Date: Thu, 18 Apr 2002 08:04:07 +0100
From: Tris <mystories@btinternet.com>
Subject: Under Management Chapter 10

Author's Note:

Hey everyone, this is my first submission to the Nifty Archive. I hope you enjoy
reading it as much as I am writing it. I'm trying to get as much realism as is
possible in a story of this type, so the characters will need to get to know each
other before there is any sex. It's also not exactly a 'two guys fall in love, and live
happily ever after' story, there are going to be a few bumps in the road.

If you have any comments or constructive criticisms or whatever then e-mail me:
mystories@btinternet.com

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. I don't know or own any of the celebrities
mentioned in it. I also don't know anything about the personalities or sexual
orientations of any of the members of *NSYNC, and the purpose of this story is
not to imply anything about them.  Secondly, this story contains adult themes and
content as well as gay relationships. If you're too young to, or don't want to, read
what's contained within, then leave now. Everyone else, enjoy...

Under Management by Tris


Chapter 10

My hand hovered over the telephone, I considered for what must've been the
hundredth time today whether to dial or not. My mind was buzzing with thoughts
of last night, yet I couldn't bring myself to call him. I figured that he was probably
busy; he would doubtlessly be working on his song, trying to improve it, although
I wasn't sure how that was possible.

Despite my lack of concentration, I had managed to complete some of the work
that desperately needed to be done. The world tour was due to kick off in only
five weeks, and the band members would be leaving for Germany in a month's
time. A judgment on the tour manager had still not been made, although I was
planning to pressure Johnny into making that decision as quickly as possible. I
was rapidly becoming snowed under with paperwork, something of this caliber
and expense would usually be arranged by a team of several people, but it was
currently being entrusted to solely me.

This was something that puzzled me, but who was I to question the higher
powers, if they wanted to save money and allow me to struggle along on my own,
then that would be exactly what would happen. *NSYNC were going to go back
to the recording studio next week, I had sorted that out, a small vocal studio was
booked for two weeks, and then a larger, orchestral studio, was booked for the
following fortnight.

As regards the tour, most of the more obvious tasks were taken care of. All of the
flights were booked, the set was being designed as we speak, every venue had
been confirmed and tickets were on sale. However, I had deliberately put off
some of the more arduous tasks until now; the next thing on my list was to
employ the stage crew. I had to find a fully capable group of forty people,
basically manual workers, to fly ahead of the band and their entourage and set
up the stage at each venue. I also had to find a team of make up artists and
stylists; apparently Jive always used the same agency for them, so that shouldn't
be so hard. Next was the technical team, sound and lighting engineers and the
like and lastly was the tour security. Thankfully selecting the dancers was down
to the choreographers and the guys themselves, as I wouldn't have had a clue
what to look for in that respect. All in all, over the next few weeks I had to
interview for eighty five positions - I was likely going to see several hundred
applicants.

I pushed my worries out of my mind, and looked back towards my computer
screen. My hand moved away from the phone and settled over my keyboard, I
resumed my typing.

***

It was now late afternoon, early evening, and I still hadn't heard from Lance.
What if he had decided that last night was a mistake? What if he didn't like me
anymore? I couldn't bring myself to reach for my cell phone to call him, what if he
rejected me?

The speaker beside the door buzzed. I ran towards it, praying that it was him,
only to trip on the corner of couch. I landed flat on my face, but scrambled to my
feet and continued on, swearing softly. I pressed the button on the speaker,
"Hello?" I spoke while rubbing the elbow that I landed on.

"Uh... Alex... can you buzz me up?" Lance asked hesitantly, which only served
to make me worry even more.

"Of course..." I pressed another button, and all was quiet. I scurried around the
room, picking up an empty cola can, and the remnants of a bag of chips; I
dropped them in the trash. I then went to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth
and checked my hair. I returned to the door and let out slight giggle, noting that I
was acting just like I had before my first date. I sat on the arm of the couch
waiting nervously for a knock on the door, when it came I both hurried and
strolled over to the door, in an attempt not to look too flustered. I took a deep
breath and pulled it open.

There stood Lance, he was looking down at his feet, blushing, and looked guilty.
"Hi Alex." He said, not looking up.

"Come in Lance." I opened the door a little wider, and unconsciously frowned.
Lance did as I said, but offered me no explanation to his strange behavior,
making me even more nervous.

"Is there something wrong Lance?" I asked cautiously, unsure if I actually wanted
to know the answer.

"Um..." he paused, still not meeting my gaze, "You didn't call."

"Neither did you."

"I was worried... that you... that you might say that last night was some sort of
mistake, and that you wouldn't want to see me again." He muttered.

"Oh, thank God." I sighed, the corners of mouth raising, "I was thinking the same
thing." I giggled.

"Really? So you still like me?" He looked up, the beginnings of a smile on his
face.

"Yeah" I grinned, stepping towards him, outstretching my arms.

"I'm glad." He smiled and leaned in against me. He rested his head on my
shoulder and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing my lower back towards
him.

"Maybe, we should make this a bit more definite." I whispered into his ear. He
pulled away from me slightly and looked up at me. "Lance, would you be my
boyfriend?" I asked, grinning wider than I could ever remember.

"I'd love to." He nestled his head back against me. "But Alex..." He paused "No, it
doesn't matter, it's stupid."

"No, carry on Lance. If you don't tell me what's going on up there," I knocked
gently on his head, "Then this'll never work."

"Ok." He whispered, "Would you mind not using that word?"

"What word?" I asked dumbly.

"Boyfriend." He croaked, nuzzling further into my neck. "Just until I get used to all
this... I mean, I only figured out that I was gay two weeks ago." This time it was
me that pulled away.

"You're sure this isn't too soon?" I asked, suddenly all too aware of how quickly
Lance had gone from being gay, to coming out, to getting into a relationship.

"I'm sure." He nodded, and then pecked me on the cheek. He wondered into the
kitchen. "Have you eaten?" He asked. "I haven't had anything all day." He looked
back at me, blushing. "I was too worried, thinking about you... Oh God, that
sounds so sad." He giggled.

"No comment." I laughed.

"Hey!" he pouted, sitting down at the kitchen table, "You're supposed to disagree
and say it was cute."

"What do you fancy for dinner?" I tactfully changed the subject, which caused his
bottom lip to protrude even more.

"Chinese, I guess." He grumbled. I walked over to Lance and stood behind him. I
then bent over slightly and wrapped my arms around him, resting my chin on his
shoulder. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, his soft blonde hair
brushed against my cheek; I got lost in the moment.

Lance tilted his head, resting it on mine, and let out a big sigh. "You're forgiven"
he whispered. "But I'm still hungry and Chinese does sound pretty good."

"Chinese it is." I agreed, "But next time, one of us cooks. I feel kinda guilty eating
takeout all the time." I spoke softly into his ear. Lance twisted his neck awkwardly
so that he could see me.

"Welcome to my world." He laughed.

***

The young boy lay on his bed, curled up into a ball, and sobbed quietly. His dark
hair was a mess and his face was flushed, covered with stains of salty tears. He
was fully clothed, in sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt. He sniffed, wiping his nose and
the dampness from his cheeks with his arm. He attempted to sit up and put on a
brave face, but the effort was in vain. He sunk back into the comfort of a pillow
and allowed fresh tears to fall.

Several moments passed of him not moving, the dull light from the streetlamp
outside was the only way to see that he was breathing and thus that he was still
alive. Then he pulled another pillow over his head and pressed himself between
them. His body began to shake with sobs as he allowed all of the pent up
emotions to come flowing out from within. It was true that the boy was alive in the
physical sense, but whether he was in the emotional sense, he did not know.

***

It was Friday afternoon, and I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Last night
had been wonderful. We had both quickly forgotten about the worries of the day
and settled back to enjoy each other's company. We had eaten heartily and
avoided all topics of conversation which could have possibly caused discomfort. I
know this sounds cliched, but it felt right. To top it all off the evening had ended in
a long, passionate make-out session. Although it was actually a series of short,
soft, kisses. I had been unsure of how far Lance would want to go, I didn't want to
push and spoil the evening, so I settled for the kissing. Not that I was
complaining of course, I don't think that I could have enjoyed myself any more,
even if... well, you know.

And now, Friday, I had been lumbered with another set of worries. However,
these were not of a romantic nature nor were they work-related, they were far
less serious, and of a family kind.

My brother had decided that he didn't have to be in school. He was standing right
next to me. He persisted that he didn't have any lessons. I knew he did, and he
knew that I knew he did. He also knew one other thing, when it came to cars I
didn't have a clue. It was true. I knew that I wanted something new and shiny. I
wanted something in black, but I didn't really mind any color... Oh and it had to be
better than an '89 Ford sedan. That didn't really narrow it down much, did it?

This was the reason why I was willing to overlook my brother's one day of
truancy. He knew about cars; I didn't. Besides, one day couldn't do any harm, my
brother was intelligent, on course to being the valedictorian, and he was the
school's star quarterback. He could be anything he wanted from a lawyer, to a
pro football player, hell, with his looks he could even be a model. One day
wouldn't hurt, and it might save me a few thousand bucks in the process.

"How about one of those?" My brother pointed towards a Lotus. It looked nice
enough, so I made my way towards it. Seeing my positive reaction, Jesse jogged
over to it and slid into the driver's side. When I was standing next to him, I was
close enough to see the price. I inhaled sharply.

"I don't know Jess." I said uncertainly, "It's a nice car; looks great." I looked once
again at the price tag, "But it's an awful lot of money for something... Well..." I
glanced down at the roof of the car; it barely came up to my waist. "...for
something so small." My brother grunted and shook his head in disbelief.

***

"So you want something bigger?" He asked, squinting in the bright sunlight and
pointing towards a Toyota garage down the street. There was a 4 runner outside,
like Lances'. I nodded, but paid little attention. In fact, I was more concerned with
his squint. I pulled some shades from my top pocket and slipped them on his
face. He struggled away at first but then relaxed and allowed me to position them
properly.

"You act just like my mother sometimes." He grumbled, folding his arms.

"Don't you mean Father?"

"No," He giggled, "I definitely mean mother." I smiled and looked the other way,
in the opposite direction to the Toyotas. Something caught my eye. My brother
noticed this, and his eyes were wide with horror as I looked back towards him,
grinning.

"Don't even think about it Alex." he warned, to which my response was to shrug
my shoulders.

Without saying a word I crossed the busy street and strode away from my
brother. "Alex!" He called after me, "Mom'll go nuts! Remember what happened
last time?!" He shouted. When I didn't slow he gave up and came running after
me.

When he caught up, he stated, "Last time you nearly killed yourself."

"I know" I responded as I stepped into the air conditioned showroom. There were
three bikes directly in front of us, glinting in the sun. Ok, so my history with riding
motorcycles wasn't exactly glorious. My brother was correct, last time I had
ended up in the emergency room, with several broken ribs and a deflated lung.
However, something always drew me back to them, whenever I saw a Suzuki or
a Honda in the street, (Harley's did nothing for me) I longed for another ride.

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?" he shook his head.

"Nope." I grinned "But for the record; you tried. That ought'a keep you in Mom's
good books."

"But you on the other hand..." he began.

"Ah..." I gestured "I'm 23." I smiled, to which my brother simply giggled. We both
knew that with our mother age would make no difference. I approached a bike
and traced my finger over the saddle. "It's not just me, is it?"

"No. It's pretty alright." He laughed.

"Good afternoon gentlemen." A well dressed guy interrupted our conversation.
"Can I help you at all?"

"As a matter of fact you can." I answered. "I want something black, fast, good
looking... Oh, and it has to seat two people." I counted the list off on my fingers.

"Of course Sir." He showed us to a selection of Italian scooters. My brother,
predictably, found this hysterical. I, however, did not. I frowned.

"Oh please!" I exclaimed flamboyantly, allowing my wrist to go limp. "I want one
of those." I pointed at one of the 1000cc beasts at the front the showroom, lisping
slightly.

Now, I know using my sexuality in a sarcastic manner such as this isn't always
appropriate. In actual fact, guys who act like it all the time, make me want to curl
up into a ball and sit in the corner of the room chewing my finger nails - it annoys
me that much. But my point is that he judged me on face value, something that I
hate even more.

My actions, of course, caused the dealer to go on the defensive. They also
caused my brother to blush, and shy away. Don't judge him for this; I think it's
only natural for a straight 17 year old to be slightly embarrassed when his older
brother 'camps out'. To the best of my knowledge Jesse isn't at all uncomfortable
with my orientation. He accepted it surprisingly quickly. We have always been
close. It was sort of an 'us versus them', my parents I mean, before they
divorced. I think Jesse always knew that I was gay. When I came out, the bond
between us only became stronger.

Back to the point, the smartly dressed guy, who had now lost all of my respect,
showed us to the 'real' bikes. I sat on a few, making comments. When the guy
saw that I was a serious buyer he left us alone.

"So what do you think? The Kawasaki, the Suzuki, or the Honda?" I asked my
brother.

"We both know which one looks the nicest." We both cast our eyes in the same
direction, "But... And I hate to the voice of practicality here, how are you going fit
your briefcase in it?"

I saw his point, these bikes were cool, but they weren't designed for a workaholic
manager like me. Still, I was determined that I would get what I wanted. Jesse
saw this, "How about we take them all for a test ride?" He suggested, smiling.

"Good idea." I agreed.

***

That evening, and my wallet, metaphorically at least, was feeling considerably
lighter. I had bought an eight cylinder, 750cc Kawasaki super-bike. I actually
didn't know what most of that meant, I just knew that it was fast. Also, since I'm
being so honest, I had only bought about a third of the bike with the $7,000 down
payment. The other two thirds would be deducted from my bank account at
monthly intervals. I hate to sound so smug, but I could afford it, for the moment at
least. Although I wouldn't be surprised if that changed, since I had just spent
another day doing something I shouldn't have, while my 'to do' list and inbox
grew in size. If I didn't know better I could've sworn that, when I wasn't looking,
the paperwork was mating on my couch.

I was now getting ready for my first date with Lance. He had given away no
details, except that we were going somewhere to eat and dress was casual.

"How do I dress casual without looking like a slob?" I asked, holding a t-shirt to
my bare chest.

"You don't." My brother replied, "You're view of casual seems to be cheap. If
that's what you think casual is, then dress smart-casual, 'cos I can guarantee that
that's what Lance will be wearing."

"You think?"

"I know." He grinned and stepped up to my closet. He rummaged through it for a
few minutes while I looked on in bemusement. If the so called 'gay gene' included
traits such as shopping and fashion sense then I surely wasn't gay. My brother
on the other hand...

"There." He stated, as he stood back to admire the clothes that he had laid out
for me on the bed. I had to admit, whatever he had included taste. Oh, and for
the record, it wasn't the 'gay gene'; I knew that since I caught him making out
with a girl last month - an embarrassing moment for us both. "Now you'd better
get ready, you've got twenty minutes before Prince Charming arrives... And I can
guarantee he's going to be ten minutes early." He giggled as he sauntered out of
the room.

I rushed to get my clothes on.

As I was scrambling around in the bathroom, trying to make myself look more
presentable, the door buzzer rang. "Stall him!" I yelled with a mouthful of
toothpaste, splattering some over the mirror. Jesse simply laughed. I rinsed and
brushed my shirt flat. I checked my hair, and finally squirted on some cologne.
Too much cologne. I attempted to fan some away with my hand, as I gave myself
one final check. I went into my bedroom and could hear his voice. I tied my laces
tightly, afraid that they may come undone, leading to me tripping and being
humiliated. Stupid, I know. I allowed myself one final deep breath, before I
stepped out of the door and into the main room.

The final deep breath that I had just taken got stuck in my throat. Lance. He
looked stunning. For several seconds I stood there, observing the scene in front
of me. Jesse was grinning, sitting on the arm of the couch. I think he was pleased
with himself; Lance was certainly not dressed in what I would deem to be 'casual
clothes'. I silently praised my brother for his dress sense.

When I looked closely, I saw that Lance was wearing jeans. The dark blue denim
hugged his legs tightly and matched perfectly the navy sweater which was
covering his top half. I decided to make my presence known, but my feet were
glued to the spot. Instead, I cleared my throat, and in turn, resumed my
breathing. Lance turned, his eyes met mine. For a tiny instant I considered what
he might be thinking.

The same as me.

We moved towards each other slowly, everything else in the room became
unimportant. When we were but inches from each other, he leaned towards me,
initiating a gentle kiss. I felt one of his arms wrap around my waist, while the
other supported my head. His tongue dipped into my mouth, ran slowly along my
bottom teeth and then withdrew. I returned the favor. His warm lips pressed
forcefully against mine. All I could think of was how beautiful he was.

Somewhat reluctantly, we separated, although Lance's arms remained in place.
"Hey." He smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Hey" I replied simply, but Lance seemed content with it. He rested his head on
my shoulder, saying nothing. "Where are we going tonight?" I couldn't help but be
curious. Lance lifted his head and looked up at me; he gave me a slight smile.

"You'll have wait and see. It's a secret." He held his index finger to his mouth, in
a gesture that you would expect from a pre-pubescent child. I had been entirely
expecting this attempt at springing a surprise on me, but I played along, not
wanting to spoil his fun.

"Please?" I whined, and added, "With a cherry on top?"

"Nope." He pecked me on the cheek as if to placate me. However, his games
were interrupted by my brother, who was just now reentering the room.

"Lance? What the hell are you doing to my brother?" Jesse screamed. Lance
spun on his heel so fast that he almost lost his balance, but my hands were firmly
planted on his hips, steadying him. I studied my brother's face over Lance's
shoulder. He was joking; I could see the twinkle in his eye and noticed the corner
of his mouth was slightly upturned.

Even if I hadn't have noticed this, logical thought would have told me that he was
jesting. After all, why leave the room and stay out of our way for five minutes
while we were sucking face, and then yell at us when you can see that we're
done? Lance obviously wasn't thinking logically.

I could feel him begin to shake, and then he fought against me to pull away.
Jesse's face instantly softened. He positioned himself between Lance and the
door.

"Lance." My brother said carefully. My boyfriend stopped in his tracks. "I'm sorry.
I was only joking." Jesse added. He cautiously walked towards Lance, arms
outstretched. Lance was unsure of what to do, so he did nothing and was drawn
into a hug.

There was a brief, quiet, exchange between them and then they separated.
"Damn, you know how to make a kid feel bad, don't ya!" My brother giggled
nervously.

"I'm a little... on edge... about this at the moment." Lance conceded. I
approached them, and saw that Lance was now making a weak attempt at smile.
I stood next to Lance, placing my arm on his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Let's
go." I suggested. "Before he..." I looked at my brother "...gives you angina."

"Hey!" Jesse pouted. Lance giggled and took my hand, leading me towards the
door. Suddenly, he paused and faced my brother, smiling warmly.

"Nice to meet you." He extended his hand; it was shaken enthusiastically. When
Lance was satisfied that there were no hard feelings, he squeezed my hand,
which he was still in control of, and lead me out of the door.

"Don't wait up!" I called behind me.

***

"Would you quit it?" Lance laughed, slapping at my hand. I had spent the last
quarter of an hour fiddling with the dials on the dashboard of Lance's car. Firstly,
it was the radio, I found a rock station, but decided it wasn't appropriate, so I
switched over to some cheesy love song station. Lance said he preferred the
quiet. I switched it off. Then I found the air conditioning, it was on, then off, then
hot, but that was stupid in Florida, I left it somewhere in the middle. This
continued, the sunroof, the electric windows; I had practically squealed with
delight when I found the GPS and it started talking to me. 'Good evening. Please
choose a destination.' It had said.

I had also managed to uphold an intelligent conversation, but I didn't remember
much of it.

"How much longer?" I asked, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

"Five minutes." Was his reply.

"So... what do you want to talk about?" I didn't want us to experience one of
those horrible awkward silences, so I tried to keep the conversation flowing.

"Anything but work. It takes up so much of our lives; it's nice to forget about it for
a while." He rejoined.

"That only makes it all the more difficult to avoid." I offered, he nodded, not taking
his eyes from the road. "Ok then, let's see... I don't really know a lot about you,
like your past and stuff."

"You must know a little, you said you had read our records. What did mine say?"

"Actually they were pretty dull; it was mostly about your career, there was a little
about your... uh... arrest and a short and I mean really short, psychological
profile." I explained.

"So these are kept under lock and key then... I mean the PR department would
go crazy if the jail time story ever got out." He was careful not to look at me.

"Lance I don't care if you were caught drinking when you were fifteen. You know,
in Britain, it's practically part of the culture." I said. He glanced at me quickly,
flashing a smile. "And yeah," I continued, "the profiles are stored safely. But
people see them, secretaries and the like, so they wouldn't put anything high
risk" - I made quote marks with my fingers - "on them."

"Like me being a queer?" He asked bitterly.

"Uh... yeah." I replied uneasily, I was unsure if I should continue along this line of
questioning. "What about your family?" I asked. I studied the side of his face,
noticing smile lines creep up his cheeks and form around his eyes.

"Mom and Dad are great; you would like them." I could hear how much he cared
for them in his voice. "My sister, Stacy, she's kind of changed since she got
married. To be expected I guess." He shrugged, "Her husband is nice enough,
but he doesn't seem to have that much respect for her. Yet she loves him, so I'm
happy for her."

"And your parents; do they like him?" I attempted to keep the conversation light.

"Uh... I guess so.  Dad says he's polite, has a good job, and is a good Christian."
I flinched at the mention of religion, but realized that it was a topic that we would
have to cover at some point, maybe later. Lance continued, "Mom says he gives
her goose pimples." He laughed. "They agree to disagree about it."

I chuckled with him until I came to my senses; I had asked someone about their
family. That was of the few things I never did, I stopped when I was sixteen, and
had never resumed. The reason? It always ended in the other person asking
about my family, out of politeness of course. Lance was not the exception.

"What about you? What was it like before you moved over here?" He asked. Ok,
that wasn't so bad, I could skirt around all the bad bits, and I wouldn't have to
discuss my teenage years.

"Let's see..." I began, making sure there was no audible tension in my voice, "I
grew up in this quaint little village in England. We lived in a large, Georgian
house..."

"Sounds nice." Lance interrupted.

"Yeah, but I wasn't there very often." I paused, waiting for Lance to say
something. He didn't. "I was looked after by a nanny. She lived close by; I spent
most of my time there."

"Did your parents work?" He asked, as he flipped the headlights on.

"My father's a partner in a law firm. Mom... uh... Mum was a teacher." I
responded.

"Was?" He ignored my use of the British term. I had conditioned myself to use
Americanisms during my first school year in the U.S.; I had been teased because
of my accent by the boys. The girls had thought it was cute. A lot of use that was!

"Yeah, she had to quit when we relocated, then she looked after Gran'ma." I
swiftly moved on, "And then when I was old enough, that's when I was eight, I
was packet off to boarding school for nine months a year."

"Eight!" Lance exclaimed, astonished.

"They wanted me to get the best education possible." I shrugged. Boarding
school was actually an enjoyable experience, as far as I was concerned, the
further away I was from my father the better.

"Hey!" I laughed looking out the window, "You've got to be kidding!"

"I'm sorry." He blushed. "I thought a candlelit dinner would raise people's
suspicions."

"Well... I suppose... but..." I was unsure of how to word the sentence, so I just
blurted it out, "McDonalds?!"

***

"I'm sorry sir; we aren't really equipped for celebrities. We don't have any private
areas." The manageress answered apologetically.

"What about in there?" Lance pointed towards an open door, painted in bright
colors.

"That's the children's play room sir. It's our policy to keep it available so that kids
can come and go as they please." She explained.

"How about you change your policy?" Lance suggested sarcastically.

"Lance!" I scolded, causing him to glance at his feet.

"I'm sorry. I understand that this is a difficult position to put you in." Lance made
an apology, "I just want to be able to eat a quarter-pounder without being
pestered for autographs all night." As if by divine intervention a young girl, of
about ten or eleven, bashfully approached Lance. She tugged on his shirtsleeve.

"Excuse me?" She asked in a small voice. He turned around and looked down at
her.

"Hi!" He smiled. I knew it was totally false; it was a different expression to the one
he saved for me and the rest of the guys.

"Wow! It really is you!" She laughed happily, but then she returned to her timidity,
"Could you sign this for me please?" She held out a serviette and a biro.

"Sure." He took the items and crouched down to her level, "Now, what's your
name little girl?"

"Lisa" Lance nodded and scribbled a message for her, adding his signature at the
end.

"There you go." He said, standing up and handing the paper napkin and pen to
her. She scurried back to a table on the other side of the restaurant. She called a
'thanks' behind her. Her parents, sitting at the table, smiled at us graciously. We
returned to our conversation.

"You see. That was only one, very polite, kid. It took two minutes to sort her out."
He lowered his voice. "If every seven to fourteen year old in here decides they
want an autograph I'm gonna be tied up for hours." He elucidated, she nodded
and brought her hand to chin, she was thinking about giving us the kid's room I
could see it. So could Lance.

"Please." He begged, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

"No. That won't be necessary." She shook her head, refusing the money that
Lance was about to give her. "You can have the room."

"Oh, thank you!" Lance exclaimed.

"What would you like to eat?" She asked, "I'll bring it in for you."

***

It was a scene that would've even seemed hilariously out of place in the most
low-budget of romantic comedies. Lance and I sat on tiny red toadstool seats,
with our knees up to our chests. The yellow table that we were eating off
would've barely reached my knees if I were standing. We were surrounded by
murals of farmyard animals and live-size Ronald McDonalds. There was a ball
pool and trampoline; I had found it very difficult to stop from laughing all night.
Lance couldn't stop apologizing. We were now crouched over our table, slowly
shoveling rapidly-melting chocolate sundaes into our mouths. Considering the
situation, it had been easy for us to avoid serious topics of conversation. For
some reason, I changed that. "Lance?"

"Mmmm?" He still had a mouthful of ice-cream.

"Earlier, in the car, when you were talking about your sister's husband, you said
he's a good Christian." I began.

"No..." He shook his head, "My dad said he's a good Christian."

"Is that important? I mean, for your family? For you?" I asked carefully.

"What are you getting at?" He frowned slightly, but remaining smiling.

"Well you're religious, Southern Baptist, right?" I asked. To answer me he simply
nodded, and seemingly to reinforce this he unconsciously began to fiddle with the
silver crucifix hanging from his neck. "I don't really know how to say this, but
well... I'm not." I struggled to say what I wanted.

"I kinda guessed that Alex." Lance giggled, "You grew up in the U.K., of course
you aren't Southern Baptist."

"No." I corrected him. "That's not what I meant." I paused. "I'm not religious at
all."

"Oh."

"Atheist, agnostic, what ever you want to call it."

"Um... So you're an evolutionist?" He prodded.

"No. I don't really know. I've never thought about it." I said honestly.

"Aren't you ever curious about where you came from?" He struggled to
understand. I shrugged.

"It's always seemed a waste of time dwelling on the past and history when
there's so much to achieve in the future." I said. Lance was silent. I allowed him
to absorb this new information.

"I guess I can sort of understand." He lied, I knew he couldn't, but I admired his
way of handling it.

"Lance, does it matter? Will it affect us?" I asked.

"No." He shook his head forcefully, giving me a caring smile "Of course it won't."

"Lance, I know I'm weird..."

"Alex," He interrupted, taking my hand in his, "Take a look around. I brought you
to a McDonalds Alex, on our first date. If anyone here is weird, it's me." To which
I laughed.

"No Lance." I said softly, "You're not weird, just special."

***

"Wow, this is awkward." Lance broke the nervous silence that had descended
upon us. We were standing outside the door to my apartment, unsure of how to
proceed. I'm guessing that this was the other major topic that we had both
wanted to avoid, the topic of sex. In my mind, sex sort of 'closes the deal' when
you're talking about a relationship. Although, I wasn't particularly sure whether
Lance thought the same. I did know that we were 'together', whatever that
meant, but I couldn't call Lance my boyfriend, because at his own admission, he
wasn't ready yet. Lance wasn't ready for sex either.

"So... um... Do you want to come in for coffee?" I asked in all innocence. Lance
visibly paled, his mouth hanging open slightly. I frowned not understanding the
reason for this reaction. When Lance saw the puzzlement on my face he doubled
over in laughter. Suddenly, it dawned on me what I had said. "Oh God... Lance, I
meant that literally..."

"I know." He laughed, his face flushed, tears streaming downing his cheeks. "I
just can't believe you said that." He paused trying to contain himself, "And
actually meant it." I smiled at his reaction, thankful that he could see the funny
side.

"So, do you?"

"Uh... It's getting kind of late Alex." He said, checking his watch. "But I had a
really great evening... even if we did merely go to the Golden Arches and then
for a walk."

"I did too." I said huskily, once again thankful that my apartment was the only one
on this floor. I moved closer to him and pulled him into an embrace, I kissed him,
allowing my tongue to explore his mouth for the last time that evening. When we
required air Lance rested his head on my shoulder, his warm breath causing the
hairs on my neck to stand to attention.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked quietly.

"Try and stop me." I replied, happy to be in his arms. I pulled him closer, feeling
the warmth of his body against mine, I didn't want to let go.

***

End of Chapter 10

***

Ok, so I don't really have much to add after that one. I hope you enjoyed it. E-
mail is, as always, much appreciated:
mystories@btinternet.com