Alone Together

This chapter was a long time in the making, and for those of you who were waiting for it, I thank you for your patience. You will note that the chapter is extremely long. I started and stopped several times, becoming frustrated. I threw out big parts, and then put stuff back in. In some ways, like several previous chapters, this is an arc within an arc, showing Aaron's journey, which is, of course, a parallel to the one James is on. At my low point in trying to get this done, I considered abandoning the whole serious. It seems as if people have lost interest. But then I decided that the serious means too much to me to not finish - or at least, bring to a proper end. So here are the fruits of my perseverance. (By the way, I'm posting the chapter in two parts, because it's so long. The second part will follow shortly.) In any case, there's not been a lot of email or feedback of late. For those who have written though, thank you very much. This chapter will, I think, surprise a few people, especially because it disproves an assumption that many have made, and hopefully does so in a way that you all find meaningful and appropriate. You can write to me at denis141@hotmail.com. I always write back, usually promptly.

And, last but not least, thanks to the work of my dear Thomas, I now have a website. It's still under construction, but you can find it here. http://home.comcast.net/~shawthomas/ It has been my hope to have a place where Nifty readers could easily read the story in the format intended. Now you can. Please sign the guest book.

DISCLAIMER: I don't know NSYNC, and this story is purely a work of fiction.

This story also contains male/male love, so if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read this, you should stop reading now. Duh.

ALONE/TOGETHER

CHAPTER 44: OF LOVE ALONE: Part Five: The Mysteries.

On man heavens influence workes not so,

But that it first imprints the ayre, Soe soule into the soule may flow,

Though it to body first repaire. As our blood labours to beget

Spirits, as like soules as it can, Because such fingers need to knit

That subtile knot, which makes us man: So must pure lovers soules descend

T'affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend,

Else a great Prince in prison lies. To'our bodies turne wee then, that so

Weake men on love reveal'd may looke; Loves mysteries in soules do grow,

But yet the body is his booke. And if some lover, such as wee,

Have heard this dialogue of one, Let him still marke us, he shall see

Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.

Excerpt from "The Extasie," John Donne (1572-1631)

"Some mystery should be left in the revelation of character in a play, just as a great deal of mystery is always left in the revelation of character in life, even in one's own character to himself."

~Tennessee Williams

"When I remember that dizzy summer, that dull, stupid, lovely, dire summer, it seems that in those days I ate my lunches, smelled another's skin, noticed a shade of yellow, even simply sat, with greater lust and hopefulness-and that I lusted with greater faith, hoped with greater abandon. The people I loved were celebrities, surrounded by rumor and fanfare; the places I sat with them, movie lots and monuments. No doubt all of this is not true remembrance but the ruinous work of nostalgia, which obliterates the past, and no doubt, as usual, I have exaggerated everything."

~ Michael Chabon, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (1988).

"You're Aaron Bass, right?"

"I'm sorry," Aaron said, stopping as he was about to step into the elevator, and turning quickly around. "Did you...what? I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you asked. Do you want an autograph?"

The young woman laughed and blushed, her long blond bangs nearly in her eyes, a battered black messenger bag slung on her shoulder. She held out her hand, offering it to Aaron to shake, which he did, smiling unsurely. Her lips were thin, her mouth small and red, and it was shaped like a neatly-tied bow. She wore no make-up, but did not look plain. Aaron liked the way she looked at him; it made him smile.

"You're Aaron Bass, right?" she said. "I'm Cameron Blaine."

"Cameron Blaine - that's right," Aaron said, shaking her hand. "Phlox, you play Phlox, that's right. I knew you looked familiar. Did you just get in?"

"Yeah," she said. "Just now. I just checked in."

"That's great, great."

"Have you been here long?" she asked, setting her bag on the floor, as she looked around the lobby. "In Portland."

"Eight days," Aaron said, letting go of the elevator-door he held, and listening to it shut behind him. "I just dropped my dads off at the airport. They were staying with me, helping me get settled in."

"Your dads?"

"Lance Bass," Aaron said. "And Joshua Chasez. You didn't know that?"

"Weird, but I didn't."

"Anyway - I was thinking about getting an apartment, or staying in the dorms..."

"The dorms?"

"I start at school next week."

"Like college?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, busy guy."

"It'll all work out," Aaron said, plunging his hands into his pockets, causing his shoulders to slump forward. "My dads thought staying here would be easier for now - with room-service and all. And more privacy."

"You must get hit on a lot," she said. "For autographs and stuff."

"Yeah," Aaron said. "It had pretty much tapered off, since I pretty much don't look anything like I did in Star Wars anymore. But PR for this flick has been a little over the top, I think, which kind of caught me off-guard, to tell you the truth."

"It's all about the buzz. That's what my agent says."

"I guess," Aaron said. "I'm not much for being flavor-of-the-month though."

"Yeah, right," Cameron said, rolling her eyes and laughing. "I should be so unlucky."

"So I guess you like The Smiths?" Aaron said, pointing at her t-shirt, changing the subject. "Huh?"

"Fanatically," she said. "You?"

"Uh-not really," Aaron said. "Morrissey is bit too much of a whiner for my tastes. But I like lots of other stuff though"

"Like what?"

"Oh man - everything," Aaron said, tilting his head back and scratching his neck. "Classical - especially the early moderns, like Debussey and Sibelius, Brazilian hip-hop, fluff-rock, surf-punk, blue-grass, fado, and my dad, of course."

"Lance?"

"No, Josh."

"Didn't he produce that band Fake?"

"Yeah," Aaron nodded. "Until that dude Tommy Dilton got caught boinking a fifteen year old on the tour bus."

"I remember that."

"My Dad was so pissed."

"You'll have to loan me some tunes you dig, make me a mix-disc or something."

"Sure, right on."

"So you were headed upstairs - before I hijacked you, that is."

""No problem," Aaron said, laughing. "Diversions are good. Besides, I was just going upstairs to crash, so it's not like you delayed anything super-serious."

"I should get unpacked," she said. "The bellmen already took my stuff upstairs."

"You want to share an elevator then," Aaron smiled. "I'll drive."

"Cool," she said, reaching past Aaron to push the elevator button. "I'm glad I ran into you. Maybe we can grab something to eat later. Is Todd staying here?"

"No," Aaron said. "Todd has a house here. He doesn't live in LA."

"I see."

"He's having a party at his house tomorrow night."

"Oh - okay," she said. "I hadn't heard that."

"I think everyone's invited - the cast, I think."

"It's probably in the crap my agent gave me," she said, unconcerned. "I haven't really looked through it yet, or even read the script - not the final one."

"You haven't?"

"Nah - I was in Milan," she said. "I did five shows in six days. It was crazy - but the money was way too good to pass up."

"I did Paris," Aaron said, glancing at the changing numbers above the door, nine, eight, seven - the elevator on its way, and then looking back at Cameron, who was smiling at him, her first generous smile so far. "For Marc Jacobs."

"Yeah - I saw you in Vogue Hommes, very nice."

"My dad wasn't exactly thrilled with the crotch-shot photo of me in briefs."

"Parents suck."

"No they don't."

"Okay-so my parents suck," she said. "And you read the script. What did you think?"

"Yeah, it's good," Aaron said. "Weird and kind of dark, but comic too, really funny, especially Cleveland's character."

"It better be good," she said, looking at her watch. "My last two movies flopped big time. My manager says that I need a hit. Or at least an interesting failure. Otherwise I'll just be another in a long line of failed model-actresses, which would suck."

"Shall we?" Aaron said, as the elevator door slid open, and he held it waiting for her to step inside. "Higher heights await you."

"What floor are you on?"

"Fifteen."

"Me too."

"Well, since we're neighbors," Aaron said, sing-song style, lilting his voice higher, and laughing. "Let's be friends."

"What's that from?"

"Some old TV show I watched when I was a kid. It's dumb, but I liked it. I'd sit on my dad's lap every morning and watch it while I ate my cereal."

"That'd be Lance."

"No, that'd be Josh."

"Speaking of cereal," she said. "I was serious about getting some food later. Do you want to?"

"Totally," Aaron said. "I'd love to. Call my room when you're ready, and we'll head out. Everything is pretty much walking-distance, so we can explore together."

"Cool."

The elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped out. Aaron smiled at her as she offered a begrudging close-faced grin in return. He noticed that she was quite tall, probably six-foot, but still a good six or so inches shorter than him. Her face was plain, like someone you wouldn't tend to notice at first, but then you were glad when you did. Her eyes seemed to goad and question him, as if she had expected him to say something, to recite the next line of dialogue from a scene they were in. But he stayed silent, and she closed her eyes and glanced away.

"Well later then," she said, her hand flying up to her forehead to brush her bangs away, and then into a brief, halfhearted wave. "It was good to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Aaron called after her, watching her walk down the hall. "Call me when you're ready to head out."

"All right," she said. "I will."

"They're right here," Jake said. "So quit freaking the fuck out."

"The script break-downs?" Todd said, almost shouting as he looked up from the battered cardboard box that sat in the middle of his living room floor. He had spent the last several minutes red-faced and pawing through it. "Because I need the one I was working on in L.A.-the shooting script, it has all my rehearsal notes in it, and the camera set-ups."

"Yes-its right here," Jake said, holding up a blue vinyl folder bulging with paper that seemed to threaten to fall out. "The one with five sticky-notes stuck to each page."

"Oh thank god," Todd said, grabbing the notebook and clutching it to his chest. "Where was it?"

"On your coffee table," Jake said. "Probably where you left it last night, after five scotches and you passed out."

"Yeah - well, cut me some slack," Todd said, slumping into the chair behind him. "I'm a tad bit frazzled, okay? Rehearsals start tomorrow. And, you know, no biggie, but this is only the biggest and most important film of my whole fucking career."

"Todd, when have you not said that about a film you were making."

"I...never mind."

"Is Beau Contrail still MIA?"

"Not a word yet," Todd said. "But I have Darcy working on tracking him down."

"Everyone else is here," Jake said. "I checked with the hotel this afternoon."

"Any studio flacks buzzing about?"

"Not a one," Jake said. "What a miracle, huh?"

"Fuck yeah," Todd said, followed by a gentle guffaw. "Getting that Bass kid saved my ass big-time."

"I know," Jake said. "But do you really think he's right for the part? I mean, that dude is frigging gorgeous, and I never really saw Art Bechstein as being gorgeous."

"Yeah, I know," Todd said. "I was thinking that myself when I first met him. But we'll get him a bad haircut and see if he's got the acting-chops to pull it off."

"Being a nebbish."

"Art is not a nebbish."

"All right," Jake said, shrugging and sitting down.

"He's, uh - conflicted, and confused."

"Aaron doesn't strike me as someone who's ever been conflicted. He's got that, I don't know-that straight-ahead quality doesn't see the gray in things."

"Yeah, but that's okay," Todd said, scratching the back of his neck. "Because this is a memory play, remember? The voice-over is Art a whole lot older, looking back."

"I was going to ask you about that," Jake said. "Because I thought the voice-over was kind of confusing. You're never quite sure how much to believe him."

"That's the point" Todd said, nodding. "You aren't supposed to trust the narrator - at least not fully. I mean, be serious. Is it even possible that someone could tell a story and resist the urge to alter details? Come on!"

"I guess I never really thought about it."

"Well, maybe you should," Todd said, lapsing into silence and eyeing Jake for a long minute. It was as if he had suddenly noticed something disconcerting about him, an odd, previously hidden stain on his shirt, or a bruise. Todd's eyes narrowed as he stared him, while Jake did his best to ignore him.

"You're not after him, are you?" Todd finally said. "Because you..."

"What!" Jake said, plainly unprepared for this question. "After who?"

"Aaron," Todd said, pointing at Jake now, wagging his finger. "You're not trying to get in his pants are you?"

"No!" Jake said, his eyes widening, matching the suspicion in Todd's own eyes. "Why in the hell would you ask me that?"

"Because you're a gay man with eyes, and a pulse -hello!"

"Yeah, well he's way out of my league anyway," Jake said. "We've had dinner a couple of times, but no pings on the gaydar, unfortunately."

"Well, in any case," Todd said. "I'd appreciate it if you'd steer clear. I want the action on the screen, not behind the scenes, if you know what I mean."

"Got it."

Aaron was sitting on the bed with a framed photograph in his hand, looking at it. "Tell me 'bout her Da," he said. "Again, will you so?"

"She had a laugh that could crack a plate," Colin said, holding a t-shirt he'd just taken from his duffle bag. "Right explodin' out of nowheres, like lightning mind you. Her seeing something she thought comic would right set it off, that laugh of hers - feck, it could part your hair, it could, just as it was lifting your heart to the sky."

"She was funny so?"

"Side-splittin' so," Colin said, putting his hands behind him on the dresser he'd been loading the few clothes he'd brought with him. "She made me laugh me self so hard it hurt sometimes. You would 'ave loved her, her and the boy, lights of me life."

"I talked to Cian, that time I did," Aaron said, smiling at Colin, loving the way his eyes were bright and danced, no sadness there, not anymore. "Remember at the parish yard, what you took me to, to see where they was resting."

"Sure," Colin said. "Go back there did you then?"

"Sure so."

"Twas good you had a chance at a chat then," Colin said, looking out the window at the building across the street from their hotel. "Six months younger he'd have been of you, last month it'd have been, eighteen as you, almost a man, as you."

"And like my little brother he'd be."

"Did you ever want a little brother?"

"I don't really think I ever thought about it, to tell you the truth."

"Well, you had near a brother in James, you did."

Struck silent, Aaron carefully set the framed photograph back on the table from where he taken it, admiring the woman and the boy, and the cloudless bright-blue sky behind them, a perfect backdrop.

"More than a brother, I'd say."

"Yes," Aaron said, closing his eyes, pausing to take a breath, then another. "I know. Anyway...."

Colin smiled sadly and finished his unpacking. It took only a few minutes more. When he was done he stuffed his duffel bag under the bed and sat down beside Aaron, squeezing his knee, and looking at him.

"So you aren't mad at me no more da?" Aaron said, his head dipping, his eyes finding the floor. "Was worried that you might be still."

"Onward A-bomb, you and me," Colin said, sitting on the bed beside Aaron and slapping his leg. "Always onward. We'll get this movie made, and then you back to Harvard, like you said. How was orientation?"

"A bit of a fuddle, with people staring and wanting autographs."

"And fecking paparazzi."

"Of course," Aaron smiled. "The gobshites."

"Sure."

"But I'm glad I went," Aaron said. "Walking around Harvard Square with me aul man was a right nice thing. Beaming he was. You should have seen him. Lit up like a house on fire, he was. And me as well, being with him and all, himself so proud."

"And so you'll be having one class over the internet thing then?"

"A project yes," Aaron said. "A journal I'll be keeping about the movie here. And a paper I'll write after about how a book's turned into a movie. Plus I'll be having me classes here in Portland, at Reed University - a nice place it is."

"It be all fine and set then, sounds like so."

"Tis so, it is."

"Feck, I've got a throat on," Colin said, standing up. "Shall we find us a pub and escape this damn hotel? We'll be seeing the feckin' walls in here plenty enough over the next few months, that's certain"

"The pub downstairs be kind of nice."

"I was thinking something a little more out of the way than that."

"You tipping we should go on a wander?" Aaron said, standing up and shrugging. "I could go for that for sure."

"Let me take a slash and we'll be off then."

"Hey da," Aaron said suddenly, stepping toward Colin to say it. "Wait a sec-"

"Yeah," Colin said, turning around. "What is it A-bomb?"

"I love you da," Aaron said. "I just wanted to be telling you that."

"I don't be supposing it gets better than that," Colin said, soft-slapping the back of Aaron's head and pulling him into the warm clinch of a hug. "I love you too, mad and true, as the sky is blue, I do."

"Well that was kind of embarrassing."

"What?" Aaron said, looking at his watch and checking the MAX light-rail schedule again. "I thought it was fun."

"Not being invited but showing up anyway?"

"I was invited," Aaron said, re-folding the schedule and slipping it into the inside pocket of his windbreaker. "And you were my guest. So that makes you invited too."

"I was like the only chick there," Cameron said. "Did you notice?"

"No, I didn't. And you weren't."

"Felt like it."

"Well, anyway," Aaron said. "I think Todd's great, don't you?"

"Hard to say."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding exasperated. "He's really intense about this project. It kind of freaks me out."

"Do you want to sit down," Aaron said, pointing to the bench-seat at the light-rail stop. "I think I'm just going to stand."

"I don't know why we didn't just call a cab, like Todd offered."

"I like taking the MAX," Aaron said. "Reminds me of the tram in Dublin. I used to love riding that when I was a kid. Colin would take me. Always caused a fuss, people asking for his autograph and stuff. But he didn't mind. He knew it made me happy."

"Sounds nice," Cameron said, her voice oddly non-committal, as if she wasn't sure whether that she really meant what she'd just said. "Like you had a nice childhood. Did you spend much time in Dublin then?"

"A month or so every summer," Aaron said. "Like starting when I was twelve. I met Colin making the Star Wars film."

"Yeah, I knew that."

"There's a football tourney I always play in," Aaron said. "And this next summer I'm going to help me Da..."

"Your Da?"

"Colin."

"Oh."

"I'm going to help him put a new roof on his place, and fix it up. Last year I was teasing him that I feared it'd be falling on us as we slept, crushing us flat under the debris. He's not been much one for upkeep seems."

"So you really like Todd? You're not just saying that."

"No, I think he's great," Aaron said, smiling widely. "I feel like he took a risk giving me this part, and so I really..."

"A risk?" Cameron laughed. "That's a good one. Farrell and Bass together again, above-the-title billing, a guaranteed-opening of thirty or forty million at least, unless the thing ends up totally sucking, and-hey, I know how much they're paying you, I read it in the Hollywood Reporter."

"Well, it must be true then," Aaron mumbled, not really caring whether she heard him or not, and then saying nothing more. Instead, he just stared, at Cameron first, and then, turning his head, back down along the light-rail tracks. The train's light had become visible in the distance, and he focused on the growing glow that was like a bright cloud rushing towards him.

"The tram's here," Aaron said, zipping up his windbreaker. "I've got tokens, so don't worry about paying."

"Thanks," she said.

"Feckin' eejit," Colin said, spitting the words and turning away. "I know me the feckin' blocking , and don't need reminding by the likes of you."

"Colin - wait," Todd said, grabbing Colin's shoulder, then immediately reconsidering whether grabbing him was such a good idea, and letting go. "This is rehearsal for - Colin, wait a second."

"What?" Colin said, spinning around. "Me head hurts. Don't make it worse."

"I was just saying that-fine, okay, if you want to walk around in the scene, that's fine. I'll change the camera set-ups. And we can do pick-up shots with the Steadi-cam. But you're still moving way too much. You're pacing, and jittery. Joseph Bechstein is not like that, no, he's....fuck. What I'm trying to say is that he's...."

"I'm Artie's aul man," Colin said, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. "I know who I be fecking playing Todd."

"Art, Art..."

"Art."

"Look, I know it's early," Todd said, his eyes more frantic than usual, his pupils dancing in their sockets. "We're only two days into it, with two weeks of rehearsals left, but what I hope is that..."

"I'm not much for rehearsals," Colin said, rubbing his forehead. "I might've given that a fecking mention or two, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"You take me as I be Todd, you know the score."

"No, of course, of course, Colin, I just...okay, let's see."

"Spit it fecking out fer chrissakes."

"Where's Aaron?"

"He's standing right fecking there," Colin said, pointing to where Aaron stood leaning against the half-painted wall of a set that was beginning to look like an Italian restaurant. "A-bomb, get your arse over here and partake in Todd' fecking nervous breakdown with me, please. I'd right hate to have it all to me fecking own."

Aaron laughed and wandered over. He was wearing bright green track-pants, the kind with snaps down the side, and a red t-shirt with a white bulls-eye on the chest. The flip-flops he was wearing slapped against the soles of his feet as he walked.

"What's up Todd?" Aaron said. "You giving me Da a hard time here?"

"Practically reduced me ta tears A-bomb," Colin said, his voice thick with faux-melodrama. "A pitiful thing it is."

"You know," Todd said, exasperated. "I wish someone had warned me how close the two of you are, I would have thought twice about this casting."

"See there A-bomb, he's threatening to shit-can me now, homeless I'll soon be."

Aaron laughed and threw his arm around Colin, who was a good half-foot shorter than him. Colin looked up at Aaron, wide-eyed, sucking on his lower lip, pretending he was about to cry. He made small gasping breaths and puckered his mouth and held his hand over his heart. Then he burst out laughing.

"Todd, how could you?" Aaron said, squinting his eyes, sounding as stern as he could while still laughing. "I'm shocked, really I am. Me Da is the finest actor I know, well save maybe me aul man, Lance Bass. But..."

"Now there you go comparing me to him again," Colin said, pulling away from Aaron's hold on him, pretending to be shocked. "How could you do it boy? Just because I ain't yet snagged me an Oscar, don't mean I..."

"All right you two," Todd interrupted, causing Aaron and Colin to both burst into thigh-slapping laughter. Todd waited for it to subside, mumbling to himself and wringing his hands. As the laugher finally tapered off, Todd's face fell into an impatient, wide-eyed smirk

"Are you both ready to be serious now?" he asked.

"We're sorry Todd," Aaron said, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Aren't we Da?"

"As sorry as a nun caught bedding a priest, surely we are."

"All I'm trying to say," Todd said, beginning again, speaking slowly and clearly, trying to make sure that he was this time understood. "Is that too much of your actual relationship is showing through in your scenes. You're way too at ease with each other, too settled in, too comfortable."

"Okay," Aaron said. "I can see that. Can't you Da?"

"What?"

"Pay attention Da," Aaron said, beginning to laugh again. "Todd is bloody try to teach us something."

"Oh, right," Colin said, with an exaggerated start. "I see what you be saying Todd, see it as well, I do."

"Arthur and his father have a tense relationship," Todd continued. "They can hardly speak to each other with out one or the other of them getting angry or upset."

"He's wound a bit tight, that Art is."

"His aul man's fault, that is," Aaron said, eyeing Colin with a sly smile and then a quick wink. "The heartless bastard."

"Get on with yourself," Colin said. "Heartless bastard - listen to you."

"Todd you were saying," Aaron said, turning back to him, smiling politely, like an obedient student. "Go on."

""Kill me now," Todd said, under his breath, but still clearly audible. Colin muffled a laugh and elbowed Aaron in the ribs.

"Anyway, with these two, it's all about what's not talked about, the subjects each one knows will set the other offer. That's their uneasy truce-"

"Doing nothing but talking about the fecking weather, nearly so."

"Yes, nearly so," Todd said. "Because you're a mystery to each other, thoroughly and completely unknown-maybe even unknowable, despite the history you share, and blood. You are father and son, but also strangers."

"I think Art really loves his father," Aaron said. "Maybe he's a little intimidated by him - I mean, he is a gangster, which is kind of scary I guess."

"Yeah," Colin said. "He's definitely afraid of me. That's what you be getting at. Me son's afraid of me, afraid of everything. And I fecking hate fear."

"Exactly," Todd said. "When you're with him, I want to you to see your hidden disgust. Does that make sense?"

"I've got to think about this for awhile," Aaron said, looking puzzled. "Man, how do I end up in these flicks full of all of this father-shite?"

Colin laughed and patted Aaron on the back between his shoulder blades.

"Oh, there be plenty more shite in this here flick than that," Colin said. "Shall we be ordering the shrink for ya about now?"

"It'll be fine," Todd said. "You'll see."

"I hope so," Aaron said, looking at Todd, then Colin. "I hope so."

Aaron sat at his desk typing on his lap-top. He was wearing yellow sweatpants, his favorites from when he played lacrosse in high school. The fabric was worn thin in places, and one knee had traces of grass-stains, too deep in the fabric to ever wash away. His t-shirt was white, large and loose, another favorite, which he liked to sleep in. He stared intently at the screen as he typed. It was an email to his dad Josh, who he emailed every day, usually before he went to bed. He was half-way through writing this one when he stifled a yawn and read back over what he had written.

Dad~

I keep thinking about what you said about Ryan, how he might not recover, and never come out of his coma. Dad, that makes me so sad, especially for James, who I know is going to be really hurt by all of this. And if there was ever a person who doesn't deserve any more hurt in his life, it is James. I wish there was something I could do. Would you please tell me if there is?

It makes me so mad that stuff like this happens, that people get sick from things that can't be cured, and that those that love them suffer as a result. I know that must sound naïve of me, like, "Oh that's Aaron wishing there was no badness in the world." And maybe that's all it is, I don't know. But I feel like if people stop being outraged by things then nothing will ever change or get better. It also makes me think that I might maybe want to go to medical school once I graduate. Don't tell dad, because I don't want him to get on an Aaron-should-go-to-medical-school kick. It's something I'm thinking about though. What do you think?

Aaron stared at the screen for several seconds after he had finished reading what was written, and then he began to type again.

We're in our second day of rehearsals and already I'm starting to think that making this movie has been a mistake. I know, I know- it's only a mistake if I let it be one. And I promise that I'm still working hard and doing my best to have this all turn out like it should, so I can be proud of what I've done. But I guess what I really mean is that I'm starting to think that acting really is kind of silly. And this whole being recognized and people wanting autographs, I never much did like it. But now I'm really starting to hate it. I don't know how you and dad have always managed so well. You are my heroes.

I'm not sure that I won't suck in this movie. I don't understand the character at all. When I made the Star Wars movie, I could really relate to Lucas somehow - it was easy to be him. But this Art character, I don't know, he feels foreign to me. Da says that can be easier sometimes, being someone you don't get, because you don't know the boundaries, and so you can take more risks in your portrayal. I think I know what he means. I'll have to wait and see what Todd wants, and then I think I'll understand it all better.

Anyway, what I was really going to say is that I think that after this is over I really want to just focus on school, and graduating on time, like I promised dad I'd try to do. I like school, and it's something I get. Plus, when I'm at school, my life feels normal and I'm not so much under a looking-glass like doing this movie stuff.

There is a girl here named Cameron Blaine. She's pretty ambitious, it seems, but nice too. We had dinner together last night and I had a good time talking with her. She's pretty to-the-point in some stuff she says, but that's all right. I'd rather know what's on someone's mind than be always guessing about it, or not guessing - you know me. Oh, and did I mention that she's fine looking too, lol.

School starts on Monday and I'm excited for my classes. At first I was worrying about the work-load, how to be ready for my scenes and also get my homework done. Now I'm looking forward to the diversion. That was what was great with you and dad in Australia. You made sure that I wasn't all just about the movie. I need to do that here. College will really help. Plus I'm thinking of trying to find a lacrosse team to play on, or something like that.

Dad I want you to make sure that you take good care of yourself, that you don't forget to eat, and that you aren't just all about Ryan. I'm sure dad has talked to you about this too, but I wanted to add my part too. I love you so much.

Oh-you'll never guess what I remembered the other day. I remembered how I use to sit on your lap when I was little, every morning, eating my cereal while we watched that show together. What was it called? It made me happy to remember that, dad, how you'd hold the bowl for me so I wouldn't spill. And how when you did let me hold the bowl, and I spilled, you never got mad at me for making a mess. You were such a great dad, and I am so totally lucky for having had you and the childhood I did. I can't remember hardly one time where I wasn't happy. Thank you for that.

Well, time for me to go to bed. I have an early call tomorrow in costume and make-up, for test-shots. Plus I think they're going to cut my hair, or that's what Todd was saying. I hope the haircut doesn't suck too bad (because you know I'm all about my hair - kidding!)

I love you dad, tons and tons.

~ Aaron

He hit the send button and waited to see that the email was gone. When he saw the signal that the email had been sent, Aaron gently closed the lid to the lap-top and stood up, stretching his arms and yawning. It was near midnight, later than he'd expected to stay up. Pulling off his sweatpants, he climbed into bed, pulling only the sheet up. The light on the bedside table gave out a gentle glow. You could easily stare at it without it hurting your eyes.

Reaching to turn out the light, Aaron's hand found a framed photograph instead. As if by instinct, he picked it up from among the three others that sat on the table next to the bed. It may have seemed random, which photograph he had selected, but Aaron knew that it wasn't. This had happened many times before. The frame was pewter, heavy, and cold to the touch. Looking at the photograph always made him smile. And an involuntary laugh would tickle the back of his throat. He swallowed hard to keep from laughing, then coughed as he put the frame back in place.

He sighed and no longer felt tired, but put the light out anyway. He could lay in the dark at least, recalling again the day that the picture had been taken, an endlessly sunny day that he and James had spent mostly in the pool, draped over a yellow air-mattress that they quietly shared, kicking their feet, and floating back and forth across the kick-rippled water. When they had finally climbed out, Lance lined them up, side-by-side, Aaron already taller, his arm around James, their faces glistening wet, and happy.

Say cheese, JC had said.

Fromage, the two of them had shouted.

And then the picture was snapped. He could still hear the sharp metallic-whir of his dad's digital camera. It echoed in his head, keeping him awake, making him grimace, making him wish the image away, and the burden of its memory. He rolled onto his stomach and felt between his legs, handling himself roughly, thinking of sex, of something other than James' wet arm settled across the small of his back, holding him, pulling him on top of him, feeling his erection insisting to be noticed.

"Bloody fuck," Aaron shouted, angry and loud, turning onto his back again and sitting up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

It would be another night like this, one where he couldn't sleep, or struggled to. He sighed and leaned back against the pillows. This was how it would have to be. Sleeping alone was like this for him now, often it was.

And he hated it.

"So you're the guy that's going to fuck me, huh?"

"That'd be me," Jeremy laughed, turning around from where he stood looking at a street-map on the hotel wall. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here," Aaron said, even thought they had met briefly yesterday afternoon, at the first rehearsal. "It's a pleasure."

"So you think we should practice?"

"Practice what?"

"Fucking of course."

"Hell yeah!" Aaron laughed. "I'll need to get the facial expressions down right."

"You'll mostly be looking pained dude," Jeremy said, grabbing his crotch and giving it an exaggerated grope. "Because you know I'm packing a monster."

"Probably nothing I can't handle," Aaron said, scoffing. "I'm all about size, and giving it up for the right guy, you know."

"Oh, that's what they all say-before the screaming and whining starts. Take it out, take it out, you're hurting me."

"How ro-man-tic!"

"Oh, I know," Jeremy said. "I even kiss if you're good enough."

"You're funny," Aaron said, laughing. "I like that."

"So are you," Jeremy said. "Sorry we didn't get much of a chance to chat at the meeting yesterday. Todd is such a maniac."

"I know," Aaron said. "If he doesn't have a stroke making this picture, I will be totally amazed. I've never seen anyone so stressed out before."

"Yeah-he needs to be on something, that's for sure. Like horse tranquilizers."

"Hey-I was going to grab some breakfast," Aaron said, nodding toward the front door. "At Hamburger Mary's - before I head to school. You want to join me?"

"Totally."

"We could trade lines," Aaron said. "The PG-rated ones at least."

"No, the naughty ones," Jeremy said, whispering conspiratorially. "People will stare in shock. I love that."

"Ooh, you mean like the line- Here. Right here. Put it here" Aaron said, wide-eyed and pointing at his ass.

"Are you sure?" Jeremy said, in a husky low whisper.

"Yes. Please. This is okay. Now or I'll never do it."

"We need some slippery stuff."

"Hurry."

"I love that he comes back with a bottle of corn oil," Jeremy said, laughing. "It's classically desperate."

"I know," Aaron said. "And inventive."

"So you want to get going then?"

"Sure thing," Aaron said. "I'm starved."

"And, hey-we can stop and get some lube on the way back," Jeremy said, winking at Aaron. "You know, instead of corn oil."

"Oh, for sure," Aaron laughed. "For sure."

Aaron would always recall, and never tire of telling the story of, Beau Contrail's arrival on the set. It was the third day of rehearsals and Todd had grown increasingly frantic, which is to say, more frantic than his usually frantic self. For the first two days of rehearsal, he had simply focused on scenes that did not involve Beau's character, the dark and charming troublemaker, Cleveland. This was the part that Aaron had initially thought that he was meant to play, before finding out that Todd wanted him to be Art Bechstein. As a result, Aaron had remained eager to meet Beau, eager to see in person the actor that Todd believed better-suited to the role of Cleveland than him. When he finally saw Beau, he pretty much immediately understood.

Standing in the side-entrance doorway to the main rehearsal set, Beau wobbled back and forth unsteadily. His hands were on his hips, and his shoulders were hunched forward. He looked like he was preparing for a shoot-out, minus the holster and guns. His dark brown hair hung in his eyes, hiding them. Hitching his jeans up from where they hung low on his hips, a silver and gold belt buckle as big as a bread-plate caught the light and glittered. His shirt, which looked like he had slept in it, was open to the navel, by accident or on purpose, no one knew. His cowboy boots were covered with what looked like mud, but smelled worse. Wiping the hair from his eyes with the back of his hand, Beau burped loudly and said, "Where's my trailer, I need a nap."

Red-faced, probably from anger, Todd had rushed to where Beau stood, still wobbling. But before he managed to reach him, Beau was already falling over, dead drunk. Everyone gasped, except for Colin, who burst out laughing. The sound of Beau's body hitting the floor was louder than anyone expected. The carpet cushioned his fall, but not that much. He bounced twice before settling into a disheveled lump.

"Call 911," Todd yelled, crouching at Beau's side. "No, don't call 911. Call? Who in the fuck should we call? Colin?"

"Oh," Colin said, smirking as he sauntered over to where Beau lay, now snoring loudly. "You're tipping I'm a fecking expert on this type of behaving, are you?"

"Well?" Todd said. "Aren't you?"

"Can't say that I ain't," Colin said. "But don't go quoting me on that."

"You ever show up on a set like that Da?" Aaron said, smiling and patting Colin on the back. "Say it ain't so."

"There's g-eyed, me boy, and there's bloody paralytic, which is Beau here. But I wouldn't be fearing much, Todd. Drag him out of the way, he'll come to soon enough, probably with a bit of a puke, so I'd stand clear."

"Lovely," Todd said, standing up. "Just lovely."

"Stinks like fecking wet goat, don't he?" Colin said, laughing. "So you might be hosing him off as well, you know, as a bit of sanitation-that's what I'm thinking."

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Farrell," Todd said, rolling his eyes.

"A-bomb, let's go get something to eat while Todd sorts this out."

"Yeah, go ahead," Todd said, waving them on. "I'm calling off rehearsals for the rest of the day. But don't be late tomorrow. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"It'll be all right Todd," Colin said reassuringly, patting Todd on the side of his arm. "Just you wait and see. This shoot's got the smell of success, I'm telling you true."

"Da," Colin said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm tipping that ain't success we be smelling right about now-jaysus!"

"Oh feck," Colin said, pointing at Beau. "The bloke's pissing his self. Let's get out of here A-bomb before our feet get wet."

And with that Colin and Aaron made their hasty exit, leaving Todd and a passel of assistants to get Beau to his trailer and cleaned up. For his part, Beau did not recall any of what had happened, and angrily denied the story whenever asked about it years later. As far as he was concerned, none of it had happened, or at least not as Aaron and Colin would later describe it. But to the people who listened to the story and laughed, whether it happened exactly as described did not matter. It was just a funny story about something that had happened a long time ago. And that was enough.

The knock at the door was loud and sudden. Aaron pulled on his boxer shorts as he jumped up from the bed to open the door. He looked at his t-shirt draped on the back of a chair, thought to put it on, then decided against it. He had been listening to the first of seven voicemails when the knock at the door had interrupted him. Taking a quick look out the peephole, he pulled open the door.

"Hey Jake," Aaron said, offering him a smile. "What's going on?"

"You had dinner yet?"

"Nah," Aaron said. "Just got back from the gym. Was thinking I might just do the room-service thing tonight."

"Don't be a hermit," Jake said, pushing past Aaron into the room. "Let's go for sushi or something. Todd said there's a great place not far from here, Ichidai."

"I need to take a shower first. I'm kind of rank."

"So get to it."

"You don't mind waiting?"

"Shit no," Todd said, flopping backwards on to the bed. "I'll just stare at the ceiling for a while."

"How exciting," Aaron laughed.

"I'm easily amused," Jake said, laughing too.

"The remote's next to the phone there if you want to watch TV. I'll just be a few minutes. I don't shower long."

"That's cool," Jake said, smiling as Aaron shucked off his boxer shorts and strode into the bathroom. "Take however much time you need."

The sound of running water soon echoed from the bathroom, with the sound of Aaron loudly sing-humming some song rising just above it. Jake laughed and rolled onto his side, propping up his head with one hand. Aaron's suite was three-times the size of his room, which was not a suite, and had only a bed, a dresser, and a desk. He looked around the room, admiring it. The boxer shorts that Aaron had taken off lay in a pile near the bathroom door. Jake stood up and went to the open armoire. He found a haphazard stack of boxer shorts and briefs in the top drawer and grabbed the black pair on top. The label read Dolce & Gabbana. He smiled and fingered the fine fabric.

"Sixty bucks a pair," he said, tossing them lightly in the air and laughing. Aaron was stepping from the shower stall as Jake walked into bathroom.

"I thought you might need these," Jake said, holding the briefs out to Aaron as he started to dry off. "A fresh pair."

"Thanks," Aaron said, taking no note of Jake's open staring. "You can set them on the counter. What's the name of that restaurant again?"

"Ichidai."

"You think we'll need reservations? It being Friday and all."

"I already made them."

"Oh," Aaron said, tossing his towel in the tub as he stepped in front of the counter and wiped off the mirror with his hand. "I guess that's taken care of then. Did you call while I was showering?"

"No before," Jake said, meeting Aaron's glance in the still semi-foggy mirror.

"Just in case?"

"Yeah - just in case."

"Um - okay," Aaron said.

"I'll let you get ready," Jake said, leaning forward and nudging Aaron's arm. "But don't take too long."

"I won't," Aaron said, returning Jake's smile in the mirror. "I just need to brush my teeth and goop my hair."

"And get dressed."

"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea-clothes."

"Assuming we're going out, that is," Jake said. "If you still want to."

"Wait," Aaron said, turning from the mirror and facing Jake, who was still stood in the doorway to the bathroom. "I thought we'd already decided. Now I'm confused."

"Of course we are," Jake said, laughing. "What would be possibly think to do in a hotel room with no clothes on?"

"Oh," Aaron said, blushing. "Sorry. I get it now. Flirting, duh."

"No, I'm just teasing you," Jake said. "Don't worry. You're safe."

"Okay," Aaron laughed. "I'll finish here, and then we can go. Can you grab my jeans from on the bed for me, and any shirt you think won't embarrass me too badly, or you, for that matter. I'll be ready in a flash."

"Sure thing," Jake said, his handing finding Aaron's shoulder and resting there. "Be right back then."

Aaron smiled as Jake's hand slid down the length of his arm. It tickled, sending a chill-shiver up his spine. Jake smiled back at Aaron, holding his gaze for a moment longer than seemed necessary. They stood facing each other, neither one moving, until finally Aaron cleared his throat, and gave Jake a gentle shove.

"We're never getting out of here if you just stand there," he said. "Staring at me."

"Right," Jake said, the word soft, almost unspoken, as he turned and ambled from the room. "Be right back."

Alone in the bathroom again, Aaron looked down at the briefs he held, and then at his body, suddenly conscious of still being naked. It was a strange feeling he felt, and one he did not understand. Shrugging and shaking his head, he stepped into the briefs and pulled them up, humming his shower-song again.

"So Todd," Aaron said, catching up to him at the edge of the large room they had been using for rehearsals. Shooting was scheduled to start the next day, and Aaron appeared nervous and upset. "Wait up."

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering about that one scene, with me and Jeremy - I mean Arthur, you know, anyway, where he and I, you know, are in bed together."

"The first time."

"Yeah-where I've come to see him all upset and confused about Phlox, to -uh, you know, to ask him for advice, or just to talk, I don't know, but then I...I, uh, out of like nowhere just kiss him and..."

"Aaron," Todd said, taking his arm, gently interrupting his soliloquist ramble. "Let's go for a walk. The outside air will do us good. And then we can talk, alone."

"Okay - that sounds good."

"So you found any good hot dog joints yet?" Todd asked, leading the way to the nearby gun-metal gray stage-door and pushing it open with his foot. "Because I know a great one."

"Yeah, where?"

"Great American Hot Dog on southwest fourth."

"Good?"

"Great."

"Not as good at that one in L.A. though."

"No way," Todd said. "That's the best ever."

"So you know what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Your love scenes," Todd said. "The ones with Arthur."

"Sex scenes more like it," Aaron said, following Todd to the small patch of dried grass that sloped from the side of the warehouse building where inside all of the sets had been built. There was now a notably angry edge to Aaron's voice that he did not try to hide. But the anger was undercut by a waver that was also there, making his voice sound as uncertain as it did angry. Aaron stared and remained standing as Todd sat down first, his legs spread out lazily before him, his hand planted behind him, hidden in the long grass that badly needed both water and cutting. Smiling up at him, Todd shrugged and motioned for Aaron to sit down.

"Sex scenes," he said. "Love scenes. Same difference."

"How can you say that?" Aaron said, sitting cross-legged next to Todd, the grass tickling his bare legs. "Art is in love with Phlox, or at least he believes he is. The scenes with Phlox are so much more romantic, their making love. But the scenes with Arthur, especially that first one, my gawd, I don't know if he thinks he's in love with him, or whether they're just having sex for the fun of it, which is okay, I guess. But that's not what it seems like is happening. It's so....man, I don't know....."

"Carnal."

"Yeah, fucking, just fucking - I don't know."

"Okay."

"But then he seems to really fall in love with Arthur," Aaron said, the words out of his mouth quickly, speaking rapidly, as if he is trying to keep up with the speed of the thoughts he is trying so hard to express. "And it's like he wants to be Arthur's girlfriend, does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense."

"I just don't get that," Aaron said, his voice tight and high, strangled. "I don't."

"Aaron - think about the scene where Art's returned to Phlox, confused about all the time he'd spent with Arthur, unsure which one he's meant to be with."

"Right, and he-right."

"He doesn't know what he wants."

"Or needs," Aaron added. "He's got father issues big-time."

"And mother-issues."

"Do you think Phlox is like some mother-figure for him?"

"What do you think?"

"Sort of," Aaron said. "I think there's something mysterious to him about girls, something he just doesn't get. And that's what attracts him to them, not because they are girls, like a pure sexual attraction. I mean, maybe he's straight, maybe he's bi-I don't know. But girls, or women, I should say, they are this whole mysterious world that he is keen to explore, all the while being really clueless about where he is headed, or why he even wants to go there. And I don't think he really understands the language either, which makes it that much harder."

"But guys he understands."

"Totally," Aaron said. "It's a primal kind of thing, natural, something he doesn't have to think or worry about. Like when he's hanging out with Cleveland and Arthur, in the backyard drinking all those beers, and Cleveland brings that fluff of a dog Happy up and lets the pitbull from next door...you know."

"Uh, mate."

"Yeah, mate," Aaron said laughing. "In the book, at that part, it almost seemed like Chabon was making fun of boys and girls doing it, you know."

"So you think that when Art gets with Arthur," Todd said, speaking tentatively, like each word was a small crawl further out onto a tree-limb. "When he lets Arthur fuck him, wants him to, asks him to."

"Yeah, when he gives it up for him."

"Is that how you think about it, giving it up?"

"I guess."

"What's the line in the voice-over..."

"I was exhausted, and I loved every minute of it. It was strange and elating to feel myself for once the weaker one."

"Yes, the weaker one - can you relate to that."

"Not really - well, yes, I can."

"Do you think Aaron, I mean Bechstein, wants to be the weaker one."

"No," Aaron said, laughing nervously. "I think he is the weaker one, and getting fucked is just, I don't know, it just sort of makes him make more sense to me."

"How?"

"He was the weaker one with Phlox too-with everyone really. He's just weak. He doesn't know what he believes in, what he stands for, should stand for. That's why he can't make up his mind, can't commit to anything, why he waffles back and forth between Phlox and Arthur."

"And even Cleveland."

"Yeah, totally," Aaron said, smiling excitedly. "He'd have given it up to Cleveland in a heartbeat."

"So do you think any of this ever made sense to Art himself? That he ever really figured any of this out?"

"Well, he's just a character in book."

"And a movie," Todd said. "But you know what I mean."

"Yeah."

"So what do you think? Do you think that Art is doomed to remains a mystery to himself?"

"I don't know," Aaron said. "Maybe."

"Why maybe?"

"Well, he writes the books," Aaron said. "So you've got to assume that in writing the book he came to understand something."

"Right."

"But even then you're not really sure, because the way he narrates the story is like both way too harsh on himself, but way too forgiving too. I think Phlox and Arthur get it - or got it - about him. They had him pegged."

"And still loved him."

"Yes," Aaron said, after pausing to silently think first. "Especially Arthur."

"Where do you see that most?"

"That's easy," Aaron said, smiling. "Near the very end when Bechstein..."

"Give me the line," Todd says. "In character, give it to me."

Aaron looked away, staring into the distance. A bridge arced across a river that he could not see. The early afternoon bridge traffic was mostly cargo and delivery trucks. He imagined Bechstein watching the traffic, wondering what each truck contained. Closing his eyes, he could still see the trucks, the drivers inside, the dirty truck-cabs littered with cigarette butts and empty Styrofoam cups that had once held coffee. He was unsure how much time had passed when he opened his eyes and turned to look at Todd.

"I slept with Phlox."

"Oh, Jesus, let's walk somewhere," Todd said, saying Arthur's lines. "How did it happen?"

"How do you think?" Aaron said, snapping, inpatient, his head flipping back, no longer looking at Todd, his face disdainful, then melting into sadness. He looks at Todd again, seeing Arthur, or the actor who would play him, Jeremy Main. It wasn't real, but the feeling it inspired in him was as real as a feeling could be.

"No, Arthur, I'm sorry; it happened very strangely, actually, and I don't really get it at all."

"Art don't leave me," Todd said, suddenly clutching Aaron's arm. "I've been so afraid that this would happen. I knew when you weren't home all night. I knew it."

"I had no idea," Aaron said, shaking his head. "It was all a big accident. Or that is, she planned it. I fell into it. I can't say what it really means. It was so strange tonight, Arthur."

Aaron's voice thickened and cracked. Todd stared at him, impressed. He had not suspected that Aaron could do this, be so completely this character. But he was doing it, right before his eyes. Art Bechstein had stepped into being. Aaron had created him.

"What is it? Art. Come on. Don't cry."

"I don't know what I'm like anymore. I do dumb things."

"Shh."

"Don't ask me to choose," Bechstein whispered. "Please."

"I won't," Todd said. "Just don't leave me."

The tears were gone, brushed from Aaron's face. He stared at Todd as Arthur dumbfounded. His face changed entirely. Todd watched it happen and suppressed an excited gasp.

"Okay stop," Todd said, getting on his knees and clasping his hands together as if he was about to pray. "I don't want to waste any of this. It's too good."

"Hey, we were just getting to the best part."

"Let it wait," Todd said. "You were magnificent Aaron, you really were. I had no idea. I really had no idea."

"Stop," Aaron said, blushing. "It was just rehearsing."

"No - it was more than that," Todd said. "And I'm really pleased."

"Well I'm glad then."

"So about the love scenes," Todd said, smiling. "Will you trust me?"

"Should I?" Aaron asked, standing up as Todd stood up too.

"Yes."

"Then I will."

"I don't think that you've thought very hard about this."

The elderly man did not say this unkindly, or with any edge to it at all. He was, Dr. Ray Beguile, Aaron's thesis-advisor, and the professor that taught his Introduction to Critical Theory class. Aaron liked him, and looked forward to weekly visit to his small, book-cluttered office. Dr. Beguile had a gently cajoling style that Aaron enjoyed; it managed to push his thinking forward without making him feel stupid or unprepared, that is until today.

"I'm trying though," Aaron said, feeling his face redden. "It's just that I've never been much of a deep-thinker, to tell you the truth."

"Now Aaron," the professor said, smiling as he spread his hands flat on his desk and leaned slightly forward in his chair. "There will be no hiding behind a feigned lack of intelligence. I've seen your transcript, and you are plainly a very bright boy."

"Yeah, but you'd be surprised at how dumb I can act."

"Which raises an interesting question," the professor said, raising one finger in the air, like he was testing for wind even though they were indoors. "Acting, giving voice to a kind of faux-reality, to recite the written word, a story, a script - it's fascinating don't you think, what you do, how you - what?"

"Act."

"Yes," the professor nodded. "Aristotle wrote that men acquire a particular quality by constantly acting in a particular way."

"The Nichomachean Ethics," Aaron said. "Who we are determines what we do, but what we do determines who we are."

"Do you agree?" the professor asked. "I mean, for example, do you believe that acting -and by this I mean, what you are doing in front of the camera, or on a set or stage - do you think that this can help determine who you are?"

"It's just pretend."

"A lie?"

"Not exactly."

"What is it then?" the professor asked.

"That's a hard question," Aaron said. "Because there are two parts to it. There's me, the actor, and there's him, the character, Art Bechstein. Both are real, in a way. But not in the same way, if that makes sense."

"Perhaps this is something that you should include in your thesis."

"I was just thinking that."

"Great then," the professor said, standing up and extending his hand. "Until next week, take care."

"Thank you sir," Aaron said, standing now too, and shaking the professor's hand. "You take care as well."

"And the photograph..."

"Right," Aaron smiled. "For your granddaughter, I won't forget."

"She's a very big fan of yours," the professor said. "She was quite impressed with her grandfather when she learned that Lucas Skywalker was one of my students."

"Or Aaron Bass."

"Him too," the professor said, smiling.

"Glad to help you out sir. Good-bye."

"Yes, good-bye Aaron."

Jake had just rounded the corner, and was heading down the hall of the hotel where he and most of the cast were staying, when he saw Aaron slip out of a hotel room and close the door quietly behind him. In his hands was a pair of red Puma trainers, and a light blue wind-breaker. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair was messed up.

"That didn't take long," Jake said, with a pointed half-laugh. "Tiger!"

"What?" said Aaron, blushing. "Tiger? What?"

"Getting the busy-busy going with Cameron."

"We were rehearsing," Aaron said, setting his shoes on the floor and buttoning his shirt. "So shut up."

"Rehearsing what," Jake said. "How to fuck?"

"Whatever," Aaron said, picking up his shoes, ready to push by Jake. "I've got to go meet Colin for dinner. So if you'll excuse me."

"Hey," Jake said, calling after Aaron as he moved quickly down the hall. "You may want to wash that lipstick off your ear first."

Without reply, Aaron quickened his pace and soon disappeared into his room at the end of the hall. Smiling, Jake waved at the door to Aaron's room, imagining that he would probably look out the peephole at him. Giving Aaron a final wave, and a thumbs-up signal, Jake dug his card-key from his back pocket and entered the room three doors further down the hall from the one Aaron had exited. He looked up the hall at Aaron's room again, this time without smiling. He felt bad now for teasing Aaron, and considered going to his room to apologize. He decided to call instead.

"Is it cold still in Lyon?" Aaron said, his feet up on the desk in his hotel room, the towel he'd been using to dry off from the shower draped across his lap. "It said online that there was snow yesterday."

"Yeah? Must be beautiful. Remember that time we went skiing in Switzerland-Geneva? All the snow there? That was great."

"Uh-huh, we're starting our second month of shooting now. It's going really, really slow. Todd's not like Ang. He blocks the shots beforehand, but then he changes it. Yeah, exactly-and then the cameras have to be reset. And - man, you wouldn't believe how many takes we do. It takes forever."

"Right, right - that's true. Oh hey, I talked to dad today and he was sounding kind of tired. Do you think he's doing all right? I was thinking of trying to get down for a visit. James is still staying there, and I think I'd like to see him. It fucking kills me to think what he's going through - pardon my language."

"Yeah, yeah-I know."

"School is great. My professor...yeah, Dr. Beguile. He approved the final outline for my thesis, so now all I have to do is write the dang thing. What? Oh-my music history and calculus classes are both pretty easy, which is great because I can totally slide by on not too much studying there and still do okay. No, I know - I'll do better than just okay Dad. Nothing less than a B, I promise - right, I know."

"Overall things are going pretty good. I'm not so bad homesick like before, but it's still hard not seeing you and Dad. The paparazzi here also suck big-time. I don't know how they're always finding me, or why they seem so frigging focused in on me. I'm mostly safe at school, but at night, like if I go out, it's a massive pain-in-the-you-know-what. Todd swears it's not the studio PR dudes, but I'm not so sure."

"Yeah, that's a good idea - maybe I'll try that."

"What?-No, I'm done for the day. I went for a long run down by the river, five miles, and I just got through with my shower. Perfect timing, yeah. So how's your shoot going? Stephane still wigged about his role? Well that's good. I really like him. Be sure to tell him I said hey and that he shouldn't give my dad too hard of a time."

"So are you liking directing? Right on. Maybe we'll have to make a movie together some time. Yeah, I know - after I graduate, no more movies until then. This one's taking the movie fever out of me anyway, right, right, yeah."

"Oh, I hang out with Jake a lot. You remember Jake, don't you? You met him while you were here. Yeah, he's super-nice. We've become really good friends. He looks out for me. He's Todd's PA but he helps me out a ton, kind of running interference for me with Todd, making sure that my school and shooting schedule jive. I offered to put him on payroll, since I don't have a PA myself, and what they budgeted for that just goes into my per diem. Yeah, don't worry. But, anyway, he totally refused. He said that he'd rather do it out of friendship, which I thought was extra nice of him."

"Nope, no driver either. I always kind of hated that anyway. I take the bus to school, Tri-Met, Bus 19, how about that-huh? Yeah, Aaron the normal guy, it's cool. What? No, I'm being cool, keeping things on low, being mellow, not partying. Plus Colin keeps a pretty close eye on me. How much are you paying him, by the way?"

"Um, speaking of which, Dad-I kind of wanted to say, well, I hope you aren't believing the stuff they've been writing about me in those stupid magazines and gossip websites and stuff. Cammie and I are so not an item. We're just buddies, yeah, kind of like me and Jake are buddies, right. And those two others, I mean, jaysus, one of them was just this girl who works in the restaurant here at the hotel, and I don't know where the bit about the bellman came from."

"But....what? No-Dad, I'm not saying I'm being a monk. I was totally up-front about that with Dad in my email to him. I'm not going to lie to either of you, seriously. But-Dad, listen. All right. Of course. Sure. I know. I'm sorry. I know he does. He worries about me because he loves me. And you love me too. I get that. But I told you last summer how that is for me. I'm not a virgin anymore, but I'm not a big-time slut either. It just happens, you know?"

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm not stupid Dad-safe, always safe. I'm not going to catch anything. I promise."

"Anyway, I didn't want you thinking that I'm out here putting the moves on everyone in sight, like they said in that one article-what's that? Yeah, the new Casanova. That's lame. I'm just having fun, with school and work first. Exactly. Keep my priorities straight, I understand. I want you to be proud of me too, I do - right."

"Well, I should probably let you go. You have a big day ahead. Okay, I know. I will. I promise. I love you too dad. Bye. Oh-and say hi to Dad for me too if you talk to him later. Right. Love you. Bye."

"Man - this makes my head hurt."

"Yeah, I know," Aaron said, blowing across the surface of the cup of coffee he held, watching the ripple form and disappear, and the steam rise like mist off a river. "It helps if you had advanced calculus."

"I did though."

"Here," Aaron said, taking the sheet of paper that his new friend held, a twenty-year old sophomore named Brent. "Let me take a look." The Wave Equation As an example of a hyperbolic PDE, let us solve the wave equation * for transverse vibrations of a membrane on a square with corners in (-1,-1), (-1,1), (1,-1), and (1,1). The membrane is fixed (u = 0) at the left and right sides, and is free * at the upper and lower sides. Additionally, we need initial values for u(t0) and

The initial values need to match the boundary conditions for the solution to be well-behaved. If we start at t=0, * and * are initial values that satisfy the boundary conditions. The reason for the arctan and exponential functions is to introduce more modes into the solution.

"This looks harder than it really is," Aaron said. "It's just a parabolic function on the move, waves moving to shore, that's all. The numbers just describe it, like a kind of poem almost, but with rules it has to follow, like a sonnet."

"Ah, geez," Brent said, running his hand through his tangle of brown hair. "Don't do that to me."

"What?" Aaron laughed. "I'm just trying to help. You should see your face, by the way - you're sweating something fierce."

"Terror does that to you."

"Come on," Aaron said. "It's not so bad. I'll help you with it."

"I got another class in five minutes," Brent said. "American lit."

"What are you reading?"

"Moby Dick."

"Ouch."

"Tell me."

"So you want to study tonight?" Aaron said, standing up and looking at his watch. "There's a place near my hotel that's pretty quiet. And we can get some food."

"Sure thing," Brent said, shoving a notebook into his backpack and then zipping it closed. "Where should I meet you."

"Hamburger Mary's-you know where that is?"

"Sure, next to the Benson hotel, right?"

"Yup," Aaron said, smiling. "Middle of the next block, past El Gaucho."

"How about seven?"

"Can we make it eight?" Aaron said. "Things always run late on the set."

"Okay," Brent said. "I gotta run. I'll see you."

"Right on," Aaron said, calling after Brent as he watched him jog away. "See you tonight."

After Brent had gone, Aaron remained in the student-center for over an hour, watching the bustle of students coming and going from class. No one seemed to notice him sitting there, at the small corner table, taking the occasional sip of coffee until what little was left was no longer hot. He smiled as he stood to throw the paper Starbucks cup into the recycle bin, and then looked around. Not a person noticed him standing there, off to the side, alone. And it felt great.

"Let's just go out the back way," Aaron said, his head tilted to one side as he whispered sharply to Cameron, trying not to be overheard. "I've done it like ten times before. It's easy."

"I'm not running down an alley Aaron," Cameron said, petulant. "Not in these shoes, I'm not."

"Why are you so dressed up anyway?" Aaron asked, his voice no less impatient than before. "That first time we came here you wore jeans and a t-shirt. And now you look like you're ready for a fashion show."

"I like to look nice sometimes," she said, shrugging and smiling. "What's wrong with that? Don't you like me to look nice for you."

"Of course," Aaron said. "It's just...never mind."

"Come on sweetie," she whispered. "Let's just go out the front door like civilized folks. The guys will take their pictures, and then we'll be off. I mean, what's the big deal anyway? We're celebrities. It's all part of the package."

"So you keep telling me."

"Come on," she said, taking Aaron's hand, and winking at him. "I'll make it more than worth your while later, I promise."

Aaron rolled his eyes and coughed a small forced laugh into his hand, dutifully following Cameron to the front door of the restaurant. He couldn't usually convince her to eat at Hamburger Mary's. "It tacky," she would say. "And there are gay people there." But it was his favorite place to come to eat, and he went there all the time. It reminded him of the Red Fox Inn because it utterly lacked pretension. And if he called first, they were always happy to save a booth in back for him to study in.

"See you Barry," Aaron said, nodding to the bartender, who smiled and waved at him. "I might be back later, once I lose the crowd outside."

"Aww-right," Barry drawled, putting on the funny fake-Texas accent that always made Aaron laugh. "Lay-tuh days, pawdner."

"That guy's weird," Cameron said, tugging Aaron toward the door. "He stared at my tits all night."

"They are kind of hard to miss," Aaron said, laughing.

"Shut-up," she said, nudging Aaron with her hip as he stepped slightly ahead of her to open the door.

"Here you go," Aaron said, holding the door open for her to walk through. "The stalkarazzi await you."

Aaron had hardly uttered the words before being drowned out by shutter-clicks and shouts that had lately come to define his every exit from a restaurant or club lately.

-Aaron, over here. Give us a smile!

-This your new girl, is she the one, Aaron? Is she the one?

-You look great together you two, give us a kiss, come on!

-How does it feel to be the new It-couple?

-Come on Aaron, show us sexy that smile of yours!

-That's right darling, Cameron you're beautiful!

-Aaron, you call that a smile! You know the camera loves you, give me some, come on, give me some!

-There you go, there you go! Now how about a kiss?

Closing his eyes, refusing the crowd even a hint of a smile, Aaron prepared to push through, ignoring the shouts, the pleas for attention, the begging that he give them what they wanted, a pretty picture for the cover of a magazine. He felt Cameron's hand clinging to his own, and at first he thought she was frightened, that someone had a hold of her and was tugging her in the opposite direction. Hurriedly, he glanced back at her, concerned that she might be in danger. But it was her that was tugging on his arm, her trying to get him to stop and stand with her. She smiled, her eyes full of charm he did not fully trust, but found attractive nonetheless. She winked at him, and tugged again, pulling him back towards her. Reluctantly he went. And before he had time to fully see what she intended to do, she was already kissing him, standing on her tip-toes, her small hands pulling down on his shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss he hadn't asked for, and now did not especially want. She laughed as she kissed him, a genuine laugh. He felt the laugh rattle in his mouth like a piece of hard candy. She was happy. He was not.

"Come on," he said, forcing a smile, not wanting to seem angry. "You got your kissy-picture taken, now let's go before I have to get grouchy and throw-a-Beau by punching one of these ass-holes."

It was her turn to laugh, and she did - loudly.

"You're such a good sport," she said. "That's why I love you."

"Come on," Aaron said, giving Cameron a long puzzled look, noting the glow of her eyes, and her open smile. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"Bye fellas!" Cameron yelled, waving and smiling at the pack that had gathered in wait for them and now were dissipating, having gotten what they had waited for - with a little help from Cameron.

"Make sure I look pretty," she yelled after them again. "No squinty eyes."

"Who'd have thought that the girl I first met wearing no make-up and a Smiths t-shirt would turn out to be such a glamour-puss."

"Glamour-puss," Cameron laughed. "That's an old-fashioned word?"

"Maybe I'm an old-fashioned guy."

"Yeah right," she said, taking his hand and swinging it like she was about to start skipping. "Old-fashioned until you get me in bed-rawr-then you're a nasty boy!"

Aaron blushed, staring at her and almost stopping. He tried to think of something funny to say, something that would change the subject, or seem sexy without being raunchy. But he couldn't think of anything, and so remained silent.

"Anyway, thanks for playing along," Cameron said, sidling next to Aaron as the breeze turned cold, seeking warmth under his jacket, which he opened for her, letting her settle beneath it.

"I know you think it's stupid," she said. "But I like it, even if it's only a game. I want to be good at this, to be a famous actress, to be somebody."

"You are somebody," Aaron said. "To your family, you must be. Or to your friends-to me. That's just so weird to say that you aren't, aren't somebody."

"You know what I mean," she said, snappish, but coy too.

"Actually, I don't."

"See, that's another thing I love about you," Cameron said, squeezing Aaron's hand. "You're simple about things."

"Simple?"

"Yeah, simple," Cameron said, genuinely gushing. "It's cute. And I love it."

"But what do you mean by simple?" Aaron asked, his voice wary, like he wasn't sure that he really wanted to hear Cameron's answer. "Like pin a name-tag on my coat and put me on the short-bus simple?"

"Shut up," Cameron said, laughing. "That's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean then?"

"It's nothing," Cameron said, facing Aaron, who had stopped walking. "I just meant that-you're a sweetheart, one of the sweetest boys I've ever met."

"Sweet and simple, great."

"And what's wrong with that?" Cameron asked, walking beside Aaron again. "I think it's nice."

"Oh, and nice now too," Aaron said, pretending to cringe. "What next? Wholesome? Pure?"

"Stop," she said, scolding him. "You're making it seem like being a nice guy is a bad thing. And it's not. I'm complimenting you."

They were nearly to the hotel now. Aaron stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change to WALK. Cameron glanced up at him and found him staring at her, with a smile on his face.

"How about a real kiss now?" he said. "With not a single soul looking."

"That would be lovely," she said. "And nice."

"You want to come up to my room," Aaron said, after kissing her, still holding her. "For the night I mean."

"Of course I do," she said. "I thought you'd never ask."

"You look nervous."

"I kind of am."

"But you never look nervous," Jake said, his hand absent-mindedly toying with the collar of his shirt. "In seven and a half weeks of shooting, not once have I seen you look nervous. What's up?"

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I hate this scene I guess."

"Aaron-are you ready?"

Todd shouted from the other side of the set, hidden in the glare of the lights. But Aaron knew who it was. Todd's voice was inescapably knowable, its nervous intensity, and its bleating insistence on being taken seriously, on being listened to.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Aaron said, not loud enough to be heard on the other side of the set. "I'll see you in a few."

"Okay," Jake said, patting Aaron's arm just as he was about out of reach, heading onto the set, unusually slump-shouldered. "I'm going to wait right here, and watch."

"All right," Aaron said, without turning around to say it.

The set was familiar by now to all who looked at it. The dark moody interior of the Italian restaurant where most of the scenes between Aaron's character, Art, and Colin playing his father, Joe Blechstein, met to talk. Aaron was dressed in an ill-fitting tan poplin suit that bunched painfully under his arms and revealed two inches too much of sock. His shirt was pale blue, open at the throat to reveal a hint of white t-shirt. He approached the table where Colin and Cameron already sat, waiting.

"You ready?" Todd said, buttoning the front of Aaron's suit-coat, making him wince and suck in his stomach so that the coat might actually button closed. "Because I want to do the scene in one take, not cutting when Phlox gets up to go the potty."

"Yeah, I know," Aaron mumbled. "Just like we rehearsed. We cut when Uncle Lenny comes to the table."

"Speaking of Uncle Lenny, where in the hell is Ben?" Todd said, craning his neck and swinging his head back and forth. "Can someone find Ben?"

"Yeah, I'll do it," said someone who Aaron could not see. "I'll go check his room at the hotel."

"At it with the bellman again," Colin laughed. "That'd be me feckin' guess."

"Da-be nice."

"Yeah, aw-right," Colin said, winking at Aaron. "G'wan wit it now. We getting this scene shot, or fecking what? Sit your arse down, and Todd, let's go."

There was a final bustle of activity as everyone necessary got into place. Aaron wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his coat as he sat down across from Colin, and next to Cameron. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in. He had learned this from his dad, who he had seen do it hundreds of times. Cameron cleared her throat, and Colin sighed noisily, signaling his irritation at the continued wait.

"All right-quiet, and....go!"

Aaron opened his eyes with a startled jolt as Cameron sing-songed her first line. He stared at her like he wanted to reach out his hand and cover her mouth, to shut her up, to make her take back the question she'd just asked Colin, Joseph Bechstein, his father.

"She was a very beautiful woman," said Joseph, swallowing a small sip of red wine, Colin's voice utterly without accent, except for a slight Yiddish lilt. "She looked like Jennifer Jones. I don't suppose you know who she is."

"Jennifer Jones!" said Cameron, her tone as over-excited as ever. This was her Phlox, a pink-faced force of nature, with every sentence she uttered ended with an exclamation mark, or three. "Of course I know who she is! 'Portrait of Jenny' is my favorite movie in the whole world!"

She tossed her head, pretending to be insulted, and then to pout.

"Indeed? My apologies," said Colin. He pursed his lips and lifted one eyebrow, pretending to have gained new respect for her, or perhaps her admiration for Jennifer Jones really had impressed him.

"I can see it in Art," she said, turning to run a slender finger along the ridge over Aaron's left eye.

Aaron made a face that communicated a single thought: Oh no.

"He has Jennifer Jones eyebrows."

"And you," said Colin, leaning forward, mocking and flirtatious, "have the eyebrows and the nose of the young Joan Crawford. In say, Grand Hotel."

"That's my ninth-favorite movie in the whole world!"

"She ranks everything," said Aaron, realizing that as Art he seemed always to mumble his words when he was in the presence of his father. "She has it all figured out."

"I can see that," said Colin. And from the tone in his voice one knew that he thought Phlox either delightful or the most frivolous young woman he had ever met. Then he glared at Aaron, but only for one instant. The intensity of it, its actuality, genuinely startled Aaron. For a moment he forgot his lines, gulping as he reached for water to quench his suddenly parched throat. He had not done this at rehearsal. But he trusted his instincts to be right, to just go with what he felt.

Cameron waited a beat, not sure what to do, and then rose and excused herself with a downward look of modesty which seemed to suggest that they should hesitate to discuss her while she was away.

When she was gone from the shot, Aaron looked up from staring at his plate.

"Isn't she nice?" he said.

"Mm," Colin murmured as he stared across the table at him, his big eyebrows knotted over the pink top of his nose, the muscles gathering along his jaw. Aaron started to recoil even before he spoke.

"What's wrong with you?" Colin snapped, seething. "I don't understand you."

His voice was pitched high. He spoke quickly, but not very loud. He looked upset, and hurt, extremely hurt.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Don't you remember your mother? You were almost thirteen years old when she passed away."

Colin wiped his fingers angrily on the napkin and threw it down.

"Of course I remember her, Dad. Of course I do. Dad, can we please not talk about this now? I don't care if you make me cry again, but I'd rather not do it in front of Phlox."

"Don't' you tell her anything about your mother? Obviously she must have asked you; she practically interviewed me here."

Colin paused, the disgust and anger plain on his face. It hurt Aaron to see it. He had to remind himself this was not real. He was acting, only acting.

"What did you say when she asked you all those things."

"I-"

Aaron's chin shook. He watched the red light of the restaurant wink across his water glass.

"I don't know," he went on. " I told her...I didn't feel like...going into it. She understood. And...you and I never talk about it, do we? So why...Tomorrow Dad, please. Please Dad, please...."

"Great," Todd yelled. "Fucking great. Fabulous! Perfect!"

"Here," Colin whispered, handing Aaron his napkin. "Wipe your eyes."

"Thank you Da," he said.

"So where's your girl?"

"My girl?"

"Yeah, the one you were in here with a couple of times lately-Cameron, Miss Va-va-voom."

"She's not my girl," Aaron said, sliding his book to one side to make room for the latté that Barry had brought him. "She's just someone I hang with now and again."

"Pretty hot though," Barry said, sliding into the booth opposite Aaron. It was a Tuesday night, late, and there was only one other person in the place.

"If you go for that sort of thing."

"That sort of thing?"

"Blond chicks."

"Not into blonds?"

"Not into chicks."

"Oh."

"That bother you?"

"Nope."

"You gay?"

"What do you think?"

"Doesn't matter what I think."

"True," Aaron nodded. "But I ain't gay."

"And I ain't hitting on you," Barry said, smiling. "In case you were wondering."

"Why would I wonder?"

"You look like the wondering kind of guy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I was wondering, actually."

"You figure I should then?"

"Should what?"

"Hit on you."

"You figure you want to?"

"Maybe."

"Then maybe you should."

"So maybe I will," Barry said, laughing.

"So maybe I'm waiting," Aaron said, laughing too.

The sound of a bell tinkling signaled the front door opening. Barry glanced in the direction of the bar without moving his head. His eyes slid slowly to the left, and his eyebrows arched, sparkling the steel ring that pierced his left brow above the corner of his eye. Aaron found himself wondering what it would feel like to kiss Barry's eyebrow, or to feel the ring scrape against his lips.

"I'll be right back," Barry said. "After I chase these folks away with my lack of charm, and uncivilized manner."

"Yeah, that's all for me," Aaron laughed.

"Catch you in a few," Barry said, tapping the table-top with one finger and then turning around.

"I'll be here," Aaron said, watching Barry walk away, his slouching Levi's riding low on his hips, revealing a sliver of skin where his t-shirt had come untucked.

"Waiting."

"Hey kiddo! What's up?"

"Josh-it's Aaron."

"Of course it is," Josh said, leaning over the speaker-phone on his desk. "I got caller-ID on the direct-line. What's up?"

"Look," Aaron said, speaking into his cell-phone, as he paced back and forth in the lobby of the hotel. "I was going to talk to me Da - I mean, Colin - about this, but I didn't want him getting all wiggy."

"What's going on, my man? Something wrong?"

"Yeah," Aaron said, his face flushed. "I want to know what's going on with all the fucking gossip going down about me and Cameron Blaine, that's what I want to know. I thought we had PR people working for me. It's crazy."

"What gossip?"

"Have you seen the cover of US magazine?" Aaron said. "The second one this fucking month. So, come on Josh, get real. I know you aren't stupid. And I know you know that if I bitch to Colin and my dad about this, all hell is going to break lose."

"Yeah, I saw it," Josh said, his voice straining to stay even. "Great picture, by the way. You look awesome - you been working out?"

"Are you even listening Josh?"

"Yeah, I hear you kiddo," Josh said. "And I promise you it isn't coming from us."

"Where's it coming from then?" Aaron said, not bothering to hide his anger now. "I mean, every fucking time Cameron and I go out, there's a shit-load of paparazzi waiting to ambush us when we leave."

"Well, if it's Todd or the studio," Josh said. "I'll have their balls for you. It's in your contract that all publicity on you goes through us."

"That's what I thought."

"Give me a day and I'll get back to you," Josh said. "In the meantime, just keep it on the low-down...well, as low as possible."

"Yeah, all right," Aaron said. "But what do you think's going on?"

"I'd guess it's the chick," Josh said. "She needs the press more than you."

"You think she's using me?" Aaron said, feeling the sting of sweat suddenly on the back of his neck. "No way, Josh-no way. Cameron's not like that."

"Yeah, well we'll see, won't we?"

Aaron stopped pacing and stood silent, thinking. It was late and the lobby was deserted except for the bellman near the front door. He whispered the word Fuck under his breath and started pacing again.

"You there kid?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Aaron said. "Uh, look-this is not that big of deal. I think maybe I was just overreacting, you know, from the stress and all. So no rush on looking into this if you're busy with other stuff, I'll survive."

"Then why the call kid?" Josh said, growing impatient. "You want me to figure this out for you or not. It's not like the PR's hurting your career any-Teen Casanova."

"Fuck Josh," Aaron said. "Don't call me that. I hate that."

"Sorry," Josh said. "I just thought it was funny."

"Yeah, ha-ha."

"So you want me to find out or not?" Josh asked. "What's it going to be?"

"Let it rest for now," Aaron said. "For now."

"Okay kid-but call me if you change your mind. You know I'm all about you."

"Yeah, thanks Josh."

"Hey kid."

"Yeah?"

"I heard you're burning down the house, and Todd's loving what you're doing. The studio's already talking about an Oscar campaign."

"It's hard to say," Aaron said. "We're still shooting, so who knows?"

"Well, that's the buzz anyway."

"Buzz-schmuzz."

"Yeah right," Josh said, scoffing. "You slay me kid, you really do."

"Great," Aaron said, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Anyway, kid - hang in there."

"Later Josh."

"Teresa!" Aaron called, catching up to a young woman who turned around and smiled. "About last night...."

"Oh that's a good one," the young woman said, laughing. "Nothing like a cliché to get a girl's attention - you're funny."

"What?" Aaron said, caught off guard and blushing. "Uh, yeah-well, you know, I just wanted to say-hey and check in, is all. And tell you that last night was a lot of fun - studying together."

"We didn't get much studying done, that's for sure."

"Thanks for inviting me though," Aaron said, glancing at the grass where the toe of his shoe was busy nervously digging a divot lose. "It's nice to escape the hotel, and the folks in the movie and stuff. We're all getting pretty much sick of each other now."

The young woman had red hair that fell in soft curls to her shoulders, and her eyes were a dull blue-green, like verdigris. He sat behind her in her in differential calculus, a class in which he badly needed the diversion of being able to stare at her and wonder who she was. He had introduced himself early in the semester, but she had not seemed terribly interested in pursuing a friendship, so he had let it alone. That was why he had been so surprised at the invitation to her house yesterday.

"So about last night," she said, laughing again. "What about last night?"

Aaron laughed uneasily and looked around, as if he suspected someone was spying on him. The nearest person was several yards away.

"You're trying to embarrass me," he said. "On purpose, aren't you?"

"Apparently, it's pretty easy," she said. "From how red your face turned."

"Yeah, well - take your best shot," Aaron said, trying to smile. "I don't mind. I can take it. Embarrass away."

"Nah, I'm done," she said. "What's up?"

"I was wondering maybe if you wanted to come around the set later," Aaron said. "I could show you around, introduce you to director. And Colin, if he's there. Then we could maybe go for dinner after. I'd really like to take you out."

"Maybe another time," she said, shifting her backpack from one arm to the other. "I'm not that much interested in movie-making."

"Well, it wasn't about the movie-making," Aaron said, trying to keep his tone casual and untroubled, despite the sudden knot in his stomach. "It was about after."

"Hmm," she said. "Dinner? I probably better not."

"Come on," he said. "I thought we should at least have dinner to, I don't know, to eat, and then maybe..."

"Aaron," she interrupted. "You're a really nice guy."

She said this with her hand on his arm. He felt her touch and smiled. Her fingers were warm, and the tips of them smooth, with fingernails filed into brief ellipses, short curves that barely made a point, not claw-like at all.

He smiled at her again, noting the pause in her speaking, waiting.

"But it was a one-time thing. I'm sorry."

"It was, uh-what?"

"I'm seeing someone Aaron. I should have told you. But now you know."

"You have a boyfriend? A serious one?"

"Pretty serious," she said. "Three years serious."

"And so you just up and cheated on him," Aaron said, taking a step back. "Just like that? Man, that's pretty raw of you, don't you think?"

"He'll understand," she said, seemingly unconcerned. "You were on my list."

"Your list!" Aaron said, his head tilting suddenly back, like someone had slapped his forehead. "What in the hell is that about?"

"Oh," Teresa said, with her blushing this time, and the pink in Aaron's face more anger now than anything else. "I guess you haven't heard of it."

"I guess not," Aaron said. "Why don't you educate me then?"

"Well, it's kind of stupid."

"Yeah-I was tipping to that!"

"It's usually a joke," she said. "I mean, nobody ever really expects it to happen. But, anyway- the list is just where you and your boyfriend joke around that if you ever got the chance to sleep with someone, you know, someone on your list, it's not cheating."

"And I was on your list," Aaron said, his hands on his hips, staring at her, not believing what he was hearing, his mouth hanging open. "And on the top I fucking hope-jaysus!"

"You were number two," she said, cringing a little. "But it was close, practically a tie."

"I don't even want to know who was number one."

"Yeah, that's okay," she said. "I understand."

"So how many are on this list, anyway."

"Varies," she said, shrugging. "Me and my boyfriend have three each. Some people have more. But it's just a game. Please don't be hurt."

"Yeah, well," Aaron said. "You had your fun, so I guess I'll be going now."

"Okay," she said. "I guess I'll see you around then."

"Hard to avoid that I'd say."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I'm going to go."

"If it makes you feel any better," she said, taking his hand, stopping him just as he was about to walk away. "You were better than a bit okay, better than I even imagined."

""Now why doesn't that make me happy," Aaron said, shaking his head. "But then I guess that's just me being weird."

"Well, all right."

"Yeah, later."

And with that, Aaron walked away.

Aaron leaned forward on the desk, both hands planted flat upon it. His face was flushed, his eyes round, his mouth hanging open. The sound of his hanging up the phone seconds earlier seemed still to echo in the room. Rain slashed against window behind him, wave after wave of it, sheeting the window, making it impossible to see through, and noisy too, a rattling tap-tap-tapping timpani. He stared at the wall, favoring its blankness over anything else. Spent air gushed from his mouth in exale. He had been holding his breath, forgetting to breathe, except that now he was forced to, gasping, instinct taking over, strong-arming his will.

Please take care of yourself James, were the last words he had said before hanging up the phone. Don't let this hurt you too much.

I will, James had said, his voice as sad as Aaron could ever remember hearing it. You take care too. And don't worry too much. I'll be okay. You know me.

Yes I do, Aaron had thought. And I love you.

Merry Christmas, James had added.

Yes, Merry Christmas, he had said.

I want you to know that I still love you, he had thought, but not said. I always will.

Thanks for thinking about me for the ornaments, James had said, his voice clumsy and endearing. I'll let your dad know what you asked and all.

Thank you James, he had said, all the time wanting to ask, Do you still love me? Do you still? Or did you stop? Please tell me. I need to know.

Then when there had been nothing left to say, or instead too much to say, too much for a single conversation to ever hold, so much to stay unsaid, it had come quickly time to say good-bye. But he could not.

Let's not say good-bye, he had said, finally said, after a silence that had been too long, and had said too much. They both recognized that, and felt its steely tension.

All right, James had said. I understand.

And Aaron had known that he did. Who else but James could ever understand? It was an article of faith that James knew his heart better than he knew it himself, a heart that remained a mystery of yearnings unfulfilled, a searching heart that had no idea what it searched for, a voracious and indiscriminate heart that increasingly cared little for what it sampled. He was slowly coming to believe too that James had rejected him because of his silly, flawed, indiscriminate heart heart. That he had somehow seen deep within him and found him lacking. That was why he was alone. What had Arthur said to him in the scene this morning, the scene that he had rehearsed with Todd that day, sitting outside the studio in the grass. He had told Arthur, I love you, finally saying the words that his character had surely yearned to say, and that Arthur had just as surely yearned to hear. But what had been Arthur's quick reply?

You're a sexual dilettante, he had said. You have no idea.

And it was true, as true for him as his character, he had no idea, no idea at all.

The phone rang and Aaron ignored it. He looked around the room for his jacket, but did not immediately see it. The maid had probably hung it in the closet for him, like she always did, its presence hanging on the back of a chair apparently too much for her to bear. He opened the closet-door and there it was, his old warm-up jacket, almost too small for him, even though he had gotten it late in his junior year of high school, not really that long ago. He pulled it off the hanger, which clanked and knocked against the wall, and then put it on, not bothering to zip it up.

He was going, despite the rain, to walk down by the river. Afterwards, he did not know what he might do. Maybe he'd go see Barry, have a beer, help him close-up, show him that he knew how to rinse rubber mats and wipe off a grill, just like back in the day when he was still working at the Red Fox Inn, earning his spending money, like any other normal guy - not a movie star, not the son of celebrities - just a kid named Aaron with great parents and the best best-friend that anyone in the world could have ever hoped for.

He smiled for a moment at the memory, and then shook his head.

"Fuck it," Aaron said, walking through the just shoved-open door to his room, and then letting it slam shut behind him, noise echoing down the hall.

"I love this place."

"It's beautiful," Jake said. "How did you find it?"

"Just out walking," Aaron said. "I like to walk around, to get lost and explore."

"I'd hate for you to get lost," Jake said, his hand gentle now on Aaron's hip, his finger finding a belt-loop there, and giving it two short tugs. "And not come back."

"That's something my dad Lance would say," Aaron said, smiling at Jake, at his eyes, how clear they were, and bright. "Josh-take a map with you. I don't want you two wandering all over without a map, you'll get lost."

"Is this when your family would travel, on vacation?"

"Yeah, we went everywhere. It was so fun."

"So what's this place here?"

"Well," Aaron said. "This is the Knowing-the-Fish Pavilion."

"Knowing the Fish."

"Yes," Aaron said, nodding. "It comes from an ancient Taoist legend."

"Tell me," Jake said, turning to face Aaron, standing close, the tips of their shoes almost touching. "I love ancient legends."

"Two friends Zhuang Zi and Hui Zi were walking along the edge of a stream."

"I'll be Zhuang."

"All right," Aaron said, saying it slowly, the speed of his speech paused by the look on Jake's face, its intense curiosity touching him somehow.

"Zhuang Zi-which would be you," Aaron said, smiling and tapping Jake gently in the middle of the chest. "Zhuang looked at the fish and said - Look at those happy fish!"

"Look at those happy fish," Jake repeated, smiling up at Aaron, not looking at the fish at all, more than two dozen koi, their golden orange tails fanning the water below the surface, rippling it.

"And Hui Zhi said- How can you know the pleasures of a fish? You are not a fish. To which Zhuang Zi responded-"

"What did he, I mean I, say?"

"You said- How do you know that I do not know the pleasures of a fish? You are not me.'"

"I am not you," Jake said, shaking his head slowly, his attention to Aaron not in any way wavering; if anything it intensified.

"No," Aaron said. "You are not."

"But I think I know you."

"You are getting to, yes."

"I really like being with you Aaron."

"Thank you," Aaron said, blushing. "I like being with you too."

The two of them stood silent now, like the carved lions guarding the entrance to the pavilion, stone-still, facing each other, the northern view behind them. Across the lagoon, as yet unnoticed, the Double-Rainbows-Resting-in-the-Clouds Bridge filled the foreground, then the Locking-the-Moon Pavilion, and finally the Tower-of-Cosmic-Reflections was in the background. The layering of views created the impression of a larger space than the Garden actually encompassed.

"Do you feel like wandering for awhile," Jake said, still looking into Aaron's eyes. "And maybe getting lost."

"I'd like that," Aaron said, taking Jake's hand. "I'd like that very much."

Aaron lay next to Cameron in bed, a sheet pulled half over them. He stared at the ceiling, ready for the next take, the fourteenth. Cameron sipped Evian water through a straw held by an assistant.

"Fine, that's enough," she said.

"Quiet on the set," someone yelled. Aaron thought it was Vince, the second-unit director. But he wasn't sure.

"All right, rolling."

"Art," Cameron said, sitting up now, looking down at Aaron, who stared away, as if ignoring her, listening to the music playing, Patti Page singing Old Cape Cod, a doleful song that he had heard his father sing before, at the Red Fox Inn. He knew all the words, and recited them to himself.

"What happened?" Cameron said, as Phlox again. "Tell me. It was rude to leave the restaurant like that. I'm embarrassed."

"My father understood. Don't worry about Uncle Lenny and Elaine."

"But what happened? Is it your mother? What-can't anyone mention her without you getting upset?"

He rolled to his side, toward her, the camera moving slowly toward them. Aaron knew this was a close-up this time. Todd tried to slip them in without warning, but Aaron had expected it this time, widening his eyes, gnawing his bottom lip. He pulled Cameron to him, and spoke into her ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Everyone has some things he doesn't like to discuss, no?"

"You have too many."

"This song always kills me," Aaron said, sighing, and really meaning it. The song made him want to cry. He thought of his father singing it, Josh singing the song as if he had written the song himself, his face transfigured, his eyes far away, and Lance watching him, tears in his eyes, so in love there were no words to describe it, the two of them holding hands in their booth at the Red Fox Inn, celebrating another anniversary of loving each other, of being together on the island nation that they alone inhabited, Josh singing for one man only, the great love of his life, his father, Lance Bass, the man who had given him the gift of his last name, and he was his son.

"Why?" she said, insisting that he pay attention, that he return from his reverie of thought and memory. "Tell me why."

"Oh, I don't know," he said, more wistful than he'd meant to be. "Nostalgia. It makes me feel nostalgia for a time I fear never knew, like I wasn't even alive."

"That's what I do to you too," she said. "I'll just bet."

Aaron shook his head no, but barely. He knew the scene was over, but his eyes would not move from Cameron's stare. Just as his thoughts would not let go of the image of his JC singing, for Lance alone, and no one else. It made him want to cry.

"It's just what I call him," Aaron said, yawning and scratching behind his ear. "It's what most kids call their Dad in Ireland."

"But he ain't," Beau said, stretched out on the couch in Aaron's trailer, eyeing him over a long-neck bottle of beer, which rested precariously on his chest. "Your old man, is he?"

"It's complicated," Aaron said, settling down on to a second couch, which sat across from the one Beau was on, a low table between them. They were in Aaron's trailer, waiting to be called back to the set.

"Sounds like it."

"My biological father is dead," Aaron said, reaching and taking a beer from the six-pack that sat on the table between them. "He died in a plane crash."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Aaron said, twisting off the bottle-top and snapping it across the room. The cap hit the opposite wall and tinkled to the floor. He made a mental note to note to pick the cap up later. He didn't want to walk on it while barefoot.

"You remember him?"

"Nope," Aaron said, shaking his head. "I was barely two."

"So Lance and....what's his name?"

"Josh."

"They raised you, the two of 'em - together."

"Yeah," Aaron said, staring at the ceiling, lolling a sip of beer on his tongue before letting it leak down the back of his throat. "They're my parents, my dads."

"And they be queer?"

"Well, they're two men," Aaron said. "And they love each other, and sleep in the same bed, if that's what you mean."

"Two men," Beau said, shaking his head. "Weird."

"It's not weird."

"Okie-dokie, arti-chokie."

"Anyway," Aaron said. ""It's none of your business anyway."

"That's fine by me," Beau said. "Gives me the heeby-jeebies thinking about it anyway."

"So I guess a blow-job is out of the question."

"Yeah, right," Beau said, shooting Aaron disgusted glare.

Aaron laughed and took another swig of beer.

"I hate night shoots," he said.

"Same," Beau said. "Farrell back yet?"

"I think I heard him a few minutes ago."

"We should go rock his trailer."

"Not again," Aaron said. "It's only funny the first time."

"Yeah, but that's why he won't be expecting it a second time."

"Your logic amazes me."

"Well, thank you," Beau said, laughing. "That's quite a compliment coming from a college boy like yourself."

"You never wanted to go to college?"

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"Yeah, well-you should be," Beau said. "Me and books don't much get along."

"That's too bad."

"For some maybe. But not for me. I like living life, not reading about it."

Aaron stared silently at the ceiling, thinking about what Beau had just said, and resisting the urge to comment on it. He felt he should say something, but he was not sure what he could say that would make a difference, at least to Beau. He could hear the clock on the trailer-wall click loudly, an annoying click that he was surprised he did not hear more often, click-clicking the passage of time.

"This scene tonight is like my favorite one," Beau said, setting his beer bottle on the table and crossing his arms on his chest. "I'm looking forward to doing it."

"I thought you were looking forward to the robbery getaway scene."

"Yeah, I was. But I changed my mind. I like this one more."

"How come?"

"I'm not sure," Beau said. "I think it's because it's where I'm most bad-ass, but still your buddy, still a nice guy. That make sense?"

"Not really."

"Now see," Beau said, pointing. "You said that just like Art would."

"You want to run lines then?"

"Nope," Beau said, closing his eyes. "I think I'll take a nap. You mind?"

"Snooze away."

"And don't be trying to get into my pants while I'm out."

"You wish."

"No you wish."

"Anyway," Aaron said, standing up from the couch. "I'm going to go see me Da."

"There's that Da shit again."

"You want the light out?" Aaron said, ignoring the comment.

"Nah, leave it on," Beau said. "I might head back to my trailer in a bit anyway, if I don't nod off."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Aaron said. "Why do you always hand out here? It's not like we're best buddies or anything."

"You got the best couches, bucko. Simple as that."

"Well enjoy."

"Sayonara."

"What's it like Da?" Aaron asked, looking across the cluttered kitchen table at Colin, over the cartons that contained what was left of the Chinese food they'd had delivered to Aaron's room for dinner. "Kissin' some bloke you don't hardly know?"

"Like when I had to kiss Brendan you mean?"

"That's right Da," Aaron said. "Just like that, how was it so?"

"Was acting is all."

"Yeah?"

"You ever kiss another lad?" Colin asked, putting down the fortune cookie he'd been eyeing, trying to decide whether to eat it. "Like for real, not acting?"

"James I did," Aaron said, reddening. "But that was different."

"So you tell me then," Colin said. "About kissin' a bloke."

"I'd prefer not," Aaron said, bowing his head, searching the carpet as if he had dropped something. "So personal it is."

"Were you together?"

"We were so, once. But not how you mean Da."

"All right."

"Was at the awards, it was," Aaron said, looking at Colin again, finding kindness in his face, a kindness that coaxed the story from him. "You remember that night Da, don't you?"

"Remember it well, I do," Colin said, softly laughing. "A certain someone I be a bit more than fond of won an award that night, if me memories serves me well."

"Yeah," Aaron said, reddening again. "Twas after that James kissed me, in our hotel room, he did. I'll never forget it as long as I live Da, I won't.

He was helping me with my shirt, those feckin' stud-things that are like buttons, you know."

"Sure I do."

"He looked up at me, all beautiful like, so happy. I remember being so happy too, so happy that he was happy like that. I was thinking that maybe I'd had a part in making him so - so happy as that - since so serious and glum he was at times."

"He was a good lad."

"And still is," Aaron said, insistent. "You heard what he did for Ryan, didn't you? Driving him fecking cross-country to look for some bloody boxes."

"Lance told me, yeah."

"Anyways," Aaron said, clearing his throat. "That night, it was like I was not living save to see that smile right then, beaming up at me like all the light in the world was shining through him, beautiful and all he was."

"You remember it so?"

"So I do."

"That's how it is then."

"Yes, I suppose."

"And you kissed him so?"

"He kissed me, to tell it true."

"Ahh-"

"On the lips be did," Aaron said, his eyes misted. "He must've grown near a foot to do it too. But he did it, kissed me, soft-like and sweet. And I remember being shocked at first, but only for a second, because then I was thinking how nice it was, what he'd done and all - and how brave. So many thoughts I was having. It was a mystery to me why he did it, but a good mystery I think, not one I'm intent on solving any more, even if I could. But as I recall, I was even mid-ponder, about me kissing him, kissing him again, beginning to know that I really wanted to, needed to maybe...."

"Go on lad."

"Except I remember that all of a sudden the light in his eyes went away. It just disappeared, leaving him looking worried and scared. I thought maybe it was something I'd done, that I'd caused it somehow. I'm still not sure of that. We never really spoke about it again...until, well, you know...when we had that awful fight."

"Not sure I'd call it a fight."

"Well, whatever you call it," Aaron said, pushing back his chair and standing up. He wandered to the window and looked out.

"He's still gone from me Da. So I don't suppose it matters much anymore."

"Or so you say," Colin said, looking at Aaron's reflection in the darkened window he stood in front of, making eye contact with him there, seeing the tears in his eyes. He wanted to go to him, but let him stand there alone instead, knowing that was what he wanted, and that it was best this way. Aaron nodded at Colin, and turned back around.

"Yes."

"You've done your share of kissing since," Colin said, this time standing up, and this time walking to Aaron. "And as rumor has it...."

"I told you Da," Aaron said. "I did, so no lecturing."

"Wasn't a lecture I was about to give."

"Yeah, well I told you I was no virgin-nor a saint neither, that's for sure."

Aaron's voice was tense, strained. His mouth had gone dry, and he swallowed visibly. Colin waited, his hands in his pockets.

"I've had my way around with several gals. I'm not ashamed to say so. And I told my dad too, disappointing him of course, but being honest nonetheless. No more lying, not to him, not to him."

"Yes, there's that."

"Plus there's being always careful, I know," Aaron said. "Thanks for the box of rubbers by the way."

"You're welcome," Colin said, smiling.

"My father's idea, I suppose."

"And mine."

"Not sure I'm keen on the red ones."

"I don't suppose it'd be mattering much in the dark."

"I'm not much for the dark," Aaron said, his voice sounding strangely bitter, to Colin at least it did. "But then that's just me."

"You been serious on anyone?"

"Now you know I'd be telling you that if I had."

"For sure you would, true."

"I don't see me being much serious for anyone soon."

"Which is unfortunate, I'd say."

"And so you would say, being me Da and all."

Silently, they stood side by side, each waiting for the other to speak, waiting until it was obvious that the serious part of their conversation, precipitously begun, was now precipitously over. They knew to let the subject rest, and did.

"You're acting kiss'll be fine," Colin said, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry."

"That's not what worries me so," Aaron said, looking Colin, who looked back at him, inviting him to say what was really on his mind, or what was then.

"I just don't want to forget how it was that first time," Aaron said, beginning to cry. "To get this acting shite mixed up with it, that's all."

Another silence, and then a small gasp. Aaron's hand was on his hear, and he seemed to waver, like buffeted by a strong wind. Colin reached out and touched his arm, as if to secure him. The tears still in Aaron's eyes hurt him to see.

"Da-it's all I have left of him, of James so. That kiss remembered. I can't lose that too. I just can't, you know?"

"You won't A-bomb," Colin said, his arms around Aaron now, his hands consoling his shoulder-blades, patting there. "I'm sure of that. You won't."

"Hey-good morning."

"Fuck-who sucker-punched me."

"That'd be the tequila," Barry said. "Here's some water and two ibuprofen."

"Thanks," Aaron said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his right hand, and then taking the proffered glass of water.

"Here you go," Barry said, putting the two red pills in the palm of Aaron's hand, and watching him cringe then swallow them. "You can put the glass on the bed-stand."

Aaron popped the pills into his mouth and drained the glass of water. He smiled feebly as he set the now-empty glass on the table next to the bed. Barry was wearing a pair of cut-off sweatpants and nothing else. One of his nipples was pierced with a shiny metal horseshoe-shaped ornament that dangled downward. His arms were muscular and obviously strong. His right upper-arm and shoulder were covered in an elaborate Celtic tattoo, part of which Aaron recognized as Thor's hammer. It took Aaron several seconds to realize that he was in Barry's bed, wearing no clothes except for a pair of boxer-briefs, and with only a sheet covering him.

"Shit - where are my clothes?"

"That'd be that those right there," Barry said, pointing to pile near the door to the room. "By your Pumas."

"Okay, cool."

"You want some more water."

"No," Aaron said. "I'm good for now. What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"Fuck-I missed class."

"It's college dude," Barry said, smiling at Aaron. "You're supposed to skip class now and again."

"I guess."

"You remember much of last night?"

"Not really," Aaron said, frowning. "Except for-wait, yeah, I do. We played poker, you me and those two other guys you work with."

"There you go."

"Did I win?

"Dude, you are the worst bluffer I have ever played poker with. Seriously."

"I guess I didn't then."

"Nope."

Aaron looked around the room again, to the window, which was covered by a dark gray blanket that someone, probably Barry, had hung with nails to cover it, and then to the end of the bed, where Barry now sat, cross-legged, smiling back at him.

"Um-did we, uh, you know...?"

"Have sex?"

"Yeah."

"Nope," Barry said. "I was a gentleman and slept on the couch."

"That sucks."

"That we didn't have sex."

"No, that I stole your bed."

"No worries," Barry shrugged. "I still slept great. I can sleep anywhere. It's a gift I have."

"You could've stayed in here with me," Aaron said, running his hand through his hair, which he assumed was a mess. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I figured I should avoid temptation, if you know what I mean."

"Temptation?"

"Yeah, temptation."

"So you were tempted, huh?" Aaron said, a sly, serious grin blooming on his face.

"Still am," Barry said. "You?"

"I kind of hate risking a good friendship."

"I was thinking that too."

"Come here though."

"What?"

"Come here."

"I think I'll stay down here," Barry said. "Safely out of reach."

"You call that safe?" Aaron said, wincing as he kicked the sheet off, then slowly crawled to where Barry sat, looking like he was about to bolt, but making no movement toward doing so. "There's no where in this house safe from me."

"Is this where you make your move," Barry said, laughing. "Trying to get into a gentleman's pants?"

"No, this is where Aaron lays his head on your leg and then begs you to rub his forehead and temples for him.

"Does it hurt that bad?"

"If I say yes, will you rub it for me?"

"I just might," Barry said, smiling down at Aaron's upside down face, which was tilted back into the hollow of his lap, his shoulders cradled by Barry's crossed ankles.

"Well, how about this," Aaron said, looking up at Barry. "It feels like someone is stabbing me in the head with a pair of rusty knitting needles. It hurts really, really bad."

"That may be the best pouty-face I have ever seen," Barry said. "Aaron Bass, you are without question twice the actor anyone has said you are."

"So where's my massage then?"

"How's this?"

"Oh yeah."

"Nice?"

"Unbelievably nice," Aaron said, his eyes flickering closed as Barry's fingertips gently massaged Aaron's temples. "Just like you."

"I guess maybe you bring out the best in me."

"Mmm- thank you."

"Okay," Todd yelled. "That's finally a keeper. We got more good stuff there. Thank you everyone. Sorry it took so long. But great job - everyone!"

"Can I get that robe back over here," Aaron said, motioning to Jake from where he lay sprawled in the middle of the bed on the set, the overhead boom-camera slowly pulling back. "Fuck it's hot in here."

"Yeah," Jeremy said, using a pillow to wipe the sweat from his face. "Can you get off my leg Aaron? Thanks."

They were both naked except for the body-makeup they wore. The bright lights overhead filled the room with heat and glare, while at the edge of the set everything remained black. Aaron knew there were others out there that had been watching, but he tried not to think about it. The old iron bed shook as Jeremy shifted next to him.

They had just spent the last three hours pretending to have sex, in positions that Aaron had never imagined, much less thought possible. He had been dreading this scene since first reading it in the script. Jake had warned him that Todd wanted it explicit, and it was, especially when Jeremy's character pretended to finally fuck him.

For days Aaron had tried to imagine what it must be like wanting someone inside you as bad as Art had seemed to want Arthur. The way Todd had written the scene Art had seemed almost desperate to be fucked. But Aaron could never quite imagine why. His own experience of fucking provided no compass to navigate the more raw need that Art seemed to feel. For him fucking had always been an uncomplicated transaction: two people giving and sharing pleasure, looking for satisfaction that was easy to be had, and, in the end, finding nothing too remarkable.

When it had come time for the scene, Aaron had decided to simply be a blank, to do what Todd asked, and to not let his own mind or feelings get in the way of his performance. But it had not turned out that way, and now his mind was spinning with a ramshackle combination of mystery and anxiety, of fear and uneasiness, of cockiness and doubt. His cock half-hard, pressed against his thigh and throbbed inexplicably. He tried to ignore it, and think of something else.

"So is that it Todd?" Jeremy asked, shouting. "Please tell me it is."

"What?" Todd said, stepping from behind a video play-back unit. "What's that Jeremy? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. I was looking at that last take."

"He was just-"

"Hey," Aaron said, interrupting himself to look at Jeremy, who started to laugh. "That better have been your finger jabbing me in the ass."

"It was," Jeremy said, laughing harder. "You're not that sexy."

"Yeah," Aaron said, pretending to scowl. "And you're not that long-gobshite!"

"Fuck you," Jeremy said, still laughing as he punched Aaron in the arm. "No, wait - I already did that, never mind."

Aaron swore under his breath and felt himself blush.

"Anyway," Jeremy said, turning to look back at Todd. "Are we done? I need a shower something fierce."

"You're telling me," Aaron said, rolling away too quickly for Jeremy to punch him again. "You smell like the fecking town hoor."

"Here's your robe," Jake said, stepping to edge of bed, startling Aaron. "Do you want me to get your flip-flops from the trailer?"

"No, that's fine," Aaron said. "Can you, uh-yeah, stand like that-kind of block the view a little. Thanks."

Aaron stood slowly up, one hand spread over his crotch, pushing what was left of his erection down between his legs while he glanced quickly around the room to see if anyone was staring. No one was. He smiled at Jake as he slipped into his robe and quickly covered up.

"Was that awfully weird for you?" Jake asked, his voice a soft concerned whisper. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure what to say," Aaron said, nervously pursing his lips, which were red and slightly swollen from all the kissing he had been doing. "It's just good that it's over, that's all. The other scenes like this won't be so bad now."

"Yeah," Jake nodded.

"What time is it?"

"Quarter to ten."

"Fuck-that late?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "Are you hungry? The hotel-restaurant will be closed, but we could order room-service if you want."

"Actually," Aaron said, nodding at Jeremy who waved as he wandered off the set. "I was thinking a patty-melt at Hamburger Mary's sounds pretty fucking fantastic right now. You want to join me?"

"I'm not sure," Jake said, frowning, which was unusual for him, and Aaron noted it immediately. "I was...anyway, you go. I'm just going to go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Do you want me to arrange for a driver?"

"What's wrong Jake?" Aaron said, noticing now that Jake looked hurt. "Tell me."

"Nothing's wrong," Jake said, shrugging. "I just don't feel like going out tonight, that's all. And, I don't know, I thought maybe you'd like some company. But it's no big deal. I'm not one to stand between a man and his desire for a patty-melt."

"Well," Aaron said, trying for a lighter tone to coax a smile from Jake again. It bothered him that Jake was still not smiling. "It's a pretty damn good patty melt, let me tell you. Second best I ever had."

"Uh, yeah," Jake said, expressionless. "Okay."

"Are you mad at me about something?" Aaron said, leaning closer, and taking Jake's arm, guiding him to the edge of the set, not wanting to be heard. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Why would I be mad at you?" Jake said, continuing to walk while Aaron hurried to keep abreast of him.

"I don't know," Aaron said. "That's why I was asking you."

"I'm not mad," Jake said, stopping in front of Aaron's trailer and turning to look at him. "I'm just...I don't know, it's really not important. I'm in a mood is all. Let's just drop it, okay? Please."

"All right," Aaron said, climbing the steps to his trailer and opening the door. "If you don't feel like talking, that's fine.

Jake followed Aaron up into the trailer and then closed and locked the door behind him, like he always did. Aaron stood waiting two feet from him, waiting for Jake to turn around. His robe had fallen open, revealing his chest and stomach, and the beginnings of his pale-brown pubic hair. When Jake turned around, seeming to pause in thought first, he was smiling again.

Aaron smiled back at him, relieved. He hated when people were angry, especially his friends.

"You promise me you're not mad," Aaron said. "Seriously."

"I am seriously not mad," Jake said, his voice becoming stubbornly cheerful, as if to prove to Aaron that he was no longer mad, or maybe never had been. "I'm seriously a lot of things, but not seriously mad."

"Like seriously what?" Aaron said, a cautious puzzled look appearing on his face. "For example, I mean."

"Like seriously convinced that you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen," Jake said, taking a step toward Aaron.

"Like seriously attracted to you," Jake said, taking another step, watching Aaron's eyes, which stared back at him unblinking.

"Like seriously wanting to get you out of that robe..."

Aaron watched as Jake's hand was reaching for the front of his robe. It was as if he was seeing the hand in slow-motion, observing it from a vantage that was not his own, but as an outside observer. He knew that the knot that held his robe closed at his hips was loosely tied. He knew that with one tug the knot could be easily undone, and his robe would swing open, revealing the rest of him. He knew that Jake had seen him naked before, probably a dozen times - stepping out of the shower, or before getting in. But this was different. Jake was about to undress him, and the resulting nakedness would belong to Jake, not to him. Aaron smiled as Jake's hand had nearly reached the knot, and then he grasped the hand and stopped Jake from untying it.

"Wait," he said. "Don't do that."

"You don't want to," Jake said, his smile disappearing, his shoulders slumping. "Okay, that's fine. Don't worry. I had to try. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Hey," Aaron said, lifting Jake's chin. "Look at me. Come on Jake."

"Don't," Jake said, shaking his head and stepping back. "I'm embarrassed. And I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing for me to do, and I shouldn't have done it. I just got caught up in it. I'm sorry."

Jake turned to leave but Aaron had his shoulder in his hand before he could take a step. He squeezed Jake's shoulder tightly, not wanting to hurt him, but wanting him to notice, to take note, that he was serious; he did not want him to leave. Stepping behind him, he continued to squeeze Jake's shoulder, steadily exerting pressure as he pressed himself against Jake from behind, his body leaning into him, his mouth at Jake's ear, whispering, something at first inaudible, and then clearly heard.

"I'm going to kiss you now - for real I will, if you want."

"I wish you would," Jake said turning around, staring at Aaron, unbelieving. "I really do. Because I think I'll explode if you don't."

"We don't want that happening," Aaron said, slowly leaning forward, his hand now on the back of Jake's neck, pulling him to him. "Do we?"

"No," Jake whispered. "We don't."

"They're beautiful, thank you."

"Well, I figured since it was your birthday and all..."

"How'd you find out it was my birthday?" Cameron said, blushing as she smelled the bouquet of yellow roses that Aaron had handed her. "That's top-secret data, bucko. I may need to have you killed now that you know it."

"Actually, Jake told me," Aaron said. "So you'll have to kill us both."

"Jake?"

"Yeah," Aaron said. "He told me this morning, while we were running down by the river. Most mornings we go running together."

"And I suppose he knew that yellow roses were my favorite too?"

"No-that'd be my lucky guess."

"Would you like to come in?"

"You don't have plans?"

"I sort of do now," Cameron said, winking as she slowly leaned forward, closing her eyes, expecting Aaron to kiss her. He paused for a moment then did, reluctantly, but not unhappily. Her lips tasted of spearmint, like she had just brushed her teeth.

"I'm meeting Jake for dinner in an hour."

"So be a little late," Cameron said. "It is my birthday you know."

"Ah, so it went from a date not to be spoken of to being a highly effective black-mail device. You are a clever one, Ms. Blaine."

"And you are a sexy one, Mr. Bass."

"Or so I've heard mention," Aaron said, smiling, because he was unable not to. He stepped into the room, glancing around, as if he expected someone else to be there too, although he did not know who. He pulled the door closed behind him, giving Cameron an exaggerated wink as she walked towards.

"A time or two," he said. "That I'm a sexy one."

"Or three or four."

"It's been a little bit," Aaron said, finding Cameron in his arms, her face tilted to his own, her lips parted, the tip of her tongue tracing a glistening path across her top teeth and then disappearing into her mouth. "Hasn't it?"

"It has."

"You want we should wander into the bedroom?"

"I was thinking here on the floor."

"Now you're talking," Aaron laughed, feeling her hand on his zipper, checking to see if he was hard. And he was.

"So you'll never guess who I made out with," Aaron said, slapping the mop back and forth across the floor behind the bar, helping Barry close up.

"Who haven't you made out with?" Barry said, squinting behind a cascade of steam rising from the small dishwasher he was about to unload.

"Yeah, yeah," Aaron said. "I'm not on a path to a higher plane, you told me."

"Man, I hate frigging lipstick," Barry said, holding up a glass an examining it. "It never comes off. You have to scrub it by hand."

"I'll do it when I'm done here."

"Nah I got it," Barry said, setting the glass to one side and unloading the others. "But thanks."

"So are you going to guess?"

"I don't need to guess."

"What do you mean you don't need to guess," Aaron said, plunging the mop back into a bucket and swirling it in the graying water. "You psychic or something?"

"Nope-just smart."

"Okay, Mr. Smart, who is it then?"

"Jake."

"You fucker!" Aaron said, pointing at him. "How'd you know that?"

"You were looking a little to smug for it to be another girl," Barry said. "And I didn't figure you for picking up a dude in a bar or anything."

"That's true," Aaron said, going back to his mopping, while trying to decide if Barry's comment was a compliment or a jibe. Probably both, he thought.

"So was it fun?" Barry asked. "Your little make-out session."

"It was actually," Aaron said with a quick laugh. "Nothing super-serious, you know-just a bit of messing about. He's a good kisser."

"Well, it takes two."

"I suppose."

"You plan on fucking him?" Barry asked, stacking the last of the clean glasses behind the bar. "Or have you had your fun on the wild-side for now?"

"Jaysus Barry," Aaron said, one hand fisted on his hip, the other holding the mop. "You're making me out to be quite the bloody slapper."

"Bloody slapper?"

"A damn slut."

"Hmm-" Barry said, back to examining the glass with the lipstick. "I think I'll try running this one through again. Pink lipstick this one was wearing."

"Yeah, well-have your laugh at my expense," Aaron said, picking up the bucket of dirty mop water and heading toward the back of the restaurant. "You're just jealous it wasn't you."

"Jealous!" Barry shouted after Aaron, watching him disappear into the kitchen. "I don't think so, Romeo!"

Aaron's goofy-grinned face popped from behind the kitchen's swinging door. He started laughing when he saw Barry roll his eyes and stick his tongue out at him.

"Did you say something Juliet?" Aaron asked, his voice suffused with good-natured but sarcastic sweetness. "Because I didn't hear you darling."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Barry said, his hands melodramatically on his hips. "So I'd watch yourself, cowboy."

"Oh, I'll watch myself all right," Aaron said, laughing as he pulled his head back inside the kitchen.

Barry stood and watched the kitchen door swing back and forth, the arc of the swing getting shorter each time. Aaron had told him that there was an equation that explained this steady loss of motion, the door's slowing swing. But he had told Aaron that he was not been interested in math, its cold precision.

"I'm a romantic," he had said. "And I believe in magic more than math."

Remembering the conversation, which had taken place two weeks before, Barry smiled and began to hum a simple melody. He was not sure where he had picked it up, but the melody had stuck with him, and made him happy.

Beau talked in shouts to Jeremy, his hand on his back, his mouth close to his ear. The crowd in the club was loud. Hardly anyone could hear over the blaring music and the chick singing karaoke. Aaron had reluctantly come along, at Cameron's insistence.

"I'm too tingly to sleep," she had said after he had fucked her for a second time. "I'll just want to do it again if we don't go out."

"Is that a threat or a promise," he had said, wondering if he had another condom. The box-full that Colin had bought for him had not lasted as long as either of them had probably expected.

"Both," she had said, bounding out of bed. "Now come on, let's go."

That had been two hours ago. Now Aaron surveyed the smoky-room for a fiftieth time, frowning at its stale smell, and the loud tortured singing voice that was assaulting his ears. Why did all bad singing sound the same?

This was certainly not his idea of a good time, and he was well on his way to thinking up an excuse to leave, even a lame excuse. He didn't care at this point if Cameron got mad or not. He just wanted to get back to the quiet of his room and get some sleep.

Turning to look for Cameron, who had wandered off ten minutes ago, he suddenly felt fingernails digging into his forearm, and then a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Hey sweetie lover," Cameron said, almost falling over on top of him.

She was drunk. Aaron frowned at her unnoticed.

"Guess what?" she said, her voice as perky as it was slurred.

"What?" he said flatly.

"No-guess, guess, guess!"

She shrieked louder than she needed to be heard - by him, or by people on the other side of the room, who were all staring now. Aaron frowned again, this time leaving the expression there; he knew he'd need it again.

"Guess!" she said, stomping her foot. "Please!"

"You want to go back to the hotel," Aaron said. "You've realized that you've had way too much to drink and you want to go to bed."

"Nooooo!" she said, flinging her head back and practically braying. "No, sweetie, no. Guess again."

"Cam," Aaron said. "I really don't know. Tell me."

"But I want you to guess."

"Yes, I know you do," Aaron said. "Everyone in this room knows you do."

"Just one more," Cameron said, leaning in and trying to kiss him again, a kiss that grazed his cheek and landed on his shoulder. It took a moment for her to right herself. But when she did, she put her hands on her hips and eyed him.

"Puh-leeeeez!" she said.

"All right," Aaron said, rolling his eyes. "Let's see-Beau hit on you again."

Cameron pushed hair clumsily from her eyes and scratched her head. She paused, thinking. Aaron waited, knowing he had no choice. He was trapped for the time being. Or being punished. He was not sure which.

"Okay, yeah," she said. "He did. But he always does. So that's not it. Guess again."

"No," Aaron said. "No more guessing."

"Spoil-sport."

"So what is it?"

"You're a rotten guesser anyway."

"Apparently."

"I'm going to sing," she said. "A song."

"A song?"

"Yes-a song," she said. "Isn't that cool?"

"Uh, sure," Aaron said, not looking sure at all. "That's great Cam. What're you going to sing?"

"It's a surprise."

"A surprise," he said slowly. "Great."

"Yes," she said. "And-oh, wait, that's me, that's me."

"Great," Aaron said, taking a deep breath. "Knock 'em dead."

He watched her scurry through two clusters of people standing nearby, heading up to the small stage set up against a brick wall. The emcee handed Cameron a cordless microphone, which she dropped, causing an amplified thud to echo painfully throughout the room. Several people grimaced and covered their ears. Aaron shook his head, hardly believing what was happening. He searched the room for a backdoor exit but saw none.

"I don't believe this," he said, shaking his head.

"Sorry about that," Cameron said once she managed to retrieve the microphone from where it had rolled off the edge of the stage. Several people whooped and yelled her name, recognizing her, and then suddenly Aaron too, destroying their previous anonymity among this group of Gen-Z slackers and karaoke-wannabes. He could feel people staring and whispering. He tried to ignore it, focusing on Cameron instead. But then someone he did not see snapped a photograph, and then another. The sudden flashes momentarily whitened the room. What a fiasco, he thought.

"This song is for my sweet, sweet, sweet boyfriend," Cameron said, in a husky whisper. "The sweetest most handsome sexiest guy in the whole wide world, Aaron Bass, who I love, love, love, love, love, love!"

Aaron smiled weakly and felt sick to his stomach. He thought he might throw up. Beau and Jeremy pushed over closer to where he was sitting, pointing at him, and laughing. They were clearly enjoying the horror-struck look on Aaron's face.

"Isn't that precious," Beau mocked. "You're so lucky Aaron-isn't he Jeremy? To be loved, loved, loved, loved."

"No, Beau," Jeremy said, plopping down next to Aaron and throwing his arm around him. "He's loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved!"

"I hardly know what to say," Beau laughed, plopping down on the other side of Aaron. "Except that I'm so jealous."

"Fuck off you two," Aaron grumbled.

"Wait-our song bird is about to warble," Jeremy said. "Shut up and show some respect boys."

"What's she singing?" Beau asked. "Do you know?"

"She said it was a surprise," Aaron said, rubbing his forehead and covering his eyes. "And I'm sure it will be."

It was then the music started, and Aaron recognized it immediately.

"Oh fuck," he said, standing up, preparing to leave. "No fucking way."

"Not so fast partner," Beau said, grabbing Aaron's arm and pulling him back down. "You got to hear the pretty lady sing."

Holding the microphone with both hands, Cameron blew a kiss to Aaron and then started to sing-When visions around you. She was two notes behind the melody, but rushed to catch up. Bring tears to your eyes. She sounded drunk and was starting to look it. Aaron cringed and closed his eyes.

"I don't believe this is happening," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Man-she has an awful voice," Beau said, laughing. "She sounds like a fucking cat with its tail caught in a door."

There were scattered audible giggles in the crowd. Cameron drowned out all but the loudest conversations, wailing dramatically-Are secrets and lies. Two more flashes whitened the room. Several people near the stage held their cell-phones in the air, capturing Cameron's performance on video, and letting some friend share in awfulness of her singing. Aaron didn't have to think hard to know that these pictures would be everywhere on the internet by tomorrow night, and probably in a magazine by Tuesday.

"I'm out of here," Aaron said, wresting himself free from Beau's hold on him and standing up again.

"Hey," Beau said, trying to grab Aaron again, but just missing his arm. "Our star's going AWOL on us."

"Let him go," Jeremy said, laughing and covering his ears. "I almost feel sorry for him."

Cameron had made her way to the second chorus, having skipped half of the first. And as if to accomplish what most would have assumed impossible, her singing grew louder as she tried to demonstrate how to sing - or not to sing - a dramatic crescendo. Aaron was almost to the door-Without you in my life baby, I just wouldn't be living at all...This I promise you, Aaron, This I promise you.

"Man, she really digs you," someone said, tugging on Aaron's arm as he forced himself through a cluster of people blocking the door.

"I'll take her if you don't want her," came another voice.

Aaron ignored these voices, and others, pushing the door open, and making his escape, the blare of Cameron's voice pursuing him down the block as he ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He didn't know where he was heading, except away from there, down a rain-wetted sidewalk, into the night. Away.

Rubbing his eyes, just awake, Aaron stared at the computer screen reading.

Dear Dad,

Remember that time when you were sick with the flu and I asked you all about you about when you met Dad, and how you knew that he was the one for you?

And remember you said that you hoped I would have the patience to wait for a kiss like the one that you got from dad, one that, like you said, asked nothing from you but a kiss like that in return, a kiss from and for someone who you could truly love?

And remember how you told me that I should not have sex with someone just because I could, that it was not a game, that it was something serious, that it should be treated as something serious, something meaningful, and that if sex was to have meaning at all it should be about more than just having fun or getting off.

I remember all that, Dad, right now I do, sitting here in my hotel room, in the middle of the night, feeling lonely, and alone. I remember all that. And it makes me feel sad, because I feel like I've let you down, like I didn't manage to keep my promise to you. Or to myself.

But what makes me sadder than anything is the thought that maybe I did wait for that kiss, Dad, the one you talked about. And that maybe I already had that kiss. Maybe now no kiss will ever be as important as the one I already had, already had but didn't recognize at the time as the most important kiss of my life.

I don't know. Maybe I'm exaggerating, just being over-dramatic, or melodramatic. I'm only eighteen, almost nineteen. Think of how much time there is left in my life, and how many people there are left for me to meet.

Isn't it dumb to think that maybe I already met the person I should be with? I think maybe it is.

I'm sorry if none of this makes sense, Dad. I'm just thinking out loud. Trying to get my bearings and all. Everyone here is so nice to me. But somehow, more and more, I don't trust any of it. Everyone is playing games, it seems, trying to get ahead, to come out on top. Me, I'm just trying to do my best, like you always taught me, and to do what's right. That I remember too, just like everything you taught me.

Sure I mess up, and do things that I regret. But I really try my best Dad. I hope you believe that. It would hurt so much if you didn't.

I can't wait to see you, and am totally stoked that it's only a few more days before we will all be together again. It has been hard to be away from you and Dad, harder than I thought it would be. But I guess that's part of growing up, isn't it?

When you're here, I want you to meet some of my friends, especially Barry, who I think you will like a lot. He's a special guy. It's hard to describe how, but he is. He's genuine and real, and doesn't toy with people. I like that about him. I want you to meet Jake too, who I know you sort of go back and forth on. But he has been there for me, and I feel like I can trust him.

Anyway Dad, I think I should get some sleep. I have my final in math tomorrow. I'm not too worried about it, but my friend Brent is freaked out and I agreed to meet him early tomorrow to help him study.

I love you Dad. Call me when you can and we can plan our Christmas. I can't wait to see you.

Love and stuff,

~ Aaron

Done reading, Aaron frowned and scratched his head. He had for some reason not sent the email the night before. Why he was not certain. Now it was six AM, still dark outside, but time to be up. He yawned and scratched his head again.

"Just send it," he said, sounding impatient with himself. "Or don't. Fuck."

The buzz from the air condition momentarily distracted him as he stood there thinking, his hands on his hips. Finally, he pulled out the desk chair and sat down to read the email again, deleting it sentence by sentence. When he was done, he quickly typed a new email, shorter than the first.

Hey Dad~

Sorry about no email last night. Hopefully this one will still be waiting for you when you get up. I'm off to the set pretty soon, and running behind schedule. No school today, but lots of studying to do tonight. My buddy Barry is making me dinner at his place, and I'm going to study over there. He doesn't live too far from here. A twenty minute walk, or a five-minute bus-ride.

I'm keeping it together pretty good, and doing my best -- like you always taught me. I hope you're doing well, and hanging in there. I'm counting the days to when I get to see you and Dad again. That will be the best Christmas present ever, just to see you both. Anyway, I've got to run. I'll email you an extra long one tonight to make up for how lame and short this email is. I love you Dad!

Your son,

Aaron

Hitting the send button, Aaron closed the lid to his lap top and then headed for the shower, muttering under his breath, "Aaron, you're a loser."

"Wow," Jake said, running his right hand through his hair, which was mussed and sweaty, with stray wisps of it clinging to the side of his face. "That was awesome, big-time awesome."

"Yeah?" Aaron said, smiling, as he rolled naked next to Jake, his head on the pillow beside him, nearly nose-to-nose. "You think?"

"Yeah," Jake said, his head sliding forward on the pillow toward Aaron, kissing him softly on the mouth. The kiss was patient, not pressing. He hoped Aaron's lip would part on their, welcoming his tongue to taste the inside of Aaron's mouth. He hear Aaron giggle and he opened his eyes.

"What?"

"I just thought of something funny," Aaron said. "Frottage."

"What's that?"

"It's what we just did?" Aaron said. "Not fromage."

"That's cheese."

"Yeah-frottage is rubbing," Aaron said. "But it rhymes with fromage, which was what I was laughing about. I don't know what made me think of it."

"Maybe this," Jake said, kissing Aaron again, his tongue once more tracing the crease where Aaron's lips met, the smooth wetness there. But Aaron's lips did not open; he neither resisted the kiss, nor seemed to him much a part of it. Aaron let the kiss happen to him, just as he had let Jake undress him, letting their play this time progress further. He knew somehow that, even though his own eyes were closed, Aaron's eyes had remained open during the kiss.

"Are you okay," James asked when the kiss was done.

"I'm fine," Aaron said. "That was fun, messing around. I've never done that with a guy before."

"Research for your part, I guess?"

"A little late for that," Aaron said, smiling again, unable not to. "But you know I like you, you know that, don't you Jake?"

"Sure I do," Jake said, kissing Aaron again. "I just didn't want to think that I was just an experiment."

"I'm not using you, if that's what you mean."

"No-I didn't think so."

"Good," Aaron said, pulling Jake on top of him, looking him in the eye as he spoke. "Because I really am attracted to you."

"Well me and little Jake are sure as hell attracted to you, as you can see."

"I was noticing that," Aaron laughed.

"Maybe little Jake and not-so-little Aaron can become best friends," Jake said, whispering in Aaron's ear. "You know, play-dates together, and stuff like that."

"That could probably be arranged," Aaron said, a shudder running through him from what Jake was doing to his ears.

"Hey - those are kind of sensitive."

"I can see that," Jake said, looking at Aaron again. "You're just an all-around sensitive guy."

"I probably wouldn't go that far," Aaron said. "But I'll take that as a compliment anyway, so thank you."

"You're welcome," Jake said, kissing Aaron, more passionately this time, feeling Aaron's penis harden and lengthen as he rubbed against it, still sticky-slick with sweat and semen, the odor of both strong in the room.

"You up for round two," Jake whispered, back at Aaron's ear again, with another lick, and then another kiss. "It feels like it."

"Man, you don't give a body rest, do you?"

"What - with Aaron Bass naked and in my bed, I don't think so."

"Let's just lay here like this for a while longer," Aaron said, leaning forward and kissing Jake, his eyes wide, and serious. "I like this for now, okay?"

"That's fine," Jake said, nestling his head next Aaron as he felt his arms encircle him. "This is nice actually."

"So you really thought I was okay," Aaron said, his nose buried in Jake's hair, inhaling, his mouth finding Jake's ear, his turn to create a shudder. "In how I made you feel?"

"You made me feel fantastic," Jake said, turning his head to kiss Aaron, looking at him, smiling. "And there's lots more ways for you to make me feel that way, you'll see. But we'll go slow, as slow as you want, when you want. I won't rush you."

"You make it really easy to like you," Aaron said, kissing Jake, his lips straying apart this time, but only a little. "You know that?"

"I try," Jake said, mumbling the words into Aaron's mouth, each one slipped in, pushed by his tongue, which followed, finding Aaron's tongue, and tasting it. "I really do, mmmm...."

Aaron felt himself relaxing again, a sigh soft-slipping from his mouth, followed by a quick-exhaled puff of air. He thought of smoke-signals, then clouds. Jake was upon him, he felt the pressure of his weight on his chest, pressing down, pressing the air from his lungs. He rolled Jake over and was now on top of him, their kiss not breaking. He knew he wanted to do it, to see how it would feel.

"Do you want me?" Aaron whispered, opening his eyes, finding Jake's eyes open already, open and looking at him, full of expectation, like he had known what Aaron was about to say, what Aaron wanted. "Because I will, if you want me...to fuck you, if you want me to."

"Yes please," Jake whispered. "I do."

[to be continued]