Date: Tue, 29 Jan 2002 16:04:57 -0800
From: icydragon9@hotmail.com
Subject: My girlfriend made me do it:chapter 1

The usuals: Don't read this if you are morally objected to gay
relationships, or are under 18, or this is illegal where you live.
Seriously: If the warnings on the website aren't enough, at least listen to
me right now and stop if any of these conditions apply. I don't know any of
the members of N'sync, and I have no idea who they really are as people,
including personality/sexuality, etc.

Okay. I don't think any of you have read anything like this, and I'm hoping
you'll like it and continue to read it. Unfortunately, my main character
doesn't even speak to N'Sync until practically the end of the chapter, but
I have a lot of character building to do, and I'll make up for it in the
next one, unless people tell me not to, of course. I have written stories
before, but haven't had the guts to post any, so I hope this is even worth
it.

If you like it, I have more already written, I'm just waiting for people to
say they want to find out what happens. If you hate it, then I can it.
Either way, please email me at icydragon9@hotmail.com, so at least I know
that someone is reading it. Enjoy!

	I was trying to figure out how to solve a very complicated
chemistry problem when I suddenly felt hands surrounding my neck. Before I
could scream, the hands had turned my head around and my scream was lost in
a pair of luscious red lips that smacked slightly when we broke free.
	"Hey," said Jen Niatsu, my beautiful, sexy, smart, wonderful Jen. I
looked up into her beautiful dark eyes and smiled.
	"Hey. You back from your run?"
	"Yes, mother. Have you been studying all this time? This is a first
for you," she said sarcastically. She picked up my lab workbook and sat on
the arm of the chair where I was sitting in the student lounge, trying to
desperately finish my homework that seemed to multiply in my folder at
night.
	"Well, if I don't get at least a B on midterms next week, I'm
screwed," I told her. I brought my arm around her waist and tried to pull
her into my lap, but she got up instead, playfully putting my hands at my
sides.
	"Maybe I shouldn't be disturbing you," she said.
	"I need a distraction, baby, bad," I told her, raising my eyebrows
suggestively.
	"Well, maybe when you're done I'll tell you the good news," she
said. She loved playing hard to get, because she knew how much it turned me
on.
	"No, tell me now!" I whined. At this point, I reached out and
grabbed her waist with both hands.
	"Someone ate his Wheaties today," she commented.
	"So what's the good news, cutie?" I said, as she finally decided to
sit down in my lap, to my great pleasure.
	"You will never guess what just happened!" she said, obviously very
excited.
	"What?" I replied, and kissed her on the side of the face. She
closed her eyes lazily, and a smile played across her face.
	"You have to guess!" she insisted, but she turned towards me and
took me into her mouth, not leaving me much time to even hazard a guess
before my tongue was given a severe lashing. I mumbled an answer in the
middle of our kiss, and she stopped, laughing.
	"What was that?" she said, smiling her beautiful smile that I love
to see.
	"You made the Dean's List," I guessed. Jen is so much smarter than
me it's not even funny. Last semester, I barely squeaked by with a 3.1 that
was just enough for my athletic scholarship, but she has had a 4.0 GPA
since she and I started at the University of Washington together last
year. We are now both sophomores, but she has almost enough credits to be
declared a junior.  I can already tell that if we ever get married, she
will most definitely be making the most money.
	"You already know I did," she said. Another thing I love about Jen
is that she doesn't seem to brag about any of her accomplishments, and
believe me she has plenty. She is just perfectly content with who she is,
and never needs other people to tell her she's great, although I never get
tired of telling her that. Sometimes I wonder what she sees in an idiot
like me. Not to play low self-esteem or anything; I just feel really lucky
to have her; she's so perfect.
	"Now guess again, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome," she gingerly placed
her arm around my shoulders to steady herself as she shifted a little on
the armrest to get comfortable. I grabbed her other hand in both of mine,
and held it like a treasured pet, petting it, occasionally.
	"Give me my hand back, silly," she said, but without much
authority. In refusal, I began kissing her hand, and even tried licking it,
but she pulled it away, with a laugh and an "Eew!"
	"You won a beauty contest," I guessed again. Jen is drop-dead
gorgeous, by the way. She's Japanese-American, with a creamy tan complexion
and hair the color of a cool summer night. It's really long, almost down to
her waist, and ripples when she walks. She has beautiful dark eyes, like
pools of oil that you can look into forever, and let me tell you, I spend a
lot of time looking. She has a tiny, tiny nose and a tiny, tiny mouth, and
it makes her look a lot younger than 19. Couple that with the fact that she
is only 5'4" tall, and she could pass for 15.
	"Yeah right, but compliment noted," she said, smiling again.
	"Jennifer Lynn Niatsu, I will never, ever guess, so you might as
well tell me," I said finally, giving up.
	"I got tickets to the next N'Sync concert!" she said, grinning
broadly. She pulled out a pair of tickets from her back pocket, which must
have been why she was fidgeting a minute ago.
	"Oh that's great, babe," I said, without enthusiasm. I mean, how
excited can you get about N'Sync?
	"I won a radio contest yesterday! Aren't you excited?!?" She was so
caught up in her win, that she almost didn't notice my obvious lack of
excitement.
	"For you, of course I am. So when is it?"
	"Next Friday," she answered, them consulted the tickets. "I guess
they are playing at Edmunson Pavilion over on the 99."
	"Great!" I said. "Next Friday I have practice. I mean darn," I
added, seeing the look of disappointment on her face.
	"But I wanted you to come with me," she said, a little hurt.
	"To an N'Sync concert? They suck," I said.
	"No they don't!" she insisted, her mouth opening in horror. She
stood up abruptly, knocking my chemistry homework onto the ground.
	I was shocked at the sudden outburst, but was quick with my
apology.
	"I'm sorry, you're right, they don't but I don't really like their
music, that's all."
	She crossed her arms then and pursed her lips, a dead sign that I
would be frozen out of nookie for awhile unless I promised her whatever she
wanted.
	"All right, all right, I'll go with you. You don't have to get so
upset about it." I grumbled.
	"Oh, Austin, thank you so much, it really means a lot to me," she
said, and leaned down to kiss me, but the kiss ended a little too quick.
	"Well, it's not really that big of a deal, I guess," I said,
leaning down to pick up my chem. notes, but she stopped me.
	"I haven't told you the best part!" she said. She was practically
jumping up and down with glee. Now I was confused. I knew she liked the
band, but I don't remember her ever being this fanatic. It wasn't like her
dorm room was decorated with photos of the guys, and she didn't go berserk
every time a song of theirs came on the radio.  She hadn't had tattoos of
band members' names on her ass (I made sure of that) or cover her notebooks
like the twelve-year-old girls that make up most of N'Sync's fans. They
weren't even her favorite band, since she had told me that her favorite
artist was Creed, and their music was kind of really different from the
weird love song crap that N'Sync is famous for. I remembered her telling me
that she liked all kinds of music, but I still didn't see why she would be
so excited about going to a concert, especially if they weren't favorites
of hers.
	"I get to meet them in person!" she said.
	"You do? How?"
	"I was invited to a Meet and Greet with the band before the
concert! It was a whole big promotion thing with the radio station! Isn't
it great!?" she beamed happily at me.
	"That's great baby, but since when do you suddenly like N'Sync?" I
asked.
	"Well, I like their music okay, but you have to be excited,
Austin. It's not every day that you meet a celebrity." She had a point, but
I suddenly realized something.
	"Wait, how long is this meeting thing?" I asked. I certainly did
not want to be caught dead hanging around holding Jen's purse by myself at
an N'Sync concert, surrounded by screaming pre-teen girls, waiting for
hours.
	"I don't know, but since it's before the concert, and they have to
be onstage at like 8 or whatever, maybe half an hour? Why?" I explained my
reason. "Oh, please. The meeting is for both of us. You won't be by
yourself." She then decided to take up her place in my lap, and my
chemistry notes lay forgotten on the floor, where I was hoping that they
would just sink into the carpet and disappear, so that I didn't have to
worry about this stupid test anymore.
	I caught a whiff of her perfume, which reminded me of candy, for
some reason, as I began to kiss her neck.
	"It won't be so bad, Austin, trust me."

* * *

	When Friday came, I picked her up at 6 o'clock outside her dorm
building. I almost dropped my jaw when I saw what she was wearing. She had
on skintight black leather pants, the kind that stop halfway down her calf,
capris or whatever they are. A white halter-top with a red and blue heart
on it that stretched suggestively across her well-endowed chest, and a
black leather jacket. She looked hot!
	"Hey, honey," she greeted me, smiling.
	"Wow, you look good enough to eat," I said leaning down to kiss
her. And she did, but something was definitely different. She never dressed
this way normally, and I was willing to bet that she wasn't trying to
impress me.  This was all for the group that we both couldn't wait to meet
(har, har).  She usually wore jeans and sweaters like everyone else.
Anyway, I decided just to ignore it, and not feel too bad that my
girlfriend was dressing up for some other guys and not me.
	We both got in the car, and I drove to the Bank of America Arena,
which is really kind of far from campus. I kept sneaking looks at Jen while
I was driving, and she returned my looks with smiles. I could barely keep
my eyes off her, and as I was driving, I just kept going over and over in
my head how lucky I was. And how perfect she was. I loved everything about
her: the way that she glided into rooms like she was the queen; the way her
voice dropped to a whisper whenever she told me she loved me, the way her
eyes sparkled at all times of the day; the way she would turn off her
cell-phone when we were on a date, to silently tell me I was more
important. Whenever I wasn't with her, I was wondering what she was doing
and if she is thinking of me, and when I see her later that day, she always
tells me that she was thinking of me, too. I had fallen, bad, for Jennifer
Niatsu.
	We had first met freshman year at orientation. We both were in the
same tour group. I had noticed her right away; she had been easily the best
looking girl at orientation. She was with her parents, but I was alone. At
the time, I was living with my stepdad, and he had been too busy working
(he's a lawyer) to take me to orientation, so while almost everyone there
had had at least one parent, I was all alone. The first time I heard her
speak, it was to inquire the tour guide as to where Murphy Research Center
was. The tour guide had been vague, obviously not knowing himself, but she
had explained to the group, with as much bravado as is appropriate, but not
showy, that she had heard it was one of the few biochemical research
facilities in the Western United States, but that it wasn't even on campus.
Internships to the center were very competitive, as only two students out
of an approximate 200 applicants receive it. I was so taken by her
ambition, her beauty, and her pure enthusiasm, that I almost lost my nerve
to ask her out. If my stepdad had been there, I probably never would have
done it, so I am pretty sure fate had something to do with it. I told her
that I knew a little bit about the research center, having spent last
summer working on campus at the information desk, and I filled her in on
everything I knew. She asked if I was interested in biochemical
engineering, like she was, and I said I think I might want a career that I
could actually finish school for in one lifetime, and she had laughed. Then
we sat over at this little table near the Hub and I asked her what her name
was, and where she was from, and why she chose to come to UW, apart from
Murphy, and what she liked, and what her favorite music, color, food, TV
show. She supplied as many answers as questions, and we spent forever
talking while her parents went to go buy her books for her. Before I knew
it, we had been talking for almost three hours, and her parents came back
after they had decided to go to lunch without her.  I quickly asked if she
was seeing anyone, and she had said no, so I asked if she was busy later
that night. She had said no, and looked quite pleased, so I suggested we
have coffee or dinner, or whatever she wanted. She had said, "I'd like
that." Then she gave me her number, and a day hasn't gone by where we
haven't either seen each other or talked on the phone, except last summer,
when she had to return to California to see her parents. Even then, we
e-mailed each other everyday, and we sent each other numerous poems and
letters we had written through the mail. I loved reading her letters,
because they carried her scent, and it almost like she was right there with
me. Now, over a year later, I was still madly in love with her, and I hoped
that she loved me just as much.
	Once I parked the car outside the stadium, I pulled her face close
to mine and began kissing her soft, sweet lips. We kissed for nearly ten
minutes, before she broke away, saying that we might miss the meeting.
Inwardly groaning, I followed her out of the car.  When we arrived at the
stadium, we looked around for a bit. I wasn't sure where we were supposed
to go, and if we had to attend this meeting or whatever, we would have to
figure it out soon. Jen led the way, since I really didn't know where we
were supposed to be going. How would we explain that we were supposed to be
meeting the band, without being kicked out? The whole place was mobbed with
middle-schoolers, mostly girls, but I could see a few boys waiting
excitedly outside the stadium.
	"I guess we just wait in line. Do the tickets say that we are
supposed to be meeting the band?" I said, scanning the loud crowd for
someone who looked to be in charge.
	She turned the tickets over to look on the back. "They say that
these put us in the VIP section!" she commented, her eyebrows raised. "I
guess I didn't really look at these carefully."
	"Well, let's just get in line," I suggested, moving forward while
keeping her hand firmly locked in mine.
	"Wait. If the line takes too long, we'll miss the meeting," she
said. Oh, what a tragedy. But since she really wanted to meet them, I
decided to put aside my own feelings of animosity towards N'Sync so that
she would be happy.
	"Excuse me, are you Jennifer Niatsu?" Someone interrupted from
behind us.  We both turned to see a pretty girl wearing a T-shirt that was
advertising a radio station. She was obviously representing the station
that had hooked Jen up.
	"Yeah, that's me. Aren't you that girl I saw at the radio station
yesterday?" she answered.
	"I'm Bonnie, and I represent 101.7FM. I thought I recognized you,
so I decided to come over and say hi."
	"Ok... hi," said Jen, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. Why
would this girl want to say anything to us?
	"Well, not just hi, but to tell you that you and the other winners
are supposed to be going in over there, through the VIP entrance," she
said, pointing to another door that surrounded by TV cameras and screaming
fans.  Great. Now everyone would see me on TV, going to an N'Sync concert.
Oh well, it was all for Jen. So I wasn't really too upset.
	"Is this your date?" said Bonnie, indicating me.
	"Yup, this is Austin, my special guy," she told her, beaming at me,
while at the same time, grabbing my arm with her other hand and squeezing
it. I kissed the top of her head. (I'm like, half a foot taller than her at
6'. Oh wait, I guess I forgot to tell you all what I look like. Well, I
have dark brown, almost black hair that I cut really short. I have blue
eyes that Jen tells me are really sexy, but I think are too blue. I'm
athletic since I play baseball and work out all the time, but I'm not
ridiculously steroid enhanced. I weigh like 145 lbs. A lot of people tell
me I'm handsome, but I don't really believe them, except when Jen tells me,
of course. But anyway, that's not really important)
	"Well, would you mind telling everyone what radio station hooked
you up?"  said Bonnie, indicating the mike in her hand that I hadn't
noticed earlier.  Jen obliged, shouting out the name of the radio station
in the stereotyped enthusiasm that most of the radio stations encourage.
	With that, Bonnie thanked us and walked back to the VIP entrance,
where she started interviewing the other winners, all of whom were girls.
	"How many people won?" I asked.
	"Three I think, and we all got two tickets each," she answered.
Then we started walking over to the VIP entrance that Bonnie had indicated.
When we got close enough, we met the other four people who were supposed to
be meeting the band, and Bonnie and some other promotional people from the
radio station made us put on VIP passes around our necks. I put mine on
with a lot of sarcasm and rolling my eyes, and Jen snapped at me to stop.
The other four girls seemed like they were in high school, maybe sixteen or
seventeen, but since Jen and I both look kind of young, I didn't feel too
out of place, but I was really aware that I was practically the only guy
standing there. The only other guys were the cameramen, some people from
the radio station, and about ten other kids. I could see a lot of girls
checking me out, but I was careful not to look at anyone too long, and I
held Jen's hand like a talisman. When we were all ready, cameras turned on,
and someone started saying something, but I couldn't hear because everyone
started yelling really loudly. I used the distraction to try to kiss Jen,
but as I was getting close, but she pulled her hand away from me, and
glared. Great, now she was pissed. Finally, after like five minutes of
non-stop screaming, we were led inside and around the side corridor of the
stadium.
	Now I had been here when P.O.D. had their concert a few years ago,
and I was pretty sure that N'Sync's stage would be pretty much the same set
up: the stage in the middle, but facing the commentators box, and the band
entering from the sides where normally the athletes come out of. We were
led upstairs to one of the viewing boxes that looked down on the field. No
one was in there except for a few studio people or staffers or whatever.
The main staff person who had led is through the entrance told us all to
take a seat, and then introduced herself.
	"Hello everyone, I'm Sandy Trujillo, and this is how this is going
to work.  The band will be in here in a few minutes, and its pretty
informal. We usually go around the room, and you can ask them any question
you want, one at a time. We have about twenty five minutes or so, so try
asking questions that you don't already know the answers to," she said
smiling. "The guys are really excited to meet you all..." Well, I just
couldn't help myself; I stifled a laugh that came out as a snort.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to do, because I know had 8 women
glaring at me, including Jen. I put my fist in my mouth to stop myself from
bursting out laughing and caught the eye of one of the studio executives.
He looked at me with a smile, so at least he knew how I felt.  Sandy
continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "And they should be..."
Before she could finish, five guys in really wild clothes walked in with
two security guards, and I almost started laughing again.
	I have never seen anyone wear what N'Sync was wearing, and it just
looks like they reach into their closets blind or something. Before I could
make much sense of anything, I noticed Jen perk up at the sight of them,
and I felt a slight twinge of jealousy.
	"Hey everyone," said one of them, and I realized that I had no idea
what any of their names were. The guy that spoke had a shaved head, and he
was wearing weird black clothes with pieces of denim randomly sewed on. I
checked my watch: twenty-four minutes to go.
	Most of the girls giggled and gushed, but they all started saying
names so that I was confused as to who was who. They were all grinning, and
it seemed a little unreal that they were the guys that so many girls are in
love with.  My first impression, now that I saw them up close, was that
none of them were really that attractive. Three had dark hair, although one
of them had dyed his blue, to match the denim I guess. I noticed that they
all had similar clothes on, with the same denim and black theme. One had
blond hair, and the guy with the shaved head could have had brown or blond
hair, because he was pretty light skinned. I don't know why I was checking
them out, but I reasoned that I was simply checking out my competition,
though if there really was a competition, I couldn't compete with these
internationally famous pop stars, no matter how much I hated their music.
The skinny one with dark hair could have been attractive, I guess, but I
don't really know Jen's taste in men. I hoped that she was keeping her eyes
to herself, but because she was sitting a little closer to the group, I
couldn't tell. We were both sitting on the same, large chair/small couch,
but she was sitting on the edge, while I was sprawled out.
	"Well, who wants to start?" said Shaved Head.
	"I do! I do!" said one of the dark haired guys, who had a goatee.
Weren't these guys supposed to be teenagers or something?
	"I meant them, Joey," said Shaved Head, and everyone except me
laughed. I rolled my eyes.
	Eventually, several people started asking questions, such as when
did they realize that they were famous, who was their inspiration, did they
like Seattle, what was their favorite everything, etc. It got pretty boring
after a while, and I wasn't really listening to what anyone was saying. Jen
was asking questions, too, and they were much more involved than the other
girls. For instance, she asked if they felt encouraged to be role models,
even though they really just wanted to sing. They treated her very
respectfully, but I noticed that Shaved Head was looking a little too
closely at Jen, so I grabbed her hand. I finally realized that my sighing
and checking my watch every ten seconds were starting to annoy Jen when she
yanked her hand away from mine. I thought I hadn't been as rude as I had
been to Sandy, but she gave me a look, so I decided to sit up straighter. I
tried putting my arm around her waist, but she twisted away from me. After
the other four girls had grilled the band for about ten minutes, the skinny
guy with dark hair noticed that I hadn't asked any questions, so he
directed one at me.
	"Why so quiet over there? We'd like to hear from you too," he said,
looking pointedly at me.
	I turned to look at Jen, my lips thin and my eyes narrowed, and she
looked stonily back at me. We both quickly looked away. The room got all
quiet, and nobody said a word. Although I was dying to ask some question
that would put them on the spot, such as how they could produce songs that
are all about love, when none of them has ever had a serious relationship?
How did they feel about grown men being marketed for little girls, because
I had heard that one of the members is almost 30 years old. Why wasn't
their music about real issues instead of falsified images of relationships,
money and sex?  Instead, I said, "Don't you ever get tired of wearing those
weird clothes?"
	I have a knack for tact, and everyone started laughing, the eerie
silence of a moment ago temporarily forgotten. Shaved Head said, "We have
to match at our concerts, but since we all have different styles, this is
usually what happens."
	"Ok, then what about TV interviews and stuff? I thought I
remembered seeing one of you in leopard print pants?" I continued, and
everyone laughed again, and Shaved Head smiled and raised his hand like in
school.
	"I guess I like flashier stuff, but hey, I'm a trendsetter," he
stated, smiling. The other guys laughed and joked for a minute, and I
looked over at Jen to see what she was doing. She was not smiling.
	While everyone else seemed busy, I quietly tried to talk to her.
"Why are you so upset all of a sudden?" I whispered.
	"What do you think you are doing?" she spat, a little louder than
her normal voice. I looked over at the others, but nobody seemed to be
paying much attention. The group was now signing things for the other four
girls.
	"What do you mean?" I said, baffled.
	"Coming here was my idea, and all you've done this whole time is
act like you're above this. I really wanted to meet them, and you're
ruining it."
	"I'm not ruining anything," I told her. "I'm being myself."
	"How about you stop being so damn sarcastic and start acting like
an adult." She snapped, finally turning her head to glare at me.
	"Excuse me? All I did was roll my eyes."
	"Yeah well, you're acting like a total jerk," she spat.
	"Me? What about you? I'm just trying to have some fun. Oh wait, I
forgot, you can't fit that into your schedule," I said sarcastically.
	"Maybe I have a busy schedule because I am actually concerned with
getting a good education!"
	"Maybe you need to lighten up, and stop acting like such a
tightwad!"
	"Maybe you need to grow up, and stop being such an idiot!" We were
so wrapped up in our fight, we didn't realize that we were now practically
shouting at one another, and that everyone else in the room was looking at
us, their previous conversations coming to a halt.
	"I'm not the one who dragged us out to this stupid kiddie concert!"
I shouted.
	"Oh, that's right, everything I do or like is stupid, isn't it!"
she barked, her face turning red. "At least I know what I want. You have no
ambition at all! You haven't even picked a major and you're already a
sophomore! You're a loser, Austin!"
	With that, I stood up. "Fine, you know what Jen? You can drive
yourself home!"
	And I left. Sandy was standing in the doorway, with a shocked look
on her face. She stepped out of my way abruptly, and I said calmly, "Sorry
for laughing earlier."  Then I stormed out.

Well? Any takers? E-mail me back quick for any comments, raves(love those),
or comments telling me to barricade myself in a soundproof chamber, never
to be let near a pen or computer again. Either way, email me at
icydragon9@hotmail.com