Jc and the Actor

JC and the Actor, Chapter 38, Copyright 2004 ----------

The following story is entirely a work of fiction. It is not meant to imply anything about the sexuality or the personal lives of the members of NSYNC, or any other celebrities mentioned. If you are underage, or if it is illegal to read sexually explicit gay material where you live, don't read this.

Sooooooo sorry for the long delay, but hear it is, Chapter 38, complete and unabridged. This is actually the longest chapter, to date, so hopefully that will make up a bit for the story's absence over the past couple of months. It hardly seems possible that over a year has gone by since this story began. Thanks to everyone for sticking around 'til the end. Please continue to send your comments to mzbryan2003@yahoo.com. Two more chapters to follow!

Chapter 38

"The film really turned out to be great, Nate," Bobby said. "I'm glad you are having so much success." I still couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.

"Thank you," I said, not having anything else to say beyond that.

"Oh, you must have worked on 'The Edge' with Nate," Edward said, starting to piece things together. I wondered how much he was going to remember.

"Yeah," Bobby said, turning back to Edward. "Feels like it was a long time ago though." He turned back to face me. "I've grown up a lot since then." It felt like it was my turn to say something, though my mind was temporarily devoid of thoughts.

"Your hair is longer," I offered, immediately wondering why I had said something so stupid.

"Um, yeah," he laughed awkwardly, running his hand through his choppy blond locks. Someone called for Bobby, and he jumped up, maybe eager to leave. I couldn't tell. "Hey," he said to Edward. "Want to meet Jude Law?"

"Wow," Edward said, suddenly enthusiastic. I cast a suspicious look at him, wondering when he had decided to get into a good mood, and when he had decided to care about celebrities. "You don't think he would mind?"

"No, he's great," Bobby said. "Come on."

"Uh, Edward, we have to be getting back to town. I have a rehearsal this afternoon." I half-turned to walk away, assuming Edward would say good-bye and follow behind. To my continued surprise, he just stood there, looking back and forth between Bobby and me.

"Hey," Bobby began, "most of us here are staying in London. Edward can catch a ride back with one of us if he wants. That way he could spend the day seeing how a movie is made"

"That would be great," Edward said, turning to me with a hopeful gaze. I briefly wondered if I had taken the wrong brother from New Hampshire. This kid was confusing the hell out of me.

"Um, yeah, I guess that would be fine," I found myself saying, realizing that I was more interested in leaving then engaging in any further conversation. I watched the two young men walk towards the trailers in the distance. At quick glance one might assume they were brothers, same height, same build, same coloring.

I was driven back to London, my head spinning. In reality, not much had happened. I had simply run into someone I used to know. It was bound to happen. It shouldn't really matter. It certainly wasn't as if any old feeling had come back to me. If anything, seeing Bobby just made me remember how much I had hurt JC, making me hate myself a little.

I wanted to be upset with Edward for some reason, but again, I really had no reason to be. People in grief frequently found more comfort in strangers. And Edward and Bobby were similar in age. Going to an art school, I assumed that Edward must have had a lot of gay friends, but I couldn't recall him ever mentioning one of them. I told myself just to forget about it and focus on my play. I pulled out my script, flipping it open to the first page. Why, I have no idea. I had memorized the entire play years ago in college.

Rehearsal went off without a hitch. I genuinely liked the people I was working with, and they seemed to feel the same way about me. I had worried that they might be a little resentful of my celebrity, or that they might think that I was a New York theater snob, but I was happy to see that none of that seemed to be the case. It was early evening when I returned back to the townhouse. I had momentarily forgotten about seeing Bobby, and was really looking forward to seeing JC. I took that to be a sure sign of being in love. Sitting in a famous London theater, practicing the role of a lifetime, and hoping it would end soon so I could run home to see my favorite pop star.

Hearing no response when I called out his name from the foyer, I hurried up the stairs, hoping that JC wasn't on the third floor again. "Josh," I said softly, knocking on the bedroom door and opening it at the same time.

"Oh, shit," JC yelped, quickly turning away from me.

"Sorry, sorry," I found myself saying, stepping back out of the room and closing the door faster than I knew I could. I was totally confused as to what I was supposed to be doing. What was the proper etiquette for accidentally surprising your boyfriend while he was masturbating?

I walked down the hall, to the balcony overlooking the foyer down below. I grasped the railing and started to chuckle. It was half out of embarrassment; half out of thinking about how mortified JC must be at the moment. I heard the bedroom door open and could feel pure humiliation shuffling toward me, even without turning around. I bit my bottom lip hard, telling myself that I had to handle this tactfully and maturely. I turned around to see JC standing with his back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his cheeks red.

"Please don't say anything," he said, looking down at the floor.

"Ok," I said, not really sure what I would say anyway. I decided to walk over to him, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you're home," I said, heading back to the bedroom to shower and change.

Minutes later, I was staring into the mirror, running my fingers through my wet hair, convinced that it felt thinner even though everyone said that it wasn't. There was a small knock on the door, followed by JC's meek request to enter.

"Sure," I said, and he stepped inside, the fog from the shower quickly dissipating into the bedroom. "What's up?" I asked him, turning around, leaning back against the counter, a towel wrapped around my waist.

"I, um, I don't want you to think that I do that often."

"Josh, it's none of my business."

"It is," he said. "I don't want you to think that you don't satisfy me or something."

"Honestly, the thought didn't cross my mind."

"It was just that, well, I don't really even know. I was just wandering around the house and suddenly, uh..."

"Something came up?" I said, a slightly mischievous smile spreading across my face.

"Yeah," he laughed. "And you weren't here and I just thought that no real harm would come of it."

"Well, I'm here now," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't exactly finish," JC said quietly, pushing his lips together and looking up at me from his turned down face. ----------

JC rolled off of me, panting beside me, his fingertips lightly moving up and down his chest. "Oh man," he sighed, his other hand moving across his face. "God, I needed that."

"You've been saying that a lot lately." I said, slowing my own breath, turning my head to look at him.

"It's this house," he said, facing me as well. "Can't you feel it?"

"Honestly?" I asked. He nodded. "Uh, no, I don't feel anything different here."

"You must just not be in touch with the spiritual world," he said, looking back up at the ceiling before closing his eyes.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Obviously," he answered. "I've been walking around this place with a hard-on for weeks."

"And you think that's because of the ghosts," I said in total disbelief.

"I just wonder who used to live here," he said. "Must have been someone with a lot of passion." JC seemed to be happy thinking about horny spirits lingering around, so I didn't want to rain on his parade too much. I was more of the opinion that he was just going through a horny period himself, but hell, over the past year I had learned that I was wrong about a lot of things.

The chimes from downstairs began to ring, signaling that it was nine in the evening. Edward still wasn't home. "Edward didn't come back this afternoon, did he?" I asked JC.

"No, I haven't seen him," JC said. "Wait. Where is he?"

"Um," I said, scratching my head. "You probably aren't going to believe this, but he's with Bobby."

"What?" JC said, turning on his side, propping his head up with his elbow. "Bobby, as in..."

"Yeah," I said flatly. "Turns out he is working on the set I went to visit my friend Tim at."

"So, you talked to him," JC said, looking away from me. I reached out and slid my hand up his smooth, well-defined arm.

"Josh, please don't get upset. There was nothing I could do. I literally just said 'hi' and then tried to leave. The problem is that Edward suddenly got the great idea to spend the day with him."

"Why?" JC said, knitting his eyebrows together. "Didn't he know who he was?"

"I guess not," I said. "Josh, I'm so sorry to even be bringing him up."

"It's ok," JC said. "I know you didn't plan it. And besides, Edward could use a friend out here his own age."

"That wouldn't bother you?" I asked. "If Bobby was around."

"Of course it would," he said, rolling onto his back again. "I'm just trying to think of Edward.

"I don't deserve you," I said, smiling, though I knew he wasn't looking at me.

"Probably not," JC said. "But I love you just the same."

JC fell asleep around midnight, finally exhausted after another round of lovemaking. I, on the other hand, was wide-awake, wondering where the hell Edward was. It was nearly one in the morning when I heard the front door opening, and I exited the bedroom, making my way downstairs. I ran into Edward on the staircase. He seemed drunk. Drunk but happy. "Where have you been?" I asked, obstructing him from going further up the stairs. "I was really getting worried."

"I was at Gay," he laughed, mostly to himself. "That's actually the name of the club. Gay." He laughed again.

"You were there with Bobby?"

"Yeah, it was so much fun. He was so much fun." Edward was beaming through his drunkenness.

"Edward, I don't know if Bobby said anything to you, but I think you should know that he's the reason JC and I broke up last winter."

"Oh, I knew that," Edward said, waving his hand. "I remember him from your apartment. Even then I wondered who that cute guy was."

"Well, if you know, then you obviously also know that you can't see him again."

"What are you talking about?" Edward said as though he couldn't possibly understand where I was coming from. "We're going to meet tomorrow night in town." He scratched his head. "I wonder if I should go shopping," he said to himself. I was about to start a protest when I realized that it was pretty pointless to lecture someone who was intoxicated.

"We'll talk tomorrow," I said. "Get some rest." I went back up the stairs, Edward following close behind. I watched him pad his way down the hall to his room. He couldn't walk in a straight line, but at least he didn't seem completely miserable.

The next morning I awoke to find myself alone in bed. I pulled back the sheets, hopped off the bed and gave my body a long stretch. I pulled on a white tank-top and made my way downstairs. JC was sitting at the kitchen table, spooning cereal into his mouth with one hand, flipping through my script with the other. "Mornin'," I said, taking a bowl from the cabinet.

"This guy is so gay," JC said, turning the page, referencing the character I was playing.

"It's not explicit," I said, sitting down.

"And what's with his constant going to the movies?"

"He does go to the movies," I said, smiling a little, listening to JC's interpretation of 'The Glass Menagerie.'

"Yeah, well, he's going somewhere else afterward," he laughed. He closed the script and looked up at me. "How do you do this?" he asked, suddenly very serious.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Act?"

"How do you create a character? How do you take these lines and turn them into a living, breathing person? A person with a past and with hopes and dreams?"

"Well," I began, "there are a lot of different styles of acting. Personally, I try to approach my roles more intellectually rather than instinctively. I try to figure out what makes this person the way he is and then I start to put the pieces together, like a puzzle."

"You must be really smart," he said, still with a serious tone. I found myself blushing and had to look away. JC was able to deliver a compliment without any sense of jealousy. "When NSYNC took its first break, I thought about becoming an actor." He shook his head. "I'm glad I didn't."

"Why do you say that?" I asked him. "I think you would be a good actor."

"Nah," he said, pushing his bowl away from him. "I would have just been saying lines. You obviously put a lot more thought into it."

"Josh, if you're ever interested in doing it, I could help you. I could teach you." The idea was intriguing to me. I had never worked as an acting coach, but I new that I would love my student.

"Maybe someday," he said. "Did Edward come back last night."

"Drunk off his ass," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm really starting to think we are in over our heads here. I don't know what to do with a drunken teenager."

"He's under a lot of stress," JC reasoned. Apparently Edward's occasional drunken escapades weren't that impressive to him.

"Are you planning on being the 'good cop' the whole time he is here?" I said with a laugh. We both heard footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly scrambled to start talking about something else.

"Isn't that something?" JC laughed as Edward entered the kitchen. "I totally didn't realize there was a dishwasher in here." Edward raised one of his eyebrows at JC, and slumped into a chair.

"Hangover?" I asked, handing him a cereal bowl.

"Just tired," he said. "Is there a plumber or somebody on the third floor?"

"No, but there is a..."

"It's just old pipes," I said, interrupting JC. I didn't want to fill Edward's head with thoughts of ghosts clamoring around the house. "Edward, we have to talk about you and Bobby."

"Isn't it a little early for that?" he said, pouring cereal into his bowl, seemingly deciding against it, and pushing it away from him. "I just met him yesterday."

"Edward, you're not paying attention to the back-story here, and I just don't want you to get hurt."

"How would I get hurt?" he asked, looking up at me.

"I don't want you being used to get some sort of revenge on me."

"Jeez," he said. "Conceited much?"

"Edward," JC interjected. "Nate is just trying to explain..."

"God," Edward interrupted. "I can't believe that you are making this about you." He was getting noticeably angry with me and I wasn't prepared for it. "Did it ever occur to you that Bobby might just like me? And that I might like him? You act like Bobby is just going to live out the rest of his life dreaming about the one time he got to blow you."

"Edward," I yelled, looking at JC. His eyes were cast toward the table. "I know you're trying to upset me here for some reason, but who do you think you are hurting, talking like that?"

"I'm sorry," Edward said to JC, pushing himself away from the table and standing up. He turned back to me. "You're not my father, and you've only decided to be my brother, what, like a few months ago? Don't fucking tell me what I can and can't do." He stormed out of the kitchen, the sounds of his steps only being silenced by the slamming of the front door.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked. JC looked as dumbfounded as I did. "I'm making millions of dollars, am internationally famous, and for what? To listen to shit like that?" I threw up my hands and moved to leave the kitchen, but realized I really had no place to go.

"It's ok," JC said.

"No, it's really not." I was yelling, but not at JC. "Josh, maybe it's all true. By nature I am selfish. I do put myself first and maybe this new persona I've adopted of trying to become 'man of the year' just isn't going to work."

"I don't think I'm following you," he said. It surprised me that all this time JC was sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Usually I was able to get him as excited as I was.

"I'm saying I'm getting so sick of just one problem after another. When you take a look at my life, everything is perfect and yet here I am, still having to put up with bullshit."

"The bullshit doesn't go away just because we become rich and famous," JC said. "I should tell you about a cousin of mine."

"Josh, I just don't want drama in my life anymore. I just want to act, be with you, and travel. That's the life I've worked for. Christ, it's the life I had even before I was famous. I don't want to be some fucked up kid's father anymore."

"Ok," JC said, his eyes looking a bit alarmed. "Why don't you just try to calm down?" He stood up and walked toward me. In the time it took him to reach me I realized that I was in the middle of having a small breakdown. It had happened before. Artists were prone to them. As JC put his arms around me I realized that I probably wasn't making much sense, and that I was yelling about things I didn't really intend to.

"I'm sorry," I said, grasping him tightly around me. "I don't know what's happening. I just feel very overwhelmed all of the sudden."

"It's ok," JC said quietly, his hand reaching up and touching the back of my head. "You just be the little drama queen you need to be."

"Thanks," I laughed, feeling moisture moving down my cheeks. I was crying. In the past few months I really thought I had changed. I was happy with the brother I had been to Edward, and really thought I was making up for the time we lost. I felt his loss and truthfully wanted to help him. His coldness had left me feeling totally empty.

"Maybe you want to skip rehearsals today," JC said.

"No," I said, wiping my face. "I have to get back to doing what it is I do. I have to be able to give this my all. This play has to become my life. I have to approach it the way I used to approach my work."

"Used to?" JC said. "I wasn't aware that you had been slacking off."

"Please," I started. "When I think of that last film I did I cringe. I was totally off my game."

"I doubt anyone will notice that," he said.

"Probably not," I said. "It's so easy to fake it in a movie. But I know and it makes me sick." I had to stop this ranting, but I also felt that I had to make some point out of it. I didn't want JC to just think I was nuts.

"I think this thing with Edward and Bobby is just stirring up a whole lot of emotions in you," JC said.

"I'm not interested in Bobby," I said. "You do know that, right?" JC nodded. "I really just think that Edward is going to get hurt. I just don't believe that Bobby's intentions are legitimate."

"Come on, Nate," JC shrugged. "You really think the guy is so hung up on you that now he's planning on using your brother just to get closer to you, or to get back at you." I had to admit it sounded a bit narcissistic, but it is what I thought.

"I guess not," I lied.

"When you think about it, what's the worst that could rally happen? So Edward screws around with Bobby for a while. It's bound to happen sooner or later and then he'll move on to someone else."

"You make it sound so easy," I said, squinting my eyes at him and smirking a bit. "You used to be quite a little whore, weren't you?"

"That's a tale for another day," JC said, smiling shyly and walking back to the table. He took his bowl and placed it into the sink. I had to start getting ready for today's rehearsals, so I decided to table the discussion for now, and hurry back upstairs to get ready. Maybe I could just relax and see how everything played out. Maybe I was overreacting. Then again, maybe I wasn't.

Another month and my relationship with Edward had pretty much stayed the same. I came and went. He came and went. Not being his father, I decided to stop trying to act like one, and so I through myself into my work, living and breathing character. I had started losing weight to accentuate the characters meekness and my hair was now cut in a more traditional, 1940s style. As promised, I went to Miami with JC to celebrate his 29th birthday with his friends and family. I didn't as of yet have the funds to buy him a Miami condominium as he had done for me, but I did come up with a custom made watch for him that cost more than average three-bedroom home.

Back in London, I stood inside our bedroom closet. "I never thought I would be able to borrow your clothes," I laughed, looking through his clothes.

"Be honest," JC laughed. "That's really the reason you are doing all of this, right? I've seen the way you look at my D&G jeans."

"When are we supposed to be there?" I asked, opting for my own clothes.

"Beats me, I'm just the boy-bitch that follows you around to these things."

"Josh," I laughed. "You don't follow, you accompany."

"Gee, thanks," he smirked.

"Anyway, I think I said we would stop by around eight, so I guess that gives us until nine."

"You know," JC began. "I may even enjoy this party. I mean, Gwyneth is married to a rock star."

"Maybe you and the Coldplay guy can do a collaboration or something."

"I highly doubt that," JC said, rolling his eyes. "Remember, I'm the guy who writes songs about women pretending to be lesbians."

"Yeah," I laughed. "What was that all about?" I left the bedroom and walked over to Edward's room, tapping on the door quietly.

"Enter," Edward said. I opened the door to find him hurriedly walking around his room, buttoning his jeans and fastening his wristwatch. It was the one I had given him.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I asked. "Gwyneth said she would love to meet you. Even her husband sounded intrigued when he heard you were going to Julliard."

"Used to go," Edward said under his breath.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging me off. "I can't go tonight. I'm going to some play with Bobby."

"Oh," I said, trying to pretend that I didn't find this situation totally absurd. "Ok then, well, have fun." I turned to walk out, then had another thought and turned back. "Edward, you don't think I am mad at you for anything, do you?"

"No," he said.

"I mean, you can at least slightly understand that this whole situation makes me a bit uncomfortable."

"I can," he said. "But this is my life. I can't not like someone just because you used to know them."

"I agree," I said. "Just look out for yourself. Don't forget that this is all still new to you."

"I won't," he said, tilting his head toward me. Was that a smile? I think it was. I turned away and headed back to my bedroom.

"We're not dull and boring," JC was saying into his cell phone. "We do a lot of exciting things. Tonight? Well, tonight we're going to a dinner party at Gwyneth Paltrow's. I know. Justin would shit himself if he knew I was hanging out with Coldplay." JC looked at me and mouthed that it was Lance on the other line. "No," he answered Lance. "I don't think the party has a chance of turning into an orgy." He rolled his eyes at me. "Ok, got to go. Yes. Yes, I'll call you when I decide to stop acting like a tired old housewife." He snapped his phone closed with a laugh. "You don't think we've become boring, do you?" JC asked me.

"Of course not," I said. "What? Just because we enjoy quiet evenings at home and intimate dinner parties - that makes us boring?"

"I don't think so either," JC said confidently. He sat down on the bed. "I mean, it's not like we haven't done all of that wild stuff."

"Exactly," I said.

"We've been pretty wild in our day," he said, sounding a bit like he was trying to convince himself.

"Absolutely," I chirped. He sat quietly for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. "Nate, when was the last time we had sex somewhere other than this bed?" I thought back to our time on the stairs when I first arrived in London.

"I guess, like, two months ago," I said.

"What do you think that is in gay years?" he smiled. I laughed too. "We have to be careful, Nate," he said, standing up and stretching his long arms over his head. "First it's only on the bed, then it's only weekends and before you know it, we don't touch each other at all anymore."

I laughed again, though this time it was because I was a bit uncomfortable. "I think we're still a little bit away from that day." We were still making love almost daily, because of the ghosts JC would probably say.

"I don't know," he said sarcastically with a wink before exiting the bedroom. He left and I stood there wondering if our relationship was already in need of spicing up. I knew he was just kidding around, and I knew that Lance was probably the last person on Earth you should take advice from. Still, the idea had been planted, and in my mind the idea was quickly becoming a challenge. I grabbed a few things, switched off the light to the bedroom and hurried down the stairs. I had come to a decision. There was really no other solution. I was going to fuck JC at Gwyneth Paltrow's party.

We sat in the back of the car, being driven to Gwyneth Paltrow's house just outside of London. Gwyneth and I had met a few weeks ago for lunch when she indicated to me through my agent that she wanted me to play opposite her in the film that was to be her "comeback" since having her daughter a couple of years ago. I took an instant liking to her, and for lack of anything better to do, agreed to make the film. Production would probably begin in London in the early spring, and I was assured that filming would not conflict with my nightly theater performances.

"I think I figured something out about Edward," I said as the car hummed along.

"And what is that?" JC asked, feigning interest. He always seemed a bit on edge when we hung out with so called "artists."

"I mean, naturally I know he is upset about his grandmother and all that, but I think he's largely just going through some growing pains. You know, this thing with Bobby is really his first gay experience, so he's probably banking a lot more on it than a reasonable person would."

"Us boys do go crazy over each other, don't we?" JC smiled.

"I guess I just have to resign myself that this is all going to happen. I know Edward will get his heart-broken, but I guess he needs to go through that."

"Why are you so sure he will have his heart broken?" JC asked, shifting in his seat.

"I just am," I said, looking out the window. It was just a feeling I had, and I didn't really know what to do with it. I tried to think back. Were my hunches ever correct? I knew that I was wrong about a lot of things, but I had always felt that I was a good judge of character. Of course I also knew that I used to think about Bobby differently than I did now.

The car approached the large mansion and judging by the many cars surrounding it, I realized that this wasn't going to be the intimate dinner party I thought it was. Our driver opened the door and we stepped out. I could hear JC draw his breath a bit tightly and I asked him if he was ok.

"I always feel really stupid around these people," he said, his honesty shocking me a bit. "Suddenly it's like I'm some musician with a high school diploma."

"Josh," I began. "First of all, isn't Gwyneth's husband a musician with a high school diploma?" He nodded. "I mean come on, half of the people in there barely made it through high school. Don't be fooled by all of this, just because now they all talk with psuedo-English accents and talk about 'brilliant' directors and the end of civilization." I placed my hand on his shoulder. Part of me understood that he was used to hanging around the Paris Hiltons and Tara Reids of the world, but another part of me wanted him to know that he could hold his own with anyone. "Trust me, I would guess that most of them hadn't seen a table setting with more than one fork before the age of twenty-one."

"Ok," he laughed. "I get it, I'm just as good as them." His grin always made him look all of twelve, and once again I couldn't think of one reason why anyone wouldn't love him. We headed to the front door and rang the bell. While waiting for someone to answer the door JC leaned over and whispered into my ear, "You know, you're a bit of a snob."

"It's not my fault that I had a privileged upbringing," I smiled, meaning for it to be a joke, but knowing it sounded a bit bitchy. "Of course," I continued, recovering, "One might say that my father's committing of adultery and keeping it a secret until the mother of his bastard child died wasn't the classiest of things to do." JC chuckled a bit and pulled me briefly toward him.

"The world is such a mess," he said, lightly kissing my cheek before the door opened and Gwyneth's face appeared in the doorway.

"He's adorable," Gwyneth said. "Very quiet." We were standing in the kitchen where I was helping her place vegetables on a platter. It was kind of funny that she did all of her own cooking, but being a cooking enthusiast myself, I could quite understand. "Those eyes," she continued. "Who has eyes like that?"

"He's terrific," I agreed with a smile. She asked me why he hadn't ventured into acting, and I told her that it was something that he was thinking about.

"He doesn't mind being here in London with you while you do the play?" Gwyneth asked.

"He doesn't seem to. He has a lot of friends here and I think he'll always have a special place for this country since they like his music."

"I do too," she said, leaning a bit closer. "But don't tell Chris that." We went back out into the dining room where the second course of Gwyneth's vegetarian extravaganza was about to begin. I sat down next to JC who was doing his best to talk to some woman I could tell he less than cared for. There were a lot of people at the dinner and the table was quite large. Some of the people were famous, others famous maybe in their own minds. I learned that even more people were coming later, more of Chris' friends I was told.

A couple of hours later, JC and I were sitting on a couch, holding glasses of wine that we weren't drinking and watching the party grow more animated and louder. "You've got to be kidding me," JC groaned, signaling his distaste of people well into their thirties dancing and growing louder with alcohol. I wasn't sure when the music had started but the party was apparently now in full swing.

It was always interesting to see people's reactions upon realizing that JC and I were a couple. There were those who looked completely unimpressed, or at least gave the appearance of being unimpressed. But there were also those who couldn't conceal their surprise, with their nods of acknowledgment or raised eyebrows. People loved feeling that they were part of a well-kept secret and I had to admit that this was a good one. Yes, Hollywood's hottest young actor and NSYNC's blue-eyed hottie were gay, and very into each other.

"You guys look so bored," Gwyneth said, walking over to us. "Not having any fun?"

"Don't be silly," I said. "We're just watching the revelry."

"I'm afraid to admit that a lot of these people make a lot of noise, but remain uninteresting," She said with a sigh, looking back toward them.

"Ah, but you just admitted it," JC smiled.

"What do you know?" Gwyneth smiled, looking at me with her eyes widening. "He talks." She smiled again and walked back into the crowd, not before telling us to get up and move around.

"Sounds like a good idea," I said, standing up and looking down at JC. "Allow me to give you a tour," I said, extending my hand down to him.

"Tour?" he repeated. "You don't even know where you are."

"Unimportant," I said as he took my hand and I pulled him up to me. We quickly realized that the entire first floor of the house was jammed full of people, and almost everyone wanted to talk to us.

"Are you working on another album?"

"When is your next film coming out?"

"Didn't we meet at the Osbourne's Christmas party?"

"We should try to find a project to work on together."

My head was spinning and I had hardly drunk a thing. I thought about escaping upstairs, but realized that would be most inappropriate given that the party did not extend up there.

About a half-hour after we had left the couch, we found ourselves in a crowded hallway, talking to two costume designers who seemed to think that JC and I were going to be their new best friends. "The fabric was so light it looked like it would melt under the lights," one of them beamed. I looked past them and saw a bathroom at the other side of the room.

"I know nothing about fabric," JC said politely, hoping that would end the conversation.

"Know nothing about fabric?" the costume designer repeated. "Well let me give you a brief overview of the subject." While I admittedly was not listening, the man began what sounded like a history of the relationship between human beings and clothing.

A few minutes into the lesson I leaned over to JC and whispered, "You see that powder room over there?" I gestured with my head.

"Mmhmm," he said under his breath, trying to pretend that he was still paying attention to the costume designer.

"Meet me there in five minutes," I said.

"What?" he said, turning toward me briefly.

"It's been a pleasure," I said to the two costume designers, interrupting the one who persisted in talking. "You'll excuse me, won't you?" I smiled graciously and hurried off into the crowd. I knew that JC was probably totally confused, but I also knew that he would find a way to make an appearance five minutes from now.

There was actually a bit of a line when I first arrived but soon thereafter I was inside, wondering why I was doing this. It was true that I had this planned all along. I wanted to remind JC that things would never get boring between us. I wanted him to know that we could still be young and crazy. It was also true that I was bored out of my mind at this party, and was pretty sure that fooling around with JC would be more than an adequate remedy for such a feeling.

Five minutes later there was a light knock on the door, which wasn't exactly easy to hear with all the noise coming from outside. At first a feeling of panic overwhelmed me. What if it was some unfortunate partygoer suffering from irritable bowel syndrome and desperately needing to use the bathroom? Surely there must be others, I thought. I opened the door a crack until I could clearly see the back of JC's head, his big brown curls expertly arranged to look like he had just gotten out of bed. I opened the door a bit more, grabbed him by the back of his arm, and quickly pulled him inside, locking the door quickly afterward.

"Whoa," he laughed, as he stumbled inside. "What's this all about?" he asked.

"This," I said, pushing him back against the wall and crushing my lips against his. They were warm and full, and quickly responsive.

"Nate," he laughed through my kisses. "What are you doing? We can't fool around here." I could see in his eyes that he himself was trying to come up with a reason why we couldn't.

"Why not?" I asked, my tongue darting out and lightly licking his lips. "I'm sure the ghosts won't mind missing this show. They can watch tomorrow." I started kissing him hard again, my hands sliding up his taught sides. He was wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt that was made to look like it was inside out, and my hands quickly moved under it, feeling the hard mounds of his abdomen, the incredibly white, unblemished skin of his torso.

"Someone's gonna know we're in here," he panted, sounding like he knew he was losing the battle. "I don't want to watch you get kicked out of Gwyneth Paltrow's house."

"What's life without a little bit of risk?" I laughed. "Now take your pants off." He opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped and gave a slight shrug. He looked ready to play. His hands moved slowly toward his waist, his eyes locked on mine. He unbuckled the large belt he was wearing and slowly began unbuttoning his tight, button-fly jeans. With that accomplished he hooked his thumbs inside his boxer-briefs and began to slide them, along with his jeans, down to his ankles, his eyes never leaving mine, his lips fixed in a sly grin. I looked down as his cock make its first appearance of the night. He wasn't hard, but the long, pale shaft was already plumped and ready for action.

"I'm guessing you're a little more excited than you want to let on," I said with a grin.

"Me?" he said innocently. "Come on, Nate. This isn't exactly something we haven't done before." He gave me a little wink, and I found it hard to keep from giggling. I wanted this moment to be sexy and hot, but it was hard to act erotically with someone I knew so well.

Trying to get myself more into character, I looked down at his cock and asked him if that was for me. "Yeah," he said with such a sly look I wished I had a camera. He was better at this than I was. "Yeah, it's for you," he said.

"Well what do you want me to do with it?" I asked, as if I didn't know.

His cool blue eyes turned warm as he said, "I want you to suck it, Nate. I want you to suck my big cock." I looked up at him, shocked to see that he wasn't smiling. Ok. This was getting hot, and he was really good at it. I got down on my knees and lightly pressed my face into the crease where his pelvis met his leg. I kissed his soft skin, feeling his smooth cock against my cheek as I moved lower, my tongue reaching out to lap at his sack. The skin was shaved smooth and the balls it covered were large and hard. I moved back and forth between them, my lips and tongue causing the cock above them to rise to attention.

I began licking at the base of his cock, my tongue running up the sides before I made my way up and over it. JC gasped a bit as I took his mushroom-capped head into my mouth, my tongue running around the ridge that separated it from the shaft. His hands began to move through my hair and I found myself taking him deeper and deeper, wanting to get as much of his cock down my throat as I could. God, this guy drove me crazy. I could have had a million lovers after JC, and no one would have turned me on this much. I was positive of that.

I was moving back and forth on his cock quickly, my mind temporarily devoid of any thoughts of where I was or that maybe I shouldn't be planning on making this last all night. His short pubes tickled my nose as I deep-throated him a few times, inhaling his scent, salty, manly and clean all at once.

"Oh man," JC sighed from above. "I'm gonna bust." His warning set off a reminder in my head and I slid my mouth off of his shaft, raising myself back to a standing position.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, suddenly looking very innocent.

"No," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I want you to cum, but not 'til after I've fucked you."

"But we can't," he said, becoming a bit apprehensive again and looking toward the door. "We don't have..." His voice trailed off as I pulled a small bottle of lube out of my pocket. "You slut," he giggled after a moment. You had this planned all along?"

"I said I wasn't boring," I laughed. "I didn't say I was spontaneous." He stood there looking at the lube, his pants around his ankles, his cock standing at attention below his tight shirt. "Of course, if you don't want to," I began, not sure if he was maybe just not in the mood.

He took a few deep breaths, looking back and forth between the door and me. "Are you sure the door is locked?" he asked. I nodded. "Then fuck it," he said, the fire returning to his eyes. "I mean, fuck me."

We embraced again, our lips moving all over each other's faces, our hands traveling all over each other's bodies. I backed him up against the large, porcelain white sink, and watched his hands move behind him and grasp it tightly. The room was classically Victorian, an interesting backdrop to our perhaps more modern form of lovemaking. I undid my own pants, pushing them down toward my shoes and then rather awkwardly bent down once again, this time to push my body between JC's slim, lightly-haired legs. I began to stand up again, letting my lips pass over his balls and cock again as I made my way to a standing position and felt his jeans and shoes press against my ass. I lubed up my own, hard seven inches and slid my hands over his slim thighs, cupping his smooth ass in my hands as I rotated his hips for his hole to meet my cock. His tiny, perfect hole appeared, and ignited a familiar lust inside me as I slowly spread it open with my fingers. I moved the head of my cock up to it and pushed lightly, quickly being met by the resistance of his tight hole. JC moved his own hard cock and balls out of the way so he could watch as I pushed again, harder this time, feeling the head pop inside. He took a deep breath and was silent as I pushed my length inside him, watching the lips of his anus slowly envelop me. After a few moments he leaned his head back against the mirror above the sink, closed his eyes, and expelled a long, satisfied sigh.

I began pumping inside him, our position dictating that I give only small but quick thrusts, about half of my cock withdrawing from him each time. Before long he was an active participant once again, groaning softly, leaning forward so that we could kiss. The denim of his jeans felt rough against my ass as I felt him squeeze himself tightly against me. "Pull your shirt up," he said, wanting to see more of me as I pleasured his ass. I hiked my shirt up over my pecs which, despite my weight loss were still large enough to hold it up. He moaned again, his eyes intently watching the muscles of my chest straining against him, the thin line of dark hair trailing down my stomach and disappearing where our bodies became one. My own hands move under his shirt, pulling at the little hairs on his pecs, pinching his pink, perfectly formed nipples. "Oh yeah," he moaned, rocking his hips harder against me.

"You love being fucked, don't you?" I panted.

"I love it when you fuck me," he panted. His eyes were so intense, his body caught in one continuous motion.

"No one's ever fucked you this good, have they?" I asked, pumping inside him, at this point trying to hold back from cumming.

"Oh God, no," he moaned, his eyes closing and his head falling backward. He was grasping the sink tightly, his knuckles whitening. With one hand sliding up and down his back, I took my other hand and started fiercely stroking his cock, which was still rock hard and drooling precum down his stomach. My cock was ready to explode, and with a final thrust I started to unload inside him, my lips crushing against his, groaning into his mouth to keep the people from outside hearing. He kept rocking himself hard against me, his hole feeling a bit like a vice, milking every last drop out of me. "Oh yeah, oh yeah," he moaned as I finished my orgasm, never once taking my hand from his engorged cock.

Fully spent and fully satiated, I tightened my grip on him, determined to get him off as hard as I could. Sweat was beading up on his forehead as he continued to enjoy my cock inside of him. He had completely lost control of himself. Now it was he who had no idea where he was, no sense of space and time. He cried out, a sure sign that he was going to cum. I pulled his cock toward my chest and urged him to give it all he had. He didn't disappoint as rope after rope of white-hot cum spit out of his cock, warming my chest and traveling down toward where we were joined. Thick cords of muscle pulsed out of his neck, as he squirmed and convulsed beneath me, struggling for air, struggling to come back to reality. When he finally came back from wherever he had gone, he looked at me, fire in his eyes, and reached out to kiss me.

Slowly I pulled out of him as we set about cleaning ourselves up. "What a mess," I laughed as I practically emptied the tissue box. "We probably should get out of here as quickly as we can."

"Just a second," JC said, pulling up his pants and pulling out his cell phone. I thought it was certainly an odd time to be making a call, but hey, uh, ok. "Hey sport," he said into the phone. I knew that was something he called Lance from time to time. JC was still trying to slow his breathing. "Just thought you should know, we aren't boring." JC smiled at me and clicked the phone closed. I chuckled a bit. This was the life of the rich and famous. The things we had to do to keep ourselves entertained.

Minutes later I had slipped back into the crowd, JC remaining inside the bathroom a few minutes longer. Part of me was waiting to be greeted by applause or perhaps the police, but surprisingly, no one seemed to have any idea of what we had just done.

"Oh, there you are," Gwyneth said, hurrying over to me. "I've been looking for you."

"I've been around," I said calmly.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "You look a little flushed. Do you need to step outside?"

"No, no, I'm fine," I assured her. Just had a rather exhausting encounter," I said with a laugh.

"Honestly," Gwyneth began. "I swear to you I didn't want to invite those two costume designers. It's just that their designs are perfect for our film. But the two of them are simply dreadful and never seem to be able to stop talking."

I threw up my hands. "What are you gonna do?" I said sarcastically. JC came up behind me, giving me a little pinch in the side that made me jump a little.

"You two probably want to get out here, right?" Gwyneth said.

I started to nod my head in agreement as JC interjected, "Don't be silly, we're having a great time and the party is just getting started." I looked at him like he was insane as he stopped one of the servers and distributed flutes of champagne to Gwyneth, me and himself. "To a fabulous night," he said, raising his glass. For as much as I seemed noticeably shocked, Gwyneth seemed noticeably touched, and so we all raised our glasses, clicked them together, and drank. All in all, it was a good evening.

Enveloped in darkness, we sat in the back of car, making our way back home. "That was fun," JC said.

"It sure was," I answered. I looked at JC sitting next to me, looking out of the window. He looked peaceful and content, and it occurred to me that we really seemed to have a successful relationship. Part of me always looked at this relationship as something new. A chance meeting with a pop star. Wasn't I the star-struck one in the beginning? It was so strange how things could change. Now my name was, or would be soon, as well known as his own. Now I had people wondering what a famous, dramatic actor was doing with a guy from a boy-band. I remembered Maggie running up to me, telling me that JC Chasez was coming to see our show. Now he was Josh. He was someone I loved and slept next to. He was someone I argued with. He was someone I talked about my problems with.

We reentered the city, and for some reason my last encounter with Edward popped into my head. Something was annoying me about it, aside from usual. "Josh," I began, remembering what it was. "Edward said something strange earlier."

"Strange?" JC repeated. "You think that's unusual?"

"When I mentioned that he went to Julliard, he said, 'used to go.' He couldn't have been serious, right?" JC's eyes widened a little and he looked away, revealing that he knew something. I folded one of my legs under the other one and glared at him. "Josh, what aren't you telling me?"

"He told me not to say anything. He said he would tell you when he wanted to." I was shocked, but didn't say anything. I just kept staring at him, indicating that he should continue. "Ok," JC began. "But don't flip out. Edward said that he was going to take a leave of absence from school."

"What?" I yelled. "Is he fucking nuts?"

"You said you wouldn't flip out," JC said, raising his hand for me to quiet down.

"No I didn't," I said.

"Oh, that's right, I guess I was just hoping you wouldn't," he smiled. I was still staring at him and he continued. "Apparently after this Jude Law film is over, Bobby is going to start working on some film in Italy. He asked Edward to come with him, some bullshit about it being a better education that college, and Edward seems to agree."

"Do you know what I had to go through to get Edward to even go to Julliard?" I said. "Don't you remember that whole ordeal with my father?"

"Yes," JC said. "But what are you going to do? The kid has a crush."

"This is fucking ridiculous!" I yelled, facing forward again. "No," I said to myself. "This is not going to happen."

"Gee, you sounded just like your father when you said that," JC said matter of factly.

"Josh," I yelled.

"Nate, you have to stop wanting to grandstand. What are you going to do? Order Edward back to New York? He'll tell you to fuck off again."

"What am I supposed to do?" I retorted. "Just sit back and watch him piss his future away?" I realized I was still shouting and tried to lower my voice. "Josh, what would you do?"

"Really?" he asked. He looked excited by the idea of giving me advice. If I was a reasonable person, I would probably listen to him. Everything he had said up to this point had been calm, clear and correct. Still, I wasn't known for being reasonable.

"I would just talk to him calmly," JC said. "I mean, just ask him why he thinks this is a good idea, explain why you think it isn't, and then let him make the final decision."

"Then maybe we can change our last name to Walton," I suggested sarcastically.

"I don't get it," JC said.

"Forget it," I said, looking out the window. I was starting to steam. Sure I had been Edward's age once. Sure I had made my share of impulsive decisions. But throughout my life, I always had a direction. When I left home for college, I knew what it was I wanted to do, and I made sure I did everything I had to in order to do it. The hottest guys on campus could not derail me. I wouldn't even skip an acting class.

We got home and made our way inside. JC headed into the kitchen in order to get some of what he called, "real food." I should have been exhausted considering the activities of the evening, but was still wide-awake. When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that the light was still on in Edward's room. I felt myself resisting the urge to barge into his room and tell him what an ass he was making of himself. That Bobby would grow bored with him in a month and that he will have nothing to show for it but a broken heart and a two semesters of college. Instead, I slowly walked toward his door, stopping outside of it, telling myself to think about what I should say before I said it.

Edward's laughter filtered through the door and I thought for a moment that he was watching television until I remembered that there was no TV in his room. I raised my hand to knock when I heard another round of laughter, though it was distinctly different from Edward's. Oh my God, I thought to myself. He's in there with somebody. He's in there with Bobby. I leaned my head closer to the door, straining to hear what was going on. What the hell was I doing? Was it any of my business? It didn't sound like they were saying anything, which only worried me more. I stepped a bit to my left, stepping onto something which wasn't as nearly as startling as realizing that it was JC's foot and that he was standing right next to me, sandwich in hand, giving me a very disappointed expression.

"Christ, Josh, you scared the hell out of me," I yelled in a whisper.

"Has it come to this?" he said. He didn't look actually mad. His expression looked more like he had just realized that I was certifiably insane. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shhh," I whispered. "He'll hear you." JC took a bite of his sandwich, his frown turning into a little smirk. He lifted his shoulders, took another bite, and pressed his ear to the door. We both stood there, face to face, the only movement being JC's jaw and the occasional rolling of his eyes. We could hear a lot of movement, but neither of them were saying anything.

"Come on," we eventually heard Edward say.

"Would you just let me try," the other voice said. It was definitely Bobby.

"I'm telling you it's not going to fit," Edward said. He sounded a bit exasperated.

"Just relax, I'm going to do it very slowly." JC stopped chewing and we both pulled our heads away from the door.

"Oh my God," he said quietly, his mouth full, his eyes wide.

"You think they are..." I said, not even being able to find the words to go on. I didn't think Edward would go this far this quickly, but I also didn't really know if there was anything I could do about it. While contemplating my predicament, we pressed our ears back to the door.

"Would you just relax," Bobby pleaded. "It's not going to make it any easier if you keep complaining."

"Ok, but be careful," Edward said.

"This is crazy," I whispered.

"I know," JC said. "I don't know whether I should stop listening or start jerking off." JC must have suddenly remembered the characters in our audio porno, because his funny little expression turned a bit more serious.

"Jesus, there's just no way," Edward yelled. "It's just too small."

"Stop screaming like a women," Bobby said in response, sounding irritated. "I know I can get it in if you would just stay calm and let me take my time."

"He's pressuring him too much," I whispered.

"Yeah, Edward should just tell him he's not a bottom," JC replied. Before I had the chance to give JC a disparaging look, there was a loud sound of some kind followed by Edward's pleas for Bobby to stop. I became alarmed and saw that JC was as well.

"Should we do something?" I asked, this time really wanting his advice.

"Um, not sure," he said. He must have finished his sandwich.

"Stop! Just stop it now, it's breaking," Edward pleaded. A wave of resignation washed over JC and I. He nodded as my hand reached for the door. Someone had to put Bobby in his place.

"What the hell is going on in here?" I yelled, ready to throw Bobby out the second floor window, pushing the door open and stepping inside with JC right next to me.

"Oh, hey Nate," Edward said. He was standing, watching Bobby jump up and down on a suitcase on his bed. "Would you mind telling this idiot that suitcases have a limit to what they can hold?" he asked with a laugh, pointing toward his suitcase. I could see that it was significantly over-packed. "Damn it," he said looking at it more closely than glaring at Bobby. "See? You tore part of the zipper off."

"Sorry," Bobby said. He had stopped jumping and pulling on the suitcase and was sitting quietly on top of it. I didn't know what to say. I could feel my face turning a bit red, but at the moment there were so many reasons why that could be happening that I just didn't know what to do with myself.

"Did you need something?" Edward asked, turning back to face me. I guess he was remembering that I had just barged into his room, looking like I might kill someone. "Were we making too much noise?"

"No, no," I immediately responded, giving up an actually good reason for barging in. "It, uh, wasn't important. We were just uh, um..." I looked at JC, hoping that he would step in and say something, but he wasn't paying any attention to either of us. His eyes were fixed somewhere else. He was staring at Bobby, who was nervously looking back and forth between him and the floor.

"Oh," Edward started, his smile fading, realizing that the four people in the room were connected in more ways than the obvious. "This is a bit awkward, I realize," he said, looking at JC. "I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't do anything wrong," JC interrupted, looking at Edward and then back at Bobby. "I don't think we were ever formally introduced," he said. JC looked intense. His speech was slow and methodical. It was him at his most mannish.

"I'm Robert," Bobby said cautiously. I guess he was trying not to seem like a kid.

"I know," JC said. "I'm JC." Only close friends could call him Josh. I could tell that Bobby was afraid to look away from him. Afraid to look at me. I, on the other hand, had momentarily traveled to another dimension. One where there was no Bobby or Edward or even JC for that matter. One where it was just me, sitting on a big, white cloud, sipping a margarita and listening to Otis Redding.

"We're sorry to have barged in on you," JC said after a moment. He turned to Edward and smiled. "You boys have a good night." He turned around and headed out of the room. I was still standing there, perhaps waiting for someone to carry me out. "Uh, Nate?" JC called after me.

"Yeah, sorry, coming," I said, coming back to reality. I smiled politely if antiseptically at Edward and Bobby and backed out of the room, closing the door behind me.

"That was a thousand dollar suitcase you just broke," I heard Edward say.

"I'll pay for it," Bobby said in response. "I promise."

JC and I stood in the hall momentarily before proceeding to our bedroom. The silence was palpable. I didn't know what to say, but I knew I had to say something. "Josh," I began.

"Don't say anything," JC said, spinning around and raising his finger. He looked completely serious. "Just for a minute, don't say anything."

"Ok," I said, wondering if in doing so I had already disobeyed a direct order. JC pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and took off his jeans. Standing in his black boxer-briefs with just his little 'Leo' necklace around his neck, he walked into the bathroom closing the door behind him. I sat down on the bed, feeling like this was going to be a giant setback. Maybe seeing Bobby was going to bring up too many bad feelings in JC's heart. Maybe he really couldn't forgive me. Seeing the actual person I had cheated with. Knowing that he wasn't just a name but a living, breathing person with hair, eyes, a nose and a mouth. The thought was even making me sick, so I could only imagine what JC could be feeling.

I waited a few minutes, then walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Josh," I called softly, hoping I was allowed to talk again. I opened up the door to see the back of him standing at the sink, his white skin tightly hanging on his slim frame. He was resting his hands on the sink and I could see that his head was hanging down. "Josh," I called again. There was a shake in his broad shoulders and a sound escaped his lips. I hurried over to him, positive that he was crying. "Josh, please talk to me," I said, placing my hand over his and moving him to face me. I noticed tears coming down his face, but quickly realized he wasn't crying. He was trying to stifle a laughing fit.

"I guess we were mistaken about what was being packed in there," I said, smiling, eliciting a loud rush of laughter. He rested his head on my shoulder and began to laugh uncontrollably. Given the highly contagious nature of laughter, I too had started to laugh my ass off, both of us eventually falling onto the ground, clutching our stomachs.

Minutes later, chuckles still escaping from us every few seconds, we climbed into bed, thoroughly exhausted. JC nuzzled up to me, his face pressed into my chest, his arm around my waist. "I just love you," he said, quite to my surprise.

"Your not mad?" I asked, wanting to know if there was still stuff between us that needed resolving.

"I'm not saying it didn't kill me to see him standing here, in my house no less. It's just that even when I try to get mad, all I can think about is how much I love being with you. How much I was still looking forward to going to bed with you tonight." His hand was traveling up and down my side. "Oh, I just can't fight it anymore," he said dramatically, like a woman in a melodrama from the 1940s. "You drive me crazy. I just can't get enough of you." He pulled me toward him and kissed my lips, rolling his body on top of mine, squeezing me between his slim but powerful legs.

"I feel exactly the same way," I said, kissing him back. "I can honestly tell you I've never loved someone this much. No one." We kissed some more, until I could feel his sizeable erection pressing against my stomach. "Don't tell me you're all worked up again," I said with a smile.

"Well, well," JC said, looking down at himself then back at me. "Look at what we have here."

The next morning I sat in the kitchen, reading the morning paper and sipping my coffee. I could hear JC bounding down the stairs and he entered the room. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. I folded down the top of my newspaper to see him standing there, smiling. He was wearing his glasses, his hair tucked behind his ears, dressed in a light button-down sweater and carrying a messenger bag.

"All ready for school?" I asked, shaking my head and lifting the top of the paper back up.

"Not exactly," he said. "Actually I'm going to the library." I was tempted to do a spit-take with my coffee, but instead lowered the paper once again and asked him if he was serious. "Yes I am," he replied. "I'm going to start researching the history of this house. I'm going to find out everything there is to know about it." He was positively beaming and looked very proud of himself.

"Um, ok," I said, wondering when the last time could have been that JC was in a library. "Do you have all your pencils sharpened?"

"I sure do," he said, pulling one out of his shirt pocket. Lonnie, JC's bodyguard, walked into the kitchen and said that he was ready when JC was. "Ok, gotta go," he told me. See ya."

"So long," I said. "Oh, and if anyone there tries to take your milk money, tell them they'll have to answer to me." JC laughed, exiting the kitchen.

"Mornin'," I heard him say to Edward as he passed him on his way out. Edward walked into the kitchen and gave me a confused look.

"When did Harry Potter move in?" he asked.

"About an hour ago, I guess," I responded. Edward sat down and I wondered who was going to be the first person to bring up last night. I didn't want to reveal that JC told me about Edward's plans, but I also wanted to talk about it with him.

"You're probably wondering why I was packing last night?" Edward said, making the first move.

"I am curious," I said, putting down my newspaper. Edward looked tentative. Like he didn't really want to talk but knew he had to.

"I am thinking about taking some time off from school," he said.

"Ok," I responded. Stay calm. Stay calm.

"Bobby was able to get me a job as a PA on the next film he's doing. It sounds like it would be a great opportunity to travel the world, maybe clear my head."

"Ok," I said again. That sounded reasonable. "But what about the piano?" I asked. "What about your own plans?"

"I don't know," he said. "It's just like, well, I kind of want to escape myself for a while," he said. "You know, like just stop doing anything that I used to do."

"I can understand that," I said. "But if life teaches us anything, it's that we cannot escape ourselves. We're always there the second we turn around."

"You're right," he said. "I just don't know. I just seem to hate everything right now."

"Edward," I began, leaning a bit closer to him. There was a shift in him. He was reminding me more and more of his old self. "It's really fine for you to be feeling the way you do right now," I said. "It's been a rough summer. Hell, it's been a rough life. All I can say is that, from experience, I know that decisions made during times of instability are usually bad ones. It's fine to be confused about how you feel, but you have to remember that actions have consequences."

"I know what you're saying," he said. "And I promise you that I'm still thinking about it. But I just wanted you to know about the possibility."

"Thanks for sharing," I said with a laugh. I stood up, needing to get to the theater.

"I'm sorry I've been such a pain in the ass," he said, sitting back in his chair. I told him not to worry about it, standing behind him, putting my hand on his shoulder. .

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit distracted today, Nathaniel." I looked into the eyes of my director, knowing that he had just said something and that I should probably be responding.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm a bit distracted today. What was it you were saying?" He laughed and slapped me on the knee before standing up.

"Go home, Nathaniel," he said. Most of the English people I encountered were perfectly comfortable using my full name. "You know this part cold. It's the other's I'm really worried about." The other actors in the play had probably collectively been in forty productions of Shakespeare and many other roles in the West End. There was really nothing to worry about with any of us, but I knew the director had to feel like there was some way he could help with our performances. I thanked him, went back to my dressing room to gather my things, and headed toward the stage door. Jimmy, my bodyguard accompanied me as I exited the building. While fans had basically figured out my rehearsal schedule, a few were already gathered outside the door and I took a moment to sign some autographs.

"Jimmy," I found myself saying. "I think I need to be alone for a few hours." I knew what I was going to do, but couldn't so much as admit it to myself. "I think I'm just going to take the car myself and head out."

"That's not a good idea," Jimmy said. "You could find yourself in a real situation."

"I'll be careful," I said, pulling my baseball cap lower over my face and putting my hand out for the keys. "You can get a taxi, right?" Jimmy shrugged and handed me the keys. He escorted me to the car and saw me safely inside it until I was out on the street. The feeling of being alone in a car was intensely liberating. I couldn't remember how many months it had been since I had driven myself anywhere. It was another reminder of how my life had changed.

The car seemed to be driving itself, but I knew where it was going. I was about to do exactly what I knew I probably shouldn't be doing. JC would be mad as hell, but I couldn't help myself. Confrontation was my drug of choice.

I pulled into the front of the Ritz, and had the valet take the car. People started staring from the moment I entered, but I figured that in an establishment such as this, I was pretty safe from screaming teenage girls. I walked up to the front desk and a man walked over to ask if he could help me.

"I'm here to see Robert Rogers," I said. "I'm not sure what room he is in." The man picked up the phone and asked whom he should say was calling. I was a bit hurt that he didn't seem to know who I was. Didn't he see that all of the people in the lobby were stealing glances at me whenever they could? "Nate Murray," I said in a flat voice.

I wasn't even sure if Bobby would be in, but soon after the concierge picked up the phone, he was talking to him, telling him that I was downstairs. The concierge closed the phone and gave me the room number, pointing me toward the elevators.

I entered the elevator thinking about how easily Bobby had given me his room number. He didn't refuse to see me. He didn't even say that he would meet me in the lobby. Maybe my suspicions had been true all along.

I knocked on the door, and Bobby opened it, smiling confidently. I thought it was cocky. He was barefooted, dressed simply in a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. "Well, well," he said. "This feels oddly familiar."

"We're on opposite sides of the doors now," I said, brushing past him and entering the room. He closed the door and looked at me, his face still locked in a smile. "I've been waiting for this," he said.

"Waiting for what?" I shot back. Why was he pretending to know everything I was about to say?

"You're here to tell me to stay away from your brother. That I'm destroying his life, simply to get revenge on you."

I felt a bit like the wind had been knocked out of my sails. Bobby knew that I loved drama and he was beating me to all of the good parts. I had to get the upper hand in this. "Don't fuck around with my family, Bobby," I warned. "Is that what you are doing?"

"God, you really are an egomaniac," Bobby said, walking across his room and picking up a glass of water. "I don't even remember what I saw in you," he said, taking a sip. I knew exactly what he had seen, but that was beside the point.

"Edward might be your age," I said, walking closer to him, "but he's just a kid. A kid who has gone through stuff you would never understand. He's vulnerable."

"You never asked me anything about my life," Bobby said, putting his glass down. "Did you know that my mother died five years ago?" He glared at me. And I could feel my mouth drying up. This wasn't going the way I wanted it to.

"No," I said. "I'm sorry about that."

"Edward and I have a lot in common," he said. "We talk about stuff you probably would never have even though to ask me about."

"Bobby," I yelled. "I don't even know you. We hung out a few times while making a movie. We were having fun. We fooled around. Why do you make it sound like we walked hand in hand on the beach, baring our souls?" I started thinking that maybe that is really what he had wanted.

"You make it sound so simple," he said. "Tell me, did JC take it as lightly as you did?"

"Don't even talk about him," I snapped, stepping close to him. He stepped back. "What Josh and I have has been tried and tested. It's a real commitment. So far all you have managed to do is get Edward to act like a punk and drop out of school."

"That was his decision," Bobby said. "I merely gave him the option." He sounded a bit out of breath. Was I making him nervous? Part of me wanted to strangle him, but another part of me still viewed this as my own doing. I created this current version of Bobby.

"Tell me something," I began, trying to take a more tactful approach. "If it was Edward asking you to come with him, would you?"

"What does that matter?" he shot back. "I'm the one who is going somewhere. You know all about getting people to follow you places, don't you?"

"So what?" I asked. "Is that what this is all about? You're trying to act like me?"

"Be careful, Nate," Bobby warned. "Blowing smoke so far up your own ass can be dangerous."

"Bobby," I started, shaking my head and rubbing my temples. "I don't want to banter like kids. We're both adults, can we try and act like it?"

"Fine," Bobby said, taking a few more steps back from me to make himself more comfortable. I took another look at him, and realized I had no idea what I was doing. Why did I always jump off the handle like this, especially when I seemed to be losing my touch? Was I getting old? I knew that I wanted Bobby to break things off with Edward. I also was getting the feeling that there was a good chance that Edward would soon be coming to his senses and would break things off on his own. Still, to mind my own business was to allow for chance, and I couldn't decide if I was willing to do that.

"Forget this," I said, wishing I had a long coat to pick up and storm off with. "I'm sorry I bothered you." I headed toward the door, swearing to myself that I would never do something like this again.

"Wait!" Bobby yelled as I reached for the doorknob.

"What?" I asked, whirling around. He stared at me for a moment his eyes looking large.

"Don't go," he said.

"What?" I asked again. What the hell was he doing now?

"Why don't you stay?" he asked. "We can talk. We can order up room service."

"Bobby," I began, cocking my head. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Because," he said, cautiously walking toward me. "Because I don't think all of this would be upsetting you if you didn't still have feelings for me." He was standing in front of me now, and I could easily remember him when we were friends. When I thought that we might become more.

"Bobby, you're misunderstanding me. My concern is for Edward. He's my brother, remember."

"I know," he said. "And he's a real nice kid." He stepped up close to me and placed his hand over mine. "But I want a man, Nate." He leaned in closer. "I want you." His lips were suddenly moving toward mine and instinctively I stepped backward, knocking my back into the door. Bobby was still interested in me and he was using my brother to get closer.

"Bobby," I yelled, moving my hands up to stop him from coming any closer. He opened his eyes and a look of horror and embarrassment mutually occupied his face.

"Nate, I'm sorry," he said. "I honestly had no intention of hurting Edward. But I can't stop thinking about you. He reminds me of you in a lot of ways. But he's not you."

I was mad as hell, but didn't know where to place my anger. I didn't know whether to lash out against Bobby, whether to tell him what a piece of shit he was for stringing my brother along while he tried to figure out his own feelings for me. Edward was so young and naïve. He would never get over this. At the same time I seriously started to think that Bobby might have a screw or two loose. Had he really been thinking about me all this year? Did he really think there was a chance we were going to become a couple. It felt strange to feel this way, but I sort of pitied him.

"Bobby, listen to me very carefully," I began. I was speaking slowly so that he was sure to hear every word. "I know that I wronged you, but that was a long time ago. You really have to move on with your life."

"You're just never going to get what we could have had," he said, his voice growing loud and emotional. "You can't see what a team we could be. Do you know how far you could go in this business with my father backing you?"

"I'll take my chances on my own," I said, his tone irritating me. "It may sound trivial now, but I've worked very hard to have the things that I do. I don't mind doing it."

"You might find it very hard to get work in Hollywood if my father turns on you," he said, breathing heavily. He sounded desperate, like he had played all of his cards.

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath. "Are you threatening me?" I asked, wondering if anyone would notice a short blond boy dropping out of a twelfth story window at the Ritz.

"Maybe I am," he said. I could feel my fists tightening and I started moving toward him. He looked scared and started backing up, tripping over an armchair and falling into it.

"Listen to me, kid," I said, leaning over him and pushing my index finger into his chest. "It's time you fucking grew up. Now I've tried to be understanding and do all that sensitive gay man crap, but this is ending right now. Do you hear me?" I pushed my finger harder against his chest. He was scared. He had bit off more than he could chew.

"Yes," he said, wanting me very much to step away from him. I had put on the face of a crazed animal. In real life I couldn't imagine how I would back up anything I was saying, but I wasn't thought of as an exceptional actor for nothing.

"Now here is what you are going to do," I said. "You are going to call Edward and very nicely tell him that you don't think it's a good idea that he go with you to Italy. You are going to get him to go back to school and then you are going to stay the fuck out of our lives until the end of time. You got all that?"

"Yes," he said again.

"I'm not kidding around," I said. "You think you miss me now? Wait and see how you feel when I'm purposely making every day of your life a living hell." I decided that I had scared him enough and I pulled away. Bobby scrambled back to a standing position, looking at me like I might pounce on him at any second. I turned and walked toward the door.

"Nate," he called as I opened the door.

"Get a life," I said simply, slamming the door behind me. I stepped into the elevator and took a deep breath. "That was intense," I said to myself, reviewing the encounter in my head. Something told me that this would be the end of it. Either that or I would come home one day to find a rabbit stewing on my stove. I knew that in a way I deserved all of this, and strangely it felt good to be reminded of what a mistake I had made. It made it obvious that I would never do it again.

Back in the lobby, I smiled politely at the tourists as I asked for my car to be brought around. I got into it and sped toward home, wondering what anyone would think of all this. Both JC and Edward thought that it was obnoxious of me to think that Bobby still had his sights set on me. It was kind of funny. Just when I had firmly started to believe I could be wrong, I turned out to be right.

I was home before JC. He walked into the living room about an hour later, looking completely excited, like he was five and had just come back from the zoo. "I guess you had fun," I said, closing the magazine I was looking through.

"It was amazing," he said, hurrying over and sitting down next to me. Seeing him in his glasses I had to resist the urge to lean over and bite him. "I've never seen so many books. And doing the research," he continued, "it was like being on a treasure hunt, looking in different sections, flipping through hundred year old newspapers..."

"Sounds like you handled the library like a pro," I said.

"Well, the librarian seemed pretty eager to help me," he said with a laugh. "But after a while I was fine on my own."

"So will you be leaving the world of pop music to pursue a degree in library science?"

"Not exactly smart ass," he said, unbuckling his messenger bag. "But take a look at these." He handed me a large stack of photocopies. I asked him what they were and he told me that they were references to the people that have lived in this house for the past two hundred years.

"This must have taken forever," I said, flipping through the papers. "So did you find our ghost?"

"Yes," he beamed, taking the papers back from me. "Well, at first I wasn't sure. I had it narrowed down to a few possibilities, and then I decided on this one." He handed me a photocopy of a portrait of a middle-aged man. He had a strong-face behind his handlebar mustache. "I started thinking," JC continued. "His name is George Rumsey and he lived alone in this house in the 1860s. He died in 1869. A paper said that he had hung himself from a rafter in the house." JC placed his hand over mine and squeezed it as he continued, knowing that would remind me of Liz.

"Josh," I said, finding myself getting into this investigation. "That big attic space on the third floor has rafters."

"Exactly," he said. "That's what really started to make me think it was him. Well that and..."

"What?" I asked.

"He was the only person to live here by himself as far as I can tell. All of the other references to the house were about families. Don't you think it was probably odd to remain a bachelor in the 1860s?"

"You think George Rumsey was a big queer?" I asked, wondering if that was a leap in logic, or actually a plausible hypothesis.

"Look at this," he said, showing me another photocopy. "He ran an obviously successful business with this guy, Harold Smith."

"Obviously his lover," I said, thinking I was making a joke.

"Well, he too never seems to have gotten married and here's the really weird part. He disappeared two months after George killed himself. There was no mention of him ever again."

"Weird," I said. I wanted to make a joke about JC getting nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, but he looked so enthusiastic, that I knew I should stop joking around. Besides, I didn't think JC had any intentions of going public with his tale of gay ghosts causing his libido to dramatically increase. "So maybe the ghost is Harold, coming to look for George."

"Actually, I think they are both here. When you think about it, the noises sound like more than one person at times, don't they?"

"Yeah," I said, "but Josh, I mean, people know that this house has been haunted, don't you think someone else would have come up with this theory?"

"Maybe not," he said. "I mean, maybe George was a bit of a weirdo or something. There was really no mention of him aside from his obituary. He might have just slipped through the cracks." He put his arm around me and squeezed me against him. "Isn't this exciting?" he asked, staring at the picture of the deceased George Rumsey.

"Hmm," I said, looking at the picture. "So this is the guy who has been making you exhaust me every night."

"As if I wouldn't want to do that anyway," he said, smacking his lips against my cheek and ruffling my hair. "But seriously, here's what I'm thinking. This is the place where George and Harold did the, practiced the, uh, what did they call it back then?"

"The love that dare not speak its name?" I asked, wanting to laugh for some reason.

"Yeah, that," he said. "They were totally in love, but could only be together in secret. George probably couldn't take it anymore and killed himself. Harold probably started to think that death was the only way they could be together, and so he took his life too."

"They were a regular gay Romeo and Juliet," I said.

"Be serious," he said. "It's kind of sad and beautiful at the same time."

"Josh, it's a really good explanation," I said. "But I guess we can never know for sure. I mean, how come I never feel the stuff you say you feel?" I laughed a little. "How come I'm not walking around with a constant erection?"

"I told you," he chided. "You're not tuned into the spiritual world. You think with your head too much, not with your heart." Maybe that was the fundamental difference between us, I thought. I needed things to make sense and be purposeful. Right away I was searching for the holes in his argument, the ambiguities that could never be resolved. No one could ever really know what happened to Harold. He could have very well got on a boat and sailed to India. JC was different. He needed to feel good and believe he was doing what was right. That's probably what made him come back to me.

JC looked at me, noticing my uneasiness. "I know it's a bit hoakey," he said. "But just think about it. We know the house is haunted. We know they are inspiring certain, uh, reactions in us. Don't you think my explanation is good? I don't think old straight ghosts would be interested in us."

"Josh, I absolutely think it is reasonable, but it's, well, uh, creepy to think about it too much. If you're right, it's like they are watching us. I don't think I want ghosts getting off by watching us fool around."

"I don't think that's what they are doing," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I think they want us to feel the passion that they had for each other. I think they are telling us to enjoy the things that they couldn't." JC turned his head down for a second, thinking about what he had just said. Sure a lot of people knew about the two of us. But there were plenty who didn't as well.

"Well," I said, slapping him on the knee and standing up. "Should we go upstairs and make them proud?"

"Shouldn't we have dinner?" JC asked, placing his papers neatly onto the coffee table.

"Oh, I guess," I said.

Later that night, after we had made love, JC rested his head on my chest, his fingers lightly dancing across my thigh. We had heard Edward come in earlier, but he didn't come to our room. I half-expected him to burst in and tell me how much he hated me for what I said to Bobby, but maybe life was taking a less dramatic turn. Or maybe he just hadn't seen Bobby today. "Nate," JC said, his hand traveling up my stomach, tracing the lines of my chest with his index finger. "Would you want to stop living if I died?"

"What?" I asked, looking down at him, his mass of curls falling in several directions.

"You heard me," he said. "I want us to have a life filled with the love and passion that George and Harold shared."

"Um, Josh, not to burst your bubble or anything, but things didn't end too well for George and Harold."

Ignoring me, he continued. "When you got sick last year, I didn't think I was going to be able to go on."

"But you would have," I said, wondering why I had said it. It was my intellect, rearing its ugly head again. Why didn't I just say yes, that I would jump off a building if anything ever happened to him? JC didn't say anything for a while and I couldn't tell if he was upset or not. "Josh," I said, trying to recover, "this conversation is just too morbid. I don't even want to think about any of this. It really creeps me out."

"I'm sorry," he said, breathing softly. "My mind is just racing."

"Just calm yourself and try to go to sleep," I said. Maybe libraries weren't a good idea for JC. "The ghosts seem to be quiet tonight."

"We're supposed to be able to live the life that they couldn't, right?" He looked up to me, his eyes wide, pale and blue, even in the darkness.

"Sure," I said, my hand cradling his face. "Look around. We have friends and family who love us. All the parts of us. We go to sleep and wake up with each other every day." It seemed weird to be comparing ourselves to these dead people as though they were almost acquaintances of some kind. I wasn't sure if I would ever be completely sold on the idea. "We're a million years away from the life that George and Harold had."

"Are we?" JC asked, closing his eyes and snuggling close to me.

The next morning I sat in the kitchen, reading the paper, wondering why every morning I got up, went into the kitchen and started to read the paper. Did I used to do this in New York? "You're up early," I said, watching Edward walk into the kitchen. He was already showered and dressed.

"I'm such a wreck," he said, pacing back and forth. "I have to find out if I can still start the semester even though I've missed a week, but I have to friggin wait until New York wakes up."

"You're going back to school?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, trying to contain my excitement.

"Well, I'm not going to Italy," he said, as though it was the last thing he would possibly want to do.

"Why not?" I asked again.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he said. "It was so weird. I spent all day long yesterday thinking to myself: I don't want to work on a movie. I want to be back in New York. I want to see my friends."

"I can understand that," I said.

"Yeah, well, then last night, I go out with Bobby to tell him that I'm having second thoughts, and he gives me this big bullshit speech about how things are moving too fast between us, and how he doesn't think I should go with him because he doesn't want to be responsible for the big decisions I make in my life. I mean what kind of crap is that?"

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to stand up and do a little dance, but I didn't think it would be appreciated. I also wanted to commend Bobby on a job apparently well done. I stayed quiet.

"It's funny," Edward continued. "The whole time I was under the impression that I was the naïve one, but it wasn't true. At least I knew exactly what I was doing."

"So what did you say to him?" I asked.

"I said fine. I told him I understood. I mean, what's the point of telling him I wasn't going to go anyway when he was sitting there telling me I couldn't come? I guess it helped in a way, though. After I left him, everything became so clear. It's like I got my spirit back or something."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that," I said. Whether Edward realized it or not, he had been going through something this summer, and now he was coming out of it.

"Nate, I'm sorry I've been such an asshole this summer. You've done nothing but try to help me and I was totally unappreciative. Part of me had started to think that if everyone I loved was sooner or later going to die, it was better just to push everyone away."

"Edward, please don't apologize. We all go through stages or problems or whatever you want to call them. The point is that the people that love you stick by you no matter what. And I'm still here." Edward smiled and looked down at the floor. "Oh, and by the way," I began, his eyes looking back up at me. "You don't have to worry about me, see, I plan on living forever."

"I hope so," he said, shifting on his feet. "I should go pack the rest of my stuff. If everything goes alright, I think I will have to fly out tonight."

"Do what you've got to do, kid," I said. "Just remember that I'm always here and that JC and I have more money than God, so really, there's nothing we can't fix for you." Edward laughed and I did as well.

"I didn't sleep with Bobby," Edward said suddenly, catching me a bit off guard.

"That's not really any of my business," I assured him.

"Something about it just didn't seem right," he said. "I guess I knew that I wasn't in love. I guess it's pretty lame that I think I should be."

"There's nothing wrong with holding out for the best," I said.

"And love is the best, right?" he asked, once again looking like the innocent that he was.

"Absolutely."

JC and I stood outside our rented mansion, waving goodbye as the taxi drove off with my brother, a Julliard student in his second year. The school hadn't given him any problems about returning, and so JC and I hurriedly helped him to get ready for his late night flight back to New York. We promised that we would all get together for Thanksgiving, but that if that proved too difficult we would all meet up again when my play opened in early December.

"We're not parents, anymore," JC said, turning to me, the taxi no longer in view. He was pretending to be sad but was unable to conceal the fact that he really was.

"Nope," I said, taking a deep breath and looking out into the nighttime sky. Autumn was just around the corner. "It's just you and me now." JC looked at me hesitantly. "Oh, right," I sighed. "And George and Harold, of course." JC smiled at me and we headed back into the mansion, eager to see what the coming days would bring.

Time started moving quickly after Edward's departure. It was almost like reading a story that suddenly skips several months without any explanation. Before we knew it, it was almost New Year's. There had been no more word from Bobby and Edward was doing well. He had come with my parents to the opening night of my play, looking more satisfied than I had ever seen him. He had chosen to keep a gay tradition alive by coming out to my parents on Thanksgiving, a holiday that JC and I decided not to celebrate while we were in London. Maybe it was just because it seemed silly to do so in a foreign country. Maybe it was because it was a reminder of last Thanksgiving.

My dad seemed to be doing well with the fact that he now had two gay sons, a sure sign of the changing times. My play opened to a sold out audience and the show looked like it would remain sold out throughout the year. When the marquis had gone up at the theater, showing the name of the play with my name looming above it, I almost started to cry. More so than seeing my name on a movie poster, this is what I had always dreamed of.

The reviews for the show and myself were great, and I was proud of the performances I was delivering each night, my mind free to concentrate once again. As luck, or I should say, Hollywood would have it, my second film opened around the same time as the play, and did well commercially and critically. "It's your 'Man in the Iron Mask'," people would joke, referencing the film Leonardo DiCaprio made after the gigantic success of 'Titanic.'

JC spent a couple of more months hanging out, doing different little things, enjoying the rest after working pretty much non-stop since he had become a Mouseketeer. Then, in the beginning of November, he arrived at some decision and set about starting another solo record. He started flying back and forth between London, New York, LA and Florida, meeting with producers, writing songs and recording. He seemed to be taking even more time with this record than he had with the last, wanting each and every song to be as good as it possibly could. While we never spent that much time apart, we had grown more independent from each other, which I had to look at as being a good thing. We were both hard at work, doing the things we loved.

JC and I were sitting in a fancy London restaurant, tucked privately in a corner, having a pre-New Year's Eve party of our own, knowing that there wouldn't be too much time for intimacy tomorrow at this gigantic party being thrown by an English fashion magazine. We discussed the usual types of things. How are work was going and where we should go if we were able to fit in a vacation in January. "Somewhere warm," I begged. "Someplace really warm." I hadn't been able to escape anywhere in quite a while. Our condo in Miami was becoming a memory.

"Have you thought about your New Year's resolution?" JC asked, sipping his champagne. He had been a bit quieter for the past few days.

"Yes," I said. "I am promising never to have dinner with Angelina Jolie again," I laughed. "People say she's great, but she just scares the hell out of me." JC rolled his eyes and placed his glass back down on the table while I chuckled quietly to myself.

"Well," he said, folding his arms and leaning over the table a bit. "I've made one too and it's kind of a big deal."

"What is it?" I asked. He certainly had my attention.

"It kind of involves you too, so I'm really hoping you will be on board with it."

"Josh, tell me."

"Ok," he said. "But I want you to know that I've given this a lot of thought. I've made list after list of all of the pros and cons, but I keep coming to the same conclusion. It just really feels like it's the right thing to do, and the right time to do it."

"Tell me." I said, again.

JC leaned even closer, the light of the candles flickering across his face. "I've decided to come out publicly, and I think that you should too."

I dropped the fork I didn't realize I was holding, the sound of it startling me as it hit my plate. I looked into JC's eyes, waiting for him to say that he was kidding and that we should order dessert. He was looking right back at me, his eyes filled with warmth, excitement and maybe a pinch of apprehension. He was completely serious.

To be continued