Rebound

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

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

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

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

That said, we now continue.

Michelle threw me a dirty look when I walked in, drifting past her with the cart full of newspapers as she stood taking chairs down, something I usually did. As soon as I walked out of the storeroom she began loudly dropping the chairs, practically slamming them to the floor, but I chose to ignore her as she stood there seething in her floor length black ballgown. I had no idea where she got these dresses, really, although Meg had suggested once that she bought them at thrift stores and took them home to dye them black. This one even had a matching wrap, draped over her shoulders, and I wondered what color it had started out as before being double dyed in what must be a permanently stained bathtub. I knew that she wanted me to say something, but my brain was still trying to process what Justin had said. Friends weren't the kind of people who had sex, not unless they were fuck buddies, and really Justin was too good a person, too deserving of better, to be my fuck buddy.

If I even needed one.

Which I didn't.

Still, though, every time I tried to stop thinking about it, these images just flashed into my mind. I saw Justin above me, eyes squeezed closed, face pleasantly tensed. I saw his chest moving, expanding and contracting, his nipples hard and stiff, peaking on his pecs. I saw his arm flex, or his legs moving. Not just that, I remembered the way he had looked when he lay on the bed stroking himself, the way his cock had throbbed, and the look in his eyes when he glanced up at me as I walked into the bedroom. More than that, though, I saw the way he looked when he was asleep. I saw the face he made when I tried to slide out of bed, the way he looked a little disappointed, even in his sleep a little needy. I tried to keep my head clear, tried to focus on what I was doing even though I was walking through the set up chores on autopilot, but I kept hearing Justin laugh, or seeing the way his eyes flashed when he smiled.

"You know," Michelle began, snapping me out of my daze. "If I'd known you were going to be late, I would have come in a little earlier."

"Huh?" I asked, blinking stupidly at her. Michelle laughed and shook her head.

"Nevermind," she said, turning away. "I was going to complain about you coming in late, but you're clearly having a slow day. Did you have a stroke or something?"

A stroke? Yes, I'd stroked Justin for several minutes. I think he might have stroked me, too. God, I needed to stop this.

"Something," I answered, blinking. Michelle sighed loudly. "What?"

"Well, I was going to be mad at you," she said, flicking on the coffee machines. "But there's no point in it with your head wherever it is."

"Sorry," I said, shrugging. What about Matt? What about me? And what about Justin? Did he even have the emotional maturity for a friends with benefits kind of relationship? More importantly, did I? "I'm just thinking."

"I bet," Michelle said, shaking her head. "Come get your coffee, and then go do something. Nice turtleneck, by the way."

My one of my hands flew up to my neck when she said that, as I wondered if she could see one of the bites, and she stared at my face with a smirk. I realized that I'd just confirmed what she was thinking, and felt myself blush.

"It's not what it looks like," I said stupidly.

"It's not a turtleneck?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. I wanted to splash my coffee in her face suddenly, and turned away. We heard the door in the back of the storeroom close, and I walked across the cafe to unlock the front doors and put up the shades as Justin walked in. "Good morning, Justin. Do you want coffee?"

"Please," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. None of this was bothering Justin, apparently. "How are you, Michelle?"

"Amused," she answered, and I heard the clink of a cup being set down on the counter, followed by the metal ticking of a spoon, probably stirring in the veritable gallon of cream Justin put in his coffee. "Show me your hand. Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore," Justin answered as I walked upstairs. "It did a little last night, but Chris kept my mind off of it."

"He's good at that," Michelle said smoothly, and I almost spit my coffee out on the floor. The things I was good at, well, she'd never know.

"Yeah," Justin answered dreamily. "He sure is."

I spent a good chunk of the morning upstairs, avoiding both of them. I was trying to keep track of the store, help the customers, and figure out this thing with Justin all at the same time, and I thought my head might explode. I thought Justin and I were just friends, but my definition of friends clearly differed from his. I wondered what kind of people the rest of the guys in the band were, or if this was just something he had come up with on his own. I also worried about what I was doing, and started letting all the same guilty thoughts I'd had in the shower this morning come back to me. I shouldn't have let this happen, should have been the mature, thinking one, and kept us from doing this while he was so vulnerable, but somehow when I looked at him, when I stared into his eyes or felt his hands on me, I couldn't seem to push him away. Something in me related to Justin, something fit with him, and that bothered the hell out of me. It seemed to cheapen what I had with Matt, the way I'd felt about him, to think I could feel that way about someone else.

And did I even feel that way about Justin? I'd known him for what, four days? What he'd said this morning was right, too. I didn't have any business telling him about how he should feel. I couldn't even sort my own feelings out. The more I tried, the more they just seemed to run around each other in a circle, like racecars on a track, going faster and faster but really not getting anywhere. Michelle seemed to sense my confusion, at least a little, as she left me alone for the morning, and when Meg came in she did the same. Justin stayed downstairs for the most part, too, and when he came upstairs I tried to keep myself on the other side of the floor, as it did no good trying to think about him when he could just walk in and derail my entire mind. I was starting to think that I was a little deeper into this than I would admit when I felt arms circling me from behind.

"You look like you need a hug," Justin whispered, his mouth right next to my cheek. I pulled out of his arms.

"Justin, stop," I snapped, annoyed. "Just stop."

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, eyebrows scrunched together. His face looked hurt, but also a little annoyed. His voice wasn't loud, but there was a definite whine, which I'd noticed every time he didn't get his way. "I thought we talked about this. I thought we worked all this out this morning."

"I thought we did, too," I said, crossing my arms in front of me, annoyed as well. "I thought we agreed to just be friends."

"And?" Justin demanded. "Friends hug each other."

"I don't hug my friends," I said, knowing it was a stupid, childish thing to say. Why did Justin, for all his skill at flicking on the sex machinery inside me, also have this amazing knack to push all the buttons in my bad spots, too?

"You hug Julie," Pete said casually, walking by. I wanted to push him over the balcony. Why couldn't the staff stay out of this? You'd almost think they wanted me to end up with Justin.

"Fuck off, Pete," I said bluntly. This didn't sting Pete at all, and he just smiled and shook his head as he went back to looking for a book for a customer waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs. If the customer was older, Pete usually offered to run up and get it himself. I turned back to Justin. "Julie hugs everyone."

"So it's ok to hug Julie, because she hugs everyone?" Justin asked carefully, the petulance draining out of him. He smirked a little, and then walked over to Pete, wrapping him up in a big hug. Pete looked a little surprised, but patted Justin on the back.

"Thanks, Justin," Pete said absently.

"You're welcome," Justin said, winking at me. He turned and walked over to a customer. "Hi, do you need a hug?"

The lady seemed a little startled, but Justin looked so sincere, and he had those damned blue eyes and that smile and that oozing charm, and she was as powerless to resist as I kept finding myself. Justin hugged her tightly, and then moved on to the next customer. Downstairs I saw Michelle and Pete watching from the cafe, both of them wearing the same amused expression. I was caught, and they all knew it. As Justin went through the entire store I couldn't help but smile, and felt the irritation sliding out of me, too. He was a sweetheart, and people seemed to sense that. He hugged Michelle last, picking her up and spinning her around as she weakly protested, and by this time all of the customers were watching as he climbed back up the stairs to me.

"There," he said, smiling, that sexy little "I've been a bad boy" smile that made me want to grab him and do bad things with him. "I've hugged everyone. Can I have a hug now?"

"Sure," I said, swallowing. I was amused that he'd done all that just for a hug, and pretty surprised to find that I actually did want to hug him for it. How could I be mad at him? Justin's arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him, crushing my chest to his. Everyone else had gotten a quick, almost cursory hug, but this was a real one. I found my face buried between his neck and shoulder, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of him, feeling his hands squeeze tightly at my shoulders before he let go and stepped back, smiling.

"Thanks," he said, turning away to walk back downstairs. "I needed that."

Pete walked by, almost snickering, and poked me in the chest.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor and get back to work," he said, shaking his head.

By the time lunch rolled around Justin hadn't committed any further spontaneous displays of affection, which I was thankful for. I couldn't clear my thoughts if he just kept putting new ones in there. Pete and Michelle let him work, joking with him like he was one of the family, splitting a cookie with him during a down spot. Michelle mentioned maybe wanting to teach him how to use the register in the morning, and the three of them looked to me for confirmation, but I just shrugged. Why not? If he was going to stay here for a couple weeks, and put in shifts at the store, he might as well know how to help people, rather than just leading customers back to the rest of the staff. The three of them had things well under control, so I retreated to my office to work on the books, and to glance, every so often, at the picture of Matthew and I above my desk. I looked happy in that picture, and wondered if I looked the same way now.

Justin's phone chirping interrupted my thoughts. I looked out to see him frowning at it as he stood behind the counter helping Michelle with the lunch orders.

"Pete, can you help Michelle?" Justin asked, holding his phone. "I should take this."

"I'll get her, Justin," I said, standing. Pete had three or four people in line at the register, so I switched in for Justin at the counter. "Go on in the storeroom or my office, ok?"

"Thanks," he said, squeezing my arm. My heart fluttered for a second as he walked away, flipping the phone open. "Hi, mama."

Michelle and I glanced at each other. What was Justin going to tell his mother, exactly? I remembered what he'd told me about the way she accepted, but still disapproved. I didn't know if it was really a good idea for him to talk to her right now, after last night, because he had to be at least as confused as I was, even if he was covering it better. What would talking to her do to him? Then again, it was his mother, and he knew her a hell of a lot better than I did. If he wanted to take a call from her, that was his business. Michelle and I kept serving up the soup and making sandwiches, and I left it alone until I realized that about twenty minutes had gone by, and that Justin was still in the storeroom. The rush had slowed down, and I looked uncertainly at the storeroom door.

"Go check on him," Michelle said, nudging me with a hand in the back. "Go on. I got it out here."

I opened the storeroom door and didn't see him, but I could hear him on the other side of one of the shelves, near the back door that led up to the loft. His voice was tight, close to tears, and it boomed around the storeroom, louder than usual.

"Mama, please," Justin pled, his shoes scuffing on the floor as he paced back and forth. "Please stop it, please. Mama, please don't yell at me!"

I waited, unsure of whether I should interrupt. If this was a private moment, he might not want me standing here as an audience to his half of the conversation.

"No, mama, I don't want to talk about that," Justin said, his voice lower. I guessed that she had stopped yelling. "I don't want to hear it. That doesn't, no, no, that doesn't prove that. That doesn't prove anything. It just proves that JC is an asshole."

This must be that part of the talk that Justin mentioned earlier, which was that every time he had a fight his mom used it as justification to prove that he shouldn't really be dating guys and that she was right. Justin sounded a little calmer going over familiar ground, but was still clearly upset. I peeked around the side of the stacks and saw that he wasn't pacing. He was dancing nervously in place, and I almost laughed, until I saw the dropped shoulders, and the way he was holding the phone so tightly that his knuckles were white. His back was to me.

"No, no, I don't care what he told you," Justin said, shaking his head. "He cheated on me. Do you understand that? He promised, after last time he promised, and he did it again. He did it with him, mama. You don't know how that feels. No, I don't care about that. It's not like you and dad. Mama, you're not listening to me. You don't listen. No, stop it. Please don't yell at me!"

Justin stopped dancing and sat down on the floor, folding his legs, holding his head with one hand.

"Mama, that's never going to change," Justin said, and it had the sound of a speech he'd given before. "Mama, I'm always going to be gay. This is who I am. This is how God made me. No, mama, it's not bad to say that. I don't care what your minister said, because I talked to God, and I'm ok."

This was rather interesting to me, and I made a note to talk to Justin about it later. I'd noticed each time we ate that he paused for a second over his food, and I assumed he was saying grace or a prayer or something. I'd also noticed that one of his library of tattoos was a large cross on his shoulder. Clearly he was at peace with who he was and who God was, and I wondered how he'd managed to do that.

"Can we talk about something else, please?" Justin asked, sighing. "We both know it's not going anywhere. Do we have to talk about that? I told you, it's just a little cut. They stitched it right up, and the doctor said it won't even scar. No, it's not going to be a problem with the shoot. How many times have you seen someone take a picture of the palm of my hand? I'll be back in plenty of time for it. No, you don't have to send someone. No, don't. No, I mean it. I mean it, mama. I only told you so that you would stop worrying."

Justin's voice was rising again, and he stood, his hand balling into a fist.

"No! I mean it!" Justin said, angry again. It wasn't the same anger that he yelled at me with when we bickered. It was sad, like he was angry but didn't want to be. "Mama, I knew I shouldn't have told you anything! Damn it, I need space, ok? I need to think. Don't you tell him where I am! No, I mean it, don't you dare! I don't care what he said! I don't care about him, I don't care about the shoot, and I don't care about any of the rest of it! No! No, no no! Mama, I'm sorry. I love you, but I can't talk to you right now. I love you."

Justin hung up, and his shoulders dropped. I crossed the storeroom and tapped his shoulder. When he turned his eyes were wet, and his bottom lip was trembling, and without thinking I grabbed him and hugged him tightly to me.

"Now I think you need a hug," I said quietly, and his arms squeezed sharply, almost crushing me. He drew in several loud, sharp breaths, but I didn't think he was crying. He was shaking, though, his whole body trembling a little, and I just held on, feeling his heart pounding. "Are you ok?"

"Why does she have to yell at me?" Justin asked. "Why does she do that? I don't want to get mad at her, I don't, but she just, she yells at me."

"She's your mother, Justin," I said. "She wants what's best for you."

"Now you sound like her," he said, stepping away from me. He wasn't mad though. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "I know she means well, but what she thinks is best and what I think is best aren't the same things. Nsync isn't the end of the world. I'm tired of always thinking about what the band needs, and what JC needs, and what I have to do because everyone else tells me to. I need some time to do what I want, and I can't if everyone keeps telling me to do something else, you know?"

"I understand," I said, nodding. Justin was having teenage rebellion a little late. "Do you need anything? You can go upstairs if you want, to chill for a while, or something."

"No, I have to finish my shift," he said seriously. I smirked at him a little. I couldn't help it.

"Justin, you don't really work here," I said, shrugging. "I'm not going to dock your pay. If you need some time, go take some time."

He shook his head, smoothing his clothes back down and running a hand over his hair, even though it hadn't moved. It was too short to, but I guessed that he'd been cautioned about appearing in public enough times that it was probably all an unconscious straightening on his part.

"I told Michelle I'd work a shift," he said. "It's my responsibility, and I take those seriously."

I nodded, and turned to walk out of the storeroom, barely hearing him muttering behind me.

"No matter what mama says," he added, so softly I don't think I was meant to catch it. I decided to pretend not to have.

He tried to cover it when he went back into the store, but his enthusiasm was down for the rest of the afternoon. He still smiled at the customers, and was still polite and completely charming. He followed attentively when Pete taught him to use the register, and sent Pete home with a handshake and a smile when his shift was over and Julie came in. Julie, as was her nature, greeted him with a hug, and he returned it, allowing her to fawn over his hand and ask breathlessly about the hospital and the doctor and whether there was anything he needed. When no one was looking, though, his shoulders dropped a little, and his face took on a thoughtful, distracted expression. Michelle noticed it, too, and as she picked up her jacket and bag at the end of her shift, standing with me in the storeroom as Meg took over for her out at the cafe, she nodded toward Justin, who was ringing someone up.

"Keep an eye on him tonight, ok?" she asked. "I think that call from his mother upset him."

"It did," I said, nodding. "I don't want to intrude in his business, though, you know."

Michelle gazed evenly at me, the look on her face one of amused chagrin, as if there was a joke here that only she got, and she couldn't believe it.

"Chris, trust me," she said, smirking. "He wants you to intrude. I'll see you in the morning, ok? Call me if you're planning to be late again."

"I didn't plan it today," I said, walking her to the back door.

I was hoping not to have it crop up again tomorrow, as well, although I had the distinct impression that Justin might have other ideas. His definition of the word "friend" included a few perks that mine didn't. Then again, looking at him alone at the register, staring dejectedly at the counter but really looking into himself, I wondered if maybe his libido wouldn't be a little curbed for the time being. Nothing crushed thoughts of sex like thoughts of mom, unless maybe you were Norman Bates. I walked over.

"You're doing a great job on the register, Justin," I said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled brightly at me.

"Thanks, Chris," he said. As I'd noticed before, he thrived under praise, but I noticed now that he also brightened a lot more from mine than he did from Michelle's or Pete's.

"You're welcome," I said. "Look, your shift is over. Meg and Julie have the night shift, and you and I need some dinner. Upstairs, on the phone table, there's a little stack of menus. Pick one out, and order us some dinner, ok? I'll bring it up when it gets here."

"What do you feel like?" he asked, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a pair of twenties and pressed them into my hand. "Dinner's on me."

"I'm fine with any of them," I said, shrugging. I stuck the money in my pocket. It was more than dinner would cost, at least from any of the places I ordered from, but I guessed that tonight the delivery guy was going to get a hell of a tip. "I like chicken more than beef, and I won't eat anchovies on pizza, but that's about it, ok?"

"OK," he said, nodding.

Justin walked back into the storeroom on his way upstairs, and Meg walked over, her heels clacking on the floor. It can't have been comfortable for her to work in those pumps, but today she was dressed as a young Ally McBeal, miniskirted yet corporate. She must have had a presentation in class, or something. Her hair was pulled back in a stern bun, and her makeup was light and pale, giving her the overall look of either a shrewd businesswoman or a stuffy librarian. Either way, I knew that there were guys who would chase right after that, too, lured by the idea of such a prim, straightlaced girl.

"We keeping our new employee?" she asked, grinning.

"I don't know," I answered, even though I did kind of know that he wouldn't be here forever. For the first time, the knowledge that Justin wouldn't be here forever hit me with a bit of a sinking feeling. "You think we should?"

"Yeah, I do," Meg answered, without hesitating. "I like him, Pete likes him, Michelle actually complimented him, and Julie loves him to death. She loves everyone, but, you know, I think he's good to have around. It's nice to get some fresh air in here."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, frowning.

"Nothing," she said, turning away.

"Meg," I began, wanting to ask again.

"I have a customer," she trilled, shaking her head.

I wanted to smack her. The speech she just gave me was a little too pat, and sounded a little too rehearsed. The entire staff had been in today, and the first thing they had done was ask Justin about his hand, even though half of them hadn't been working when he cut it. They'd all talked about this, the conniving little backstabbers. No wonder everything they said about Justin was complimentary. They were trying to push us together. I felt resentment bubbling up in me. Matthew had been their friend, damn it. How could they do this to him? How could they betray him like this? I started to walk toward her, intending to demand an explanation, but another thought stopped me.

It wasn't really Meg, or Pete, Julie, or Michelle that I was upset with. I was upset with myself, because I was feeling guilty again. I felt like I was betraying Matt, even though I knew he would want me to be happy, and I also felt a little angry with myself. Everyone else could see it, and everyone else thought it was a good idea, so why couldn't I? Why couldn't I let go, when everyone else seemed to be able to? Matt would want me to be happy. He wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life alone, and everyone else seemed to realize that, but would he want me to be happy with Justin? Could I be happy with Justin? Sure, he was cute, and he was nice, but he was also young. He was struggling with his independence, and his identity, and everything else. He needed someone who could help him with that, not someone who had issues of his own.

I was still thinking about this as I carried the food up the stairs. I could tell from the containers and the smells that Justin had ordered Chinese, but wasn't sure of the actual dishes, and was a little excited to get upstairs. That excitement quickly dropped out from under me as I opened the door from the stairwell, and found the loft completely dark. I set the bag of boxes down by the door, flicking the switch. The ceiling lights came on all over the loft, sending their little cones down over their areas, leaving the spaces between rooms unlit, and I spotted Justin sitting over on the window ledge, his legs folded under him. He turned toward me, and I saw that his face was wet, the streaks under his eyes and down his cheeks catching the lights.

"Justin?" I asked quickly, crossing the room. I sat next to him on the shelf, watching his huge blue eyes follow me, and when I was seated he reached out with both arms. Not sure what was wrong, but wanting to help, I let him slide over and hold onto me. "Justin, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding me tightly. He wasn't still crying, but it was obvious that he'd just finished. His voice was thick and choking. "I wish, I, I'm sorry, Chris."

He couldn't continue, so I just held him. It seemed to be what he needed.

"You're the nicest guy I've met in a long time, Chris," he said finally. "Sure, we had, you know, there was kind of a little bit of a rough start, but you've been so good to me. Being here for the past couple of days, hanging out at the store, going around town, all of it, it's been so good for me. You've been so good for me."

"I'm glad, Justin," I said, not sure of what other response to give. "I want you to have a good time while you're here."

"I am," he said, his voice high. I worried that he might start crying again, because I could hear the tremor. "I've had the best time, and I wish, I wish it wasn't, I wish I could stay here forever. I wish I could stay here with you, with all of you, with Pete and Meg and Julie and Michelle. I wish I could stay here with you, Chris, you especially, but I can't. I can't stay here, and I don't want this to be over."

I sighed, but didn't let go.

"Justin," I began, pressing him to me. "It's ok to be sad about that. We knew you had to leave someday, that you wouldn't be here forever, but we'll still be friends, Justin. Besides, you have time. You told me you still have days before that shoot."

"You don't understand," Justin said, shaking his head. His body hitched as he swallowed a sob. "I don't have days. I don't have any more time."

"Why not?" I asked. "Did something happen? Do you have to go? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," he said, finally letting go. He pulled back, so that I could see his face, but he didn't meet my eyes, staring down at his hands. "Yeah, something's wrong."

"Justin, tell me what it is, please," I said, taking one of his hands. He looked up at me. "Look, I know how we left things this morning, and how it's been today, but I do care about you, Justin."

"I know," he said, looking at our hands. "My mom called while you were downstairs, right after I called out for dinner."

"Did you have an argument again?" I asked, remembering how upset he'd been earlier.

"Yeah," Justin answered. "I, earlier, when I told her about my hand, she got upset, and she got really worried. She was freaking out, and talking about how anything could be happening and she didn't know where I was or who I was with or anything, and I told her I was in Boston. I didn't want her to worry, and I just, I wanted to be a good son, and not be like my dad was. I just wanted to make her feel better, so I told her I was here, and she promised that she wouldn't tell anyone."

I understood immediately.

"She told, didn't she?" I asked, and Justin nodded.

"They're going to come get me," Justin said, his face crumbling. "They're going to come here, and I don't want to go."

To be continued.