Chapter added 12/18/04
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<Chapter 4 >
<James>
"Gone, gone, gone…" I sang, and then flopped back on the bed, looking up at him as he smiled down at me. "Why the hell did you release this one? It's so boring!"
He took another sip of his coffee and glanced at the TV. "I look good in the video."
"You're fucking hot in the video. But you were hotter in the last one."
He gave me that smile again, a sorta sideways glance, one eyebrow raised a bit. I liked that smile, I could tell I was amusing him. "Well, you were hotter with the blue hair."
"Was I?" I sat up again. "We don't like the blond?"
"We're quite fond of the blond. But the blue was very hot. Or maybe it was just that you kept playing with my doll in that video," he teased.
I kissed him. "I can play with other things now…" I purred, and he pulled me back to his lips, kissing me deeply.
"Why don't you sing?"
Laughing, I moved away from him. "The agile mind of JC fucking Chasez. From sex to singing in 2.2 seconds."
"We have time today. Answer the question. Why don't you sing?"
"We have time?" We never had time. We'd have a couple of hours behind closed doors in hotels. He might stay the night, but he always had to rush off before any saw him. Today, we were lying in bed having coffee and watching MTV. It was weird.
"I don't have to be anywhere. Do you?"
"No." I loved that. It had been a months since my life wasn't filled with meetings and shows and interviews. "What should we do?"
"You should answer my question about singing."
"Why is it that you can keep this thought in your head, when normally your thought processes are far from linear?"
"Why won't you answer the question?"
"Why does Justin sing lead on every fucking song when you're the one that can sing?"
He blinked at me for a second. "Justin can sing."
"But you're the hot one!"
He laughed. "He's the non-threatening one and I'm the one that can't quite stop picking up boys."
"Really?" I questioned him. "You like boys so your songs can't be singles?"
He took another sip of coffee, not really meeting my eyes. "Something like that. Why don't you sing?"
I let him off the hook. Maybe I'd get him drunk later and he'd talk about it. He got honest when he was drunk. "Because I'm the bass player."
"But you have a great voice." I do?
"Real bands only need one singer, not five," I teased, and he picked up a pillow and whacked me with it, sticking his tongue out at me.
"You have two."
"So do you, don't you?"
"They don't want to sing lead!" he protested, hitting me again. I picked up my pillow and started pummeling him.
"They're useless! They're only in the band because Lou fricking Perlman had some grand theory about how five is a magic number. You're no fucking Backstreet. At least they can all sing."
He attacked me, both of us giggling madly. "Yeah, Howie sings notes only dogs can hear, and you call Joey talentless?"
"And Lance and Chris, don't forget them! I'm telling Joey you thought of him first when you thought 'talentless'." I was laughing too much to defend myself, and he pounded me into the mattress, leaning over with a grin.
"You will not. Because then you might have to explain why we had this conversation."
"I thought they knew that you liked boys?"
"They'll be shocked to know that I spent more than a night with one."
He was still smiling, but I wasn't sure what to do. Pleased that I got to be more than one night? Or annoyed that he didn't care enough to tell his best friends? My band knew about him, hell, I couldn't wait to tell Rachel about this. I'd been surprised to hear his voice last night, telling me he was in town. "Really?" was the best I could come up with right now.
He kissed me, running his hand down my chest. "I don't have time for relationships, James. Pretend girlfriends are very low maintenance."
Well, that answers the 'maybe he likes me' question. Sex was good, right?
He looked down at me for a moment, obviously considering something, and then fell next to me with a laugh. "I'm starving," he admitted. "Sex is an excellent idea, but I'm starving."
I rolled over, propping my head on my hand to see him. "I'm not sure that I have any food in the house." I started to stroke his chest, but he caught my hand, stilling it against him.
"You're trying to distract me again."
"You are eminently distractible, Jace. It's not difficult."
"You don't have anything to do today?" he questioned.
"No. I have nothing to do until after Thanksgiving. Well, work wise. I have to see my parents for Thanksgiving, but that's still three days away or something, isn't it?"
"Where are your parents?"
I grinned at him. "Long Island. Two hours drive. See? You got distracted again."
"I'm faint with hunger," he swooned, and I just had to kiss him. I had to. His eyes sparkled when he was being silly, no matter how hard he tried to be cool.
He'd just made it very clear that a relationship was not in our future. I should not be this smitten. I really shouldn't. Next time he called me, I should blow him off, and we'd go our separate ways and he could continue his closeted little pop star life.
He nibbled at my hand, pretending hunger, giggling up at me.
Tomorrow. I'd blow him off tomorrow. I should take advantage of today. We'd never had a day together. It was always night when we got together.
"Rachel's not around?"
"She's in Japan with Backstreet. I have absolutely no commitments until Thanksgiving. So the only way you get out of hanging out with me today is if you make something up and leave," I teased.
"No, that's not it. I just showed up last night. I don't want to keep you from anything…"
"You're not. Let's go out to breakfast. Can you do that?"
"Yeah. I might have to wear a hat, but I can move among the common folk." Laughing, I rolled out of bed, opening the closet.
"I might have a couple, ooh, here's my favorite cowboy hat!" I held it out to him, and he shook his head, laughing.
"No. I'll get a ball cap or something. There are stores here, aren't there?"
"Yes, we are in the middle of the greatest city in the world. You need clothes, though…"
His clothes were somewhere in my living room, tossed aside when I ravished him the second he walked through my door.
He pondered that for a moment, and I tossed a T-shirt at him. "This the joy of a same sex relationship, dear. You can borrow mine. I even have clean underwear." He started to say something and I threw him a package out of my dresser. "I was too lazy to go to the laundromat. I'll do wash when I go home to Mom. So I bought some to tide me over."
"Cool!" he exclaimed. "Not my usual style, but they will do…"
"If you are going to wear new underwear every day, you could at least wear interesting ones," I told him. He was a white boxer shorts sorta guy. I liked the most obnoxious boxers I could find, but the ones I just handed him were plain black. "Now, go get in the shower."
He rolled out of bed and offered his hand to me. "Come with me. I'll never find the shampoo on my own."
He didn't have to ask twice.
<JC>
We took a very long shower, even if we barely fit in there together. We only got out because I pleaded hunger again.
Maybe that was why I was spending the day with him. I was stupid with hunger. I never did this. There were friends and there was sex, and they never met. But I liked James. I liked his goofy sense of humor and the way he teased me about being distractible. There wasn't anything wrong with this. We'd been seen in the press already, if anyone spotted us, it was easy enough to say I was in town on business and we were hanging out. Just friends.
If I could manage to keep my hands off of him. He was standing in front of his closet, humming to himself as he contemplated clothes. Maybe we could order in, and just stay here. This was New York, everyone delivered, right?
This was not like me. I got off and it was over. But I kept coming back to him. I made up excuses to talk to him on the phone…
This is nothing. A crush, JC. Just enjoy today. He can do far better than a closeted neurotic freak like myself.
He pulled out a pair of jeans and I groaned, making him turn around to smile at me. "What?"
"Not those. Are those the ones from your first video?"
He considered them for a second. "I think. Yeah. Why?"
"Because I will not be able to keep my hands off your ass if you wear those."
Smirking, he stepped into them, wiggling his ass for me. They were perfect, faded in just the right places, the fabric softly hugging the curve of his butt. Damn. "Are you planning on leaving the house like that?" he questioned me, and I looked down. Underwear and his black T-shirt. Right. Where were my jeans?
"I think they're in the livingroom," he told me with a smile, reading my mind. I forced myself to stop staring at him and went into the livingroom to find my clothes. There was a trail from the door to the bedroom- my shirt, his shirt, my shoes, his pants, mine. Did we even say hello? I couldn't remember, I just remembered him opening the door and dragging me inside, slamming me up against the wall and kissing me until I couldn't breathe. After that it was a blur of flesh and moans, tongues and lips and his skin against mine.
Food. He was right. I could get distracted. Was it any wonder, when he was so fucking hot? I stepped into my jeans, then picked up our other clothes and tossed them on the chair. My shoes had landed against a bookshelf, and I went to get them, but a picture of Rachel caught my eye.
At least I thought that was Rachel. She had huge 80s hair and bad 80s clothes, but that smile was the same. Did he keep that one just to embarrass her? The one next to it was better, Rachel and a guy I'd never seen before, sitting on a couch… I turned around to check. Yeah, that couch, I think it was in this room. The guy was good looking, dark hair and blue eyes with great laugh lines. He and Rachel were cracking up over something. They looked happy and comfortable together. Boyfriend?
"Jace?" James called, and I glanced over my shoulder as he walked into the room.
"Looking at incriminating photos of Rachel," I told him, and he joined me.
"I love that one," he said, pointing towards the 80s portrait. "I took that before we went to our first Duran Duran show. She's got an equally horrifying one of me."
"Who's the guy with her in this one?" I asked. "Boyfriend?"
He nodded. "Mine." He caught my look and smiled. "Ex. Don't worry, he's not about to come bursting in."
I glanced at the other pictures on the shelf, and found the boyfriend in at least three. There was one in the back of him with James, and I picked it up. They had their arms around each other, grinning for the camera. There was something about the way they were standing that made it obvious that they were in love, even if they weren't looking at each other. Maybe it was the way they leaned into each other, their hips touching. "You look happy."
He glanced at the picture, and then moved away from me, looking for something on the floor. "We were, for a while. Where the fuck did I throw my shoes?"
"How long is a while?"
"Four years."
I'd never been with someone for four days. Four years? And James had my life, he toured all the time, the band was his first priority. "How did you do that?"
He straightened up, his shoes in one hand. "Do what?"
"Four years with a person. Was he in the business, too?"
"No. He was - well, he is - an accountant. And I'm in a rock band, so do the math. Are we going?"
Okay, I'll drop that subject now. Shaking my head, I put down the picture. "I have to shave. Can I borrow a razor?"
"You're a freak. You do not need to shave."
I didn't. I'd shaved before I came over last night, because I knew that sometimes stubble was a bad thing. "No, I get less recognized without the goatee."
"That is not even a goatee. That is some bizarre boy band attempt at facial hair."
"Well, whatever it is, I'm shaving it off for the day."
"But I like it," he pouted.
"It'll come back by tomorrow, promise. Razor?"
"Isn't it bad enough that you're going to hide the fuck me hair?"
"And to think, my mother thinks it just looks unkempt. I'll tell her that it's the new look, 'fuck me hair'." I headed for the bathroom and he followed me.
"Your mother obviously has no taste."
I opened the medicine cabinet and was confronted by just about everything but a razor. Band-Aids, aspirin, cold medicine, toothpaste. No razor. He handed me one, placing a can of shaving cream on the sink. "Fine, here. But I can't watch!" he said dramatically, leaving me alone.
"The next time you see me, it'll be back!" I called after him, and he grumbled something at me.
<James>
There won't be a next time.
Right, James?
After today, you are going to avoid his phone calls and definitely never see him again. Four or five times with a pop star is surely enough.
I'll have to mention that to Rachel. I'm sure she'll agree.
I started making the bed, yanking the sheets up roughly. Not the same thing at all. Nick had thrown himself at Rachel. I was nothing to JC, just a convenient fuck whenever we were in the same town. Phone sex when he was lonely. Maybe, if we really stretched it, a friend. He seemed to want to hang out with me today, after all. He never once kicked me out, every time we left one another he seemed reluctant to go. He called me last night, I'd had no idea he was in town. He didn't need to do that.
I banged my head against the wall. Stupid, James. Stupid stupid stupid.
"You alright?" he called, and I whirled around, leaning against the wall.
"Fine. Dropped something. Do you want to borrow a sweater? It's cold out."
"Yeah, thanks. I'm almost ready."
Can I enjoy today? Can I have just one day where I get to hang out with him? We'd never really done that, gone out and done normal people things. We'd spent hours on the phone, but face-to-face interaction was different. Maybe we'd have nothing to talk about without the sex. We were going to be in public, so I'd have to be on my best behavior.
I stared down at the black sweater in my hand. If I give this to him, I will be far from my best behavior. It was small on me, and it would hug every one of his muscles. I pulled out a sweatshirt instead, and found an old sweater for me. There. We'd look like jocks, old frat brothers hanging out for the day.
Okay, not fucking likely, but I could try.
"Can we eat now?" he whined, sticking his head into the bedroom, and I rolled my eyes.
"I've been ready. But you had to shave, and look at my photos, blah blah blah," I teased, and he smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Learn to live like a pop star, James. Always be late."
"Hey, you're the one that wanted breakfast." I tossed the sweatshirt I was holding to him and he caught it easily. "It's not bedazzled. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes," he said with a grumble, pulling the shirt over his head. "That's Justin, anyway."
"Oh, please. I have downloaded plenty of pictures of you in sequins. It might be a look, sparkly college sweatshirts."
He glanced down at what he was wearing. "Columbia. Did you go there?"
"Yeah," I shrugged, finding my wallet and putting on my watch. It was one o'clock already. It wasn't really time for breakfast.
"Impressive," he nodded. "What did you tell me your degree was in?"
"Biology," I answered. I'd told him that? More to the point, he'd remembered?
"Right. I thought it was science. I just didn't realize it was from an Ivy. That's pretty cool."
I laughed. "I didn't precisely graduate with honors," I told him, crossing the room and pushing him down the hallway towards the front door, making him grin again. If I didn't move him, I had a feeling he'd stand there all day and ask me about college.
My fucking stomach had to stop doing flip-flops at his smile. Was that the prettiest smile ever, or was I blinded by lust?
"I bet you could have. You're a smart guy."
"Not at science. I was supposed to be pre-med, downgraded to bio sophomore year, because I was way too busy flying out of the closet. Then senior year I had my parents wigging out about my grades, but all I wanted to do was the band, so… we ended up not gigging that April and May so that Rachel and I could cram, and we squeaked by and managed to graduate."
I'd backed him into the door, and I grabbed my keys from their hook nearby, reaching for the doorknob when he leaned up, kissing me deeply. Maybe that's why his smile was so pretty, he had perfect lips. I loved the way they felt against mine, I loved how his tongue darted out to touch mine, making my knees weak. We broke apart and he sighed lightly. "Okay, that might hold me through breakfast."
No touching outside this door, James. I had to remember that.
Grinning again, he twisted the doorknob, ducking away from me to step into the hallway. "Why didn't you just drop out?" he asked, and it took me a moment to catch up to our conversation. College. Right.
"Because our parents would have killed us," I told him, locking all four locks on my door. I hadn't had to unlock them to get out. I hadn't locked my door last night? Yeah, I'd pulled him inside and after that it was a blur.
Thank God this wasn't happening again. I was lucky I still had an apartment. I started to tell him that, but could we talk about sex outside in the real world? Not that any of my neighbors would hear, since they were all a million years old and deaf, but…
I went back to telling him about college. "At spring break, we made deals. We'd graduate and at least have our bachelor's, and then we each got a year. If the band didn't take off in a year, I had to go to medical school and Rachel had to join the family business."
"When was this?" he questioned, following me to the stairs of my fifth floor walkup. Terribly glamorous. Not that he was complaining.
"A long time ago. We've been making deals for a while," I admitted. "We might be safe now, even if we never have another hit, I don't think my parents expect me to go to medical school."
<JC>
"But you'd be a good doctor." He would. He should do pediatrics, or maybe older kids… yeah, I could see him with teenagers. He was so good with the fans. He listened so well, and patients would like that.
He just snickered, several steps ahead of me. "I'd be a lousy fucking doctor, Jace. Too much to remember. Can you see me doing a residency and pulling 24 hour shifts? I'd die."
Can I slide down this banister? Fuck it.
I jumped off at the landing, grinning up at him as he stared at me in shock from ten steps up. "Oh, right, like you've never done that." I rolled my eyes at him, and he jogged down the rest of the stairs to join me.
"You might fall, and break something, and then you wouldn't be able to dance."
"Is that your excuse, or are you just afraid?" I taunted, moving to slide down the next flight. Were we on the ground yet?
"Race you," he challenged, positioning himself on the banister on the other side. They were made of wide wood, worn smooth with years of living, perfect for sliding.
Who the fuck slid down banisters?
Chapter added 12/18/04 Email feedback to The Paperbag Princess |