My Surprise Romance

Hi y'all =)

Well, I'm gonna keep this short and sweet. This is the new chapter of MSR 52. You can thank school for the delay in between chapters.

I'd like to thank everyone who has sent me an email about this story. Every piece of feedback I've received has made my day and so, thank you, thank you, thank you for the mail. Thanks.

And to the usual suspects who have popped up in this thank you section before, you know who you are and how much you mean to me. Everyone. Thanks for the support. Ethan, Barry, Steph, Sarah, John (hubby!), Killian (babe, I'll send you an email ASAP. I promise), HesperBlaze, David--everyone. And I probably forgot names in there because I'm a spaz and a half. I suck. Sorry.

And of course, the lovely three who have been keeping me up: Brian, Val and Justin. A big round of hugs and cheek kisses to you all. I love each and everyone of you. Thanks for all the support. Thanks. Love you.

The lovely HTML version of MSR 52 can be found on my site, http://www.freespeech.org/gabriella Go. Now. There's some nice pictures of my Lanshy on it. And JC. And some Lance and JC stories. There I've promoted myself like the hussy I am.

Last thing: you really should go read these stories: No Strings Attached' (by the lovely Lulupower), Jamie's Romance', Curly and Josh' (Just because...AKW....dude...you're a scream. Your mails keep me laughing until no end) and Conceit'. Don't make me beat you.

And send me some mail. My inbox is begging for mail. sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Did you know Lance is tied up to my bed. Really. I tickle him with feathers every single night. Naw...that's not true. Just like this story, that stuff I said is a lie. Steal any part of it and I start kickin' ass in. And be the right age to read this stuff kids. 18 or 21. Please. And now...

My Surprise Romance

People Change

Chapter 52

Don't Bail on Me

Copyright 2001 Gabriella Morrison

Waking up the next morning was a strange experience. I was lying flat on my back in a spacious, roomy bed, but it wasn't my own. I knew the way my mattress felt--slightly lumpy with springs sticking up in odd places, so that when I woke up the next morning, my entire body would ache. But today was different because I felt extremely comfortable and at ease.

Not to mention that a pair of arms were wrapped snugly around my waist. Opening my sleep heavy eyelids, I looked down at the blonde head that was resting on my chest and couldn't help but smile.

I smiled because I was happy to be lying next to my boyfriend. I smiled because I reveled in the feeling of Lance's body lying there, his warm skin pressing against mine. I could feel the beat of his heart through his veins and I watched his rib cage fall up and down with every breath he took ..

Lance was alive. And I was with him.

It was at that moment, the chaotic events of last night came back to screw with my mind.

Shooting. Airplane flight. Hospital. Bitchy nurse and then...Lance.

I smiled at that last one. Lance...I had never been happier to see my boyfriend than at that moment, when I heard him call out my name. I blinked a few times, wondering if maybe, just maybe the events of the past few weeks had all been a bad dream. Maybe I had just waken up and it was still August. Maybe I had never gone back to school, Lance hadn't gone to Japan and the guys had never become the target of some crazy shooter.

While I continued to contemplate my thoughts, I felt Lance's body began to stir next to mine. A small sob choked from his lips and his body jerked wildly, causing one of his arms to fly up into the air.

"Stephen..." He mumbled my name under his breath, fingernails scratching lightly at my cheek. "Stephen?" Sitting up quickly, I did my best to calm Lance down, wrapping my arms around his body. His green eyes were wide open, darting nervously around the room, focused on absolutely nothing.

"Lance," I whispered soothingly. "I'm here, Lance...Wake up, sweetie...it's gonna be okay..." I began to rub his back, moving my fingertips over his skin in small, comforting circles. He continued to fight in my arms for a few more seconds, before finally waking up. As Lance turned his head towards mine, I watched his unfocused eyes zero in on my face.

"Stephen," he breathed, and before I could utter a word, Lance cupped my face in his hands and guided my lips towards his own. At first, our kisses were tentative and soft....hesitant, almost. But as the seconds ticked by, each kiss we shared grew deeper and more passionate. I swear sparks were about to fly from our mouths.

This is heaven,' I thought as Lance nuzzled my cheek with the tip of his nose. Absolute heaven...' I felt him scrape his teeth gently along my jawline, while his fingers ran lazily through my messy hair. A small murmur escaped my throat as Lance wrapped his legs snugly around my waist while his lips continued to place small, teasing kisses up and down my neck.

And then he stopped. Just like that. He moved his mouth away from mine and gazed at me with full green eyes, not even blinking. There was something odd about the look that lingered in his eyes, although I couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"Morning, Stephen," Lance whispered, knowing exactly what his teasing kisses had done to me. "How are you feeling?" And suddenly a wide, fake grin stretched out on his face, catching me completely off guard. His words had sounded forced as though he was trying to act happy just for my benefit. And I didn't like that. I didn't want Lance to hide anything from me, but I didn't want to pry into his thoughts. There's nothing worse than being forced to say things that you don't want to.

"I'm fine." I traced a path down his cheek and gave him a wan smile. "But how are you, Lance? I mean...really, how are you feeling? Don't lie..."

A dark look fell over his face, neat eyebrows dipping into an unpleasant frown. Biting his lip, Lance moved forward and rested his head on my shoulder, bringing our bodies even closer together. You couldn't even fit a sheet of paper between us. We remained locked in that embrace for what seemed like forever. Not that I'm complaining, no, it's more that I was just worried about Lance. Breaths barely left his lungs as we sat there and my heart felt like it was breaking. Something was terribly wrong with him. Lance's behavior was comparable to that of a scared five year old--almost as though he had done something wrong and was afraid to tell me.

After of few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Lance finally looked up at me.

"Okay, I guess," he said uncertainly. I just continued to stare at him, my eyes locking with his. I must have made him uncomfortable or something, because a few seconds later, Lance just shook his head.

"Not really." He bit his lip in frustration. "Oh, I don't know....Stephen?" And then he shut his mouth and met my eyes.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

His words caught me by surprise. `I don't want to talk about it'. Usually Lance didn't want to shut up when something bad happened to either of us and now...he didn't want to talk about it. There was an odd look in those light, angelic eyes of Lance's...they were emotionless. Completely void of any emotion and that sent a chill down my spine. I had never seen such a blank look in his eyes and maybe that's what scared me the most. I can't explain it....it was just an odd feeling.

But what was I going to do? Force him to speak? Hell no--this was the man I loved more than anyone else in the world. Forcing him would hurt him and to hurt him intentionally like that, would be like hurting myself. I just had to be there and support him and when the time was ready and when Lance was ready to speak, I would be there for him. That was all I could do.

"Okay," I answered, an understanding smile on my lips as I slowly caressed his cheek. "No problem...not until you're ready to talk. And when you're ready, just remember, I'm here to listen, okay?"

A happy smile appeared on his lips and I could tell that Lance was thankful that I had understood.

"Thanks, Stephen." Resting his head back on my shoulder, I heard a sigh leave his lips and faster than lightening, Lance suddenly pushed me back onto the bed. He began to shower my face with frantic kisses--messy, sloppy kisses that were so sweet and passionate, it took all of my composure not to rip his clothes off right there and then.

My boyfriend was all over me, placing kisses here and there, laying them down on the exposed parts of my skin. His hands began to tug at the bottom of my black t-shirt, lifting it higher and higher so that he could place a smattering of kisses on my chest. And then with one swift motion, Lance swung his legs over my waist and straddled my hips, pinning me down beneath his weight.

His green eyes were dark with lust and the sunlight that was attempting to fight its way though the drawn curtains, cast a strange glow over the entire room. Looking up at Lance, I noticed that he resembled a blonde angel who should have been sprouting horns at the same time. I began to wonder what had brought on his sudden display of passion, but before I could give it anymore thought, Lance lowered his head to my torso and began to slowly run his tongue along my chest. I couldn't help but moan, closing my eyes once I felt his hand work its way into my boxer shorts, coming into contact with hardened flesh.

"Ste-phen," Lance whispered in a singsong voice, causing my eyelids to fly open. "Do you know how good it is to have you here with me?" Before I could answer, he planted another kiss on my slightly swollen lips, all the while running his hand up and down my shaft. Grinning at my responsive moans, Lance just shook his head. "You're so sexy when you moan like that...."

"La..." He cut off my sighs with another passionate kiss. "Lord..."

"Let's not get God into this," Lance shot back as he gently cupped my balls in the palm of his hand. "It's just me and you..." Another kiss and another moan. "You know what, Stephen?" Lance suddenly asked. "I think I should come up with a nickname for you..."

"Nickname?" I squeaked out as his hand moved back up my shaft, causing my body to shake uncontrollably. I felt his hand move up, fingertips gingerly resting on the head as he gently ran a finger over the dampened slit. He was driving me crazy with desire and I could feel the tension building within me.

"Nickname," Lance repeated, a smile playing on his lips. "Let's see...there's always baby...or sugarpie...sweetiecakes..." I felt his hand leave my boxers and gently run up the light trail of hair on my stomach, before finding its way back into my shorts. Lance drummed his fingertips across my hardness, causing my hips to buck up in response. Pleased by my reaction, Lance lowered his head, nipping at my earlobe with his teeth, before wrapping his hand around my shaft once more.

"How `bout if you're my..." Lance purred into my ear as he gently squeezed my erection. "Hot sack of lovin',,,"

There were so many things I wanted to say then. Something like, "That's a terrible nickname, you dip" or, "What the hell have you been smoking?" But I couldn't. Not as long as my boyfriend's hand continued to work me into a frenzy, causing my hips to thrust upwards into his hand. Lance planted more kisses on my neck and my face, until his lips danced over to mine. Sharing a lustful kiss, my boyfriend continued to move his hand up and down in smooth, fluid motions, enveloping my body in pleasure. The bedsprings began to squeak from the pressure our bodies were exerting, while the headboard banged noisily against the wall. And that noise only succeeded in turning me on more.

I felt my body tense with anticipation and Lance noticed it. Parting from our kiss, Lance just flashed me a soft, yet eager smile.

"I love you, Stephen...now come on already..."

With one final stroke, my body released itself into his hand and I groaned so loudly, I'm sure the management downstairs could hear me. Lance smiled happily, pleased with my reaction and just as we were about to kiss again, the door to our room suddenly flew open. Looking over at the intruder, we suddenly heard a yell leave the persons mouth, protective hands flying over their eyes.

Poor Joey, I thought as I managed to make out his tall, husky figure. But to tell you the truth, I could have cared less about Joey, as he stood there in the doorway, embarrassed beyond belief at catching us in the middle of our intimacy. I was more interested in trying to regain control over myself. Thank God I was lying down...

"Oh God..." Joey muttered under his breath as he gingerly removed his hands from his eyes. Funny. Joey didn't seem like the type to get embarrassed easily. "Don't you two believe in locking the door?"

"And don't you believe in knocking?" Lance spat out angrily before throwing a pillow over his face in embarrassment. "Jesus, Joe..."

"Knocking? What are you guys so embarrassed for?" Joey asked in disbelief, shaking his head. "Lance, everyone and their uncle and their cousins could hear you and Stephen gettin' it on!" He punctuated his comments by whistling and clapping at our actions. I heard a moan of humiliation emit from behind Lance's pillow, while I just stared at the ceiling, mortified that we had been so vocal. Plus, to make matters worse, there was a very uncomfortable, sticky feeling in my boxer shorts that I wanted to clean up as soon as possible.

"You guys are cute together," Joey laughed, his eyes twinkling as he stood there, leaning against the doorframe. "Anyhoo, I just came to tell you kids that we're all getting late breakfasts delivered to our rooms. Separately." His happy expression darkened momentarily. "Because of...last night. Johnny came to the hotel this morning and he's just worried about everything. Security matters and stuff like that." Pausing in thought, Joey fiddled with the baseball cap that sat backwards on his head. "You know..."

And I knew what he meant. Lance knew what he meant. Suddenly, the tragedies of last night popped into our minds once more, slightly eradicating the wonderful experience that Lance and I had just shared moments ago. Reality had sunken into our minds once more and it was more than just unpleasant--it was downright disturbing.

"Yup," I answered softly, nodding my head. "I know..." I looked at Joey, who was still standing in the doorway, completely lost in his thoughts. Realizing that I was staring at him, he looked up and gave me an awkward smile.

"I'll leave you two alone," Joey said, backing out of our room. "I'll make sure someone gets you guys two breakfasts, okay?" Nodding again, I watched as Joey gave me one last smile and then closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone once more. Removing the pillow from his face, Lance looked back up at me with an embarrassed grin on his face.

"Guess we should have locked the door, huh?" he asked sheepishly, rolling on his side so that he could look at me. "I was just so tired when we got in..."

"I know you were," I agreed, as I looked up at him. That pained look was still on Lance's face. And it bothered me terribly. "You were so tired, you just conked out when you got into bed." I made a few clucking sounds with my tongue. "Such a disappointment, Lance...tsk tsk tsk..."

Arching an eyebrow at my words, Lance gave me a surprised look. "Oh really," he drawled out, reaching out to run a hand over my face. "Well, I can make it up to you, if you'd like?"

"How so?" I asked as Lance gently brought my face to his.

"Well," he smiled. "We do need to get cleaned up...and since I was such a good boy this morning and showed you how much I loved you--" Two identical grins broke across our faces. "Why don't you show me how much you love me, Stephen..." And then he kissed me. Soft, but with an urgency that was undoubtably clear of what he had in mind.

"That sounds good," I whispered, not quite breaking the kiss. "Last one in the bathroom is a rotten egg." And with that, Lance and I hopped out of the bed in hot pursuit of the shower, laughing as we ran across the carpet. I felt his fingers brush against mine as we entered the bathroom and as he looked at me, I noticed a carefree expression filling his eyes. I couldn't help but smile at him... There was no place I would have rather been.

As Lance and I finally dragged ourselves out of the shower (we had to--we were resembling a bunch of prunes from staying under that water) and began to dry ourselves off, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

I looked over at Lance in surprise, raising my eyebrows at him.

"You forgot to lock the door," I quipped as I wrapped a towel around my body. Shrugging at me, Lance just walked over the door, while I took a seat on the toilet. Great, I thought. `Now who? First Joey...'

"Who is it?" Lance called out as he quickly placed a towel around his waist.

"It's me you two queens--let me in already."

Rolling our eyes simultaneously at the sound of my cousin's voice, Lance unlocked the bathroom door and flung it open. Standing there was Cynthia, her brown hair pulled back, her face make-up free and a devilish grin on her face.

"You guys always leave the door open?" she asked, pushing her way past Lance and walking into the bathroom. "Hoping that more guys will find their way here or something?" She looked around the still-steam filled bathroom and shook her head.

"You know Harris just flew in this morning," Cynthia said wryly, as she fell onto my lap. Turning her head to grin at me, she continued on with her babbling. "You two should really get together with Justin and him..." I felt a blush work its way up my face, since Cynthia was closer to the truth than she thought. My mind drifted back to the night when Justin had corned me in the bathroom of that nightclub and asked me that question. Hearing my cousin's words, Lance recoiled in horror, his green eyes filling with shock.

"You told her about that?!" Lance exclaimed, placing his face in his hands. "Stephen, you have such a big mouth..."

Cynthia looked at me, her violet eyes huge. "Whoa--Stevie!" she exclaimed, a pale pink blush sweeping over her cheeks. "I didn't know that you and Lancey....whoa." She was dumbfounded. "I never knew that you two had such a wild streak..."

"No!" I exclaimed, standing up so suddenly, I knocked Cynthia onto the floor, not to mention my towel as well. My face turned an even deeper shade of red as I scrambled for my cover up and rewrapped it around my waist.

"Cynthia..." I sighed, walking over to the sink and splashing some cold water on my face. "It's not like that..." After reaching for another towel to dry myself off, I looked back at Lance, whose face was still crimson with humiliation. A hurt look loomed in his eyes, probably stirred from the idea that I had told Cynthia about that really weird night back in August, where I had gotten my tattoo. I hadn't--that was between Lance and I and no one else. I was adjusting the towel around my waist so that she wouldn't see the tattoo on my lower back.

"Cynthia." Repeating her name in a much more firmer tone, I helped my cousin off the bathroom floor and to her feet. "Lance and I *never...uh..slept with Justin and Harris if that's what you're thinking--"

"Yeah," she snorted. "I doubt there would be much `sleeping' going on with the four of you." Giggling, Cynthia ducked her head a little, looking positively amused by her own wittiness. "I mean, whatever you two choose to do is alright with me..."

Lance stepped forward from his place in the corner, and gently grabbed hold of Cynthia's waist. "Aw, come on Cynth," he chided her gently. "You know I only have eyes for Stevie..." Mimicking my name, Lance met my gaze. His eyes were still hurting, but there was a twinkle in them that made me smile. I knew he wasn't mad, but still, I would have to have a talk with him once Cynthia got out of the bathroom.

"Hey, Cynth?" I looked at her strangely. "What did you come over here for in the first place? Besides harassing my boyfriend and me?"

"Oh....yeah, that's right!" Cynthia grinned at us. obviously remembering the real reason she had barged in on us in the first place. "Johnny came into Josh's room this morning and apparently he called a press conference for this afternoon..." She shrugged her narrow shoulders at us. "And all of you guys...well, except Chris of course," she added solemnly, "Have to attend it. Everyone's gonna be there--MTV, NBC, ABC," Cynthia rattled off the networks one by one, before stopping abruptly. "This is big news you two... I mean, did you even see the news reports this morning?"

Lance and I shook our heads, causing Cynthia to snort under her breath once more.

"Of course not," she deadpanned. "I'm assuming you two were busy `getting clean'. Am I right?" Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest, looking at us expectantly. Lance and I just stood there, silent. I didn't want to say anything...

"Well, Cynthia," Lance began, clearing his throat. "Proper hygiene is important you know..."

His remark just caused Cynthia to snort again. "Yeah...sure, Lancey-poo." She reached out to pinch his cheek. "Sure it is. Keep telling yourselves that....anyway, like I was saying, it's huge news. The police found out that the guy who tried to....uh..." Cynthia fumbled for the right word.

"Shoot us?" Lance offered helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it," she answered, uncomfortable with Lance's carefree attitude towards it. "Well, the police searched his house--they found out that he hated you guys so much because his ex-girlfriend was in love with all of you...especially..." She paused for a second, eyes darting back and forth between Lance and I. "Um...especially Lance. Lance was her favorite...and that's who he was trying to shoot. Lance."

I felt this terrible pain constrict my chest. Terrible. But it wasn't a physical pain--no, it was something much worse than that. And I couldn't put my finger on the exact emotion. All I knew was the feeling of numbness that overcame my body at that moment. I felt horrible.

Daring to look at my boyfriend, I noticed that Lance's face had gone as pale. His lower lip trembled slightly as he sat down on top of the closed toilet seat. Placing his face in his hands, Cynthia and I watched as Lance just sat there, quiet and not saying a word.

My cousin and I looked at each other, worry mirroring in our eyes at Lance's sudden reaction. Jerking my head towards the main room of the suite Lance and I were staying in, Cynthia and I walked out of the bathroom.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Cynthia asked quietly, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I mean...I'm sorry."

"Nah. Don't worry about it--he would have found out sooner or later, right?" I asked brightly as I lead her to the door. However, I knew in my heart that that words I had just spoken were an empty reassurance. There were times in my life that I could have happily strangled Cynthia and this was definitely one of them. Did she really have to tell Lance that he had been the target of that crazy shooter? Especially after all the fun we had this morning...

Stifling a sigh of disappointment, I just gave Cynthia a quick hug. "Don't worry about a thing, Cynth--just go back to Josh and tell him that I said hi. Thanks for telling us about the press conference..."

"No problem," Cynthia smiled as she walked into the hallway. "I guess I'll see you two later, right?"

"Right. Bye, Cynth."

"See ya." And with that, I closed the door and headed back to the bathroom, only to find that Lance had locked it once I left. A seed of fear and worry sprouted in the pit of my stomach, knowing the odd way that Lance had reacted to Cynthia's news.

"Lance?" I called out, knocking on the door. "Lance? Let me in."

"No."

Closing my eyes, I counted to ten. And then I spoke up again, this time hoping that the sensible approach would work. "Lance? Come on, sweetie...let me in. I have to get ready. My clothes are in there." Placing my ear to the door, I heard Lance's footsteps hitting the tiles underneath. I smiled, pleased that my idea had worked, only to be disappointed when the door opened a crack and out came my clothes.

"There." I heard Lance mutter as he closed the door again. "There's your clothes. Get dressed out there, Stephen."

My mouth dropped open at what Lance had just done. I looked down at my belongings, which now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, before looking back up at the door. He was shutting me out, not only physically but emotionally as well. I felt hurt--in fact, I felt more than hurt. I felt downright devastated at his actions. All this coming from the person who had coined the phrase, "No secrets between us." Yeah, right.

Gritting my teeth in determination, I turned my attention back to the closed door, rapping my knuckles against it. "Lance...come on...don't act this way..." I was about to knock again, when the door suddenly flew open, causing me to nearly punch Lance in the face.

"Don't act this way?" Lance screamed at me, tears running down his face. "Don't act this way? What the fuck are you talking about, Stephen?" He poked me in the chest with every word he spoke, causing me to wince in pain. "I have every single right in the world to act this way..." More tears fell from his eyes and onto his chest. For some odd reason, I wanted to lay him down on the bed and just kiss the tears away. I wanted to hold him in my arms and stroke his hair and just tell him that everything was okay. But one look at that angry face, and I couldn't. Instead, without thinking, I grabbed his wrists, trying to calm him down.

"Lance," I gasped as he fought with me for a second. "Please don't do this. Just lets sit down and talk...please?"

"Talk?" he yelled, looking at me as though I were the dumbest person on the face of the Earth. "Talk? You want to talk? After what happened? And especially after you told big mouth about Justin and Harris?" He broke my grip off his arms and allowed them to fall to his sides.

"I never told her that!" I defended myself. "Do you honestly think I'd tell her something like that? Cynthia has a dirty mind--she thinks like that! I can't help it."

Lance glared at me for a second and I could tell that he believed me. "Well....fine. But what are you thinking, Stephen? That if we sit and talk things out, everything is going to be alright? Is that what you think?" He wiped some his tears away with the back of his hand, staring coldly at me. "Fuck that. It's not..."

We stared at each other for a few seconds, our gazes locked. Neither of us moved. Judging from the cold look in his jade eyes, Lance was trying his best to stare me down, trying to get me to back off. But I wasn't going to let him. I couldn't. Lance was hurting so badly and all I wanted to do was take him in my arms and hold him. That was all. I didn't want to change the world, or make him laugh. I just wanted to hold him.

Was that too much to ask?

My hands clenched into fists as I continued to stare at Lance. There was nothing else I could do except stare at him. Those perfect chartreuse, albeit red-rimmed, eyes and the way his eyelids hooded...the stubble on his chin...and that adams apple. I didn't care how angry he was...he was still the most beautiful person in the entire world. And I just wanted to hold him. I felt so lucky that he was still alive...

I knew he was upset at that news Cynthia had blabbed. Who wouldn't have been? But he was alive...that was the most important thing. Lance was still alive.

I just wanted to hold him.

Sometimes I think that Lance and I have become so close that we can read each others minds. I swear on this, because as we stared at each other, I watched Lance's eyes glaze over and his hard facade crumbled. Taking one step closer to me, he wrapped his arms around my neck, burying his face into my chest as he did so. I could feel the tears hitting my skin as he held on to me for dear life.

"I'm sorry," Lance whispered in my ear. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Stephen...I don't know what came over me...."

I didn't say a word, and instead, just stroked my fingers through his still-damp hair and ran my hand down his back. It felt so good to touch him, to know that he was still breathing and living...

I realized at that moment that Lance and I had been in this position so many times, either with Lance comforting me or vice versa, but it mattered so much. It mattered that we were able to be there for each other...and then a strange thought crossed my mind.  What if one day I was in school and I couldn't be there for Lance? Like if I were in one of my classes. There was no way I'd know if Lance needed me. As I held onto my boyfriend, my mind began to work overtime. The thoughts in my brain began to whiz past me in a blur, settling on either this decision or that one, but none of them seemed perfect. And then suddenly, a snap decision popped into my mind--one that was so perfect, I wondered why I hadn't come up with it sooner.

I decided to drop out of school.

I didn't know exactly when I would tell Lance my newfound good news, but I knew that now certainly wasn't a good time. By now, I meant the present, where Lance and I were sitting Indian-style on the plush hotel bed, and eating our breakfast. The moment of Lance's hysteria had passed, but he still refused to speak about anything. And that worried me beyond belief, because it was evident not only in his eyes that something was troubling him, but in the rest of his mannerisms as well.

Still, I managed to force those unpleasant thoughts out of my mind as Lance gently reached out and took hold of my chin, feeding me a piece of, you guessed it, French toast. Chewing on the breakfast food, I managed to smile at my boyfriend, who was acting so gushy it would have made most people sick. And that worried me even more--he was acting like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One second, he was all over me, the next, he was shutting me out of his life and the next he was feeding me. Weird.

"You like?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with happiness as he cut another piece of French toast and speared it onto his fork.

"Yup," I answered happily after I swallowed the toast and took a sip of orange juice. "Yummy. More please. Now."

Eyes lighting up at my goofy request, Lance just laughed and fed me another piece of French toast. "You," he sighed, shaking his head at me. "Are too cute for your own good sometimes."

"And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Bass?"

"It means--" he looked at me critically, eyebrow raised and a smile playing on his lips. "You have some powdered sugar right..." Crawling over to me, his green eyes softened. "There." And with that, Lance leaned over and gently kissed me, right next to my lips.

"Thanks," I said somewhat bashfully. My face felt warm, and for some reason, I couldn't look at Lance. I felt like a teenage girl...shy and tongue tied and there was really no reason for that. This was Lance we were talking about--the only person that I felt truly understood me.

So why did I feel so shy just then?

Maybe now would be the perfect time to tell him my decision. Why did it feel so wrong though? I mean, I wanted to be with Lance, right? So why couldn't I open my mouth and just tell him that I was planning to quit school? It seemed damn near impossible to do...

"Stephen?" Looking up, I noticed that Lance was watching me, question marks for eyes. "Are you okay? Did I kiss you funny or something?" His voice came out as light and teasing, although that odd, pained look still lingered in his eyes.

"I'm fine," I answered slowly, taking another sip of orange juice. My mouth had gone dry. "Lance..." I swallowed hard, trying to gain enough courage. "I have to tell you something?"

He stared at me for a few more seconds, before nodding his head. "Go ahead...I'm listening..."

"Lance...I....I'm really glad that I came down here," I lied (well, it wasn't exactly lying. I really was glad to be back in Florida with him--but you and I both know that's not what I wanted to tell him).

Why was this so hard for me? Maybe because underneath it all, I really didn't want to quit school. To say you hate it and to knock it constantly is one thing, but to actually give it up and walk away from it is an entirely different story.

"I'm glad you flew down too," Lance grinned, scooting closer to me. "Although I'm not very happy that you missed your classes for me..."

Classes. Did he have to go and say that? I had missed more classes in this one semester than in the past three years combined. Mostly for Lance--either because he had visited me and I felt that classes were pointless compared to sex, or because he had called me so early in the morning, I felt the need to sleep through the day.

And I had completely forgotten about Marianne. And the fact that I was supposed to drive her to that art gallery in downtown Ridgemont this afternoon. Crap.

"Can we not talk about that?" I snapped, my voice coming out much harsher than I had intended it to. "Please? I beg of you--no school."

Lance blinked a few times, obviously taken aback by how snippy I sounded. I hadn't meant to yell at him, but I just...did.

"Sorry," Lance said softly, the hurt clearly written all over his face. "I didn't mean to upset you..." Rising from his place on the bed, I listened to the sound of the dishes and silverware clinking against each other, and steadied the glass of orange juice from tipping over. I watched as Lance walked over to the window, crossing his arms over his chest as he peered between the vertical blinds.

"Lance..." I called out as I pulled myself off the bed and began to walk over to where he stood. "Look...I'm sorry..." And I was. I hadn't meant to yell at him, it was just that he brought up the subject that bothered me the most. Of all things to bring up, he had to have brought up school, right?

"It's alright," he grumbled under his breath. "I understand." But from the sound of his voice, Lance didn't understand. He was mad at me--and I couldn't blame him one bit. If he was in a bad mood already, I probably just agitated Lance even more by snapping at him. I had no right to do that. It wasn't as though my boyfriend didn't have problems of his own to deal with.

Reaching out, I grabbed Lance by the shoulder and spun him around towards me.

"Stephen--" Lance growled, an angry look on his face. "What are you--" I cut his words off by kissing him very suddenly. And I mean suddenly--I didn't even know that I was going to do that--it just happened. I wrapped my arms around him, trying to bring his body closer to mine, but instead, Lance just pushed me away.

"Do you think everything can be fixed with a kiss, Stephen?" Lance yelled, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I mean, is that the only thing you can do? Kiss me?" Blinking rapidly, the sad expression on his face was replaced with a look of disgust. "You know...sometimes...you're so pushy."

An odd sense of deja vu came over me at that moment. Standing there, face to face with Lance, having him snap at me. It was just....odd...and I couldn't place my finger on it.

"Pushy?!" I exclaimed in surprise. "I'm pushy? I'm not the one who...attacked me in the bed this morning, Lance. If I'm not mistaken, you were the one who was all over me..."

"Mistake," Lance shot back, fire in his eyes. "It was just a mistake. I had no clue to what I was doing, Stephen. I mean...I just woke up. I was confused. All I know is that I certainly wouldn't do it again."

"Fine--because you suck at it anyways," I heard myself say. It wasn't as though I was even in my own body anymore. All I knew is that Lance and I had gone from romantic to pissed off faster than you could snap your fingers. "I just can't believe I was going to quit school for you."

A dumbfounded look appeared on Lance's face once I uttered those words and the anger disappeared from his eyes. He stared at me with a look of amazement and I even thought I saw a trace of a smile appear on his lips.

"You were going to quit school for me?" Lance asked, shocked by the words I had just spoken. "For me?"

"Like hell I would now," I muttered under my breath. I was still mad--and the worst thing of it all, was that I wasn't exactly sure why Lance and I were fighting. All I knew was that I had snapped at him, and then tried to kiss him, he pushed me away and bang--we were fighting. Part of it had to be attributed to the fact that something was still bothering Lance. But there was something else. Something I just couldn't put my finger on. I walked back over to the bed, unsure what to do with myself. I felt extremely uncomfortable standing there, Lance right in back of me, probably watching my every movement

"That was a mistake," I said quickly, as I turned back to face him. "Quitting school..."

"Damn right it was," Lance replied as the scowl reappeared on his face. "I mean...did you ever think that maybe I like when you're not around? Did you ever think that your constant presence is a pain in the ass to me?"

Ouch I felt like Lance had just belted me in the gut and slapped me in the face. Ouch. Obviously, my expression told volumes about how his words had affected me, because the next thing I knew, Lance had rushed over to me.

"Stephen, I'm sorry," he said softly, trying to place an arm around my shoulder. "I didn't mean it, I really did-"

I cut him off, knocking his arm off me in the process. "Just get away from me," I sneered, walking towards the door. "If you didn't want me around, why didn't you say so? I'm sorry I even flew down here."

"Stephen," Lance trailed on my heels. "You know I didn't mean a word I said. You know it...I was mad, you're mad..." I didn't answer him. Instead, I patted my back pocket, making sure I had my wallet in there. "Please don't leave me," he begged me. "Please."

"Look, you want me out of here, I'm gone. At least I won't be a pain in the ass anymore," I added harshly as I opened the door. "See ya, Lance. It's been fun." And with that, I walked into the hallway and slammed the door behind me.

I had no clue where I was going to go, so I just headed for the elevator. And of course, with my rotten luck, I spotted Justin and Harris getting off the elevator, a bodyguard in tow.

"Stephen!" Harris exclaimed, his face turning a bright shade of scarlet. I could tell that he was thinking of our last meeting, in that stupid nightclub where Justin had asked me...well, you know. Yuck. "What are you--I mean...it's good to see you."

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered under my breath, pushing the curly-haired man out of my way. It was a rude gesture, I know, but at that moment, I didn't feel like being so polite. I just had an argument with Lance and I felt like a piece of shit. I felt the eyes of Justin and Harris boring holes into my back, probably shocked out of their minds that I had acted that way. I wasn't exactly known for my temper...

I got on the still open elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Just as the doors were about to close, I suddenly saw Lance's face appear between them.

"Stephen, don't go," he called out, and I saw the look of hurt and desperation on his face. "Please...let's talk. I'm begging you..."'

It hurt to see him like that. But his previous words had hurt me even more. I'm not sure why I was being so stubborn...maybe because I'm a Taurus. Yeah, that had to be it...blame it all on the astrological sign, right?

Just as the doors closed, shutting Lance's face from my line of vision, I heard the sound of mocking laughter. I could hear Harris yell out, "Trouble in paradise, Lance?" I cringed at hearing that jerk say that to my boyfriend. I wished that I could have stopped the elevator, pulled or pushed some kind of button that allowed the elevator to head back up, but I knew I couldn't.

I heard the next words that left Lance's mouth and they gratified the uneasiness in my soul, if only for a little bit.

"Fuck you, Harris."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

The following hours of my life became somewhat blurry, each minute melding into one another as they ticked by. All I could think of was Lance, and the image of his face begging me to come back and talk and the elevator doors closing over it.

I wanted to go back to him and talk, but something inside of me refused to turn around and head back. Maybe it was because I felt the need to be alone, stewing over the thoughts in my mind. My heart was hurting terribly and I could only imagine how Lance felt.

But then, he was the one who said he liked when I wasn't around. And that I was a constant pain the ass. Great. Now I was annoying.

I decided to leave the area of the hotel. I could have went downstairs to the hotel's bar, and gotten really sloshed at two in the afternoon, but that wouldn't be a good thing. So instead, I hailed a cab, and got inside, directing the non-speaking English driver to the busiest intersection of Orlando. I had no idea where I was going, or how much it would cost--all I knew was that I needed to get away from all that negativity back inside the hotel.

And then I realized that in a way, I was abandoning Lance. Especially after that news that Cynthia had told us that morning, here I was hopping in a cab and leaving Lance, when he may have needed me the most. He was acting so closed up, not talking about his feelings and I hated that. It made me feel untrustworthy. I hated it when Lance kept himself all locked up and secretive, when he obviously needed to talk about what was bothering him. Lance always pulled my problems out of me. He forced me to talk and then I felt one hundred percent better afterwards.

Lance made me happy. He always managed to put a smile on my face...

I let out a sigh that I didn't even know I let out, and it was so loud, the cab driver turned around to see what was wrong. I didn't notice even notice his reaction though--I was too wrapped up in my own problems, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window and watching the world pass by me in a speedy blur.

Maybe he wasn't talking to me because I was a pain in the ass. Maybe he couldn't stand to have me around.

Then why was he so happy to see me last night? Why did he send me those things from Japan and why did he call me every chance he could get? Why would he do that if he didn't want me around and thought of me as a burden. It didn't make sense to me. Nothing made sense and my head was beginning to hurt like crazy.

I wanted to cry, but my ego prevented me from shedding any tears over the fight Lance and I had. I couldn't do it--not in the back of that cab, sitting by myself. I didn't want the driver to think that I was some kind of weirdo. A few minutes later and to my surprise, the cabbie eventually brought the vehicle to a halt, dropping me off on the corner of a crowded intersection. After paying him an obscene amount of cabfare, my eyes automatically spotted a coffee shop. I seem to have a natural attraction towards them, so of course, I headed inside and ordered myself a large mochachino. Gulping it down in about five seconds, the hot liquid burned a path down my throat, but it barely phased me. My mind was still focused on Lance and that stupid, pointless fight. I just couldn't shake that image of those elevator closing over his face.

After I left the coffee shop, I walked up and down the busy street, lost in my own world. I had no idea what to do...did Lance really want me gone? Because if he did, I'd head back to the hotel and pack up my bags, post haste. As I continued my walk, an odd idea popped into my mind--why not visit Chris? I hadn't seen him since last night and since I had nothing better to do with my time it would be the perfect escape. After all, Lance and the rest of the guys had that press conference to attend, so none of them would be at the hospital.

Hailing another cab, I instructed the driver to take me to the Orlando Medical Center and as I sat in the backseat, I noticed how empty the space next to me felt. I missed Lance so much. I know it sounds cheesy, but I did. It felt like Lance and I were in two different worlds, when we were only a couple of miles apart.

I forced myself to push any thoughts of Lance out of my mind. I was going to visit Chris. Without Lance. Shit, I just thought of him again...

And that was when I realized that no matter what transpired between Lance and I, I would never, ever be able to get that man out of my mind. Never.

When I arrived at the hospital, I found out that Chris had been moved to a private room on the fourteenth floor. All I had to do was show my drivers license (which was examined rather suspiciously by the on duty nurse since it was from out of state), and they let me upstairs without any questions asked, since I was on the list. That felt kinda good--and then I remembered what kind of list I was on and my mood automatically fell.

Once I stepped out onto the fourteenth floor, I reached out and steadied myself against the nearest wall. All that way up made me feel lightheaded and dizzy, although looking back, I wondered if I just wasn't feeling sick about the whole Lance fiasco.

As I approached Chris's room, another security guard stopped me, checking my ID, and after matching my name to his list, finally allowed me access into the room.

Walking into Chris's room, the first thing I noticed were the drawn shades, shutting out the natural light. The room was bathed in a dim, almost artificial glow. thanks to the light hanging over the the bed. Blinking a few times I allowed my eyes to adjust to the dimness, before looking at the oldest member of *NSYNC.

Chris was sitting upright in his bed, propped up by a number of plush, immaculately clean pillows with the name of the hospital stamped on them. He was clad in a generic looking hospital gown, and through the thin material, I noticed the bulky, white bandage that was taped over his wounded shoulder. All of Chris's attention was focused on the cheap, movable television set that hung from the ceiling. Clearing my throat to let him know that I was there, I watched as Chris nearly jumped straight through the ceiling.

"Jesus," Chris gasped, taking a deep breath and placing a hand over his chest. "Scared the shit out of me, Stephen. Remember, I'm the elderly faction of the group--I scare easily." He gave me a smile, letting me know that he was joking around, as I dragged an uncomfortable, hard backed chair next to his bedside.

For a few seconds, Chris and I just sat there, not knowing what to say to each other. Of all the guys, it was Chris that I was the least closest with. I mean Chris was a great guy, but I had spent the least amount of time with him. Plus, when Lance and I first started going out together, it was Chris who thought I was some kind of male groupie (and I'm sure his suspicions had only been fueled when I abandoned Lance after my mother died) who wanted Lance for nothing more than sex and money and instant fame.

"So..how are you doing?" I finally asked, sick of the silence between us. "What're the doctors saying?"

"Ehhh, nothing bad, thankfully," Chris smiled, rolling his eyes. "Just that they're going to keep me for observation. Run a few more tests and get me some occupational therapy." He frowned. "No one's sure when I'm going to be able to get back up on stage, because they don't want me `interrupting the healing process.'" Chris made air quotes as he spoke and then leaned back into the pillows.

"Man, I'm antsy in here already," he complained jokingly. "Cooped up and stuff, you know?"

"Yup." I bobbed my head up and down in agreement. "I know..." Allowing my words to trail off, I realized that I had nothing else to say to him. Nothing. And suddenly, Chris gave me a suspicious look, and peered in the direction of the doorway.

"Hey where's the Siamese twin?" he asked half-jokingly, a look of concern appearing in his soft brown eyes. "Aren't you and Lance normally attached at the hip?"

My body stiffened once he uttered Lance's name. Yes, we were always together, so together, that it was odd when one of us was without the other. But then, Lance wanted it that way, didn't he? After all, I was a pain in the ass to him (and not in the good way). "Oh, he's at that press conference," I bluffed, assuming that's where Lance was at that moment. "I think all of the guys had to go to it and talk about the..."

"The shooting?" Chris answered dryly, pointing to his bandaged up shoulder. "Yeah, I kinda know about that...I was there, Stephen. I even got a souvenir from it."

"Yeah," I said, caught off guard by his casual demeanor towards it. "Nice, um, souvenir..." We fell silent again. I mean, there were a good number of things I could have said (How did it feel to be shot?' Were you scared?'), but I would have kicked my own ass in if I asked something that stupid. So we sat there. In silence. Chris stared at the wall in front of him and I stared at my fingernails.

"So, Stephen," Chris began once more, clearing his throat in the process. "Have a rough flight in last night? Lance mentioned a couple of times how you hate flying..."

I closed my eyes briefly. Why did he insist on bringing Lance into the conversation? I had come here to escape my boyfriend and Chris insisted on dragging him back into my life.

"Uh, yeah," I looked up at him, trying to smile so he wouldn't think anything was wrong. "The flight was okay--it was one of my better ones, though. I wasn't really worrying about it--I was more worried about..." My words trailed off, and I became slightly embarrassed about reveling my feelings for Lance. Those thoughts were private, kept locked up in my heart. I didn't want to share them with anyone. Selfish? You betcha. Tough cookies if you didn't like it.

"Lance," Chris said knowingly, taking a sip of the water that sat on the table in front of him. "I know, you were worried about Lance because Lance was worrying about you like crazy. And don't even get me started on Jayce..." Rolling his eyes heavenward, Chris made the international symbol for crazy with his uninjured hand causing both of us to laugh.

"How's Dani doing?" I asked once the laughter between us subsided. My eyes had drifted over to a framed picture of them that sat on top of Chris' table, and looking at the picture, I thought those two looked good together.

"She's good," Chris answered as he picked up the silver frame. "She's doing fine..." A lump appeared in his throat as his eyes moved over the picture. "Thankfully, she was at the show last night and she rode with me to the hospital...it was good to have her there." The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile as he thought of the memory.

At least Chris wanted his girlfriend with him' I thought bitterly. At least he didn't tell her that she was a pain in the ass...'

"Stephen?" Chris's voice suddenly broke into my thoughts. "Are you okay, man? You kinda zoned out on me..."

"Uh yeah..." My voice was shaky, and I swear that any moment I was about to cry. I was trying not to think about Lance, but it wasn't working. That boy creeped into my thoughts like the kudzu in Mississippi. Crying in front of Chris was not on my agenda...I didn't want to look like a wimp. Noticing the obvious change in my expression, Chris leaned forward, concern written all over his face.

"You okay there?"

"I'm fine." I turned my head away from Chris, not wanting him to see the tears that were forming in my eyes. I was going to freak out any second, I knew I was. And I was right--I did.

"It's nothing," I insisted as I reached over and plucked a tissue out of a generic-looking box. "Really. It's nothing at all. Just feeling a little girly today," I joked lightly as I wiped the tears that fell out of my eyes. "In fact, I'm gonna leave you alone now, Chris." Standing up, I realized what a mistake it was to come here because now I just wanted to be alone...

"Stephen?" Chris called out, his voice filled with panic. "Wait a second, man..." I turned back around, my face bright red with embarrassment at the way I was presenting myself. Men don't cry--they're not supposed to. And especially when it's over a relationship? Well, slap my ass and call me a girl, because that's exactly what I was doing. Crying over Lance and the fight we had. The fights Lance and I had were few, but when we had them...oh boy did they bring me down. I hate fighting.

"What?" I asked impatiently as I turned back towards Chris. "What?"

"Did something happen between you and Lance?" he asked nervously. "I mean...if you want to talk about it..."

"No," I lied, trying to keep my poker face. "Nothing happened...I'm okay." His brown eyes studied my face critically for a second, before he shook his head at me.

"You suck at lying, Peterson," Chris remarked sharply. "You and Lance had a fight, didn't you? That would explain his absence, because God knows, you two are always attached at the hip."

"Yeah," I said as calmly as possible, while running a hand through my hair. "No big deal or anything, though."

"No big deal?" Chris repeated, his eyes growing round with shock. "No big deal?! Stephen, you're sitting here crying in front of me. Don't tell me that's not a big deal..." He pressed his lips together for a second and stroked the goatee on his chin. "I mean...you can talk to me if you want to. I used to be a psychology major before the group started, you know--so I don't mind listening, if that's what the problem is..."

I took a deep breath and was suddenly faced with two options. I could either walk away and just carry this anger around inside of me, or I could just sit down and talk to Chris about it. Knowing his reputation as the funny one, there might be a good chance that he'd go back and tell everyone about my problems. Or he might not. That's the problem with risks--you never know what might happen.

Taking a seat next to the bed, I sat there for a couple of seconds, slumped in my chair, hair falling into my eyes. When I looked back up at Chris, I noticed he was watching me with interest, waiting for me to speak.

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll tell--" Raising his hands protectively in front of him, Chris just shook his head back and forth.

"Hey man, I'm not forcing you to tell me anything. I don't want to drag it out of you..."

"Nah." I gave him a careless shrug of my shoulders. "You're not dragging it out, trust me..." Taking a deep, calming breath, I began to talk and within minutes, I had told Chris practically everything--well excluding a few intimate details because I'm sure he didn't want to hear those--and when I stopped talking, I felt physically exhausted and emotionally drained. But for some reason, it felt good to have told someone. It got a lot off my chest. I looked back at Chris, whose face was the perfect picture of concentration and for some reason, I wanted to laugh.

It had always been hard to see Chris as serious. After all the pranks and the silly stuff he had done over the summer tour, how could I? And especially after my brief visit with him last night, where Chris had half-jokingly willed off a half-eaten sandwich left backstage to Joey and his collection of bandannas to Justin. You just didn't take Chris seriously...or so I thought.

After a few more seconds of deep thought, Chris looked at me, his brown eyes twinkling.

"You're afraid of losing him," he concluded softly, stroking his chin as thought he were a professor. "You want to quit school so you can be with Lance all the time. And you had that fight because both of you are upset--I mean, Stephen...you're not expecting Lance to be all sweetness and light, are you?"

For a moment, I stared at Chris with slits for eyes. I wasn't sure if I should trust him or believe him. Maybe he was just playing with me. But as I looked into his steadfast gaze, I knew that he wasn't. There was just too much trust in those eyes to be fooling me.

"Is that some kind of psychology mumbo-jumbo?" I asked suspiciously, as I settled back in my chair.

"Nope, just common sense," Chris smiled, taking another drink of water. "I mean, first off, I'll tell you what I think of you quitting school, Stephen. I think that's the dumbest idea I've heard in a long time." Just as I was about to defend myself, Chris shushed me, holding up his hand so that I wouldn't speak.

"Uh-uh--you keep quiet, I'm doing the talking," he said firmly. "You're an idiot if you quit school, Peterson. I mean it. I've seen some of your drawings...Lance has shown them to us--"

"Lance showed you some of my stuff?" I exclaimed, remembering some of the sketches I had given him after we cleaned out my old house. "Why?" I was mad. Some of the sketches had been of Natalie, some had been self-portraits. There were drawings from my sketchbook that I hadn't dared showed anyone else--except Lance. Because I trusted him and now I find out that he's showing everyone and their brother my private things...great. Just great.

"Because, Stephen," Chris said, reaching over to lightly slap the side of my head. "He's proud of you. He's so fucking proud of you, sometimes me and Joey and Curly want to strangle him." He gave me a huge grin before continuing.

"And if he's not showing us your drawings, all we're forced to hear is Stephen's taking a sculpture course,' or Stephen's working on an abstract painting' and then we ask him, Hey Scoop, what the hell *is* an abstract painting' and he just gets all mushy-eyed and says, I don't know, but I'm sure it's good.'" Chris rolled his eyes in mock frustration "You know, stuff like that. Lance is proud of you and you're good. You'd be a fool to quit school for Lance."

Chris paused, thinking over his words, when he smiled again. "Hey, I rhymed! And they all say JC's our songwriter--pshaw..."

As Chris congratulated himself, I felt a blush creep up the side of my neck. Not because of Chris's words of praise, but because I realized that I didn't want to quit school. Sure, I hated it, but I was doing it for Lance...but that wasn't a part of my life that I wasn't ready to give up. I loved my art as much as Lance loved his singing. Giving up art to follow Lance would be foolish and embarrassing and disappointing to me. And besides, what was I--crazy? I had just been awarded that full-tuition scholarship--something most people would have killed to get their hands on.

The things we do for love.

Chris looked back at me, smiling, when his expression suddenly changed once more. He looked almost scared by what he was about to say next.

"Stephen?" Chris spoke up softly. "There's one more thing I need to say...don't become a clingy boyfriend."

Hearing those words, I suddenly felt more embarrassed than ever. Was that what I was turning into? A clingy boyfriend? Oh God...Noticing my discomfort, Chris quickly jumped back into the conversation.

"Stephen, just let me explain, okay?" Nodding, I realized that I was still feeling numb. Okay, I had realized that I didn't want to give up school, but to hear the words `clingy'? God...maybe Lance was telling me the truth. Maybe I was being a pain in the ass and maybe he didn't want me around. Maybe Lance was getting sick of me and the truth had finally come out in the midst of argument.

"Stephen," Chris began, trying to find the right words. "The rest of the guys...we like you the way you are. All of us--Joey, Just, Josh, me--we like you. Joey and I were talking about everybody's boyfriend or girlfriend one day and well, we think you're a good match for Lance. You're cool, you're funny, nice, laid back. Harris? Well...he's another story...and Cynthia--" He rolled his eyes, biting his lip from saying something too nasty. After all, she is my cousin.

"Cynthia," he repeated, frowning slightly. "She can be a pain in the ass sometimes. She's a great girl," he added hastily, not wanting me to get the wrong idea about what he was saying. "But she's--she's, well, loud. And annoying at times. She doesn't let things go and one time when we were on the tour, we had this fight over the Playstation--"

"Where was I?"

"You were, ah--" A blush creeped up Chris's neck. "You and Lance were having happy hour in his bunk."

"Oh...ohhhh," I said knowingly, burying my face in my hands. "Lord, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Chris said dryly, waving my humiliation off. "Harris and Justin are much more vocal. Believe me, those two don't give a damn who hears them.." Muttering a few words under his breath, I could practically see the thundercloud appear over his head.

"Anyway," Chris continued, changing the subject once more. "Cynthia and I had this terrible fight and she's just rubbed me the wrong way since. I'm not saying that I hate her, or that she's the wrong type for Josh--in fact, that's just the opposite. I think she's perfect for the Spaz, but not for the rest of us at times. Josh likes to have her around because they're dating, but we're not dating her. She's just around too much and we found out that she's coming on tour with us again.." He groaned under his breath. "I mean, I like her but...too much of a good thing. You can only take Cynth in small doses..."

"Overkill," I added wisely. "Like you said, too much of a good thing. Don't become a pain in the ass..."

"Except to Lance of course," Chris shot back, laughing as he spoke. "He enjoys that sort of stuff..." Groaning at his tasteless remark, I just shook my head.

"Thanks for noticing," I said dryly.

"Eh...we think it's great that Lance has found someone that makes him so happy. Believe me, we were sick of seeing him pretend he was in love with these girls he was dating...it was so forced at times..." Chris shook his head, thinking about the past. "Like one time, he brought this girl back onto the bus and we could all tell that she wanted to...you know..." Chris said knowingly.

"Yeah," I smiled weakly. "I know."

"But Lance...he wanted to play video games instead. So he kept this girl waiting in his bunk, while he played video games all night...believe me, she was a knockout..but, eh," Chris shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't go for the ladies."

I laughed at Chris's story and then grew silent once more. My head felt a little clearer, but I still felt uneasy. And suddenly, I just wanted to see Lance. I wanted to see him and tell him that I loved him no matter how we argued and yelled stupid things that neither of us meant (at least I hoped that he didn't mean it). I just wanted to see Lance again.

I suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment fall over me. I knew that Lance was upset over everything that had transpired the past twenty-four hours and what did I do? I snapped at him once he brought up school and then picked a fight with him. He was on edge, upset over what Cynthia had told him and what the hell did I do?

I left him. I really did abandon him.

I was a terrible person. Lance never left me...not even when my mother died. He flew out to Ridgemont and stayed with me during the will and helped me out when my mother wrote me out of it. He outed himself to his family and nearly lost his sister in doing so and this...this is how I repay him? By leaving him when he needed me to just be there for him?

I was a terrible person.

"You okay, Stephen?" Chris suddenly asked, knocking me out of my world of self-realization. "I mean...I'm sorry if I offended you by saying something about Cynthia--" Looking back at Chris, I became dumbfounded by how serious he looked. In the few months that I traveled with the guys, I had never seen Chris act this way. I've seen him in fifty stages of silly and goofy, but never this one stage of serious. And I liked this side of him, but I could bet that I'd never see it again. It just wasn't in his character.

"I'm fine," I said quietly, giving him a sickly smile. "Really. It's just that..." I trailed off my words, finishing the sentence off in my head.

`I want Lance. I want him so bad...I'm such a jerk...'

Just as these thoughts floated through my mind, I heard a pair of footsteps enter the room. Turning to look at the person, I froze when I realized who was standing there, only a few feet away from me.

Lance. There was an odd look on his face. His eyes looked sad, as though he had been crying (Over us? Great, drive the stake even deeper into my heart, Lance...) Either that or he had allergy problems. His eyelids were a little swollen and puffy, and the whites were bloodshot, but besides those minor flaws, he looked alright.

(Oh who am I kidding? He looked sexy, even with the sad eyes.)

We chose to stare at each other, eyes locking and I couldn't move a single muscle. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I shuffled my feet a few times, while Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other. I desperately wanted to say something, anything to the man standing in front of me, but the words refused to come out. Part of it was that good old Taurian stubborn streak in me (Let Lance say something first--he was the one who told me I was a pain in the ass) but the other part of me just didn't want to sound like a jackass. Sometimes the most coherent thoughts in my head come out as a blabbering mess, making me sound dumber than a two-year old.

I just wanted to go to him and wrap my arms around him. But I couldn't. What if he meant every word he said and had just come here to break up with me? I'd make a fool out of myself.

Finally, I heard Chris heave a loud sigh, probably disgusted by our childish behavior.

"Jesus," Chris complained. "What--did both of you suddenly turn into the mute twins? Talk, damnit, talk!" Lance broke our gaze only to sneer at Chris, before looking back over at me.

"What are you doing here, Stephen?" Lance asked, his voice low so that only I could hear. "I looked for you all around the hotel...I thought maybe you went off to the bar or to the coffee shop or something--"

"I thought you didn't want me around anymore," I said solemnly, staring into Lance's pale green eyes. "You said so."

"I was mad," Lance hissed, frustration building in his eyes. "I say stupid things when I'm mad...please..." The sad, uneasy look filled his eyes again. "Please, Stephen...we need to talk."

Giving my boyfriend a relieved smile, I fought back the urge to throw my arms around him. "I know," I gave Lance a smile. "Sorry, I disappeared like that...I just thought I'd come and visit Chris..." Staring at Lance caused a goofy grin to form on my lips, when suddenly a thought popped into my mind. "Hey, shouldn't you be at that press conference?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded. "But I managed to get out of it. I told Johnny that I wanted to visit Chris now because..." His eyes grew soft. "I had some really important business to attend to tonight." Taking another step closer towards me, Lance nudged my foot with his and flashed me a shy smile. I felt a lump form in my throat, as Lance leaned over, ready to kiss me...

"Hey!" Chris yelped loudly, causing both of our bodies to jerk away from each other. "Come on you two!!! No boy kisses already!" Placing his hands over his eyes, Chris resembled Joey from that morning when he had walked in on Lance. Raising an eyebrow at Lance, I just nodded my head in his direction.

"Oh Lance," I cooed in my breathiest voice. "Take me! Take me right here! On the bed, next to Chris!"

Trying to stifle a giggle, Lance joined in. "Okay! Just let me be on top! And hell, maybe we can get Chris in on the action too."

"You guys," Chris moaned, peeking through his fingers and making sure that we weren't serious. "You two are weird. Plain and simple, w-e-i-r-d."

Lance stuck his tongue out at his friend and laughed. "But you love me, man--you know you love me..."

"Yeah, yeah." Chris shooed us off with a wave of hand. "Just get out of here before you two decide to make babies or something." Rolling his eyes at the strange comment, Lance grabbed at my hand and gave me an elated grin.

"Hey, if I were you two, I'd get out of here very soon," Chris suddenly spoke up, a smile appearing on his face

"Why?"

"Because Dani's coming to visit soon--and I sure as hell don't want you two goons hanging around when she gets here," Chris remarked in mock disgust. "Please?"

"Fine, fine," Lance sighed, his grip on my hand growing tighter. "Come on, Stephen--I think I know when we're not wanted..." And with one last parting wave, Lance pulled me out of Chris's room. But before we left, I turned back towards Chris and gave him a smile.

"Thank you," I mouthed silently, hoping that he could read my lips.

He gave me wide grin and just nodded. "Anytime," Chris mouthed back, giving me the thumbs up as I exited the room. I knew I would never be able to repay Chris for the advice he had given me that afternoon.

As much as Lance and I wanted to sit down and have a nice long talk, we couldn't. Once we left Chris's room, the pocket of Lance's jacket began to ring incessantly. Rolling his eyes at the sound, Lance pulled out his cell phone and answered it.

"Yeah...uh-huh...I know...but you told me I could take the afternoon off....uh-huh...yes, sir..." I closed my eyes, a sneaking suspicion that it was none other than Johnny ringing up my boyfriend. And once Lance shut the phone off, I found out that I was right.

"Johnny told me to get my butt down to one of the television studios," Lance sighed, placing the phone back into his jacket pocket. "Apparently, I'm important or something," he said with a somewhat modest smirk.

I punched him in the arm." Oh please," I teased him. "You know you're important. Well..." I lowered my voice. "You're important to me."

Judging from the look in Lance's eyes, I could tell that he wanted to kiss me. But he couldn't. I knew that and so did Lance. Not in some public hospital where all these nurses and doctors were milling the halls. We remained silent for a few more seconds, not sure what to say next. There were so many things I wanted to do and say, yet our public surroundings prevented me from speaking what was on my mind.

"I guess I have to go," Lance finally spoke up, shifting awkwardly in his spot. "I'll see you later, right?"

"Yup." I bobbed my head up and down, smiling at my boyfriend. "I'm just gonna take a cab back to the hotel and wait around. Got some phone calls to make." An image of Marianne's face suddenly filled my mind, but I pushed it out as soon as it entered. I didn't need to think of her at that moment. I mean, Lance was standing right in front of me. That beautiful man...and suddenly, a flood of relief filled my heart. I felt good that Lance and I weren't at odds with each other anymore. I hated fighting. Fighting is a terrible thing--I don't know what sane person likes to get into fights, but I certainly know that I'm not one of them.

"Great," Lance smiled happily. "I'll see you then, Stephen." And since there were people walking around us, trying not to look at the famous person and the ordinary guy standing there, Lance just reached out and brushed his fingertips over my hand, letting me know that he cared.

"I'll see you, Lance," I whispered, touched by his little gesture. "Later..."

"Yup." And with one last smile, Lance slipped on a pair of sunglasses to disguise himself and began to walk in the direction of the service elevator, while I headed in the opposite direction. As I headed towards the regular elevators, I just had this overwhelming urge to run back to Lance, throw my arms around him and give him a kiss. I just couldn't explain it...

But I didn't. Instead, I kept walking, the sound of my footsteps echoing down the hall becoming the soundtrack to my thoughts. I would have to wait until later, when Lance and I would finally be alone and then I could apologize for being so selfish.

I hope he would forgive me.

The wait for Lance seemed to stretch out forever. When I got back to the hotel, the first person I ran into was Cynthia, who looked absolutely bored out of her gourd.

"Hey Cynth," I greeted her brightly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "Absolutely nothing...I'm so bored, I could scream." She eyed me suspiciously. "I heard that you and Lance had a fight or something this morning. Is that true? The perfect couple actually had a lover's spat?"

"Shut up," I said good-naturedly. "Yeah, Lance and I had a little fight, but we're okay now...and we're not perfect you know."

"Sure you aren't," Cynthia shot back, trying not to frown. "You two should be, like, the poster children for the modern gay relationship or something." A smile appeared on her face. "You know, I could see the advertisement now...you and Lance in a bed or something, right after you two--"

"Stop!" I laughed, placing a hand over my cousin's mouth. "That's enough out of you, Cynth. And speaking of relationships, how's Josh doing?"

"Mmmm..." Cynthia murmured, a shy smile taking over the mischievous grin. "He's good. We spent most of the morning...ummm.." A deep blush appeared on her face. "Nevermind."

"Yeah, yeah," I smiled at my cousin. "Now who's the perfect couple? Anyway, I have to go back to my room and make a phone call to Marianne. I was supposed to drive her to one of the art galleries downtown today, and I'm sure she's gonna be pissed off."

Once I finished my sentence, I noticed that Cynthia refused to look at me, her eyes focused everywhere but on my face. "Um, Stevie? Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." She hesitated for a few seconds, nervously chewing on her lower lip before speaking. "Did you ever tell Marianne that you're...um..."

"Gay?"

"Yeah...cause Stephen, you know, I'm a girl."

I rolled my eyes at that one. "Geez, Cynthia--really? I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" My cousin belted me in the gut for that one and admittedly, I deserved it. Rubbing the now sore spot on my stomach, I couldn't help but think that Lance could take care of that problem later on for me.

"Stevie...did you ever think that Marianne's got the hots for you?" Cynthia said quietly, as she twisted the sole of her shoe back and forth into the carpet. "I mean, I've seen that girl and the way she looks at you...and I mean, if I were her and had this hot guy hanging around with me all the time, I'd think that he liked me..." Cynthia finally met my eyes. "I'm not trying to get you upset or anything, or forcing you to out yourself to her, but really, Stevie...I think you should tell her soon."

For a second, I was mad at Cynthia. Who did she think she was? Butting her two cents into my life? But then I realized something--she was right (nothing new, really). In a way, I had been stringing Marianne along, if only subconsciously--taking all my classes with her, hanging out with her all the time--even when she asked me if I liked her in the photography room that one night, I never had the nerve to answer her question, mainly because I wasn't ready to.

Lost in my own world of thoughts, I headed back off to my room, ignoring the shouts of Cynthia ("Stevie! Get back over here!") behind me. I knew I had to call Marianne and that it probably wouldn't be a pretty thing when I did.

And I was right. About five minutes later, I was back in our hotel room, my ear affixed to the telephone and the sound of Marianne screaming at me through the receiver.

"What the fuck Stephen? I can't believe you stood me up--"

"Marianne, I'm sorry...I really am--"

"Like fuck you are! You've been acting flaky all semester with me. If you don't want to be friends anymore, fine--"

"Mari, it's not like that. Hear me out, will ya?"

"Fuck no! What the hell excuse are you going to give me this time? Another family crisis? Is that it? What kind of idiot do you think I am?"

"Mari, please--"

"I'm sick and tired of listening to you. Bye, Stephen. See you in hell." And with that, Marianne shut off her cell phone, rendering the connection between us dead. I hung up the phone, placed it back on the nightstand next to the bed and flopped back on it. I stared at the ceiling for awhile, feeling moderately ashamed of what I had done. Granted, standing someone up wasn't a nice thing...but I had Lance. I had to fly down and see Lance last night. There was no doubt about that.

Why couldn't Marianne understand that?

Oh yeah...because I hadn't told her about Lance and I. Duh.

Maybe I should. Not about Lance, but about my sexuality. Maybe one of the reasons she had become so hostile was because she did like me. Maybe Marianne thought this was my way of dumping her? But how could I dump her when I had never even started going out with her in the first place?

Women. They were just too complicated for me to deal with.

As I lay on the bed and started at the chalk white ceiling, I heard the door open. Looking up from my place on the bed, I saw a blonde head poke through the space between the door and the wall.

Lance.

Seeing him erased any thoughts of Marianne from my mind, and I became more preoccupied with the man who was walking into the room, locking the door behind him and padding over to the bed.

"Hey," he said softly, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. "Sleepy?"

"No, more like surprised," I said, smiling at Lance. "Thought you had to go to the television station and do an interview or something else rock star-eque."

Laughing at my words, Lance shook his head and pulled himself onto the bed next to me. Rolling over so that he could look into my eyes, I watched a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Eh..." Lance rolled his eyes. "I've been to so many interviews, one less won't make a difference. Johnny can yell at me when he gets back here..." Lifting a hand, Lance began to gently caress my cheek. "Stephen, I need to talk to you..about what happened this morning. I think we need to talk..."

"Yup," I said, resisting the urge to close my eyes at Lance's touch. "We do...you start."

"Thanks," Lance sighed, dropping his hand from my face. "Stephen...I'm sorry for snapping at you this afternoon--and this morning. I just.." He closed his eyes and rolled on his back, throwing his hands over his face in disgust. "I don't know...I just want to..." He removed his hands from his face. "Talk, I guess. I want to talk about everything." He looked at me, green eyes bright and intent on my face. "Please?"

Reaching out, I took hold of one of Lance's hands in my own. "I'm here," I said simply. "So talk, mister."

Smiling at my words, Lance rolled back onto his side, not letting go of my hand in doing so. His grip grew tighter as he moved his body closer to mine and hooked one of his legs over my own.

"Just getting comfy," Lance smiled as he shifted his weight on the bed. "It's gonna take awhile, Stephen."

"S'okay," I said softly, leaning over to kiss him. I couldn't help myself from doing it. I mean..Lance was there, lying next to me, his face just inches from mine. How could I not want to kiss him? My lips touched his own, and like that morning, the kiss was hesitant, but before I knew it, Lance was responding, parting his lips and allowing me to gently slip my tongue between them. My heart began to pound in my chest and I couldn't help but wrap an arm around his waist.

"Stephen," Lance whispered once we parted. "I'm sorry we had that fight..."

"Mmmm," I murmured against his lips. "I know...I'm sorry too..." My hand began to move up and down his back, massaging the muscles that lay under his shirt. I felt his hips thrust into my own and I knew we had to stop. We had to. I needed to talk to Lance, and this--kissing and necking and touching each other--wasn't helping either of us at that moment.

I pulled away from Lance, breathless and completely turned on by the kisses that we had just shared. "Lance...we have to talk," I gasped, rolling onto my back. "Really..."

"I know." His face was flushed. "We have to. And then we can fool around."

"Good point." I smiled and then shifted gears once more. "So...are you gonna talk?" Turning his head, Lance gave me another smile.

"Yup..." Pulling his body up into an Indian style position, Lance laced his fingers together and sat there, a pensive look on his face.

"Stephen...I just want to talk to you...about what happened last night." He paused. "Why I was acting so weird this morning and all day...before we had the fight." He flinched at the last word. "It's just really strange."

I lay there silent, staring at him. I didn't want to pry--that wasn't any of my business. All I wanted to do was listen to Lance, be there for him, not force him to talk.

"I don't know how to say this. I don't want to offend you."

I looked at him in surprise. Offend me? That last statement puzzled me...what could he say to offend me? Unless...he had meant the words he said. That I was a pain in the ass. That he didn't want me around at times. Maybe I was smothering him. My thoughts began to run like wild horses, and my nerves felt like they were on fire. Oh Lord,' I thought. Just say it Lance. Say it and get it over with so I can pack my bags and get the hell out of here.'

"You won't offend me." I pulled myself up into a position that mirrored Lance's. "Just tell me what's on your mind. I'm here for you--trust me." I took my hand into his and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Okay fine...Stephen..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shutting off his visible emotions to me. "Last night. When we were on stage...and `it' happened. I thought of you. Immediately. I couldn't get you out of my mind."

I watched Lance lick his lips and take another deep breath.

"Please, please don't be mad at me for what I'm about to say...please."

"I won't."

"Stephen....all I kept thinking, when I was lying on the ground, praying to God that I wouldn't be shot was...I'm gonna die the way his father died."

I froze. I dropped Lance's hand from my own and just watched as the tears rolled from his eyes. I didn't know what to say, mainly because I had never thought of that. Most of the time, I pushed thoughts of my family out of my mind, thinking of them only when I needed to or when some odd facet of my surroundings reminded me of them. But out of the blue? Rarely. And Lance...well, Lance somehow remembered my father and they way he had been killed. All during this strangely intense moment of his life...

"Lance," I began softly, trying to regain the composure that I had only a few seconds before. "Please...Lance." I reached out for him, wanting to hold him, but he just pushed me away. It wasn't a gesture of hate or anger, just self-protection.

"Stephen, that was all I could think of. I'm gonna be shot. Just like his dad. History repeating itself. I just kept thinking, `Oh my God, what is he gonna do when he finds out that I'm de--"  I didn't care. I reached out and grabbed him in my arms and kissed him. I couldn't hold my emotions back any longer. I wanted to hold him. I needed to hold him. The reassurance of his warmth and the way he felt in my arms--I needed that more than anything else in the world.

"Lance," I whispered after I pulled away from our kiss. "I love you....and I'm so sorry for abandoning you..."

"Abandoning?" Lance asked in surprise, taking hold of my chin in his hand. "Stephen, what are you talking about?"

I looked down at my lap, biting my lip in embarrassment. I wasn't proud of what I had done and to talk about it only made it more real to me.

"I abandoned you," I said softly, trying not to flinch when I looked into his understanding eyes. "I left you when you needed me the most. I'm such an asshole, Lance...I wouldn't blame you one bit if you dumped me."

"Dump you?" The expression of shock said it all. "Stephen, I need you as much as you need me. Why would I dump you? We had a fight, you got mad and you left. I don't blame you--I probably would have done the same...Stephen..." Lance reached out to take my hands into his, eyes shining with tears. "I said it before and I'll say it again. I love you so much. I was just praying that I wouldn't offend you or anything..."

"Why would you offend me?" I asked, my heart filling with relief as I moved forward and wrapped my arms around Lance's body. Resting his head against my chest, he let out a melancholy sigh, running his hands up and down my back.

"Don't know," Lance said offhandedly, his warm breath tickling my ear. "I didn't want you to get mad at me for comparing myself to someone you loved so much." I was a little thrown off by that statement. I had never thought of it that way, but Lance must have.

"Lance," I whispered, nuzzling his earlobe with my lips. "I love you. I don't care what's going on in that head of yours as long as you tell me the truth and don't lie to me. You got something on your mind that's bothering you--tell me. Please. I don't mind listening, you know that..."

Moving his head back so he could look at me, I saw a grin flash through his tears. "Okay, Mr. Peterson, since you're so big on honesty and all that, I have another thing to tell you then. I don't like this talk about you quitting school."

Cringing at the words, I felt a blush creep up my neck. "Yeah..." I said slowly. "I know. Neither do I."

"Then why would you say something like that?" Lance asked incrediously. "Stephen--" Lance shifted his body around so that he was facing me. "You're so talented and I'm so proud of your ability...you're an amazing artist. Why the hell would you give that up for me?"

"Because," I said, ducking my head. "I love you, silly. I wanted to be with you all the time--you know, waking up together, going on tour--all that stuff. I hate being separated from you Lance. It hurts. I hate the phone calls and the fact that I want to hold you at night and that I can't because we're in two separate cities, and the only way we can have sex is over the telephone." I paused, knowing that my words were beginning to border on obsessive. But I didn't care, because I needed to tell him this. "And I hate it so much. I'm so cranky and miserable, I don't even want to be around myself...but I love my art. I love it," I added softly. "And as much as I want to be with you, I want to finish off my year. And then we can be together."

"Good reasoning," Lance smiled, leaning over to kiss me on the forehead. "I love that about you--you're so sensible at times..."

"Yeah," I snorted. "Me and sensible go together like peanut butter and pickles. I'm not sensible, Lance--after all, I'm going out with you, ain't I?"

Lance narrowed his eyes at me. "Oh you...you are so dead, Peterson." And with that, he grabbed a pillow from in back of me and beat me over the head with it.

"Hey!" I yelled, shielding myself from the feather-filled object. I grabbed a pillow of my own and began to attack him with it. Pretty soon, feathers were flying everywhere and we were giggling like madmen at the state of the room. The soft, white feathers were floating all around us, and landing in our hair and in our mouths as we laughed at one another.

Exhausted, Lance threw down the pillow and tackled me, knocking me backwards onto the bed. Still giggling, he placed a few kisses on my lips, trailing down to my neck and back up again. His eyes were bright with happiness as he ran the tip of his tongue around my lips, only to turn away and spit when he got a feather in his mouth.

"Blech," Lance gasped, spitting the feather out and making a horrible face. "Gotta be careful when kissing you..."

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed as I pulled his face back down to kiss him again. We rolled around on the bed for a few minutes, our bodies responding to the soft touches and caresses we were lavishing on one another. Finally, Lance sat up, straddling my hips in the process. Running his hands down the front of my body, Lance briefly massaged the growing bulge in the front of my pants before running his hands back up my chest. He flopped back down over the length of my body, so that our faces were almost touching.

"So..." he began, grinning madly as he ran a finger over my eyebrows. "Did you mean what you said when we had that fight?"

"Ugh," I groaned, wishing that Lance would touch me down there again. "What did I even say?"

"You said that I suck at this." And giving me an example of what he meant, Lance kissed me again, prying my lips open so that he could slip his tongue inside. The kiss was incredibly hot and so filled with passion, I'm surprised I didn't pass out right there.

"I lied," I breathed once we broke apart. "And besides, you said that you don't want me around all the time. And that I was a pain in the ass." I stuck my lower lip out into a pout, only to have Lance lean forward and nip at it with his teeth.

"I like when you're a pain in the ass, Stephen," Lance murmured suggestively. "And besides, I was mad at you. People say stupid things when their mad...like that their planning to quit school. That's a stupid thing if I've ever heard one...geez..."

"Oh so now you're calling me stupid?" I asked, looking up into his eyes. "Thanks a lot, Lance."

"I'm not saying you're stupid," he said solemnly. "Stephen...I'd love for you to go on tour with me. To be with me all the time so that we'd be together. But..." He hesitated for a few seconds, eyes darting around the room before looking back at me.

"Stephen," Lance began softly. "I love the fact that you're creative. And I love the fact that you're so talented at what you do...if you gave that all up just so you could hang out with me all the time.." He blushed (it was a cute blush. I'm not going to lie.) "I don't think I could live with myself...after all, I'm not giving up what I'm doing to be with you...we have to have separate lives, Stephen. It's what makes us us."

I lay there, the weight of Lance's body settling into mine, just like the way his words sunk into my head. He was right. He was always right...

"Stephen..do you honestly think I would have fallen in love with you if you weren't who you were?"

His words caught me by surprise. "I don't know, would you have?"

Lance looked away for a second, and when he looked back, I was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears again. At first I panicked. Why was he crying? What did I say? But then, as he spoke, everything fell into place.

"No, Stephen," Lance said, shaking his head back and forth, blinking rapidly to hold the tears back. "I wouldn't have. You're you. I fell in love with you because you were different than anyone else I've ever met. I love the way you laugh and the way you smile...and you were so honest when we first met about your sexuality. It was so refreshing to meet someone like that, especially after being in this business where everyone and their brother is phonier than those rumors that Justin is dating Britney." We laughed at that one and then grew silent once more.

"Stephen," Lance said my name as though he were speaking it for the first time. Shy and reluctant. Almost as thought my name had never crossed his lips before. "You know in relationships....people change." He squinted his eyes in a funny way, almost as though it hurt to say it. "I've seen it in practically every relationship I've known. They change from the person they were at the beginning into something else...and I know change is inevitable. Everyone changes over time...but...Stephen, don't change for the worse. Please don't," he begged, placing another kiss on my lips.

"I won't," I whispered against his lips as we kissed again. "I promise you Lance, I won't...I love you."

We kissed for a few more seconds, frantically and passionately before slowing down. I felt the weight of his body relax into mine, and at that moment, I'm sure the image of our bodies pressed together had to be the most beautiful thing in the world (what I wouldn't have done for a mirror on the ceiling then). I felt Lance's fingers run lazily though my hair, massaging my scalp as he slowly trailed a path of kisses over my chin and back up to my lips. And as he kissed me, he began to laugh, sending chills down my spine. I pulled back to look at him and saw him smiling and laughing because he was so happy....

And that made me happy.

I could tell that there were tons of thoughts floating around in his mind at that moment and I knew, I just knew that they were all about me and him. Together.

"Stephen," Lance whispered softly, resting his chin on top of mine, allowing him to gaze directly into my eyes. "Be mine." He paused, pondering the simple words that he had just spoken. And then he smiled again, satisfied with the sentiment. "Forever and ever and ever, okay?"

I felt tears prick at my eyelids, stirred by the words that Lance had just spoken. I didn't know what to say exactly because, well, his words were so perfect, I didn't want to sound like some kind of idiot. So I just stared into his eyes, not able to say anything because I just wanted to remember that moment we were sharing.

Lance stared at me, waiting and I could see the nervousness in his eyes. I don't know why he looked so nervous--I wasn't going to bite (well, not until later) and I wasn't going to scream (ditto on that one as well)--but I knew why...he was afraid I was going to reject him. Or laugh at the words or something of an equally stupid nature.

But I wasn't. Instead, I just smiled at Lance, reaching up to run a hand through his soft blonde hair. I brought his head back to mine, giving him a kiss before answering him.

"Okay," I said softly, staring into his eyes as I spoke. "Forever and ever..." And then, because there was nothing else to say, Lance and I kissed again. It was so soft and sweet and perfect--and I was so happy....

It was perfect. Lance and I...together we were perfect.

And there you have it. Mail me: sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com and visit my site, http://www.freespeech.org/gabriella I'm a hussy, I know, but I'm slighty cute ;)

Love, Gabriella