn't be up for another three hours, I'm sure. I, on the other hand, had a lot to do, and that included my chemistry lab that I had neglected to do last night. It was due on Monday, and if I didn't do well on it, I would probably fail chemistry. How I managed to put that thought out of my head last night was nothing short of a miracle, but I guess my fight with Jen and my new friendship with Josh was too much for me to handle in one night.
I turned on my computer and started up the science program. I had already done the actual experimentation last Tuesday, but I was hard pressed to remember anything that had happened. I thanked my lucky stars I had even remembered to copy down the information that I had gathered, but since I hadn't bothered to put units, I had no idea what the figures were.
Instead of staring at a blank screen, I quickly decided to check my email, and to my surprise, I found one from Josh. When the hell had he had time to write me an email? He had had to be up even earlier than I did.
I quickly clicked on his name to see what it was. It said:
Austin,
I know you're thinking right now, when the hell did I have time to write this. Its called a laptop, dude, and a twenty minute drive to, you guessed it, the Space Needle. The publicity photos were supposed to be for the Seattle Chamber of Commerce, and they wanted us to help advertise. So even though you refused to take me, I still got to go, jerk-off:)
Seriously though, I have something really important to tell you, and it has to be face to face. Can you come to my hotel at around 6? Send me a reply as soon as you can: I have email linked to my phone, so I'll know whenever you answer.
Until then, take care Josh
I quickly typed a reply back: 6 is fine. I hoped he would get it in time. I also wondered what it was he had to tell me? Had I done something? Was he mad that I had just taken him back to the hotel?
I couldn't really dwell on the issue, because I still had a ton of things to do.
I managed not to surf the internet and instead slaved away at my chemistry lab for about an hour and a half. I had typed most of my introduction, and had put the info from my data table into a spreadsheet, though I still didn't know units. I guessed that it was milliliters, because the flasks we had used in class weren't that big. I hoped it wouldn't count against me too much.
I answered the questions, which were pretty basic, in my discussion part, and I formulated my answers in my conclusion. It looked ok, and I think I did pretty well on it, but I wouldn't know until the TA graded it, and she was notoriously late in giving stuff back.
I took a quick shower and got my gear and headed over to the field. Coach Blackwell was explaining to everyone that our next game, which was next Friday night, would be televised on the campus television station, and that we had better be prepared to "properly represent our school," as Coach Blackwell threatened.
By the first fifteen minutes, he could tell that I was already exhausted. I came in dead last in the sprints, and I could barely keep my eye on the ball when we split up for practice. He took me aside.
"Reiter, I hope you don't think you can continue your partying during midseason," he said, assuming that I was tired because I had a hangover.
"No coach, it's not that," I told him. I was glad he had pulled me aside instead of shouting it out to the rest of the team.
"Well, then what's wrong with you this morning? Your mind's not on the game," he said, looking worried.
See, the problem is, I already have a reputation on our team of being the compassionate one. I hold up team morale, and I'm always the one in the dugout when we're down 11 to 2, trying to stay optimistic, and encouraging everyone to do their best. I used to feel shy, being around all these seniors and stuff, but when you're in the spirit of the game and your adrenaline is flowing, I come out of my shell. I was the one to stand by Jim Fargo when his mom died of lung cancer: I went with him to the hospital and I stood by him at the funeral. I was the one to tell the coach that something was wrong when I noticed Tony DiMarco missing catches: he had dislocated his finger, and if I hadn't said something, it might have caused serious damage. I notice the small things, and I have a real sense of empathy that not many people have, especially guys. This had caused Jen to tease me for awhile about being more emotional than she was, and I guess it was kind of true. Jen doesn't notice when someone is having a bad day, but I always do.
But whenever I'm having a bad day, no one knows what to do. The team falls apart practically, and I feel VERY uncomfortable about that. Just because I'm down doesn't mean the whole team should fall apart. I'm not team captain or the pitcher or anything. I'm not even a starter, and I'm just a sophomore. I play third base, and I'm very quick, so sometimes they make me play shortstop. But still, having the whole team depend on you is kind of frightening, but encouraging at the same time.
Anyway, as I noticed the panic in Coach Blackwell's eyes, I looked over his shoulder and saw that the rest of the team had stopped pitching, and were looking worriedly at me. Great. If there's one thing about athletes, we're really superstitious, so if there was even a hint that something was wrong with me, we would most definitely lose on Friday. I could tell that that's what the others were thinking, and I didn't want my fight with Jen to ruin the game for us.
"I had a fight with my girl, that's all," I said. I felt a little guilty not telling him everything: I had a lot of things to worry about, aside from Jen, including failing chemistry and losing my scholarship (which would do wonders for team morale then), as well as this weird feeling that I had when I thought about Josh. We had just barely met last night, and already I considered him almost as important as Jen. How had that happened? I didn't understand it, and I felt confused whenever I thought about it. You can't just be instant friends with someone, can you? What really happened last night? Why was I so sad that I wouldn't be seeing him for about six months, as well as worrying about whatever he had to tell me later after practice?
Instead of voicing these concerns to Coach Blackwell, I smiled, as if I had nothing in the world to be worried about.
"I'll be fine. I just stayed up too late," I said calmly. Coach Blackwell brightened.
"Good, son, because you know what happens when you get down," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture. Great, another thing to stress over. Considering the fact that I haven't even met my natural father, the gesture was both heart-warming and disheartening at the same time.
"Ok, team, lets head over to the cages," Coach Blackwell called, turning away from me and facing the rest of the team. I grinned as wide as I dared, and a few people grinned back hesitantly, apparently still doubtful about my welfare. Tony DiMarco walked over to me.
"Are you alright man?"
"Yeah, just tired." I said. "I can shake it off. Let's go!" I tried to muster up some false enthusiasm, but found I didn't really have the energy to jog to the batting cages.
"You look awful," he said, and his eyes were wide with concern. Most of the rest of the team was ahead of us, but I could see that they were all straggling along with me, because people kept turning their heads to look at me.
Chase Petersen, our starting pitcher, appeared at my elbow, with the same worried expression. Before he could say anything, I said, "I'm fine, just a little tired. Will you all relax?" After a few more cautious glances back at me, they started picking up the pace. I remained behind, my back sore from the ferry ride and being shoved out of the way at the café. I had a headache from trying to remember too many chemistry formulas too early, and in the back of mind, I still had a lot of homework to do.
At the cages, I opted for the one on the end, so that the constant noise of slamming balls wouldn't make my headache any worse. This would also prevent Coach Blackwell from thinking that I was in bad shape and possibly telling me to sit out next Friday. That would spell doom for the team, so I just smiled as I passed the rest of the players, who all looked worriedly back at me, still not convinced that I was fine.
Tony followed me to the end cage as my spotter, and forced me to hit first.
I grabbed a helmet and a DeMarini and squared off, while he made a few adjustments to the machine.
The first one I missed by a mile. I totally over shot and almost threw myself off balance. I'm a pretty good hitter, but today was definitely not my day. Tony remained silent however, so I keyed up for the next shot. This one I connected with, but it popped straight up, hitting the chained link fence to the left of me. I heard Tony sigh.
The next four I missed, each one seeming to pop up at the last second, and each one slamming into the back stop behind me. The next one I hit too low, so it probably would have been a grounder, and I slammed the bat into the cage in frustration. Tony turned off the machine.
"There is no way that you can tell me that you're fine," he said irritably. I stayed sullen.
"I set the machine to pitch at max 70 mph, and you still missed, making dumb errors." I turned to glare at him. How could he do that? He had been testing me to see if I was at top notch, and obviously I wasn't.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do we have to lose a game before I figure it out?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
"I'm tired!" I thundered. "I was up until four in the morning last night!"
"What on earth were you doing at four in the morning?" he said.
I paused. I doubted he would believe that I had been sightseeing with a member of N'sync, so I mumbled that I was out with Jen.
"I thought you had a fight with her," said Tony.
I stared blankly back at him.
"You can't lie worth shit, Rieter, you know that," he said, a smirk crossing his face. I didn't say anything.
"Remember when you noticed when I wasn't catching right, and that I shook my hand after every catch?" he pressed. "Remember how you kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept telling you I was fine until you dragged me to the doctor yourself? Remember?" I stayed quiet. I remembered. He had insisted that he was a tough guy until I finally couldn't take it anymore, locked his arms behind his back and dragged him to the team doctor, him kicking and screaming all the way. Then the doctor told us that he had torn a ligament in his hand, and that if he had continued playing, he could have seriously damaged his wrist permanently. He had had to have a cast for the rest of the season, but I wouldn't take no for an answer.
"At the time, I thought you were ruining my best season, but if you hadn't stepped in, I might have been finished before I even started," he said. "Well, now is my chance to finally pay you back. So we're not moving until you tell me what's wrong." And with that, he plopped down next to me on the bench.
I sighed. Why does everyone have to give me an ultimatum?
"Look, dude, don't go thinking I'm some sort of hero or anything. I did what anyone would have done," I said.
'Bullshit. Even the doctor missed it during practices and he's supposed to be watching for that kind of stuff. You saved my life, dude."
"Saved your life? It was just your hand!" I said.
"My hand is my life. And I know Jen is your life, so it's time to return the favor. Now spill."
I sighed. "Jen and I had a HUGE fight, and it was all because I was acting like an ass at the stupid N'Sync concert last night," I said, deciding to give in, seeing as how Tony wasn't going anywhere.
"You went to an N'Sync concert?" said Tony, and I was struck again at how few close friends I had that knew what I was doing all the time.
"Her idea, not mine," I said firmly. He smiled.
"So anyway, she won some competition that allowed her to meet the band or something, and she 'volunteered' me to go with her, right?"
"I doubt you needed much persuasion," mused Tony, knowing how close I was to Jen.
"Well, anyway, I hate N'sync, and I started acting really rude when they were asking questions and stuff, and she got ticked, you know?"
She said why can't I grow up, and I didn't think I had been THAT rude, so I yelled at her back, and she called me names, so I stormed out."
"If you left the concert, then why are you so tired? Especially if you left without Jen?" asked Tony.
"Well, there was this other guy at the concert that seemed pretty cool, and he noticed how close we were, so he suggested we go out," I said, carefully leaving out Josh's name. I doubted Tony would believe me, and I had promised Josh to keep his silence, besides.
"You met some wacko at an N'Sync concert?" said Tony incredulously.
"He's not some wacko. We hit it off right away. We're like best friends now, and he has to leave town, like tonight." I finished. I decided not to tell Tony that it felt really weird that we had become friends so fast, and that I was able to be more open and honest with him when me and Tony, who I've known since grade school, have never been that close.
"That's why you're upset? Becomes some stranger is leaving that you've never met before in your life?"
"There was something weird about it, Tony. Like we had known each other forever. I don't know how to describe it. It's just a special bond, I don't know." I finished. Tony seemed baffled. I knew what he was thinking because I felt really weird too. As the words came out, I decided I didn't like it. Something was different, and it felt really weird, and I wasn't sure I liked it.
"On top of him leaving, and Jen mad, I'm also failing chemistry. And, since I didn't get to bed until four, I'm dead." I said, sidestepping the issue. Tony could yell all he wanted, but I didn't want to tell him how weird it was. It was a hell of a lot easier to avoid the issue, I reasoned.
"Well, I'm glad it's nothing serious," said Tony finally, and I looked at him exasperatedly.
"Well, it's not like you're dying or anything, right?" he said.
"I guess," I said. I had still lost my girlfriend, and I was really hesitant to describe my friendship with Josh, because it felt too unreal. On the other hand, I was glad, though, that Tony decided not to get into it.
"Why don't we go out to dinner tonight," Tony suggested.
"I can't," I said. "I promised him that I would see him tonight. He said he had something important to tell me."
"Does he have a name?" said Tony.
"Josh," I answered.
"Well, maybe we'll do something tomorrow," Tony suggested. I said fine, and practice went along pretty uneventfully after that. It was over at three, and I headed back to my dorm to shower.
Promptly at six, I left for the Marriot, completely paranoid about what Josh had to tell me, and everything that I felt inside. Maybe he felt the same way, and that he felt just as weird as I did.
I parked my car in the parking lot across the street from the hotel to avoid dirty looks from the valet, and walked right up to the entrance. I couldn't see Josh anywhere.
As I walked in, I saw a big guy stand up from a coach in the lobby to the left of me, and I nearly freaked out before I realized it was Mike. That guy has to stop frightening people, but I guess that's his job.
"Hey, Austin!" said Mike, greeting me like an old friend. He pulled me into a hug and clapped his hand across my back, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
"Hey Mike. Is Josh around?"
"Yeah, he told me to go get you so that you wouldn't be hassled by security," he said, gesturing towards the elevator. I noticed the hotel clerk look suspiciously at me, but I decided I didn't care.
We rode the elevator to the tenth floor, and Mike walked me down to one of the doors, knocking once. Then he left.
Josh pulled open the door almost immediately. His face broke into a grin.
"Hey, I was just wondering about you!" he said. I checked my watch. I was two minutes late.
"Well..." I started, but I was interrupted by Joey, who walked right into the room without knocking.
"Hey Austin. Long time no see," he joked, extending his hand in a gesture for a high five. I obliged, and my hand stung where he had slapped it.
"What's up?" I said.
"Not much. We're leaving in about two hours, so I'm trying to pack," he said.
"Um, Joey, I need to talk to Austin alone," said Josh. Joey took the hint and left, and we waved at each other. As Joey closed the door, Josh locked it behind him, and I felt really uncomfortable all of a sudden, being alone in a locked room with Josh.
"So what's this big news that you have to tell me?" I said, as I sat on the bed. The room was very elaborate, but I hardly noticed because I was too preoccupied with what Josh had to tell me.
"Ok," he began. "Ok...Ok...OK," he said, wringing his hands. He couldn't get the words out.
"Sit down," I said, pointing to the bed next to me. He obediently sat, but it didn't make the words come out any faster.
"I'm still wondering if I should tell you," he started.
"Josh, after all we've been through, you can trust me, honestly," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He jumped a little at the touch, and I quickly withdrew my hand.
"Ok," he began again, exhaling noisily. He turned to look at me, his light blue eyes searching mine for trust. I put on the most supportive face I could.
"You won't like what I have to say," he said, stalling.
"Josh, just tell me. The suspense is killing me!" I said, exasperated. He remained quiet.
"Is it about me? Is the group mad that I didn't bring you home on time?" I said. He shook his head. "Then what?"
He looked at me again, and I locked my eyes with his. Why couldn't he tell me what was wrong?
"I...I'm gay."
I thought this one was pretty good. What did you think? scottiescot@hotmail.com