Rebound

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.

2. I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

JC hugged me goodbye right before I got on the plane, oblivious to anyone around us who might have seen or thought something. JC was completely comfortable with himself, much more than Justin, and I realized his way made a lot of sense, too. Where Justin was ultra paranoid, afraid to let me even stand too close to him in public, JC didn't seem to care. Just because two guys hugged goodbye at an airport gate didn't mean they were gay or dating, and JC seemed to realize that. Then again, maybe Justin felt like he had more people watching and more to lose.

I had this lingering thought, right up until the end, that Justin would come running through the airport, bodyguard in tow, yelling for me to wait and not to go. I had this thought that my life might suddenly turn into this beautifully uplifting Molly Ringwald type of movie where I got the guy in the end and everything turned out to be ok. I didn't really think it would happen, but I couldn't get the thought out of my head, either. I wasn't even sure what I would do if he did show up, if he dropped in at the last minute to talk me out of going, and it turned out to be a moot point, anyway. Wherever he was, it wasn't on his way to the airport.

"I'll miss you," JC said, stepping back. He looked sad, and I wondered if I was finally starting to read him a little better. "I know that sounds kind of lame, but."

"No, I get it," I said, nodding. "I can't believe it's only been a couple of weeks."

"You've done a lot for me, Chris," JC said. "You've been there for me, and I just, I don't know if I can really thank you for that. I feel like all I did to pay you back was fuck things up between you and him."

"Justin," I said, not willing to fall into the habit both of them had of not dropping names. When I'd met Justin, he barely said JC's name, and JC barely said Kevin's. I wasn't going to pretend my relationship with Justin hadn't happened. "JC, what happened between us didn't really have a lot to do with you. I mean, it did, but you were just, I don't know. Us kissing you, both of us, it was just part of the problem. If it hadn't been that, it would have been something else."

As soon as I said it, I felt like it was the wrong thing, like he might see it as insulting to hear something like, "We kissed you because you were there, but it probably would have been anybody," but he seemed to understand what I meant, and smiled.

"Are we still friends?" he asked finally.

"I hope so," I answered. JC squeezed my hand, both of us glancing toward the gate as they called first class again, probably for the last time.

"Me, too," JC said, not letting go. His eyes locked onto mine for a second, lingering, and I remembered the brief thought I'd had last night that I wished I'd met him first. It was too late for that thought, too. I would miss JC, but more than anything I just wanted to leave.

I was reminded on the ride home what a change it was from the way down. I'd thought of it when I had to buy my own ticket, since I didn't have a round trip. We'd flown down on that private plane, with Chris, because Justin didn't fly commercial flights anymore. That was nice for him, but those of us who were just well off, rather than rolling in millions, couldn't really afford that kind of treatment, and would just have to risk our lives like the rest of the common people. While I had no doubt that Justin, JC, Joey, or even Chris in a fit of glee, would be happy to put me on another charter plane to take me home, I wanted to leave Florida on my own.

Realizing that might have been the first moment when I started getting over Justin. When he hadn't come to the airport, when he hadn't even stayed at the house to tell me goodbye, I started to feel like I didn't really care what his decision would be. In my heart, I didn't know which one of us he would pick, but I also didn't know if I'd be so willing to go back to him if he picked me. The fact that he wouldn't even see me off, that he couldn't say goodbye in person knowing how important that was to me, knowing that the one thing that comforted me more than anything else about Matt's death was that I'd had the chance to tell him goodbye before he left, and that Justin know that and still couldn't do that for me when he and I might not see each other again seemed like the ultimate selfishly Justin gesture. He didn't say goodbye to me because it would hurt him, and that was more important to him than how much it would hurt me for him not to do it.

I didn't tell anyone at the store that I was coming back, because I wasn't ready for the inevitable scene. They might play at being jaded and detached, but that was just with outsiders. If I told them I needed to be picked up at the airport, they would all find some reason to show up at the store, and I didn't really want to talk about this right now. I wasn't even sure what I would say. Instead, I just wanted to go home and settle back in, to get back to my real life and the things at home that were important to me. I'd left the store alone too long, and while I trusted Michelle to run it while I was gone, my little vacation was over. I took a taxi from the airport, and had him drop me off at the garage behind the store where I kept my car. I loaded my bags into my trunk, because there was somewhere else I needed to go before I went home.

The city hadn't changed at all while I was gone, but it never seems to anyway, and really, what could have happened there in two weeks? There was still too much traffic, too many tourists, and a big hole in the ground that we were assured would someday be a roadway. It was colder than it had been in Florida, but not so much so that I needed a coat, at least not now in the daytime. I went straight to the flower shop, knowing that they were still open, but unlike my last visit I was only buying one bouquet this time. There wasn't a boy back at the loft needing to be reassured, requiring a second bunch of flowers instead of my usual order. Instead, there was only the boy ahead of me, the one who was also the boy behind me. The florist pointed out that I was looking a little tan, and I explained that I'd been away for a little while as she rang me up and I carried the paper wrapped bouquet out to my car.

"Hi there," I said quietly, arranging the flowers, bright red tulips, in the vase in the center of Matt's headstone.

The grounds crew, as always, had removed the last bunch while I was gone. They would leave them in for a few days, but as they began to die, to turn brown, the workers at the memorial park would quietly remove them, and I wondered not for the first time if there was a big dumpster somewhere full of dried, disintegrating flowers. This close to Vermont, and all the environmentalists, I was probably completely off, and there was more likely a huge compost pile somewhere that converted the flowers and lawn clippings to mulch. I realized as I sat down on the small bench, staring at the granite stone, that my mind was rambling, but if there was anyplace in the world that it was ok to just let it, then it was here. Matt always said that my nervous babbling habit could be cute when it wasn't grating on people's nerves.

"I'm back from my trip," I began, looking at my hands. I always sat to the side of the bench, leaving room, because it was easy to imagine that Matt was sitting next to me. I could always see him with his casually messy hair, ruffled a little by the breeze, and sometimes I could even imagine that I smelled his aftershave. Matt had taken a couple of showers a day, since he was often running around playing rugby or football or something with his friends while I watched from the sidelines with a pack of girlfriends who sometimes seemed a little surprised to see a guy among them, so he was always adding another splash.

"Justin isn't with me," I said bluntly. Matt was always willing to give me time to spin things out, to explain things in my own way, but I usually needed to just cut to the chase. "He and I, we, um, I guess the best way to say it was that we broke up. We're not technically broken up. I think we're taking a break, or whatever the term is while he sorts things out. Jesus, this is so high school."

I had to laugh, to give in to a little chuckle. I remembered again how I'd been sure Justin would say he loved me but wasn't in love with me, and I realized that this whole thing was like a trip back to the tenth grade, and listening to my friends tell me about how they were breaking up but then they weren't but they were just have space but maybe they wanted to see other people. Wait, I hadn't said that. I'd told Justin to make up his mind about what he wanted, but neither of us had mentioned whether or not we would see other people. Then again, if he decided to, I had a pretty good idea of who that other person might be.

"I left him, if you want to get really technical," I clarified. "Things between Justin and I, they weren't really working out. We tried, though. We tried really hard, and I tried to do everything he wanted, but it just, it wasn't working. He's a great guy, and he's really special, and smart, and sexy, but it just didn't happen. I told you that I wanted to see if it could, and it just didn't. Justin tried, but there's other stuff going on. He's kind of never gotten over his first boyfriend, JC, and I guess JC has no intention of getting over him, either. Justin thinks he loves me, but he's not sure, and I guess, you know, in the end he's just trying to figure things out."

It was true. I didn't think Justin had ever intended to hurt me, not on purpose. He was under pressure that I couldn't really understand, and he'd spent so much of his life in the spotlight that he hadn't ever really been able to sort things out for himself. Justin hadn't done a lot of the normal kid things. He hadn't gone to a prom or to college or even gotten to wear a cap and gown for high school graduation. It was probably unreasonable of me to expect him to act the way that I thought he should in any situation. On the other hand, dating was dating once you got down to it, and maybe whoever dated Justin needed to be willing to put up with stuff that I wasn't.

"I think it might have been the age thing after all," I sighed. "Not in years, but just in life experience. He's still trying to figure out who he is, and I already know who I am. That's the basic difference between us, and as good as everything else was, we're never going to get past that, not until he works out for himself what kind of person he wants to be. Until then, I hope he's happy, and I'm going to try to be, too. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

It didn't matter who else I said this to. Honestly, I didn't intend to say it to anyone. I wasn't really in the business of discussing some parts of my life with my friends, or my family, or anyone else. I didn't keep anything from Matthew, though, and I wouldn't keep this from him, either. I couldn't imagine him smiling if I'd said this to him, but I never would have said it if he was here. I thought, though, that in the end, this would be something that would make him happy. If he was looking down from wherever he was right now, I liked the imagine that this would be something he wanted to hear me say someday.

"I think this relationship has been really good for me, even if it didn't turn out so well, because it helped me decide something," I said, looking at his stone, following the words with my eyes. "When you left me, I thought my life was kind of over. I don't mean in like the suicidal, goodbye world I have nothing left to live for way. As much as I wanted to be with you, I knew that it wasn't, you would want me to try to follow you. Instead, I guess, you know, I followed our dream. I built the store, and I worked on it everyday, and I didn't really think about anything else. I kept myself dedicated to you, and your memory, and what we were and what we had and what we wanted, and somewhere in there while we kept being a couple, I stopped being my own person. My life went on, but the part where I loved someone, where I woke up next to someone or made love to someone or just went to the movies with someone, I thought that part of my life was over. I never really thought that I would be with anyone else, because in my head, and in my heart, I was still with you."

The cemetery was quiet. I listened to the breeze, and looked up at the tree over Matt's grave, that oak tree with its perpetually falling acorns. How could it always be shedding them? Every time I was here I was kicking one aside with my foot. Weren't they seasonal or something? There was that nervous babbling again. The leaves were just starting to fall, and somehow that seemed fitting.

"I guess, when you died, I thought that part of me died with you," I said, sighing again. "I guess I never realized before Justin came along that it didn't. I never realized that I wasn't done after all. I still love you, Matt. I still love you more than anything right here, but I feel like now I might be able to love someone else, too. I know that it won't be the same, that he won't be the guy who won my heart and swept me off my feet, but I think that maybe I can love somebody else, too."

There didn't really seem to be anything else to say. I still loved Matt, like I told him. I would always love him, but now I thought I might be ready to love someone else, too. It wasn't a question of replacing Matt, or letting someone else slide into his place in my heart. It was more of a matter of my heart being big enough for more than one person after all.

"This isn't goodbye," I said, standing and brushing the seat of my pants off, smiling. "And I'm not going to go out and start cruising the bars and looking, but, you know, Julie and Meg are always talking about how many hot guys are in the store and how sad it is that all the good ones are gay, and sometimes some of those guys even look at me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I finally feel like it might be ok to look back. I'm going home now, ok? I love you."

Somewhere I knew that Matt loved me, too, and that he would want me to be happy.

I drove around for a while after I left the cemetery. I didn't really have anywhere to go, but driving around Boston was somehow relaxing for me. I'm not sure if I can explain that well, since the act of driving itself in Boston is enough to reduce a normal person to a gibbering wreck, speaking in tongues and frothing at the mouth with frustrated rage, but for me it was refreshing. I drove around, past an endless succession of Dunkin' Donuts and Starbucks Coffees, smiling at all the same restaurants with their eagles and patriots and everything else. Boston was endlessly interesting to me with the blend of old and new, and the constant influx of people. I realized that part of the reason why I had been so uncomfortable in Florida was that everything looked the same, like it had all been built at once according to the same plans. Boston was a mix, and the mix kept things interesting. I just needed to drive around for a while to recharge myself, and when I parked the car again, back in my garage, I felt like I was back at home.

I carried my bags in through the back door of the building, straight up the stairs and into the loft. Everything was just as I'd left it, and I walked around, straightening things. Michelle had pushed all of my mail under the door while I was gone, and I scooped it all up and dropped it onto the dining room table to be gone through later. I fluffed the pillows, dusted the top of the stereo and the television, and realized that I didn't really want to be up here right now. More than anything, I wanted to be downstairs, to check on my store and say hi to my kids and just get back into the swing of things. Shrugging happily, I practically skipped down the stairs to the storeroom. Everybody working must have been up front, but I walked through the shelves, checking to see what had come in, what needed to be moved, where things were at, and I realized that everything was ok. I'd left for a couple weeks, and it hadn't been the end of the world.

"Customers aren't allowed back here, sir," a voice I didn't recognize said, and I looked up to see a kid, about seventeen or eighteen, standing in the doorway. He was wearing baggy jeans with a stripe down the sides, and a long shiny wallet chain was hanging out from beneath his untucked "No Fear" t-shirt. His dark black hair was gelled into a spiky mess, and both ears and an eyebrow were pierced. To my surprise, he was also wearing an employee nametag. This had to be the new kid.

"I'm aware," I said, shrugging and going back to looking over the deliveries clipboard hanging on the wall, tracking how many bakery shipments and coffee purchases we'd had while I was gone. I didn't really mean to maliciously rake him over the coals or anything, but I was curious to see how he handled himself.

"If you need help finding something, I'd be happy to lend you a hand, but this is an employees only area," he said carefully, still smiling. "I'm going to have to ask you if you could, um, please come back out to the main area of the store, please."

"OK," I shrugged, following where he pointed. I was fighting the urge to snicker as he pointed out toward the main sales floor, and I saw Pete's eyes widen as he leaned down from the balcony.

"Kip, did you find," he began, and then he saw me, and broke into a grin. "Chris!"

"Chris?" Michelle asked from the counter, turning to look and spilling coffee all over the countertop. She was dressed, as always, in some many layered black ensemble, and I would have rushed over to hug her if I didn't know it would upset her finely tuned sense of goth decorum. Behind us I heard Pete thundering down the stairs as the new kid stood confused behind me.

"Hey!" Pete boomed, throwing his arms around me and practically knocking me over. "You're back!"

"Pete, ribs," I gasped, crushed against his flannel shoulder.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, pushing his hair back with his hand as Michelle leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

"Hi," she said, squeezing my shoulder. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at her and Pete. I looked over at the register where Meg was trying to ring up the four or five people in line as quickly as possible. The new kid still looked confused, and Michelle turned to him.

"Kip, this is Chris," he said, pointing at the staff picture on the wall. I noticed that there were now two of them, and realized with a little stab of regret that the one hanging below the original was the picture of all of us from Justin's going away party, when he'd been wearing that nametag Michelle made for him. I saw, looking away from the picture, that Kip was holding out his hand, and I shook it, smiling.

"Nice to meet you," I said, letting it go.

"You, too," he said nervously. "Sorry I, um, kicked you out of the storeroom."

"It's ok," I said, shrugging. "I promise not to fire you."

"Thanks!" he beamed, and then he turned to go help a customer at the food counter.

"He's allowed behind the counter?" I asked, turning to Michelle. I wasn't even really allowed back there. "He's been here for like two weeks, and he's allowed in the coffee area?"

"It's my area," she said, shrugging, as if that was an answer. She looked at me again, her eyes darting behind me toward the storeroom door. I saw that Pete was doing the same thing. "So?"

I looked back and forth between them. I had to say it out loud at some point, so it might as well be now.

"He's not with me," I said, watching both of their faces fall a little. "And I don't think he's going to come back any time soon."

"Oh," Pete said, looking at the floor.

"That spoiled little piece of," Michelle began, and I held up a hand, stopping her in midsentence.

"Don't, Michelle, please," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not with him, but it's ok. Really. He's not a bad person, he didn't break my heart, and I don't hate him with burning fire, ok? It just didn't work out, and this is the last time I want to talk about it."

"OK," Michelle said, shrugging. "We'll just acknowledge and move on, like that time Pete and Meg hooked up."

"You told people about that?" Meg blurted loudly from the register. Pete, blushing bright red, hurried away.

"I have to, um, go do something upstairs," he stammered, scarlet now.

"Pete and Meg hooked up?" Kip asked, wrapping up a pastry for someone.

"I'll tell you later," Michelle said, taking my arm. "Come on, I'll go over everything that happened while you were gone. You want some coffee?"

And that was it as far as the staff was concerned. They did their best to try to be supporting friends, but I wasn't deeply wounded or anything. Still, I let them do their best to comfort me. Meg and I had a nice, long lunch in Chinatown, and Michelle took me to some experimental play that, like all the others, involved a lot of people taking their tops off and spouting dialogue that didn't always seem to make sense. Pete took me to a boat show, explaining that he had an extra ticket and needed to go for his marketing class or something, and I even allowed Julie to drag me out to an open mic poetry reading at some coffee shop downtown. It was truly an agonizing evening, and after that I decided that I was all done taking their kindness. I appreciated the effort, but another night of lesbian feminist poetry might kill me. I didn't see much of April, as she was pretty busy with classes, but she came by the store for coffee a few times, and we talked. Things were a little different between us, a little cooler, and I wondered if she still talked to Justin, but didn't want to ask.

I didn't hear from Justin, but I didn't call him or write him, either. He wanted space, and I gave it to him. I did hear from Joey, though. He called right after I left, complaining that he'd definitely picked the wrong time to go out of town, but I assured him that it would have happened even if he hadn't been there for me to talk to. He and Kelly sent me a card at Thanksgiving, and I sent them one, too. I spent Thanksgiving at the loft, and a couple days after the holiday I caught the guys' concert on CBS. It was good, and it hurt a little to see Justin, but they all looked like they were ok. I wondered if they'd known that I would be watching, and figured that it was at least a good guess. They looked like they were all getting along, and the show had clips of them touring the islands and doing a lot of fun stuff together, but remembering that they were well skilled in putting on a show for the cameras I tried not to read too much into it.

I heard from JC as well, although it had been me who opened that door, not him. After I unpacked, I realized that the book I was reading, and the other one in my suitcase, were his, the ones I'd taken out of the bookcase. After I finished them, I wrapped them up with a brief note to JC, explaining that I hadn't meant to take them, but that I had enjoyed them and wanted to be sure to return them. I ended by telling him I hoped he was ok, and I thought that would be it, but about a week later I received a short note back from him, neatly written on a little note card in his narrow, fine hand.

"Dear Chris,

I'm so glad you wrote! I've been wanting to talk to you, just to say hi or whatever, but I didn't know if you would want to hear from me or not. I've missed having you around, though, talking to you in the morning and stuff, and I hope that you are well and that things are ok back home in Boston, especially now that you're getting closer to winter and snow. I haven't seen the snow in years, and sometimes I miss it, but then I look at the window at the water and the trees and flowers and I wonder if I might be insane.

I'm still at Chris's house, not back at the other one, so I'm giving you the address there. I'd love to hear back from you, to hear how you're doing and what's going on, or you could even call if you want to.

If you don't, I understand, but I'll always be your friend, and consider you mine.

-JC"

We started writing back and forth after that, just quick little notes. I told him about the kind of stuff we went out to, the plays I saw and dinners I went to and stuff, and he wrote me about the parties he went to, or the clubs, or whatever else. We wrote about books we'd both read, recommending them to each other, and movies we thought the other might like, and somehow we both avoided discussing Justin. It wasn't deliberate, at least on my side, but I didn't want to ask and put him in a difficult position as a friend to both of us, and if they were back together, and that was the reason why Justin had been silent, I really didn't want to know. JC was the one who broke the silence, finally, tacking it onto the end of another letter.

"I know this might upset you a little, but I wanted you to hear it from me before you hear it from anyone else. I don't know if you still talk to Joey or not, because none of us really talk about you, but I want you to understand what's going on. I'm moving back into the house, but it's not what you think. Justin told me I was welcome to come back, but I'm not moving back in as his boyfriend. He hasn't asked me to, and I'm not going to offer. I'm going to be in my room across the hall, not in the master bedroom. He's still my best friend, and I still own half of the house, and I really just want to be home. I feel like I'm not myself when I'm not in my space, and I'm hoping you'll understand."

Actually, I did. He'd been honest with me when I left, and I couldn't fault him for wanting to go home and be close to the man who was still his best friend, even if they weren't boyfriends. I wrote back to let him know that I did, and that was the last we mentioned it before falling back into our discussions of other things. If nothing else had come out of the relationship, at least I'd picked up a friend.

As the days, and then the weeks, went by, I didn't meet another guy, but, like I'd said, I wasn't really out looking. I noticed some of the guys who came into the store, and noticed some of them looking at me. I was friendly, but I couldn't really bring myself to make the first move. Not only was I out of the habit of dating, but I'd never mastered the art of pick up lines, and my flirting technique, frankly, sucked. The staff watched with amusement as guys flirted with me a little, and I either didn't get it until hours later when the guy was gone, or I stumbled through trying to reciprocate and ended up making a complete fool out of myself. As much as I said I wanted to move on and meet someone new, maybe the truth was that my heart just wasn't in it. Maybe I was still getting over Justin, and that was why I hadn't really let anything else go anywhere.

At least the idea of setting me up on a blind date with a friend was never raised again after I shot Michelle down on that one.

That's where things were by early December, and then they changed again, just like that. I was sitting at the counter in the morning, sipping my coffee while I read the paper. Michelle was getting coffee for the morning regulars, and I was watching the register. Julie hadn't made it in today, calling to say that she had a bad cold and was going to stay in bed and take herbal remedies, balking at the chicken soup I offered to bring over. As soon as I said it I remembered that she was vegetarian again this week, and I felt like a heel for a minute. Then again, I was hardly at fault when her eating habits changed every week depending on what she'd read or who she talked to. Outside, it was just starting to flurry a little, the third or fourth burst of them we'd had in a week. We didn't really have any snow on the ground yet, but it was bound to happen soon, and hot chocolate sales had been picking up for weeks, like they did every winter.

I didn't really pay attention when someone sat down at the counter next to me, but my ears pricked up when he called out to Michelle for coffee, and I felt my heart flutter a little.

"Just a second," she said, but then she turned around and her eyes narrowed.

I could hardly blame her as I turned to see Justin sitting at the counter, all bundled up in cords and a turtleneck sweater, droplets of melted snowflakes glistening in his hair. He sat at the counter as if nothing was wrong, and weeks hadn't gone by since the last time I heard a word from him. Michelle seemed a little pissed as she dropped a cup loudly in front of him, filled it, and walked away without providing and of the cream and sugar we both knew he wanted. He frowned, but didn't call her back, which is probably the only thing that kept him from getting badly scalded. Michelle scorned wasn't something I wanted to see, and I guess Justin was smart enough to be worried, too. He turned to smile at me, but I didn't return it as I sipped my coffee.

"Hi," he said shyly, waiting. I tried to read his face, but all I got was friendliness.

"Hi," I said coolly. "Are you lost?"

OK, maybe that wasn't as cool as it could have been. He deserved a little sting, though, for being such a jerk. He winced a little, and his mouth pursed into a thin line. Whatever he wanted, if he started pouting this discussion was over.

"Well, I used to work here, and I wanted to check in and see how things were," he said, smiling a little. That was the best line he could come up with? I found it hard to believe he was a songwriter.

"Everything's fine," I said, folding up the paper.

"And you?" he asked, looking a little pensive.

"I'm fine, too," I said brusquely. I started to get up. "Thanks for checking in."

He put a hand on my arm, not digging his fingers in or anything, just gripping my forearm, and I waited.

"Chris, please," he said softly. "I came all this way to talk to you."

"Did you?" I asked. "About what, Justin? If this is just going to turn into another apology, then I don't want to hear it. I mean it."

"It's not just an apology," Justin said, shaking his head, confirming that an apology was in there somewhere along with whatever else he wanted to say. "I've been thinking a lot, since you left, about me and you. I've been thinking about a lot of stuff, and I wanted to come see you, so that we could talk about it."

I crossed my arms, sighing, looking into his eyes. I could see that all those old feelings he had for me were still there, the caring and the longing and everything else, but was it enough? I still cared about him, but was it just as a friend?

"Justin, I don't know," I said finally. "I mean, I've kind of started to move on. Being with you was good, and I wouldn't lose it for anything in the world, but it hurt, too, and if I get back together with you, if that's what you're here for, I don't want to be hurt like that again."

"I understand," he said, nodding. "I don't want to hurt you, and I promise, things are different. It wouldn't be like it was, Chris. It could be really good. I just, I want to talk about it. I know that I was a jerk, and I wouldn't blame you if you threw me out of the store on my ass, but all I'm asking is that you hear me out. Please?"

I thought about it. I meant what I said. I really had started getting over him, getting over the pain of losing him and everything else, all the little hurts that had bothered me so much during our relationship. I didn't want to open myself up for that again, but, looking at him, looking at the way his thin amber brows arched over his bright blue eyes, looking at the round pecs pressing out from beneath his sweater, and at the plaintive, well meaning look on his face, I felt that little spark again, that little fluttery inside feeling. What I'd felt for Justin, the way I'd loved him, it was still there, and if I wanted to, I could see whether there was enough of it to do anything about it.

"I guess there's no harm in listening," I said evenly. Justin's face broke out in a huge grin.

Concluded.

I'd like to thank everyone who supported this story through the lengthy amount of time it took me to write it. It means a lot hearing from all of you who have written to ask questions, offer compliments, or just to say hi, and I hope to continue hearing from you even now that the story is over.

I'm not sure if I will be writing another part of this story, or writing anything else for a while, either. While it was nice hearing from the people who did write, it was also somewhat disheartening to post a couple of chapters in a row without hearing from anyone, as it left me questioning whether my work was appreciated or even any good. I don't believe in asking for feedback, which is why I've waited until the last chapter to mention this, but now seems as good a time as any to remind you, the readers, that the only reward any of the authors posting these stories receive is hearing that someone likes it. People complain about the number of unfinished stories, but I have to wonder if they've fallen by the wayside because the author feels that they are not being read and enjoyed, and that their work isn't reaching anyone. If I hadn't made a personal commitment to tell the story I wanted to and to finish it for the few people who did write to me, I would have stopped posting this one a while ago.

Just something to keep in mind while you're reading your favorite stories and checking to see if they've updated.