I’ve been up for a while when she comes downstairs. There was just no point in me staying in bed, and if I did, I was worried I’d just wake her up with tossing and turning. So far, I’ve killed a few robots and managed to assonate some spies with Playstation. I’m getting better and eventually, I’m going to kick Nick’s butt. I haven’t been able to yet, but I keep telling myself that I will one day.

As Miranda comes around the corner of the couch, I reach out and pull her into my lap, kissing her quickly. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” I tease.

She grumbles and drops her head down to my shoulder. “Have I ever told you I don’t like mornings?”

“No, but I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I chuckle. She looks like a pouty child, squinting at the morning. “Did you sleep okay, though?”

“You didn’t,” she says, lifting her head, still blinking and squinting.

“It happens,” I say, trying to sound casual and lift my shoulder.

“I wasn’t hogging the blankets, or snoring and keeping you up?”

“Not at all.” I smooth a hand over her hair, still unruly and tangled from sleep. “I actually stayed in bed longer because you were there. I liked having you next to me.”

She drops her head back down. “You’re very comfortable.”

“Well, thanks!” I hug her tightly. “Do you want to take a shower and go out to breakfast? I have absolutely nothing in the house whatsoever to eat.”

She lifts her head and peers at me. “You don’t have coffee?” she whines, and I just shake my head. “You’re a Neanderthal.”

“Your point?” I quip, but she just groans…maybe that’s another whine? “I’ll get coffee in for the next time, okay?”

“There may not be a next time. What kind of freak doesn’t have some kind of coffee in the house?” she grumbles and tugs at my hair playfully. “Flavored? Instant?”

I just shake my head. “I’m naturally caffeinated?”

“The hell you are.”

I kiss the top of her head with a chuckle. “The sooner you shower, the closer you are to coffee, Baby.”

“You telling me I smell?”

“Someone’s a cranky-pants,” I sing-song playfully. “Who’s the cranky-pants?”

She groans and pushes away from me. “I’m taking a shower.”

‘No coffee…he’s got to be kidding! No coffee? How do you live without coffee? What kind of freak is he?’ That’s my mantra as I rinse the conditioner out of my hair. I was smart and didn’t even bother to take a look at myself in the mirror. Yeah, I know my hair was out to there, and then I slept on it? I just know I was a sight to behold, uh-huh! But really, nothing says ‘good lovin’ better than wild, freaked out hair, right? ‘It’s not like he cared,’ I snicker to myself. Yeah, I’m feeling a little smug, kind of proud of myself.

Last night, I wasn’t sure if it was actually going to happen. I shaved every part of my body which usually means that nothing does. It’s only when you’re looking like some cavewoman that the occasion ever arises, right? But it’s not like the guy’s ever really care if you’re legs are a little stubbly. They’re getting laid, so I’ve been told, so it really isn’t an issue. But, regardless, I was going to wait and see. Be prepared, sure, but I was going to wait and see. But it was a great night, and I felt comfortable. Wasn’t expecting him to get all quiet and weird on me, but it was so sweet!

“Did ya drown?” he asks and I feel a rush of cool air as the door opens.

“Did ya drown?” he asks, and I feel a rush of cool air as the door opens.

“Just attempting to detangle the tresses,” I say, flicking drops of water at him from my fingertips. “I’ll be right out.” He stretches as far as he can without getting wet to kiss me quickly before he ducks out of the bathroom. When I open the shower door, though, I see it, and I may just possibly be in love with him. There, on the countertop, is a Starbucks cup – a large even – of coffee! I love him! I love him, I love him, I love him!

All I do is wrap a towel around me, pick up the cup and head out to find him in this massive space, but he’s not far…just outside the door with an all knowing grin. “No more Miss Crankypants?” he asks as I drape an arm around his shoulder and cradle the cup.

“I take it back, you’re no longer a Neanderthal,” I tell him with a slow nod, taking a sip before kissing him. “But that was really fast, Dude. Did you have someone meet you half way?”

“It’s just down the street, like a block, maybe,” he confesses, nonchalantly lifting his shoulder. “You’re nekkid under there, aren’t you?”

I hook a finger through his belt loop and tug. “You nekkid under there?”

“I can be.” He lifts an eyebrow and I just lift one of mine back at him with a sly smile.

“Sex for coffee…” I muse out loud. “That’s a first, but,” I tilt my head and look him over, “you’re in luck.”

“God bless caffeine,” he laughs to the ceiling.

“Kristin loves her,” Kevin says later that afternoon as we’re waiting to be interviewed for one of the local radio stations. I have no way of knowing if they can hear us in the other booth, but neither of us have our headphones on yet and there’s a commercial playing.

“Hey, I don’t have bad taste in women,” I say defensively. “Sarah was great, too.”

He nods, lowering his ear to the headphones to listen to what’s on. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that. And Kris loved her, but she loves Miranda now, too. She said you both look so cute together,” he adds, mimicking Kristin by raising his voice and eyebrows.

“So, where we learned how to do this… Once upon a time, we were excited and petrified, then we moved to being silly and goofing off, and somewhere along the way, we got bored, but always knew to answer with a smile and be courteous. More recently, however, we’ve gotten a lot better at saying what we really want to say, but politely and courteously, and it’s almost fun again. No more strict stifling, just a feeling like Big Brother is watching somewhere.

“So, where is she now? Is she working tonight?” Kevin asks once we’re done, as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted. That’s another talent we’ve acquired otherwise, none of us would ever finish a conversation. “Cause if she’s off, Kris wanted to invite y’all over again. Actually, I think we’re going to a movie or something.” She shakes his head slightly. “She told me, but…”

I laugh lightly. “Yeah, she told you but you paid absolutely no attention.” I get a barely sheepish grin. “I know that feeling. I’ll check and see. She said she was off, but I don’t know if she has plans.”

He lifts a curious eyebrow. “She? It’s not an automatic we yet?” he teases.

“Bite me, dawg!” I punch him playfully in the stomach. “It’s not like that.”

“Yet,” he tacks on, punching me back. “Call me. Let me know.”

We reach the doors and sign a few autographs for the fans, chat a little, but I’m impatient. I want to get back home. I know Miranda’s waiting for me, and I did invite her to come along, but she backed off. I think part of it was that she didn’t feel comfortable being the tag-along. The other part, and maybe the biggest part, is that I don’t know if she’s ready for the public part of this. If she came, not only would it be some kind of media leak considering we’re at a radio station, but there’s also the fans. They mean well, but without realizing it, they can put on a lot of pressure. And there’s me – I have a big mouth. I know I’d probably drag her on air. So, yeah, it’s probably best that she didn’t come along today. Besides, I’d keep looking at her and remembering last night, and this morning, and I’d be real impatient to have her to myself again. I don’t think we need to be that obvious about our relationship right now.

Shit…relationship. I said relationship, didn’t I? But, hell, it’s been two months. We’ve been calling each other almost every day, seeing each other when our schedules fit. I think about her constantly. We kissed for hours, had sex…what else would this be, Dork? It’s a relationship. I turn the key in the ignition and glance in the rear view mirror, not to look behind me, but to look at myself. Here we go again, Alex? You ready for another relationship?

“Well, baby, we’re public,” Alex says to me over the phone. I’ve just walked in the door from work and manage to kick off my shoes, breathing a huge sigh of relief. “My mom told me we’re on some website with Kevin and Kris.”

“So, what does that mean?” I ask, lying down on the couch and flipping on the ‘Today’ show. I turn it off immediately, seeing President Turtleface Bush and settling into the cushions. I am so tired.

“Nothing really, just that people will be looking at you more, some fans may approach you. You might even get a website of your own with your own fans. I really don’t know, but I just thought you’d want to know in case people start acting funny around you or something.”

“Alright.”

“You okay?” he questions.

“It’s been a really long night,” I explain. “Snakebite, or Snake Venom, or Venom Snake or whatever they’re called checked in last night. There are fans all over the place, they created pure chaos in the bar, and guests were calling all night asking to be moved. If you watch the local news, you’ll probably see me because the lead screecher passed out against the door of a guest and when they opened their door to figure out what the noise was, he fell in. They couldn’t close the door, and the guy wasn’t budging… We had to call an ambulance and the police…” He’s not laughing, is he? He’s not allowed to laugh. “It’s not funny. It was an absolute nightmare. I had to give away so many rooms to disgruntled guests, I’ll be lucky if they don’t take it out of my pay.”

“I don’t mean to laugh, but, really… When you think about it? It’s kind of funny. Some strange drunk guy passing out in your doorway?”

“Yeah, a riot,” I answer dryly. He’s still chuckling, but he sounds sincere when he says he’s sorry. “I just need some sleep. I might get my sense of humor back if I get some sleep and figure out how to get my feet to stop throbbing.” I roll over onto my side and exhale heavily. “So, what’s your day look like?” I ask during a yawn. He answers me, but I don’t really hear it. Well, I hear it, but I can’t concentrate on it. “Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. I’m just so tired right now. Can I call you when I get up later?”

“What time will that be?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. Does it matter?”

“We’re taping Leno,” he says, his tone a little odd. Maybe I should have paid closer attention to what he was saying.

“So, your phone can’t go into voicemail if you’re busy?” I’m answered with silence. “Alex?”

“No, you’re right…I’m sorry…”

“Alex, I’d love to talk to you right now, but really…I’m exhausted. My head is spinning and I just can’t concentrate.”

His tone softens, so hopefully he understands. “Call me when you get up, Baby.”

“I’ll tape Leno tonight,” I offer. “Make the whole hotel watch. Promise.”

Again, there’s a short silence. “I miss you, Baby,” he tells me, sounding a little sad. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It’s been at least a week, I know, but our schedules just don’t seem to be meshing at all. I never really minded night shift before, but it feels like it’s completely hindering my life since we started seeing each other. “I know,” I agree, “me too. But I’m off Tuesday and Wednesday.”

“We’re in New York for a week starting Monday,” he tells me.

“Well this is going to suck.”

“Yeah, it really is,” he agrees. “Look, get some sleep. Call me. If you leave a message, I’ll call back when I can, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Understanding.”

“Complicated, right? We knew it’d be complicated.”

I’d think about this if I could process any thought, but I just can’t. He sounded funny, but sincere, so I don’t know how to take that. Maybe I’m just too tired and am taking things the wrong way, who knows? I don’t want to start getting paranoid about him. People have off days, right? Maybe he’s reading something into my tone when it’s just tiredness. It could happen, right? I don’t even want to keep thinking about it, but it doesn’t seem as if I can do two things at once. My bed is calling my name and it’s all I want to listen to right now. I’ll call him when I get up, we’ll talk, I’ll tape Leno and watch him and be all silly and goony. I have to call my friends so I can be an idiot and proud and say ‘that’s my incredibly hot boyfriend’ over and over.

I get ready for bed, tossing on one of Alex’s tee shirts I’ve stolen, and then I’ve just climbed under the sheets when I hear the doorbell. This is cruel and unusual punishment, isn’t it? Doing my best to ignore it, I roll over, but it goes again…and again. Then there’s a knock. I toss the sheet aside and drag myself up, muttering that someone had better be dead, but when I reach the living room, Alex’s face is peering at me through the glass.

I open the door, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

He kisses me warmly and wraps an arm around my shoulder, closing the door behind him with his foot. He doesn’t say anything, but leads me to the bedroom and sits me down on the mattress. “Un-complicating,” he says with a smile, kicking off his shoes and crawling across the mattress, pulling me down next to him and resting my head on his shoulder. I feel him kiss the side of my head and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Go to sleep, Baby,” he says quietly.

“But…don’t you…?”

He just kisses the side of my head again and runs his hand over my shoulder. “Got it all covered,” he assures me. “Close your eyes…go to sleep.”

I do as I’m told, snuggling up closer to him. Suddenly, my day just got 110% better. “I love you,” I mumble.

“You too,” he whispers in my ear, still caressing my shoulder. “Now…sleep.”

This isn’t insecurity, really, it’s not. It’s wanting to see her, just be with her, even if she is asleep on my shoulder in less than a minute. I called her and knew she’d just be getting in, but usually, she’s awake for a while after her shift. When she answered the phone, though, I knew something wasn’t right. She just sounded tired, and kind of spacey, and then I go and laugh at her when she’s telling me about her night. But, come on…in my defense, it’s pretty funny. That’s something I would have done if I didn’t have a handler. Where the hell were their handlers anyway?

She rolls over, first away from me, but moments later, she inches across the mattress to press her back against me. I turn to curl up with her, but lie far enough back to stroke her hair gently and watch her sleep. I could sleep myself, but I just watch the way her mouth curls and fingers twitch slightly against the mattress. She’s so beautiful. Shiny dark hair and high, contoured cheek bones, her lashes just brush against her skin.

It amazes me, still. Something so delicate and beautiful here with me? I just want to be good to her. And I really want to spend more time with her! Our schedules are driving me nuts. I keep reminding myself that’s she’s a real person, a regular person, not someone in the industry. She had a life before me, and is maintaining that life on her own. Bills to pay, and all that, but it’s a lot to get used to when just about every other girlfriend I’ve had has been able to hang out with me for days on end. This is the kind of relationship real people, other people, have though, isn’t it? Very few people get to spend weeks on end with their girlfriend. They work, they have their activities, family, friends, their own lives… It’s just not something I’m used to having to deal with since I’ve usually dated industry people in some form or other.

And aside from that, when have I had time to have a real relationship? It’s not like I’ve had any kind of normal schedule or daily routine until recently. Flying all over the world, barely spending more than three days in one place – and even then it’s usually packed full with obligations and very little time for yourself, much less anyone else. It’s a learning curve for me, and I’m trying to learn. I can’t say I’m enjoying all the free time and not being able to see her, but when I get to be with her, it’s worth it. I’m so relaxed and comfortable when I’m her, and I really like feeling that way with someone else. I’m still not all that relaxed and comfortable with myself, but I’m getting better. I know that has more therapy written all over it, right? Being comfortable with yourself before being with someone else and all that, but when I’m with her, I remind myself that I am capable of it, though. She just reminds me of what I’m capable of and that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it? I know I’m capable.

Actually, that’s a pretty huge step.

“So, what’s it like being on the other side?” Kevin asks as he comes up behind my lounge chair, scaring me half to death. I was just starting to doze off, listening to the waves coming on shore, feeling the sun warm me to the core.

“It’s bliss,” I sigh contentedly, resting back. “And remind me to smack you later for sneaking up on me. Does this mean the rest of you are free?”

He takes the lounge chair next to me, pulls off his tee shirt and kicks off his flip-flops before squinting up to the clear blue sky. “Nope. It means they’re done with me for the moment and it’s someone else’s turn. Suckers!” He rests back into the chair and lifts his chin up to the sun, and I swear he’s a God. No mere mortal looks like this man. Honestly.

“Such sympathy for your fellow band mates,” I giggle.

“Like they’d be thinking anything different if they were out here?” he asks, keeping his chin up and eyes closed. He even has a perfect profile.

“You need sun block,” I warn him, reaching down and offering him mine.

“In a minute,” he agrees. “I’m just going to sit here a minute and bake.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Protection Against All Things Bad for You?”

He lifts a finger to his lips and winks at me. “Shhh.”

“I got a secret…” I sing teasingly.

“Bitch.”

“Now he catches on!” I laugh, tossing the sun block at his legs.

“I almost liked you too,” he teases back, slathering some lotion over his chest, God help me. It’s not abnormal to be attracted to your boyfriend’s best friend, is it? I mean, not when he looks like that, right? Harmless flirting and admiration, purely physical. I couldn’t date him. He’d drive me insane, but he’s fun to flirt with and I don’t have to put up with his perfectionism. Win-win if you ask me.

“You love me and you know it,” I chuckle playfully, blowing him a kiss. “So, how much longer do you think he’ll be?” I ask as he continues to slather lotion on himself.

“Probably about another half hour or so. They’re doing the individuals now, and he went in after me.”

“How’d you get to be lucky number one? You couldn’t let Alex go so he could come play with me?”

“And miss the opportunity myself?” he asks, a light Kentucky drawl finding its way into his words. “Dang, girl…you’re giving me a complex.”

I laugh and shake my head against the chair. “No offense there, Kev, but Alex can entertain me in ways you can’t.”

He busts out laughing and leans back into the chair, finally protected. Damn…that’s the end of that voyeurism, I guess. “Well, ya got me on that one. Sorry.”

“Ah, you’re not even tryin’,” I giggle. “So, it went well at least? You seem to be in a decent mood.”

“It went fine. Nothing too deep…the usual.”

“And what’s the usual these days? I would think they stopped asking you about shoe size and favorite color by now.”

He snorts lightly in doubt but a slight grin crosses his lips. “Yeah, at least that. Nah, it’s more or less about the album, how it feels to be back together again, how it felt to get into the studio after three years, the AJ thing…”

“The AJ thing? Meaning what happened and what was said?”

“They’re not going to be satisfied, I think, until they get a blow by blow, word for word account,” he says, clearly not pleased. “I hate to break the news to ‘em, but they got as much honesty about the whole thing that they’re gonna get. Some things are private.”

“Even if you go on international and national TV and discuss it?”

“We told people more than they needed to know, and we didn’t even have to do that.”

“I agree,” I say quickly. “I’m just saying that some people expect the word for word, blow by blow account because you were so damn honest in the first place. Everyone knows what happened, but it’s killing them not to know how, I guess. Especially since they know it had so much to do with you – and you, well…”

He turns his head and lifts an eyebrow. “Yes?” he asks, drawing out the ‘s.’ “What about me?”

“You have a reputation, but really, how much of the public has ever gotten to see you lose your temper? You’re polite and sweet and soft spoken. The dark, mysterious, brooding one… They can imagine you losing your temper, some have seen you get snippy even, but it’s a whole other ball game knowing that you broke a door down. Now that’s pissed.”

“That it is,” he says with a slow nod.

“And it occurs to me that I sound like I’m prying,” I say. “I’m not. I wouldn’t ask you to discuss it with me.”

I get another smile and nod. “I know.”

“Well…I just wanted to make sure you did. You don’t really know me all that well, and here I am…”

“I know you well enough, Miranda,” he interrupts, looking at me kindly. “And Alex talks about you all the time, so I’m pretty confident you’re not scheming behind his back.” He crinkles his nose. “In case you haven’t noticed, we all kind of like you, too. So you can relax. It’s all good, don’t worry.”

I smile brightly. “You like me?”

“Now don’t let it go to your head or anything,” he drawls again. He must feel comfortable around me. I’ve never heard this much ‘Kentucky’ before.

“As if!” I sputter indignantly with a laugh.

“And, confidentially? I think Alex is a little smitten,” he whispers loudly with another playful wink.

“He’d better be! I took a week of vacation to be here with him!”

“Oh, a whole week to lounge poolside while he does press junkets? Now that’s a sacrifice.”

“Is he sitting here next to me? No, I don’t think so. I just get to hang with the staff, a few fans and his best friend,” I tease. “And he’s just a few feet away, and I can’t be with him. It’s torture, Baby. Torture.”

It’s his turn to chuckle. “Hmm, I think someone else might be a little smitten.”

“Damn straight,” I say firmly. “I might even have to use that ‘L’ word.”

“Dang, not the ‘L’ word!” He sits up and blinks at me playfully. “It’s just getting out of hand! It’s only been, what…four months? Y’all ain’t rushing into things now, are ya?”

“Oh, shush,” I wave a hand at him and lift my chin up to the sun, closing my eyes.

“Well,” I hear him settle back into the lounge chair, “if you ask me, you might be the best thing that’s happened to him in a long, long time.”

“Might?” I tease. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m withholding my final verdict,”

“For what?”

“Alex.”

Okay, I suppose that’s fair…

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to me, immediately comforted. She chuckles lightly, and her hands run along my forearms as she drops her head back to kiss me. “Still up for going out?” she asks.

We’re already in the elevator… “What if I say no?”

“We push this button when we get down to the lobby and go back up.”

“We could go back up, but that doesn’t have to mean I’m tired.”

“If you feed me first, you’ll get a lot more out of it. I’m starving, Baby.”

“Then let’s go out and see how we feel afterwards.”

The elevator doors open, and we are greeted by a few fans in the lobby, and I’m just blown away by her. I have visions of past girlfriends rolling their eyes, sighing with annoyance, or just keeping hold of my hand, walking straight past them and grumbling something about ‘getting a life.’ Miranda, though, releases my hand and smiles but doesn’t step away either; she keeps a hand on the small of my back and caresses lightly, easily, as I sign a few autographs. She steps back while I pose for pictures, and even gets into conversations with a few of them. She’s not being possessive, you know? She’s just being…my girlfriend. How cool is she?

We head off a few minutes later and settle into a cab on our way to the restaurant. We’re meeting the other fellas – like I haven’t spent enough time with them today, right? But LeighAnne and Kris flew in tonight, and we have tomorrow off, and I doubt any of us will see each other at all. At least, I’m not planning on it. Tomorrow we’re going to visit my family and Miranda gets to meet them for the first time. I’ve been giving her ‘Cliff Notes’ as she says, on who’s who, and I swear she doesn’t seem nervous. Normally, when ‘parents’ are mentioned, I freak. Maybe it’s a guy thing. But she’s pretty confident.

Soon, there’s laughter and conversation all around the table. Miranda’s laughing with Kris sitting across from her and Kevin looks across the table at me and lifts an eyebrow with a look at Miranda. It’s an approving look with a smile that’s barely there so as not to give away that he’s ‘talking’ about her. I really think that whatever happened between us has sealed a stronger bond between us. I don’t want to think ‘big brother’ and all that crap, but I do think, no matter what ever happens, Kevin’s going to be around to bounce ideas and thoughts off of.

“Somehow, dinner with the fellas always becomes a three to five hour event,” I say, climbing into the cab. “We see each other all day, talk all day, and still, it’s a five hour event.”

Miranda settles next to me and puts her head on my shoulder. “You had fun. Stop denying it.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t! I’m just trying to figure out why it takes so damn long to have dinner.”

She lifts her head, and I turn to look at her. “’Cause none of you can shut up,” she says plainly. “Rehashing and private jokes and you! Everything you do somehow is an adventure all unto yourself,” she teases. “Going to the bathroom becomes an ordeal!”

“There was no sign!” I protest. “I didn’t mean to walk into the ladies room!”

“The fact that there were no urinals didn’t give you a clue you might be in the wrong place?” she laughs.

“It was too late by then, and I didn’t see the point when I wasn’t in there to use a urinal in the first place. What’re the chances that someone was gonna know I was in a stall?” All she does is blink at me, her face blank. “Shut up.”

“An adventure,” she just says with a slow nod.

“What? Girls do it all the time when there’s a line in the ladies room,” I protest.

“It’s expected at a club. It’s not expected at some ritzy hotel, Dude. I work in one, remember?”

“And who ever uses the public bathrooms in a hotel when ninety-nine percent of the people have their own rooms to go back to?”

“Well, there’s at least one percent that don’t have their own room,” she argues with a chuckle, “and then you have to factor in that the bathrooms are just outside the entrance to the hotel pool.”

“Shut up. I didn’t mean to freak the lady out and how was I supposed to know she’d be fixing her boobs in a bikini top? And trust me, she had no right wearing a bikini in the first place!”

“And you’re an expert?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Now you? You should be in a bikini.”

“As a matter of fact, you should see my tan lines.” She lifts her eyebrows at me and gives me a sly smile.

Yes, I should…