Hi everyone!
This is chapters 21-22 of my continuing story. Again, I appreciate all of the e-mails that I have received from people who like my story. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy reading them, and am still surprised that people are reading this and who wait for the next installment to come out. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood today, so I'm thinking a little strange today. Thanks for all of those who appreciated the Britney angle! If you have anymore comments or suggestions please e-mail me at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com
Thank you again for sending me your encouraging e-mails. Especially Clarke, Damon and Cele. You're all special people who I feel happy and blessed to know--thank you for all of your kind words of encouragement and support. And of course, last but definitely not least, Justin for looking this installment over and telling me if this whole idea I went with on this chapter was too lame. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
DISCLAIMER: To steal a line from a Trisha Yearwood song, everybody knows that this story deals with a m/m relationship and is not meant to imply the sexuality of `N Sync or more specifically Lance Bass. You must be 18 or 21 years old to read this (depending on where you live) and if you're uncomfortable reading this, then don't.
My Surprise Romance
Chapter 21
Once again, the rest of the guys had to head off a hour or two before the concert to meet some local contest winners, leaving Cynthia and I alone in the hotel. I had decided not to go to the concert that night, because not only did I need to catch up on some sleep, I needed to take care of other unfinished things. Lance had promised that he would head back to the hotel to pick me up, so that I could go out clubbing with him and the rest of the guys that night. I was still in the sitting room, getting off the telephone, when Britney walked into the room. Her eyes searched the perimeters of it, before they fell on me.
"Oh, hi Stephen," she greeted me, her eyes still searching. "You haven't happened to see Justin, have you?" she asked, trying to hide the concerned look on her face.
I shook my head. "Lance told me that they were heading off to the auditorium to meet with some contest winners," I told her. "He said that they'll come back here after the show."
Britney's face fell, but gave me a seemingly bright smile despite her disappointment. "Oh, okay. Thanks, Stephen," she said, looking no more relieved than when she first came in. She turned on her heel, about to leave the room, when I realized that I desperately needed to talk to her. Justin had told me that she was the only other person who knew about Harris, and right then, I needed someone to talk to.
"Britney--do have a few spare minutes to talk?" I called out as she nearly exited the room. She backed up and looked at me with surprise written all over her face.
"Sure, Stephen," she said, sounding a bit unsure. The teen pop diva walked over to where I was sitting and took a a seat next to me, placing her hands on her thighs. "All ears."
At that moment, I realized the how absurd my life had become. A few weeks ago, I barely knew or cared who these people were and now I was hobnobbing with them like they were my best friends. I bit my lip as thought about this and decided to get my thoughts back on track. I took a deep breath before speaking. "I know about Justin," I said quietly. I then watched her face turn to shock at my announcement. Her brown eyes grew wide as she searched my face, looking for some trace of irony or humor, but didn't find one.
"You do? Did he tell you?" she asked frantically. "Oh my Lord, how did you find out? He made me keep it under lock and key!" Britney exclaimed hysterically. I touched her shoulder to calm her down, although I must say I was impressed with her protectiveness of her friend.
"Britney, shhh," I shushed her gently. "Let me explain how I found out before you start going all crazy on me here," I said. Almost immediately, she stopped her shrieking and regained her composure.
"Wait a second," she halted me before I could go any further. Britney got off the couch and walked to the door, where she checked the hallway for any people that may have been listening through the walls. She shut the door and walked back over to the couch and sat down, brushing her hair behind her ears.
"Okay, Stephen," she said softly, concern lurking in her eyes. "Talk to me."
"Well...I know that Justin is gay...Cynthia and I caught him in a car making out with his boyfriend...at a mall--" I began before Britney slapped her hand to her forehead.
"Lordy! What was that boy thinking?" she asked sharply, looking at me with disbelief. I was a bit taken aback by the intensity of her answer, since no one in the press ever seems to interview an angry Britney Spears.
"I...I don't know," I managed to say. "I just know that he was lucky that Cynthia and I found him and not some reporter."
She nodded enthusiastically, looking at me with now grateful eyes. "Definitely...and especially who he is, he knows that he's constantly being followed and watched by the press." She thoughtfully paused and then looked up at me with a grin on her face. "Speaking of the press, I saw Lance and your cousin on the cover of all those tabloids."
I shook my head at hearing that subject again. "That was a trick, a joke...some guy was hitting on Lance and I sent Cynthia over to pretend that they were in love." I rolled my eyes. "Brilliant idea, huh?'
Britney shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do...especially since I can tell you care about Lance an awful lot," she said, with a knowing look in her eyes.
I let out a laugh at her intuitive remark. "I'm that obvious, huh?" I asked her and she nodded.
"Yup...I think it's great. I could tell right away--after you told me, of course. But it's the same thing with Lance. It's in his eyes, honey," she explained. "You two are cute together." She let out a sigh. "I just wish Justin could be the same way with his man, because I see the same feeling in his eyes."
"He's definitely unhappy," I told her, relaying the earlier scene in the bus where Justin had walked in on Lance and I. "When he talks about Harris, his face just says it all. And then in interviews, the guys expect him to be the bands lady killer, and he just stammers out what they want to hear," I told Britney, who accepted my answer with an understanding nod. I smiled, feeling as though a hundred pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders--it was such a relief to be able to talk to someone about Justin. Keeping his secret inside of me felt like agony. I hated keeping it, especially from my boyfriend, who would have probably helped out greatly in this situation.
"I know what you mean," Britney agreed. "I was talking to him before and I told him that he has to tell the guys...it's killing him inside by hiding his relationship," she said wearily, resting her elbows on her knees. "I've known Justin for ages, and," she said, lowering her voice as she confided in me, "I used to like him for ages. We used to make out all the time when we were younger, but I could tell he wasn't interested..." she reminiscenced, with a melancholy look on her pretty face.
"Don't worry," I said dryly. "I'm sure there are plenty of guys who'd love to take Justin's place there."
She laughed at my perceptive remark. "Thanks, Stephen," she said, smiling despite herself. "But seriously, I can tell that even though Justin's happiest with Harris right now, he's also at the most unhappiest point I've ever seen him in his life. I don't know what to do anymore...I've been begging him to come out, so that at least him and Harris can hang out with the guys like--" She stopped, looking straight at me.
I finished her sentence for her. "Me and Lance, right?"
"Yup, like you and Lance, You two can at least hang out together in front of the guys, go out...When Justin goes out and has to put on this whole girl-lovin' persona but I know Harris is the only person on his mind." Britney smiled at the thought of Justin's boyfriend. "He's a nice guy--Harris--really great sense of humor, good dresser, great singer." She paused. "A little flamboyant at times, but he makes Justin so happy that I don't care."
"I didn't have a chance to meet him--he drove off before I had the chance to say hello," I told her and she laughed.
"He was probably so freaked out--the two of them have been more secretive than the pentagon in hiding their relationship," Britney joked, while shaking her head. Then she looked up and smiled at me. "You know, I don't know you that well, Stephen, but I feel like I've known you forever," she said in amazement.
I smiled at her surprisingly kind remark. "Thanks Britney," I said, reaching over to give her a hug. "I feel the same way about you."
Britney and I parted, with the shared knowledge of Justin's secret. She told me that she would still be around for the next few days, since she was doing a bunch of promotions for her new album. And while neither of us were going to pressure Justin to come out, we agreed that we would do our damnest to make him--but no pressure, I thought with a smile.
Just then the cordless phone next to me rang, and the previously unfinished business I had dealt with, was now cleared up. I felt as though I was on cloud nine as I took the elevator to the ground floor. Once that was cleared up, I looked at the overshadowing brass clock that stood in the foyer of the hotel. It was exactly seven o'clock.
Hmmm,' I thought with a grin. Much faster than I expected.' As I stood there in the hotel foyer, pleased with my efforts, I noticed my cousin stepping off the elevator in full glam girl regalia--little black dress, heels--the works. Her eyes were obscured by tortoiseshell sunglasses and as she walked through the lobby, all eyes turned to her. I laughed at the way Cynthia could stop people dead in their tracks when she noticed me standing off to the side, and walked over to me.
"Stevie--weren't you gonna spend the night sleeping?" she questioned, taking her sunglasses off and peering at me with curious violet eyes.
"Yeah, but I had some stuff to do," I said lamely. "But I can tell you're going to the concert. Mind if I come along?" Her eyes looked me up and down, and I'll admit in my crushed-beyond-belief cotton shorts and wrinkled button down shirt, I hardly looked like I was heading out to a concert. I looked like I was going to do lawn work.
"I guess..." she sighed in mock frustration. "I guess I can be seen with a lowly peasant--even if we are taking the limo there," she joked as we headed towards the hotel's entrance.
"Limo?" I said, raising my eyebrows in surprise. Cynthia nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, limo--Josh scheduled it so it would pick me up. Isn't he the greatest?!" she sighed happily. And when we walked out, true to her word, a long stretch black limousine was waiting for her. When she stood next to it, my glammed up cousin looked as though she was a movie star heading off to her first movie premiere. "What do you think?" Cynthia asked, posing like a starlet as the chauffeur opened the door for her.
"Oh get in the car before we get attacked by adoring fans," I teased her, shoving her into the limousine. Despite the butterflies that were swirling around in my stomach at what I had secretly done, I still couldn't shake the ominous feelings that had suddenly overcome my mind.
We arrived at the backstage enterance of the auditorium. The driver stopped the car and walked around the side to let us out. When my cousin got out, she kissed the driver on both cheeks and then sashayed into the building, leaving a crowd of stagehands staring at her in bewildered interest. I laughed at her behavior, thanked the driver for both of us and followed her in through the back door.
Like usual, it was a madhouse with roadies and public relations people scurrying back and forth. And in the center of all of this madness, was the members of `N Sync, talking and laughing with a group of people. Just then Josh had spotted my cousin and yelled out her name.
"Cynthia!" he cried out, holding his arms open when he saw her. Like a scene in a movie, she ran up to him and he caught her, spinning her around in the air. I rolled my eyes at the attention grabbing tactics that she used and stood there feeling a bit out of place. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a deep voice say, "I thought you weren't coming tonight."
I turned around to see Lance standing behind me, with a huge grin on his face.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" I asked, giving him a grin that matched his own. "Planning something that I shouldn't see?" I looked at my boyfriend, decked out in the most hideously ugly stage clothes I have ever seen in my entire life. "I'm surprised that I'm not going blind from all of those sparkles," I remarked with mock disgust.
"You're just jealous--you wish you had an outfit like this," he shot back, still staring at me with that goofy grin on his face.
I leaned over to him. "Hey, stop smiling," I whispered so no one could hear us. "You look like a stupid kid in love."
"I am," he whispered back, quickly grabbing my hand and squeezing it before anyone could notice us. "And if you keep making cracks like that, there's gonna be a stupid kid sleeping alone tonight--and I'm not talking about myself," he laughed. We stood there, eyes locked with each others when the previous feelings of dread, suddenly took over my entire body. I was suddenly was struck by a sense of deja vu. I can't exactly explain how or what I felt, but fear had paralyzed every inch of my body. My heart started racing and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
"Don't go on stage, Lance," I said hoarsely, grabbing him by his arm as though I was possessed. I shook my head back and forth, trying to clear the messy thoughts rattling around in my head. "Please, don't." My strange remarks caused Lance to stare at me as though I had gone nuts. And as I had this attack, we both heard Marshall calling the guys to the stage.
"Stephen, what's wrong?" he asked frantically, looking into my eyes, despite the fact that he was being called onto the stage. I felt as though my chest was caving in, and the room around me began to spin.
"Please, don't go.." I trailed off weakly, as Chris ran up to him and began pulling him away from me.
"Lance...we got a show to do, man!!! They have to put us up on the wires for the opening number! You can be with him all night after the show, but come on!!!" And with that Chris whisked Lance away from me, a look of panic and confusion in his green eyes as he watched me stand there, my feet cemented to the ground. Lance disappeared from my eyes into the darkness of the stage area and suddenly my attack was over.
"Stevie? What's wrong?" I heard Cynthia's voice enter my mind as I shook myself out of my daze. I looked at my cousin, who was staring at me with a look of trepidation on her face.
"Nothing," I said shortly. "Why?" My voice was coming out in a flat monotone sound as I turned around and sat on the nearest empty chair that I could find. Cynthia sat next to me and held my arm tightly.
"Please tell me what happened there?" Cynthia pleaded. "You've been acting so strange lately--you've screamed Natalie's name this morning and now this? What's wrong--have you been getting your attacks again?"
I looked at Cynthia feeling utterly defeated and nodded. "Something happened there, Cynth--it was like right before my father died--I told him the same things and I felt the same way." I was near tears as I spoke since I hate bringing up past memories like that. When I looked back at my cousin, she was staring at me wide eyed in shock.
"What are you talking about, Stephen?" she asked carefully, a little taken aback by my eerie words.
"We have to watch the concert," I said calmly. "Come on." With those words, I grabbed my cousin and flashing our backstage passes to the bodyguards, we made it to the side of the stage. The concert hadn't started yet and I felt the last traces of my attack fade away. Now I felt like a complete idiot for freaking out like I did. Not to mention making Lance worry. Cynthia and I stood there shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the show to begin. I knew she wanted to ask me, but was afraid to even open her mouth, for fear that I would start screaming at her.
Finally, her worrying got the best of her. "Are you okay?" she finally asked. I nodded.
"Fine...just fine..." I said blankly, my eyes glued to the still-empty stage. Suddenly, the lights in the auditorium went dim and the screams of the female fans present were defining. There was a dizzying flash of lights that circled over the seats and then a flash pot of lights went off, nearly blinding Cynthia and I from our close near-stage proximity. The chords for the opening song, "Bye, Bye, Bye" began, and before I knew it, the guys were being lowered down like puppets from wires that hung from the ceiling. Lance was as far away from me as possible, on the other side of the stage, moving his arms and legs in as though the strings were controlling him. He was halfway near the floor when the wires that were holding him up, somehow snapped and he fell to the ground with a thud.
This was the terrible thing that was going to happen, I thought. For a second I was paralyzed, as I stood there in shock, not believing what had happened. I thought that maybe I had dreamed the whole horrific situation up in my overactive imagination. But when I realized that the music had stopped and that the rest of the guys were now circling around Lance, the adrenaline began to surge through my body and without thinking, I jumped over the barricades that held Cynthia and I back. Somehow (don't ask me what I exactly did) I had jumped onto the stage in one swift leap. The stage lights had shut off and the auditorium lights had flipped on. Madness among the fans present broke out. A guard attempted to hold me back as I ran over to the guys, but I broke free from his grip and made it to where Lance was lying on the stage.
"I'm okay," I could hear Lance say. "Guys, please, I'm okay..." I shoved my way through Joey and Chris, and I think they thought I was an overzealous fan because by the looks on their faces, I could tell they were ready to start yelling at me. But when they saw that it was only me, the hard looks on their faces softened and they moved aside so that I could reach Lance's side.
"Oh my God, is he okay?" I asked them, looking up as they just stared at us. I looked back down at Lance, who was smiling weakly at up me.
"Stephen--I'm so glad you're here," he breathed. "Is this why you didn't want me to go on stage--you rigged this whole thing?" he managed to joke despite the fact that he had fallen a few feet from midair. All thoughts of hiding our relationship was now forgotten, as Lance reached for my hand, his face tightening in obvious pain.
"What happened?" I asked him, trying to let myself be heard over the zealous fans who were going insane at the situation going on stage. Lance just shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't know--I was up on the wires and then all of a sudden I fell," he recalled. "I really didn't even know that I fell until I realized I was just lying here--that wasn't part of the routine," he cracked, despite the fact that Lance looked like he was about to crumple up in pain at any second. And then, as if Lance's injury was bad/exciting (you take your pick) enough, I suddenly heard my cousin's angry shrieking.
"Let me go you big thugs!!" I looked over to see Cynthia being held back by two beefy guards, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. "I'm not some over-sexed groupie you pricks! I'm with one of them!!" Josh noticed this (who wouldn't?) and rushed over to the guards and with some talking to, finally put my sister down.
"Is that Cynthia screaming?" Lance asked me, a painful smile on his lips. I nodded, stroking his hair away from his forehead as he lie on the ground. "Leave it to her to take all the attention away from me," he laughed, which caused him to wince in pain. "I think I did something to my arm," he managed to say, his green eyes welling up with tears.
"The paramedics are here," Justin said, running over to us. "They're gonna take you to the hospital, Scoop." Within seconds, the paramedics were on stage, strapping Lance into a gurney. I had to stand off to the side, while they asked him some questions and then they wheeled him off the stage, accompanied by the screams and whistles of over 12,000 screaming fans. I stood on the stage, talking frantically with the rest of the guys when one of the paramedics came up to us.
"Which one of you guys is Stephen Peterson?" the paramedic asked, looking at the group of people assembled on the stage.
"He is," Joey said, pointing at me. "That's Stephen." I looked at the paramedic, who was staring at me with an odd expression on his face.
"Mr. Bass would like you to accompany him to the hospital," he told me. "So if you don't mind, follow me, sir." I looked at the rest of the guys and they nodded and smiled at me.
"Take care of him, Stephen," Justin shouted, slapping me on the back. His eyes were filled with sympathy and emotion as I walked off the stage. I returned his smile and began to follow the paramedic off the stage, when Cynthia ran up to me
"Stevie--is this why you were acting so weird?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes wide with disbelief. I could only give her a brief nod, as I found myself unable to speak. Inwardly, I was freaking out--why had I somehow known that something bad was going to happen? Had I brought this on? Or did I just have such a strong intuition that I knew...
All thoughts in my head were pushed aside as I was led to the ambulance, where the team of paramedics were loading Lance into the back of the van. They stared at me strangely as I climbed into the narrow space next to him and I sat on the little seat that allowed me to be next to him.
"Hey there," I said, looking over him, giving him a gentle smile. "You're going to the hospital. You're gonna be okay." Suddenly a drop of water dripped onto Lance's cheek and it was with that, I realized that I was crying. No wonder the paramedics were staring at me oddly, but then I dismissed that thought with a shrug. I didn't care what they thought of Lance or me--I was just happy that Lance seemed to be alright. That he was talking and breathing and that he knew who I was and knew that he wanted me with him.
I wiped the tear that had fallen on his face away and Lance smiled back at me. "I'm so glad you're here," he said softly, his green eyes shining with unshed tears as he stared up at me. His eyes...they were filled with so many emotions...he took my hand in his and tightened his grip on it.
"Shhhh," I whispered, placing my finger to my lips."Just relax, Lance. You're gonna be okay." Giving me one last loving smile, Lance then closed his eyes and rested, while I held onto his hand, hoping that everything would be alright.
Chapter 22
Once we reached the hospital, Lance and I were separated. I was sent to the waiting room, while Lance was wheeled off to an examaning room. I took a seat in the uncomfortable chairs, not paying a bit of attention to the television that was on in the corner or to the people that were being rushed in and out of the automatic doors. The only person I cared about was in the examining room.
A feeling of solidarity fell over me as I waited there. I stood up and walked over to a panel window, looking out into the darkness of the night. I was so thankful that Lance was okay, that I just wanted to fall on my knees and start praying. But instead, I continued to stare out the smudged glass window and listened to the thoughts inside of my head. When I saw Lance fall, I knew that I loved Lance--not a silly, infatuated love, but a real one--where you care about the person and would walk through heaven and hell to get to them. It was a hard feeling to describe, unless you've been there. I thought I had lost him...
When I finally turned away from the window, I saw that two hours had passed since Lance had been admitted to the emergency room. I had been so caught up in my thoughts that the time had flown by without me even knowing it.
"Stephen?" A voice called out. I looked up from my place at the window to see an intelligent looking woman in her mid-forties peering at me. I glanced down at her nametag and saw that she was a doctor.
"Yes," I replied. "Is Lance okay?" I asked urgently, needing to know.
"Mr. Bass is fine," she said reassuringly, touching my arm for comfort. "He has a slight concussion from hitting his head on the stage and his right arm is bruised and sprained, but thankfully, no fractures or breaks," she relayed. "By the way, I'm Doctor Winters," she introduced, holding out her hand as I shook it.
"I'm Stephen Peterson, Lance's um...um..." I felt my face turn hot as I struggled to explain who I was to Lance. Noticing my discomfort, Dr. Winters held her hands up to stop my stammering.
"Say no more, Stephen. I take it from what Lance has said about you, that you're very special to him," she said softly, looking at me with tenderness in her eyes. My worried expression turned to one of horror at the Doctor's perceptive remark, but she only continued to smile.
"NO!" I exclaimed. "I mean, Lance and I..." I trailed off. She knew about us. I could see it in her eyes.
"Please don't worry about a thing. Patient confidentatly," she said, lowering her voice. "Come on, I'll let you see him--follow me." She beckoned me to follow her into the emergency area, and I walked next to her.
"Stephen, I don't want to pry--but are you and Mr. Bass more than friends?" she asked so quietly, I could barely hear her. When I did finally hear her, I was a bit shocked by the directness of her question. I was about to tell her that it was none of her goddamn business, when she pulled me into an empty room.
"Look," she began, taking off her spectacles to rub her tired eyes. "I know it's none of my business. I understand that--but when the patient keeps insisting to see his friend out in the waiting room over and over and over again, until I want to strangle him, my antenna certainly goes up," Dr. Winters said, chuckling softly. "I just wanted to know so that I could give you and Mr. Bass some privacy when you see each other."
"Oh," I said, taken aback by her gesture of kindness. "Well, that would be nice, because I have to give something to him anyway," I told her. "And it would be nice if no one was watching us like hawks."
Dr. Winters nodded as she put her glasses back on. "Okay, then--I'll make sure no one walks into the room when you're in there," she told me as we walked out of the secluded room and to another one at the end of the hall. "This is our private room--we were afraid that fans would find out he was here and start coming in with sudden injuries so that they could see him," she said with a laugh.
I smiled at the thought of hundreds of `N Sync fans mobbing the hospital with all sorts of strange traumas and injures as Dr. Winters knocked on the closed door. I heard Lance's voice call out a weak sounding, "Okay, come on in". She opened the door and my angel was sitting up in bed, hooked up to heart monitor. A grin appeared on his face when he saw me walk through that door and Dr. Winters just smiled at the two of us.
"I'll be outside if you need anything," she said softly, closing the door behind her. We waited to hear the sound of the door `click' and then we looked at each other. I just stared at him for a few seconds--there was a bruise on his cheek and his right arm was bandaged up. He looked extremely tired, but still happy at the sight of my face.
"Are you okay?" I asked him, walking over to his bedside. I grabbed his hand and then leaned in to give him a soft kiss. "You still kiss okay," I teased him after we parted.
"I didn't hurt my lips," he said, sounding offended. "Just my arm--and my head hurts, too," Lance added, closing his eyes. He opened them, when he heard the sound of me crying.
"Stephen..." he said, opening his green eyes wide in shock. "What's wrong?"
It took me a few seconds to answer him since the tears that ran down from my eyes and down my face were falling fast and furious. I couldn't stop them. And for a brief moment, I felt so silly, crying like a little girl as I held onto Lance's hand for dear life. He reached over to grab a tissue and wiped my face off.
"Stephen, stop crying," he said gently. "Why are you crying? I'm okay--and it's not like you fell ten feet in the air," he joked, trying to get me to laugh. I looked up at him, a sad smile on my face.
"I know, I know..." I managed to say through my sobbing. "It's just that I thought I lost you."
Lance looked at me in shock. "What?"
"I said, `I thought I lost you,'" I repeated causing Lance to laugh.
"My ears are okay too, Stephen," Lance said, reaching up with his left hand to stroke my cheek. "Now what the hell are you talking about?" I stared at him, not sure if I should be burdening him with my own problems, when he had his own. I decided on half and half.
"Okay, I'll tell you," I said, letting out a sigh. "You know how before the show, I was yelling at you not to go on stage?" Lance nodded, letting me know that I could continue. "Well, it's hard to explain without sounding crazy...it was the same feeling I had right before my father died..."
Lance turned as white as a sheet. "What?" he asked in a near whisper, his green eyes bright with incredulity. I nodded.
"Right before my father left...I can remember running up to him and telling him not to go to work," I said, shaking my head at the memory that had entered my mind as though it had happened yesterday. "And he just laughed me off and told me not to be so silly...and then he left."
Lance was silent for a moment, before tightening his grip on my hand. "Oh, Stephen, I'm so sorry..." He bit his lip for a moment, and I could tell he wanted to say something else. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked.
"Sure," I said cautiously.
Lance hesitated for a second. "How did your father die?"
I swallowed another set of tears back, so I could get the words out. "He...he was a police officer... he was shot down in the line of duty," I managed to say before collapsing on Lance's chest in another burst of uncontrollable crying. I always cried when I thought of my father--in some way I felt partially responsible for his death. Like I could have prevented it if I had tried harder. Lance stroked the back of my head, letting me cry and when I looked up at him, I saw that he was crying too.
"Why are you crying?" I asked him, slapping him gently in his face. "Silly."
"Because it's sad," Lance said simply. "I didn't expect to hear that was how your father died...I don't know what I was expecting...but Stephen," he said, picking my chin up, so I could look into his comforting green eyes. "I'm still here. Even though you warned me, I didn't die." He winced at the last word, but continued. "I'm a little bruised up, but I'm still here," he added with a smile.
I managed a laugh at his joke. "Bruised up?" I said in mock surprise, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand. "Forget it...I don't want damaged goods."
Lance pretended to look offended. "Oh great, Stephen--that's really nice," he sighed, pushing my head away in mock disgust. "Get out of my room."
"That's not very nice," I said, sticking my nose up in the air. "It almost makes me not want to give you the surprise I have for you."
Lance eyed me warily for a second, before a mischievous grin broke out on his face. "Stephen--we are in a hospital. I don't know if we can do anything like that, here" he said slyly. For a second, his joke was lost on me. Then I got it and promptly slapped him on the face once more.
"Always with the dirty thoughts," I sighed. "Close your eyes," I told him.
"Ooh, I like this already," Lance remarked as he closed his eyelids. I dug around in the pocket of my shorts and pulled out a small box. Taking his hand, I laid the box in it and then closed his fingers around it. "Okay, you can open your eyes now," I said, gently.
Lance opened his eyes up and looked at the box in his hand. Giving me a suspicious look, he slowly opened it, as though he expected something to jump out of it. He stared at it for a moment, not saying a word. His face had drained of all its color as he slowly lifted his silver cross necklace from the box.
"How did you get this?" Lance asked in disbelief, looking up at me with a happy smile on his face.
I shrugged modestly. "Let's say I have a few connections," I said, before laughing. The elated look on Lance's face was all I needed to see. "But that's why I didn't come to your rehearsal today--I was on the phone with the hotel we were at before, trying to get in contact with someone on that floor," I explained. "And I did."
"And you got it for me," Lance said, shaking his head, his eyes filling with happy tears. "Stephen, I--I can't believe you did this for me," He looked up at me, a few tears spilling down his face. "Thank you so much," he whispered softly. Then he held the necklace out to me. "Could you put this on--I'm having a little trouble with my arm," he said apologetically.
I rolled my eyes and gave him a grin. "Don't I do enough for you?" I teased him. I opened the sliver clasp and Lance leaned forward so I could place the sliver chain around his neck. After I did this, I softly placed a kiss on his neck, overwhelmed by the feelings that were running through me. I looked back at Lance, who was staring at me with love in eyes.
"I love you," I said softly, realizing that there were no other words I could use to describe what I felt at that moment. I don't think there were any other words I could use. He gave me a soft smile, leaning in for another kiss. And as our lips met, I could only think that I had finally found someone to love and someone who loved me right back.
And after we parted, Lance said the only words that could fit in our situation. "I love you too, Stephen,' he whispered back, before meeting my my lips in another loving kiss.
Okay, Lame? Not lame? You tell me--sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com Thank you and good night--Gabriella