My Surprise Romance

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