Hi everyone (again!)
Still can't stop writing my story. I've gotten lots of positive feedback on these chapters already and I thank you who have e-mailed me with your encouraging comments . My big question now is, Am I getting to sappy or unrealistic, or heaven forbid, too `teenage' with this story? I'd really like to know. So...if you haven't mailed me yet (or if you would like to again, with a response to my question) the address is : sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Good and bad criticism is welcome. Thanks. Love, Gabriella.
DISCLAIMER: Warning, warning, warning...this is a fictional story and is not meant to imply the sexuality of any member of N Sync or Lance Bass--silly that I'm writing this type of story when I have the hots for him myself, isn't it? :) Anyhoo, this story involves a m/m relationship and you have to be old enough (18? 21?) to read it. If not, then honey, turn back!! If this type of reading material bugs you then I suggest you reach for some Shakespeare or something of the like. I think I've covered everything...and now...the story....
My Surprise Romance
Chapter 6
Lance and I walked back to the car, and I felt as though I was on cloud nine. As we walked through the grassy park, I couldn't help stealing another look at him. I would have never imagined that someone so wonderful would even think about being involved with me.
Lance looked up, catching me eying him. "Okay?" he asked, taking my hand in his.
"Fine," I said, as we reached the gates of the park. My car was still there, still alone. And I was glad. That meant that (hopefully) no one saw our embrace by the lake. Once we reached the car, reality had sunk in. This relationship would never work out, I thought. He was a star, on the road most of his life--and what was I? A soon-to-be-senior year art student, who could barely make ends meet when his tuition bill came around at the beginning of every semester. I opened the car door, leaning over to pop the lock up on Lance's door. He let himself in and I started the ignition, wordlessly pulling out of the parking lot. Once we were back on the road, I felt a little more stable. I had to concentrate on my driving, as not to get into an accident (imagine those headlines, I thought as I reached a red light).
"So, you want me to drop you back off at the hotel?" I asked Lance, who was staring out of the window. He turned to me, and bit his lower lip.
"No way," Lance spit out, his face darkening. And then suddenly, the frown was replaced by a shaky smile. "I mean, not yet. Can't we go back to your house?"
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sure," I said in amazement. "If you really want to go back to my crappy house that badly?" I teased him.
"Never been surer--" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Wait, is your mother going to be home?" he asked, with a worried look on his face. I mentally went through my mother's Monday schedule. Nope, she was volunteering at the day care center, I thought. And then she'd be going to work straight from there.
Despite my knowledge of her schedule, I decided to tease him for a second. "Oh, Lance," I said, fluttering my eyelashes. "Aren't we moving a bit fast?" I swooned, placing a hand over my heart.
I had never seen a person's face turn such a bright shade of red.
About twenty minutes later, Lance and I pulled into my driveway. We had the stereo turned up, blaring the Dixie Chicks' song that had came on the radio.
"'Cause Earl had to die...na na na na na na...." Lance sang along in his deep voice, before I shut the engine off. He looked at me in mock annoyance.
"Hey, I was singing along to that!" he complained, letting his mouth drop open. I rolled my eyes and opened the car door.
"You call that singing? No wonder you rarely have any solos," I joked, as I got out of the car. Lance threw his hat at me and I ducked to avoid it hitting my face. "Better watch out--some of those old ladies might come outside and chase you for your autograph if you don't have that hat on." I ran into the house through the back door, with Lance in hot pursuit. I managed to slam the door in his face, just as he was about to run inside.
"Hey!" He screamed. "Let me in!" I stood there and watched as he tried the doorknob, which I had already locked. Lance began to bang on the door and I watched him, laughing my ass off as he frantically pounded on the door.
"Afraid of the old ladies?" I yelled through the plexiglass window at him. The look on his face was priceless as he kept pounding on the door. I finally decided that Lance had enough torture for the day, and unlocked the door, watching him stumble into the kitchen, panting from yelling.
"Very funny, Stephen," Lance said, with a disgusted look on his face. He closed the door behind him and walked over to me, trapping me in the corner of the kitchen. "You really hurt my feelings doing that."
"Aww, poor baby," I said, running my fingers through his blonde hair. "Hope I didn't hurt your feelings too bad." Lance slipped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.
"Well, you did," he griped. "You hurt me so bad, I don't think I can do what I had planned," Lance said, his face softening into a grin.
"And what would that be?"
"This." Lance tipped my chin downwards and moved his mouth to mine, kissing me quite passionately. I wasn't used to the feelings that were spinning throughout my body. I was quite shocked at how fast we had gone from playful to passionate. But I was even more shocked at the feelings of lust rapidly coursing through my body, as Lance's tongue met mine and explored my mouth. He was now holding on to me for dear life, as my hands frantically ran up and down his back.
We pulled apart very briefly, and then almost immediately our mouths met once again. I felt his groin pressing against mine, and my only response was to kiss him even deeper. And then...
"Stephen? Is that you?" Lance and I pulled apart faster than you could say the words, cold shower'. Natalie called my name once more, and I cleared my throat as Lance stepped away from me. Natalie appeared in the kitchen just then, ready to say hello', when she caught sight of Lance standing in the corner, smoothing down his hair.
"Oh my God!' she shrieked. "What's he doing here?!?!" I looked at the blushing pop star and he gave me a shrug, as if to say, "Hey, it's your problem--not mine." He was right. What was I going to tell my sister?
"Um, Natalie...Lance came here because...because..." I was at a loss for words, my mind still lingering on the incredible kisses that I had just experienced. It was hard to pull my mind back into reality, even with that eleven year old firecracker standing in front of me.
"Because I wanted to see you again," Lance broke in, walking over to my sister. He knelt down to her and my sister started shaking. It must be inconceivable to a eleven year old, why a member of her favorite band wants to see her again. Was it her looks? Or her personality? Nope, I thought to myself, hiding a laugh, it was her brother.
"I wanted to see how...how your day at school went. You weren't tired or anything, were you?" Lance questioned her. "I don't want you failing any subjects on the account of me and the guys."
Natalie's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no...no. But me and Angela and Beth were the most popular girls in school today. Everyone wanted to talk to us." She frowned momentarily. "Except for Bobby Jenkins. On the playground, he said that you guys were gay." Lance turned the color of a ghost, as Natalie twisted up her face into a confused expression. "You aren't, are you?"
Lance swallowed and smiled at my sister. How could he lie to Natalie, when he had just been making out with her brother a few seconds ago? "Of course not, honey," Lance said, his voice shaking. "He was just being mean. Guys that age are like that." Natalie beamed at his answer and then she turned to me.
"Stephen, I'm going over to Beth's house in a few minutes. We're planning a party for this weekend and Beth's mom promised she take us shopping for crepe paper and balloons, okay?" I just leaned against the counter and nodded and she looked at Lance. "You're welcome to come along," she said hopefully.
Lance just laughed and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, but I've gotta get back to the hotel, honey. I have to leave tomorrow night."
Tomorrow night, I thought with dismay. About twenty-four hours from now, Lance would be getting on that tour bus and leaving me. Perfect. My worst-case scenario had just come to life and to be honest with you, it was a fitting tribute to my life. Just then we heard a car horn honking, and Natalie grabbed her jacket and hugged Lance good-bye. We heard the door slam and Lance and I were left standing there in the kitchen, staring at each other.
He looked embarrassed and the realization of how close we were to being caught sank in. Lance looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze, so deeply that I put my head down.
"She doesn't know does she--about you being gay?" he asked quietly. I shook my head.
"Are you kidding me? My mother almost didn't want me going near Nat after I came out," I said bitterly. "She was afraid it was contagious or something. Besides, I couldn't tell Nat that--it'd break her heart. She's always looking for the perfect woman for me."
Lance laughed at this, and then walked over to me. "Stephen...we have to talk," he said, sliding a hand onto my shoulder.
"Don't get all serious on me," I said lightly. I didn't feel like getting into a big discussion or anything like that. To be honest, I just wanted Lance to leave. I didn't feel like talking to him or looking at him or anything. How was I so stupid to actually think that a relationship between Lance and I could work? I must have been living in a dream world, I thought to myself as I shook his hand off my shoulder. I went to sit down at the kitchen table and Lance followed suit. We wound up in the exact same chairs that we had been sitting in the night before. I wished I could have rewound to that part of the previous night and erased what I had said about my sexuality. If I had never mentioned it, the events of the day wouldn't have occurred and we would have been both pushing forward with our separate lives.
But we weren't. Irony had decided to meddle. Our lives had become intertwined and now we had to be pulled apart. I had followed my heart way too fast, like jumping into a freezing cold pool when you know it's going to be unpleasant.
"Stephen," Lance repeated. I looked up at him. "I know what you're thinking."
"Oh yeah?" I asked somewhat gloomily. "What?"
"You're thinking that there's no way in hell we can continue this, right? Since I have to go back on tour, I'll forget about you, right?" I nodded wordlessly. And Lance continued.
"I think you're wrong...there's no way I would forget you. I told you--I think I'm falling in love with you. And you can't just forget something--someone--like you. It's impossible." He took a deep breath and went on. "If I wasn't in `N Sync...and we had met, I'd still feel the same way. Think about it, Stephen. You didn't even know who I was when we first met. I was just some guy who happened to be in a band and we met and we clicked. Isn't that how most romances start?"
"Yeah, but..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say next. He had a point and instead of opening my mouth with my usual pessimistic thoughts, I just decided to listen to him.
"And what if I wasn't in this band, but let's say I was a businessman with a job that kept me away from you? We'd still keep in touch and in the end, I'd come back home to you." He grinned, and placed his soft hand over mine. "See, no big deal?"
"It sounds so easy when you put it like that," I said, finally flashing him a true smile. "But I've only known you for one day. One day," I emphasized. "You don't know anything about me, except for what I've told you so far. At least I can pick up a magazine and find out stuff about you." I let out a sigh. "What if you find out about my bad habits and decide you never want to see me again?"
"Try me," he said challengely. He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, his green eyes flashing mischievously.
"I pick my nose in the shower," I admitted. And then I clamped my mouth shut, not believing that I told him that.
"Yeah, so? Chris does that too. I bite my nails and then spit them across the room, how's that for being gross?" Lance snickered.
"Oh forget it then. Nose picking is one thing, but biting your nails is another," I joked, as Lance pretended to look offended. "Oh well," I sighed. "I guess I'll have to overlook the imperfections. I think you're worth it."
"Think?" Lance said, raising a perfectly groomed brown eyebrow, as he rose from his seat. He walked over to me, dropped himself into my lap and placed his arms around my neck. "What do I have to do to show you?"
"How about a kiss?" I said in mock seduction, playing with the silver cross that lay around his neck. Lance rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt to be seductive, but grinned despite it.
"Slave driver," he murmured, tracing the outline of my lips. Lance looked down into my eyes while doing this and whatever distressing thoughts were clouding my mind, disappeared when his lips touched mine. We sat there intertwined for a few more minutes, oblivious to the world spinning around us. I could have stayed that way forever. Until the telephone rang.
With our mouths still attached to one another's, our eyes simultaneously flew open.
"You've got to be kidding," Lance whispered his lips moving against mine. "Someone is against us, aren't they?"
"I think so," I said dejectedly, as Lance slid off of my lap and I got up to answer the phone. "Hello?" I said, sounding thoroughly depressed.
"Jesus--you call a person all happy and then you get someone who sounds like they lost their best friend. God, Stephen, aren't you gay people supposed to be, well...gay? Like, all the time? Or are you the exception to the rule?"
My face broke out into a smile when I realized who it was, "Hey, bitch," I said to Cynthia. "Back already?" I looked over at Lance, who smiled at me. I placed my hand over the receiver.
"It's Cynthia. She's my cousin who--" I began, but Lance interrupted me.
"I know, I know," he said in his deep voice. "Your cousin who thinks it's great to have a gay cousin. I remember you telling me that at the park," Lance said knowingly. I sighed. Not only was a extraordinary kisser, but he was obviously was a good listener as well. Even I didn't remember talking about Cynthia at the park. I shook my head, as I placed the receiver back to my ear.
"Ooh, who's that?" Cynthia inquired. "Oh, Stevie--" I rolled my eyes at hearing the sound of my childhood nickname. "--did you find someone? You know," she barreled on, "I was looking all around campus for a boyfriend for you, but," she sighed, "I couldn't find anyone who was your type."
I closed my eyes, picturing Cynthia, sitting on the sunporch at her house, with her feet propped up on the table. When I had last saw her, she was in her vintage clothing stage, wearing strange housewife dresses and saddle shoes. God, only knew what another year away from home did to her.
"I didn't know I had a type," I laughed, as Lance returned to the table, with a carton of ice cream. He mouthed the words, `I'm starving again' to me, while I had to hold back a laugh. "But thanks for looking, Cynth...good to know that someone cares."
"I thought I heard a voice--a male voice--" she said suspiciously. "Come on, out with it. Do you have a boyfriend there or not?" God, she was nosy. But then, nosiness ran through the whole Peterson blood line, I guess.
"I don't know if you'd call him that," I said a bit nervously. More nervous than I had expected.
"But you found someone," she persisted. I could hear her smile all the way over the phone. And in spite of myself, I found that her happiness was contagious.
"I guess..." I said, unsure. Cynthia suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream--obviously, screaming ran though the female side of the family. My sister, my mother and now my first cousin. A family of screaming women. I held the phone away from my ear in order not to go deaf, and Lance looked up in concern.
"Is she okay?" he asked, still scooping out the ice cream into a dish. `Fine', I mouthed to him and placed the phone back to my ear.
"Oh my God, was that him? Oh, I love his voice--let me talk to him, Stevie," Cynthia exclaimed. She couldn't talk to him, I thought hastily. And quickly, I changed the subject.
"So Cynthia, how's the little part-time job going?" I closed my eyes again, this time not imagining how she looked, but what she was going to say next. Cynthia let out a wicked laugh.
"Oh, you mean the t-shirts? Great, great--you wouldn't believe how many people hate those bands! I've made over three hundred dollars and everyone on campus wanted one!" I let out a sigh, allowing my mouth to fall open which gave Lance the perfect opportunity to feed me a spoonful of ice cream. However, despite the fact that I thought it was a sweet gesture, my mind was still on my cousin.
See, Cynthia had come up with this new...business, if you'd call it that. She had taken a silkscreening class in college and learned how to make her own t-shirt designs. And combining that talent with her own personal hatred, she came up with her own line of t-shirts: I Hate Boy Bands. Yes, that's right, the I Hate Boy Bands designer t-shirt line. She hated all of those bands with a vengeance. Maybe it was because she played the guitar in an on-again/off-again punk band. Believe me, I never understood why she hated them so much, but at that time I thought her idea was hilarious. She sold them on campus for eight dollars and made a fortune. Cynth even gave me one for a Christmas present. It was nice. I sometimes slept in it, which caused Natalie to cry.
How the hell would she react when she found out who I was dating? Cynthia was the only person who supported me in my decision to come out and now she would probably throw a Grade-A hissy fit when she found out that my romantic interest was none other than Lance Bass, a member of `N Sync and a target of her t-shirt rants.
"So, Stevie, guess who's coming over to stay with you during the summer?" Cynthia said in a coy voice. I spit out the ice cream and Lance looked at me with a shocked expression. I turned away from him and realized that I was suddenly close to hyperventilating. I got off the chair and walked away from the table.
"You?" I asked in shock. I could hear her nod over the phone.
"Yeah, mom and dad are heading off to Vermont, and Wilson (her brother, for those of you who are wondering) is moving to New York City...so I have nowhere to go." She paused. "Didn't your mother tell you the details? I called her this afternoon."
"I was out," I said, shortly, placing a hand to my forehead.
"Ohhhh," she said, laughing. "I know with who. Well, you're supposed to pick me up at the airport at seven a.m. sharp. That's when my flight comes in."
"I am?" I said. I felt like I was in a daze. Other people were planning my life for me and, of course, I was the last to know.
"Yup. So I'll see you tomorrow, Stevie. And I'll bring a t-shirt along for your boy-friend," she said in a sing-song voice.
"Cynthia," I said, rolling my eyes again. I swear by the time the conversation was over, my eyes would be stuck in the back of my head. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen--why?"
"Are you sure you're not nine? Natalie's more mature than you." She just laughed at me and we said our good-byes. I hung up the phone and turned around to see Lance staring at me with a confused expression on his face.
"Stephen, if you didn't like vanilla ice cream, you could have told me," he grumbled. I let out a laugh and sat back down.
"No, no...I love vanilla--" I began, and Lance fed me another spoonful of ice cream.
"Good," he said, a grin on his face. "I was beginning to think that this family is weird--a mother who doesn't like caffeine, a boyfriend who doesn't like vanilla ice cream..."
My head snapped in his direction. "Did you just call me..."
"Boyfriend?" Lance said. "Yeah, I did. What would you call me?" I was at a loss for words, so Lance went ahead and placed another spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. I didn't argue. The idea of being someone's boyfriend was pretty darn appealing, so I just went on and told him about Cynthia.
"My cousin hates you," I told him flatly, making a clucking sound with my tongue.
Lance looked at me in surprise. "She's jealous? Is there something you're not telling me about you and your--" he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "--cousin?" I punched him in the arm.
"Pervert," I said teasingly. "No, it's just that she hates a certain genre of bands--and, my dear, I'm afraid you're in one of them."
"Oh no," Lance muttered. "Not another boy-band hater?"
"The number one boy-band hater, I should add," I said. "She runs her own line of chic t-shirts with that slogan on them. Oh and by the way, she's bringing you one tomorrow."
"She's coming over tomorrow?" Lance said in surprise. "Aw, damn, I thought we could spend another day together tomorrow."
"Don't you have a band to get back to?" I asked him, as he placed another spoonful of almost melted ice cream in my mouth.
"Yeah, but I'll see them all summer, for the next couple of months or so. You, however, I'll be lucky to talk to in between rehearsals and on the bus." He sighed. "I can't believe your cousin is coming tomorrow," he said, almost whining.
I sat there. "Well, I'm picking up Cynthia tomorrow at seven. Who says we can't spend the rest of the day together? Besides, you mine as well meet her," I sighed. "Love me, love my family," I muttered under my breath.
"Hey...I know you...how bad could the rest of your family be," Lance said with a mischievous grin. I took the spoon from him and tapped him on the head. He just shook his head.
"Once again, I'm being assaulted by my boyfriend. Keep it up and you won't be getting any of this," Lance threatened and puckered his lips at me. I leaned over the table and placed my face close to his.
"Oh, I think I'll find a way," I whispered, before kissing him for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. I noticed that the sweetness of the ice cream lingered on his lips, as we came up for a breath of air.
"Is that a promise, or a threat?" Lance managed to say, his breathing becoming heavier as our lips met again.
"Both."
Well that's it for Chapter Six. Chapter Seven will be coming very shortly since I'm on a roll and I don't want to stop before I lose my train of thought. I'd really like it if everyone who reads this story to e-mail me whether you like it or hate it or think I need to do something else with my free time. I'm down on my knees again--and I'm getting brushburns! ; ) Remember, the address is ...sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com ! Oh and one line was used from the Dixie Chicks song, `Goodbye Earl', written by Dennis Linde. I'm not sure if I need this, but I don't feel like getting sued today. Anyways, thanks for reading...Gabriella.