Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2006 14:43:23 -0800
From: Christopher <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through part 2

This is fiction.  I don't know Jake Gyllenhaal and my little story doesn't
imply anything about him or his sexuality, but I'd do just about anything
to have him all to myself.  Feedback is greatly appreciated and any writer
will tell you that they live for it; I'll answer every single one.
Questions, comments, loved it or hated it?  Shoot me a message at
christopherrluu@gmail.com.

A special thanks to everyone who wrote me about the first chapter!  Nothing
keeps a writer going like encouragement from great readers.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Jake to win that Oscar.

Part II

     "Think about what you said, Jake.  You're not the only one involved,"
Chris said before he shut the door.  The four-hour flight would give him
time to clear his head--and work on his notes.  The rest of the afternoon
had been tense but civil.  Chris was mad but he didn't show it.  Did Jake
think that he was used to this sort of thing, that he just darted in and
out of relationships and was used to this sort of thing?  As Chris walked
into the terminal, he didn't look back to see Jake's fist slam against the
steering wheel.

     'Who can I talk to?' Jake thought, 'nobody here in Santa Barbara knows
Chris.  Nobody knows me.'  Pulling into his own driveway, Jake let out a
long sigh.  Four words had crumbled what weeks had built and he had no idea
what to do.  Shaking his head, he drove towards the beach.

***

     "Vivian, I forgot my pen somewhere at home," Chris said, slightly
panicking.  They were already on their way from the hotel to the signing.

     Vivian, Chris' publicist, rolled her eyes.  Not only did Chris rarely
answer her phone calls, he only called her when he needed something.  Most
authors had good relationships with their representation, but Chris was
young and new, he had no idea that his entire tour rested in Vivian's
hands.  "I'm sure I can get you one," Vivian said, her tone tense.

     "Make sure it's a fountain pen, black ink.  It's just what I'm used
to," Chris said.  They had almost arrived at the bookstore.  Chris felt
uncomfortable in his gray suit and pink shirt, but at the same time, it was
nice to dress up once in a while.  The bottom line was he didn't feel like
himself.  Vivian had told him to go buy two designer suits before the tour,
but he'd much rather have been wearing his usual uniform of hoodie and
jeans.  He ran his fingers over his jacket pocket--still sewn shut let out
a sigh.  He hated to admit it, but he wished Jake were there to reassure
him that things would be ok.

     "I'll do my best.  Anything else?" Vivian asked.

     "Do you know how many people we're expecting?"  It was cold and gloomy
in Chicago, not the sort of weather people would be waiting in line to see
a writer in.

     "The store's been getting calls all week, I'm pretty hopeful."

     Chris nodded and kept his eyes focused on the buildings whirring by
the car window.  Big cities made him uncomfortable, car rides made him
uncomfortable, and unfamiliar surroundings made him uncomfortable, too.
One reviewer called him the "hippest hermit on the West Coast."  Chris
didn't like that image, but it seemed to fit.

     "Can I get a bag of M&Ms too?  Plain or peanut, it doesn't matter."
Vivian added it to the list she was making on her Palm Pilot.  So far, it
read, "pen: fountain, M&M's, water."

     "We're almost there, I'll let you get familiar with the store, meet
the event coordinator and stuff, and then I'll get these for you."

     "Thanks," Chris said as the car pulled up to the Barnes & Noble.
Vivian got out of the car first and he followed her, his posture sullen.
He was nervous.

     Walking into the cavernous store, Chris felt overwhelmed with anxiety.
He hated public speaking, but managed to find a steady groove when he got
going, it was just the initial shock he had to get over.  He walked by the
magazine rack and there was Jake, staring at him from the cover of Premiere
magazine.  He let his eyes linger on Jake's for a moment, remembering how
blue they were and his heavy-lidded gaze first thing in the morning.
Vivian ushered him upstairs to the signing area, where there were folding
chairs set up, and amazingly, a crowd of people with his book in their
hands.  Chris hadn't seen the final printing yet; he only told the Houghton
Mifflin people that he wanted something understated and simple.  The
hardcover was black with a white key embossed onto the cover, but the
paperback came in black or white, a key cut through the paper cover.  He
liked it a lot.

     "There's a door to the back where you can focus yourself, I know
you're nervous."  Vivian said, pointing to a side door.  "I'll be right
back with your stuff."

     Quietly, Chris walked around the bustling crowd, noticing most of them
were his age, maybe a few years older or younger.  To his amazement, they
weren't talking about movies or music or what had been on the morning news,
they were talking about his book.  What they'd heard from other people,
what they thought about it themselves, Chris started to calm down when he
realized that they actually were there to see him, not judge him or
criticize, they were genuinely interested in what he'd written.

     In the back room, Chris went over his notes, checking to see that he
marked the right passages to read and let his breathing steady.  It was
going to be okay.

***

     Jake scoured the Chicago Tribune for any news of Chris' signing.  He
had to drive to every bookstore in town to find a copy, but when he found
one, he drove right to Starbuck's to read it.  Jake wasn't surprised to
find that in the Arts & Culture section, there was a little feature,
complete with a picture and a review.  He smiled at the photo, Chris looked
good in his suit, reading from a tattered copy of Independence Day with
Post-its sticking out of the top.  Proud, he ripped out the feature and
handed it to Olivia, who surprisingly, hadn't quit yet.

     "I got something for the bulletin board," Jake said, smiling,
"Mr. Mysterious himself, reading in Chicago."

     Olivia grabbed the clipping and read it over, "That's crazy!  I had no
idea he was an actual writer.  I should get a copy."

     "He'd probably give you one, he tells me you're his favorite coffee
girl."

     Olivia blushed, "It's cool that you two are hanging out, sometimes I
worry about him."

     Jake's brows furrowed.  'Perks of being in a small town,' he thought.
"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

     "But nobody can be alone all the time.  He has to learn that much."

     Jake nodded; sometimes the most profound statements came from the most
unlikely places.

***

     In his hotel room, Chris's keys flew over the keys on his laptop.  He
was channeling the nervous energy from before into creative energy,
something he wasn't used to doing.  It seemed to be pouring out of him;
page after page of words seemed to materialize from nothing at all.  He
missed his routine, but if every night were like this, he'd be sending a
draft to his editor in no time.

     He picked up the phone to call Jake but decided against it.  He wasn't
angry anymore, he wasn't angry to begin with, maybe just annoyed.
Sometimes he couldn't tell the difference.  Instead of calling, he typed up
a text message and sent it to Jake, hoping that maybe Jake would call him
back to congratulate him.

    'Signing went great.  It's cold though.  Nothing is more exciting than
knowing what you're writing is good.'

     Setting his phone down next to the keyboard, he kept typing, oblivious
to the rest of the world.

***

     The second time around, Chris felt much better.  He had his fountain
pen, a nice wood one that Vivian found in a fancy pen store, his M&Ms
clicked together in his pocket, and he knew what to expect.  It was colder
in New York, and the huge city seemed even more intimidating when he flew
in, Vivian asleep in the seat next to him, but he was more confident.  This
time, his signing was at Brentano's, downtown where women walked their dogs
on rhinestone leashes and everyone was wearing designer clothes.  He
couldn't be any further away from Santa Barbara and his old faded cottage,
where people walked their dogs off the leash and hippies still seemed to
think it was 1962, but even that was changing.  Jake didn't get back to
him, but Chris was too distracted by the signing and city to think about it
too much.

     Vivian led the way into the store, this one even more massive than the
event in Chicago, and Chris' nerves hit him again.  New York was where the
writers he idolized lived.  This very store probably played host to
Jonathan Safran Foer, Zadie Smith, Margaret Atwood, Jhumpa Lahiri, and
Philip Roth.  Here he was, twenty-three, first novel, first tour.  Vivian
had told him once to use the nervousness in the actual event, not saving it
for writing after, but he'd never been able to do it, it sort of stayed
pent-up in his system, but today it felt right.  The chill in the air and
the energy of the city did something to Chris, he had a good feeling about
this.

     "...she didn't know where she was going, but she was going.  She had
to get away.  Anywhere, it didn't matter.  She just couldn't stand the
cookie-cutter world of Orange County.  She was born with stars in her eyes,
blinding her to reality but giving her the uncanny ability of having
shortsighted delusions of grandeur.  Before she knew it, she was on the
road, heading east to where the sun rose, to a new beginning."  Applause,
then a quiet "Thank you."  The crowd applauded again and Chris gave a
nervous smile over the microphone podium.

     "I'll take any questions from the audience now," Chris said, setting
his book down.  His hands instinctively went for his pockets, but this
jacket's pockets were still sewn shut too.

     "I loved your book, but I wanted to know exactly what inspired you to
write it?" asked a blonde in the third row.

     In Chicago, Chris gave a short answer: 'it just came out,' which
elicited a look of confusion from the audience, so he'd been practicing in
case it happened again, which Vivian told him would come up every single
time.  "Well, I'd just graduated and had no idea what to do so I just drove
and drove, got gas and then drove some more.  I didn't get very far, I
didn't have the balls to, but I got to thinking what would have happened if
I did.  What would I have seen, what would I have done?  I thought about it
and realized that people probably set out on adventures every day facing
uncertainty and questions.  That's why it's dedicated to dreamers.  I wrote
it for anyone who wanted more than what they have and go for it."  She
smiled, looking quite satisfied with the answer.  Chris looked around for
the next hand, "The man with the leather jacket?"

     "Did you write the book with anyone in mind?  I know you said that you
tried the trip, but is Kent based on someone you know?  And what about
Sophia?"

     "Kent was originally based on me, I figured that I should write about
someone I knew and I knew, still know, actually, myself better than anyone.
He's a complex character, I think, you don't know if he's just too big of a
chicken or if he's just like everyone out there, sort of scared and
worried.  Sophia is actually my cousin Sophia, she's exactly like the
character, I just used her.  She hates me now."  The audience let out a
laugh and Chris looked through the audience for another question.

     "Black sweater," he said, motioning towards the back of the room.

     "I'd just like to say this is one of my favorite books," he clapped,
and the audience joined him, "I just wanted to know what you think about
mistakes.  When Chris told Sophia she was crazy for dragging him across the
country, would you have forgiven someone the way that Sophia did?"

     Chris looked closely at the man, he was standing behind the back row,
every chair had been filled, his hair was messy and his smile very
familiar.  It was Jake.

     "Everyone deserves forgiveness, even someone like Sophia," Chris said,
his eyes more focused on the wood grain of the podium than Jake.

     Vivian stepped up to the podium and brought the microphone to her own
mouth, "That's all the questions we have time for, if you would like to get
your book signed, the line will form to the author's right.  Thanks for
coming!"

     The audience gave one last round of applause before the bookstore
employees ushered them into something vaguely suggesting a line while Chris
sat down at a nearby table, his new fountain pen at the ready.  He wasn't
sure if he'd be used to this sort of attention any time soon, but for now,
he wasn't going to be complaining.  After a lot of autographs and even a
few photographs, Jake had made his way up to the signing table, a smile
spread across his face but with no book in hand.

     "I thought about what you said," Jake's hands found their way into his
pockets.  Apparently, Chris wasn't the only person with that nervous habit.

     "And I thought about what you said," Chris glanced behind Jake,
cordially, he had waited until everyone had cleared out, "it takes two."

     Vivian tapped Chris on the shoulder.  "They've sold out of your book.
Congratulations."

     Chris smiled, standing up, "Then we're done here, I guess.  I'll see
you before we fly to Seattle?  I think Jake and I are going to hang out."

     "An old friend?"

     "A new one."  Jake shook Vivian's hand before she gathered her things
and headed downstairs.

     "I didn't expect you to come to the reading."

     "You expected me to miss it?"

     "I didn't know what to expect," Chris said, pulling Jake into a hug.
He needed it.  Both of them did.  "Did you get my message?  Impersonal but
gets the job done, right?"

     "You should have called," Jake said as they walked into the crisp air,
"which hotel are you staying at?"

     "The Mandarin, and it's on the company dime."

     "Impressive.  Let's get out of here."

     The crisp New York air was fresh and cool, the tall buildings didn't
seem so imposing anymore and even the bustle of the city seemed to calm
down.  Chris rested his head on Jake's shoulder at a stoplight and
everything just felt right.

***

     "Does Santa Barbara miss me like I miss it?"

     "You know it.  Olivia asked about you."

     "She's a sweetheart."

     "You're a natural up there.  Everyone in the room was enamored."

     "Even you?"

     "Well, I tried to be distracted, but you were just so cute up there."
Chris leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Jake's cheek.

     "Thanks for coming.  I really appreciate it."

     "Face it, you're stuck with me."  Chris sat down on the couch facing
the window overlooking the park.  It seemed huge, like the entire city of
Santa Barbara would fit in it with room to spare.  Jake joined him, pulling
Chris into his arms.  "Get used to it, big guy.  It's a big world you're
running from."

     "I'm not running from anything," Chris said, his eyes closing,
"sometimes it's just like there's too much to take in."

     "You've got me," Jake whispered.  Chris was already asleep, the day's
events taking their toll.  Jake pulled Chris' body close to his own,
feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.  Jake couldn't hold back
the entire world, but he'd do his best.

***

     Fiddling with the buttons on his coat, Chris waited by the door of the
hotel room for Jake to lace up his boots.  "Where's you're sister meeting
us?"

     "A little restaurant in the Village.  She says you'll like it."

     "She hasn't even met me."

     "We talk about you a lot," Jake said, still squatting over his boot.
His eyes gleamed with excitement.  As if Chris wasn't nervous enough, now
he had a famous sister to impress.  It was obvious that Maggie meant the
world to Jake, "Everyone falls in love with you, what are you worried
about?"

     "Everything."

     When they stepped out of the hotel, the sun was shining but it was
still freezing.  Jake shuddered, "Taxi or subway?"

     "You lead the way."

     Jake raised his hand, his eyes focused down the street.  He looked
like he did this every day, like he belonged, and Chris never felt more out
of place--a California boy in big bad New York.  When the taxi stopped,
Jake pulled Chris inside, his hand not letting go as the taxi sped down the
avenue, "Grove and Bleecker."

     "She's read your book," Jake said, "she reminded me that she told me
to read it last year, and of course, I ignored her."

     Chris clung onto Jake's hand as the taxi sped through the city, at
least they'd have that to talk about.

     The taxi came to a screeching halt, and Jake bounded out as soon as
the door opened, pulling Chris along.  Halfway down the block, they stopped
at a little restaurant that served crepes and there was Maggie, bundled up
in a turtleneck sipping on cafe au lait.  Chris liked her already.

     She waved when she saw them, genuinely excited to see her brother and
his new beau.  She smoothed out her suede skirt and sat up straight as the
boys sat down.

     "Hey sis," Jake said, leaning over to kiss her forehead, making Chris
smile, "this is Christopher: writer, caffeine addict, all-around good guy."

     "Pleased to meet you, I'm a big fan."

     "Thanks, it's really nice to meet you too."  Chris gave Maggie a hug,
and her hand rubbed his shoulder.

     "Cashmere, nice," Maggie said, smiling, "you got yourself a classy
one."

     "He cleans up nice," Jake said.

     "I ordered for you guys.  Two specials, two coffees," Maggie said.
"So when do we get to talk about how much I love Independence Day and how I
shoved it in Jake's face this time last year."

     "Stop it," Jake said, his hand reaching for Chris' under the table, "I
read it.  I got a signed copy."

     "I'll expect mine in the mail," Maggie said, taking another sip of
coffee, "You can make it out 'To Maggie, All my love.'  And if you have
anything new, I'd love to read it."

     "Will do," Chris said, calming down, "thanks for inviting me to
lunch."

     "I don't get to see Jakey much, so if he thinks he can come to the
city and forget about me, he's wrong."

     "We saw each other a few weeks ago, didn't we?" Jake asked, looking
over his shoulder.  A waiter was coming with their food.  "And didn't we
have crepes then too?"

     "You know you love them."

      Jake smiled in Chris' direction, "Bon appetit."

     "I'll come out to Santa Barbara soon," Maggie said, "someone has to
help Jake unpack or he'll live out of boxes forever."

     "He doesn't spend much time at his place."

     "I wouldn't either, he says that your cottage is like the beach house
he never had."

     Chris found that Maggie was really easy to talk to, genuinely nice,
and more than anything, funny.  She giggled and laughed while Jake stayed
on the sidelines, noticing how Chris' nose wrinkled when he laughed and how
he liked to stir his coffee even when it didn't need stirring.  Jake loved
that everything was subtle and effortless.  Everything about Chris seemed
polished and clean.  Jake felt Chris squeeze his hand and he squeezed back,
even when they weren't talking, they were learning about each other.

     "Don't be a stranger, Chris, I like you too much," Maggie said,
tossing her napkin onto the table.

     Chris smiled, looking down at his plate.  He felt like he had passed a
test or something, Maggie kissed his and Jake's cheeks before she hopped
into a taxi.  "I love her," Chris said, "when she comes to visit, we have
to take her to that little gallery with the stained glass windows and the
place with the crab cakes."  Jake smiled, resisting every urge to just grab
Chris and kiss him.  "To the Met, right?"

     "Anywhere you go, I'm there," Jake said, "let me get a cab."

     "No no, I'll get it," Chris said, throwing his hand into the air.
Jake beamed, there was nothing more attractive than the "aw shucks"
confidence that seemed to emanate from Chris when he thought nobody was
watching.

***

     "I had a really good time today," Chris said as the moon peeked over
the buildings on the other side of the park, "I should take you with me to
every city.  We could have crepes and go to museums while the rest of the
world complains about how cold it is."

     "Where are you going next?" Jake asked, the whole situation didn't
sound too impossible.

     "Seattle, San Francisco, LA," Chris said, "do we just push the room
service cart out into the hall?"

     "You'll have them eating out of your hand," Jake said, his voice
dropping to a whisper as he pulled Chris into his arms.

     "I thought nobody would care, but when I see those people waiting to
hear what I have to say, it's amazing," Chris said, "it's inspiring."

     "That's the magic word," Jake said, planting his lips onto Chris'.
Instantly, he felt Chris' body relax, succumbing to the emotions that Jake
had been feeling all day.  In front of that crowd, even if he didn't know
it, Chris was passionate, at lunch with Maggie, Jake saw that same passion
when they got talking about books and plays that they'd all seen, but
nothing was more attractive than Chris at the museum, where he took
everything in, slowly walking around each piece and studying it from top to
bottom.  Chris didn't notice that Jake was paying more attention to him
than the ancient Greek vessels, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the
intensity that dominated Chris' every move.  Chris could extract the
inspiration from just about anything, it seemed.

     Jake felt Chris' hands come to rest on his shoulders and their bodies
ground together, their mouths desperately coming together again and again.
Chris could feel Jake's neck and shoulders overcome his own as Jake pushed
him down onto the couch.  Crawling on top of Chris, Jake pulled his sweater
off, feeling the chill of the air on his exposed skin.  Instantly, Chris'
hands flew to his chest, fingers greedy to feel anything bare and
accessible.  Jake pulled at Chris' shirt, giving Chris a chance to catch
his breath as Jake took everything in.

     "What are you thinking right now?" Jake asked, his voice quiet.

     Chris paused, confused.  "Your skin feels like satin stretched over
marble," he said, breathy.  "And when you kiss me like that, I can barely
register anything else."

     Jake leaned down, covering Chris' neck with soft nibbles and kisses.
"You drive me crazy," Jake whispered, "it takes everything I've got to keep
my hands off of you."

     Chris gasped when Jake undid his pants, the thin material of his
underwear doing nothing to hide his arousal. Sliding his hands down to
Jake's hips, the organic fluid motions of their hips seemed to fit together
perfectly, even though Chris felt as though his body was completely beyond
his control.  Jake pulled off his pants, throwing over the back of the
couch, leaving Chris naked underneath him.  He unzipped his own pants and
they soon joined Chris', out of sight.  Chris pulled Jake back down on top
of him, needing the warmth of his body and the sensations flooding over
him.  Chris' hands grasped at Jake's sinewy back, searching for anything to
hold onto as Jake's tongue explored his mouth.  Jake's hand grazed Chris'
cock, sending shudders through his body.  Cupping Chris' balls in his hand,
Jake heard Chris' low groans and felt his fingers tangling in his hair,
trying to gain some semblance of control in the kiss.  Slightly
overwhelmed, his senses bombarded by stimulation, Chris was surprise at his
own sharp intake of breath when Jake slipped a finger into his asshole.

     Trembling, Chris brought his mouth to Jake's earlobe, "I'm ready for
anything," with those words, Chris felt Jake's body tense, "anything."

     Jake's lips crashed into Chris', pushing him up higher onto the arm of
the sofa.  Jake's pushed another finger into Chris, watching the sweat
collect on Chris' forehead.  Every move he made inside Chris, he saw a
reaction, a pant from his mouth, a throe of his head, or a curl of his
toes.  Pre-cum was dripping down Jake's own cock, his breathing was ragged
and his hands shaking.

     Jake's mouth felt dry as his hand ran over Chris' jaw.  Chris' right
leg hooked over Jake's shoulder and his mouth hung slack as Jake worked his
fingers slowly in and out of his hole.  Chris' cock was hard and dripping,
confirming his words.  Jake pulled his fingers out, doing his best to smear
his pre-cum over his length.  One hand clutching the couch over Chris'
shoulder and the other holding the base of his cock, Jake pressed his cock
to Chris' hole.  When he pressed the head of his cock to the opening, he
felt Chris' entire body tense.  Chris groaned, clutching at Jake's
shoulders.

     "Steady, steady," Jake whispered, slipping more of his cock into
Chris' body, "jack off for me, baby."

     Chris' hand went to his own cock, trying to ignore the burn in his
ass.  Jake's thick cock slowly slid into him and he could feel every vein
of it.  It was red-hot, burning in his ass, but it was amazing.  The last
of Jake's cock slid in and he felt his body spasm, gripping the cock in his
ass and drawing a loud groan from Jake.  Chris felt Jake's hot breath
against his cheek, their heavy breathing and the heat of the room making
their bodies slick with sweat.  Chris' stomach was covered in sweat and
pre-cum, every motion slick with the moisture of both his and Jake's
bodies.  Jake pulled out, slowly thrusting back into the tight pressure of
Chris' hole.  Chris reached for Jake's chest, feeling the muscles tense and
relax with every thrust.  His entire body tingled with sensation, Jake's
cock was hitting him somewhere that made his cock throb.  He had forgotten
about jacking off, trying to take in the sensations in his ass.

     Jake kissed Chris desperately, needing to confirm that everything was
okay.  His cock was deep inside Chris, thrusting long, steady, strong
strokes in and out.  Jake's cock felt bigger and more sensitive than it
ever had before.  Jake leaned into Chris, thrusting as deep as he could.
He let his body take over, losing control over his hips.

     Chris felt his own blood coursing through his veins in his temples,
his abs, and his cock.  He felt light-headed, Jake's cock stretching him
and bringing him to a place he wasn't used to being.  He was out of
control, surrendering everything to Jake.  His own cock was throbbed with
every thrust, he was mumbling incoherently, and as Jake's thrusts grew
harder and faster, Chris felt his own body slip over the edge.

     Jake's body went completely rigid as he thrust deep and hard, his cock
spilling its load into Chris' ass, his body beyond his control.  His cock
pulsed, the slippery cum coating every inch of its length.  Jake's groans
echoed in Chris' ears, his own cock twitched with urgency.  Jake pulled out
slightly, only to slam his spurting cock back to the base, and Chris let
out a shuddering gasp, cum spurting from his own dick.  The convulsions in
his ass and his entire body squeezed another few drops from Jake's cock.
Collapsing on top of Chris' panting chest, Jake nuzzled his nose into the
crook of Chris' neck.  Their breathing ragged and their bodies sweaty,
Chris stroked the back of Jake's neck.  "That was unreal," Chris whispered,
barely audible.  He felt Jake's body shudder before he lifted himself up.

     Before he could say anything, Chris' lips came to his, this time their
kiss was more relaxed, less urgent.  When the broke apart, Jake brushed the
hair from his forehead; his blue eyes were under heavy lids and his
breathing just beginning to steady.  He was speechless, and with just one
look to Chris' dark eyes, both of them understood that there was no other
way to put it.

***

     "I saw you on TV the other night," Jake said, dropping one of Chris'
suitcases into the trunk of his car, "you sounded smart and fresh, just
like you wanted to."

     Chris got into the car and hoped that Jake wouldn't see him blushing,
"I'm glad someone watched it.  How was the week without me?  You did that
DVD special feature thing?"

     "It was weird being at home without you to hang out with.  I heard you
drew a big crowd in San Francisco."

     "Have you been reading about me online?"

     Now it was Jake's turn to blush, "I had to occupy myself with
something."

     "I wrote a lot after New York.  I couldn't stop.  Stuff was just
coming out.  I don't know if I did a good job of containing it."

     Chris' hand found its way to the gearshift, resting on top of Jake's
as they sped down the highway.  There was something comforting about seeing
the familiar road signs and landscape of he California coast.  He learned
to love New York with its imposing buildings and numbered streets, he fell
in love with San Francisco's laid-back attitude and open mindset, but his
first love would always be Santa Barbara with its clean beaches, friendly
people, and idyllic hills.

     "It feels amazing to be home again.  I'll have my bed, by house, my
coffee shop, and you."

     "Back to normal for both of us."

     When they pulled up to the house, Chris couldn't help but smile at the
peeling paint, the burlap welcome mat, and his mailbox overflowing with
junk.  He practically jumped out of the car to the front door.  Chris
jammed his key into the door and stepped inside.  Everything looked the
same, smelled the same, and felt the same.  "Sorry about that," Chris said
when he saw Jake carrying in his suitcases, "I got a little excited."

     Jake kissed his forehead, dropping the suitcases in the entryway.  "So
you're going to be busy editing for a few days?"

     "Yeah, I have to cut out the crap that comes out when I get too
excited.  There's a lot of crap in this, I'm sure."

     "I have a bunch of scripts to read, I'm not sure what I want to do
next," Jake said, his fingers running through his hair, "is it okay if I do
it here, or do you need to do it by yourself?"

     "The door's always unlocked, just come in whenever.  I'll be at my
desk the whole time."

     "I'll stay out of your way.  It's just that I can't concentrate with
the unpacking that I've ignore the whole time."

     Chris walked to the kitchen, his answering machine blinking its
imposing red light.  Jake was right behind him, stopping to wrap his arms
around Chris' chest and brining his nose to Chris' neck.  "I bet they
missed you at the coffee shop.  We should pay them a visit."  Ignoring the
messages, Chris turned around and let Jake's mouth meet his own.

***

     "I can't believe you put them on the board," Chris said, staring at
the corkboard over the little cart that the half-and-half and sugar was.
There were articles from the Village Voice, the Chicago Tribune, the San
Francisco Chronicle, and the Seattle Times.  None were very big, but they
were there, hanging at his Starbuck's.  Jake practically beamed, pulling
one more clipping from his back pocket.

     "LA Times makes it a complete set," he said, pinning the clip onto the
board with the others.  The only ones with photos were the Chicago and San
Francisco articles, and as Chris looked over the articles themselves, there
were nothing but compliments.  Jake looked proud, his eyes surveying both
the board and Chris himself, "The big shot buys the drinks, right?"

     "Thanks for this.  I didn't know they even wrote about me."

     At the counter, Olivia didn't even need to ask for their orders.  "On
the house this time," she smiled, "the other day a guy came in asking about
you.  He said that the bookstores and newsstands didn't even know you lived
here.  I told him that he came to the right place.  His name was Scott
Rudin, do you know him?"

     "Doesn't ring a bell.  You know him, Jake?"

     "Wait, Scott Rudin wants to talk to Chris?" Jake asked, his voice
eager.

     "Well, he called him 'Christopher,' but yeah.  Nobody here has even
heard of him," Olivia said.

     "Scott Rudin is a big time producer.  I'm talking amazing films.  He
produces some of the best novel to film adaptations there are."

     "You think he wants to make my book into a movie?"  Chris asked, not
even trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

     "He did The Hours, he did Wonder Boys, I Heart Huckabees?  He's
awesome.  If he's looking for you himself, he's serious."

     Olivia and Chris still looked puzzled, but excited.  "I have to check
my messages at home," Chris said, his eyes wide, "he might have called."
Chris and Jake grabbed their coffee and practically sprinted back to the
house, leaving Olivia and anyone who overheard their conversation more
confused than anything else.  Before the door closed behind he and Jake,
Chris slammed his finger down onto the play button the machine, finally
bringing that blinking red light to a halt.

***

     "It was supposed to be a joke, and it was just for you, not anyone
with three dollars and an itch for literature," Chris said.  Jake couldn't
tell if he was serious or if he was joking, which was a bad sign.  He
thought he'd managed to figure out most of Chris' idiosyncrasies, but he'd
never seen Chris like this before.

     "I didn't think that they'd publish it.  What's the big deal?  You've
written for them before, you said."

     "Fiction, not poetry.  I don't know what people will be expecting now,
poetry or fiction?  I'm all over the place now."

     "A literary double-threat?"

     "More like a wishy-washy writer who hasn't found his voice yet.  The
critics are going to tear me apart.  I wrote that for you, not for Alice
Quinn to read."

     "I'm sure she's read your stuff before."

     "Alice Quinn sent one of my professors a letter after he submitted a
poem.  He framed it in his office.  It had one word on it: 'no.'  She's the
harshest editor on earth."

     "You didn't get a 'no.'"

     "She might have liked it, but I wrote it to be funny, not to be
serious."

     "If you get mad at me for getting one of your pieces published, you
have to realize what you're doing.  You should be happy.  Writers dream of
being published in the New Yorker."

     "I just wasn't expecting the entire world to have access to a poem
that I wrote just for you.  And, I've been out of control lately with phone
conferences with the producer guy, my editor on my back, I'm just going
crazy."

     Jake pulled Chris to him, pushing his head down onto his shoulder.
"You're living a dream, when this all settles, you're not going to want to
wake up."

     Chris knew Jake was right, but when it all boiled down, he was just
unsure how everyone would take his poem.  It wasn't serious, wasn't edited,
and more than that, it was for Jake and Jake alone.  He'd written it on the
plane from San Francisco to Los Angeles, just something to pass the time,
and here it was, staring back at him in the New Yorker.  "Nobody's ever
pushed me.  When I started writing, I just wrote and decided that I wanted
it published."

     "You can be so much more than what you are right now."

     "That's the thing--you're the only person that's ever thought that."
Jake pressed his nose into Chris' hair, holding him tight.

     "I like the poem, and I guess the editor liked it, otherwise she'd
have sent you a 'no' postcard too."

     "I guess you're right," Chris said, sighing.  Jake was behind him, and
suddenly, he felt like he was invincible.

***

     Chris spread cream cheese on his bagel as he waited for the
receptionist to call him into Scott Rudin's office.  Jake had dropped him
off in front of he skyscraper of an office before running errands and
meeting with "Hollywood people."  The idea made Chris cringe.  Hollywood
people seemed to be closing in on him.  He didn't mind Jake, who wasn't
Hollywood at all, but here was Scott Rudin, who made amazing films, one of
the most powerful producers in Hollywood.

     "Stand firm, don't let him make you do things you don't want to do,"
Jake said before he waved and sped down the street.

     It was unprofessional eating right in the waiting room of Rudin's
office, but the hour-and-a- half commute left no time for breakfast at
home.  The receptionist seemed oblivious to him, too busy transferring
calls and telling callers that Mr. Rudin had meetings lined up all morning.
Half his bagel eaten, Chris wiped the crumbs off his cuffs and lap.
Suddenly, Mr. Rudin's door swung open and Chris could see two men shaking
hands before one stepped out.  Chris recognized him as Topher Grace, only
because he had rented In Good Company the other night and forgot to return
it, accruing a hefty fee.  He didn't even get to watch it, Jake insisted
that they go out roast marshmallows, since it was unseasonably warm.  His
hair was a little shaggier than it had been on the DVD cover, and his jaw
was peppered with stubble, but he was still recognizable.

     "Christopher!  I thought we'd never get to meet face to face," Scott
said, extending his hand.  "This is Topher, we're developing a film
together.  Sorry the meeting ran late."

     "It's no problem," Chris said.

     Topher reached out his hand and Chris shook it.  "I loved your book,"
he said, "I couldn't put it down."  Chris couldn't help but blush.  He knew
people read it, but it was interesting to learn exactly who had.

     "Thanks, I'm really proud of it."

     "Good luck with Scott," Topher said, smiling, "maybe I'll see you
around."

     "Well, let's get this show on the road," Scott said, motioning for
Chris to step into the office.  Topher waved goodbye as Chris closed the
door behind him.  When he sat down, he noticed Scott's disheveled office,
papers and files covered every flat surface and his bookshelf was
practically collapsing with the weight of the books on it.  Chris noticed a
copy of Independence Day on the third shelf, writers have a way of being
able to pick their book out of any bookshelf, and Chris was no different.
"Everyone loves your book, as you can see.  I want to make this movie and
I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

     "Thanks, but you're the only one who's asked, so you don't have to
worry about it."

     "Christopher, don't be naive, you're going to have every studio
executive breathing down your neck for this film.  I just read it before
any of them."

     Chris nodded, "I've heard good things about your movies, so I have no
problem working with you."

     Scott smiled, obviously proud of his own work, "I want to make this
movie gritty and real.  Not a big budget blockbuster, something that your
readers can relate to.  Nothing too polished and perfect--I think you'll
agree that fits the book better."

     Chris was thrilled, and as Scott told him more, he felt more and more
excited to get started.  Scott had read his book thoroughly, often quoting
passages and recounting scenes that were minor and obscure.  His vision fit
the mood and theme of the book exactly.  Chris glanced at his watch, not
realizing that they'd been talking for almost two hours.

     "Well, I have another appointment, but I'm sure that you'll agree when
I say that this is going to be a great project for the both of us.  I'll
have Marianne set up another meeting and we can discuss casting, directing,
writing, all of that."

     "Writing?"

     "Someone has to write the screenplay."  Chris never thought that
someone else would be handling that part of the movie.  It was his book,
after all, his baby.  He didn't want anyone doing anything to it without
his permission.  "Sorry to cut the meeting short.  It's been hard getting
together, but as soon as some of my other projects wrap, we'll be seeing a
lot more of each other.  He shook Chris' hand and before he knew it, Chris
was out in the sterile waiting room again, confirming his contact info with
Marianne.

     A phone call and a few minutes later, Jake was stepping of the
elevator.

     "How'd it go?" Jake asked, excited, "and why are you waiting for me
here?"

     "I think it went okay," Chris said, brushing croissant crumbs from
Jake's chin, "I'll tell you about it during lunch."

***

     Inside their hotel room, Chris noticed that someone had already hung
their suits in the closet.  The jackets and shirts looked perfectly pressed
and on the floor underneath them, two pairs of shiny black shoes still had
their cedar shoe trees inserted.  "Thanks," Chris heard Jake say to the
bellboy.  He felt Jake's strong arms wrap around him from behind.  It was
Jake's favorite way to hug, it seemed.  "We have a few hours before the
premier, do you want to do anything?"

     "Who's going to be there tonight?"  Chris asked.  Jake had been
invited to the premiere of the new Jean-Pierre Jeunet film, figuring that
he and Chris could both use some more exposure.  His break from the
business didn't mean that he'd be completely out of the public eye, and now
that Chris could possibly be the new darling of the film world, it couldn't
hurt to be at these events.

     "Not big stars, since it's an indie-flick, but you might be
surprised," Jake said, nibbling Chris' ear.  "You'll like the movie, it was
a book."

     "Just about every movie is a book."

     "But it's a book that you've read.  I saw it signed at your place.
Life of Pi?"

     Chris loved that book, suddenly realizing that if Life of Pi could be
made into a movie, with its fantastical situations and unreal settings, not
to mention it's almost complete lack of dialogue, it wasn't impossible for
his book to be made into something true to its roots.  Jake turned around,
facing Jake and bringing their lips together.  "I can't wait."

     Jake let his eyes shut slowly when he felt Chris's hands on his pants.
Pulling his own shirt over her head, Jake let Chris push him down into a
chair.  Chris' mouth was desperate on his own, their tongues rolling over
one another as Jake's hands trailed down Chris' back.  Lowering his mouth,
Chris trailed his tongue down Jake's neck to his chest.  Jake's head was
thrown back, his mouth slack and his hands in Chris' shoulders now.  When
Chris' ran his tongue over Jake's nipple, Jake couldn't hold back a long
hiss, his back arching.  Chris licked and nibbled at Jake's nipples,
pushing down his own pants as Jake writhed on the chair.  As he ran his
hands down Jake's chest, feeling the soft hairs that fanned down Jake's
pecs down to his abs, he pulled down Jake's pants, too.  Jake's cock lay
hard against his stomach, pulsing with every beat of Jake's heart.

     Chris started to lick at Jake's balls, feeling their heft on his
tongue.  Jake groaned, his hips bucking forward with every move of Chris'
tongue.  Jake felt Chris's hard cock against his right calf, pre-cum
dripping down its shaft as Chris worked over Jake's balls.  Chris licked
Jake's cock with long slow strokes, his hands on Jake's abs.  Jake moaned
with every flick of Chris' tongue, his head tossing from side to side.
Chris loved to hear Jake above him, incoherent moans and groans filling his
ears made him work harder, trying to get more from Jake's breathy voice.

     Jake realized that Chris was rubbing his cock against his calf as he
took his shaft down his throat.  Jake moved his leg forward, making it
easier for Chris to thrust his cock against his hairy leg.  Chris groaned
and Jake's entire body shook with bliss, his cock almost entirely lodged
into Chris' mouth and throat.  Chris could taste the pre-cum leaking from
Jake's cock, the salty-sweet liquid dripping copiously.  Chris usually
jacked himself off while he blew Jake, but when he felt Jake's leg against
his cock, the reaction was almost automatic and instinctual.  His body was
doing anything for stimulation, anything to get off.

     Pulling off of Jake's cock, Chris ran his hand over Jake's stiff
shaft, catching his breath.  His hips were still pumping against Jake's
leg, and he was getting close.  Chris licked Jake's cock from base to tip,
doing his best to catch every drop of pre-cum.  Jake pulled Chris up,
letting him straddle his lap and brining their cocks together.  Jake jacked
their cocks together, both their slick with sweat.  Jake kissed and licked
at Chris' collarbone, feeling Chris' fingers tangle in his hair.  Chris
felt the hair on Jake's jaw line and his chest against his own smooth body.
It was rough, raw, and scratchy.  Their bodies moved together in a tangle,
pulsing with need and passion.

     Jake's finger pushed at Chris' asshole, feeling the tight muscle relax
for him.  Chris was panting and his cock was dripping copiously.  Jake
looked up at him, seeing Chris eyes shut tight, trying to take in all the
sensation.  Bringing his lips to Chris' nipple, he slowly pushed in another
finger.  Chris let out a long slow groan, his forehead resting on Jake's
shoulder.  "Fuck me, Jake," Chris whispered.  Jake pulled their bodies
together, feeling their skin slide against each other.

    Chris pulled their bodies apart, getting back on his feet and pulling
Jake to the bedroom.  Jake followed, noticing how flushed Chris looked, his
breathing heavy with lust.  Jake pulled Chris to his body, their mouths
crashing together as Jake's hands ran over Chris' back.  Pushing Chris
against the wall, they didn't even make it to the bedroom before Jake
turned Chris around and his fingers were back up Chris' hole.  Chris
gasped, his forehead resting on the wall in front of him.  Panting, he felt
Jake's chest against his back, the blunt head of his cock at his hole.
Slow and slick, Jake's thick cock stretched Chris' ring, Chris' head
falling back onto Jake's shoulder.  Chris' ass sheathed Jake's cock as he
thrust in and out, each movement urgent and hungry.  Jake's mouth returned
to Chris' neck, his hips thrusting in and out of the tightness.  Chris'
body shook with pleasure, Jake's cock entering him at an angle he wasn't
used to, but was learning to love.

     Jake grunted with every thrust forward, his arms wrapped around Chris'
chest, feeling the tension in each of Chris' muscles and every heaving
breath.  He brought his hand to Chris' cock, feeling Chris' ass squeeze
even tighter as he stroked the shaft.  "I'm close," Chris gasped, his
entire body rigid.

     Pulling out, Jake heard Chris gasp, his kneed almost buckling under
his body.  Jake caught him and lay him on the floor, hooking Chris' legs
over his shoulders.  He felt Chris pull his head down to his own as he
pushed his dripping cock back into Chris.  Another long groan escaped
Chris' mouth as Jake continued his long, hard thrusts.  Jake's neck
strained, he was trying his best to hold back, not wanting the fuck to end.
Their bodies were slippery with sweat and their breathing heavy and labored
as Chris got closer and closer to cumming.  With one particularly hard
thrust, Chris felt his cock explode, cum shooting up his chest, the searing
heat of it joining their bodies together.  Chris let out a silent scream as
his ass convulsed around Jake's thick shaft, still thrusting in and out of
Chris' shuddering body.  Chris pulled Jake's head to his own; their lips
locking together as Jake let his load erupt inside Chris' ass.  Groaning,
Jake's thrusts slowed as he let himself collapse on top of Chris.  Panting,
Chris' hands ran down Jake's sweaty back, feeling every muscle relaxing
under his touch.  Jake pulled out of Chris' ass, pulling a gasp from Chris
with it, before settling is weight on top of Chris' body.  The premier
could wait; he could do this all night.

***

     Stepping out of the car, Chris saw Vivian waiting for him in a crowd
of what he assumed were "people:" publicists, agents, and managers.  He
waved at her and she put down her cell- phone.

     "So you're putting me to work now?" Vivian asked, smiling, "will you
be coming out of hiding more often?"

     "I'm thinking about it," Chris said, "it was Jake's idea."

     "You both look great," Vivian said, "I already met with Dean, Jake's
agent.  We'll be a few steps behind you two on the carpet, but then we're
both out of here."

     "Thanks for everything," Chris said.  Jake was still talking to the
driver about something.  Chris introduced himself to Dean and looked down
the length of the red carpet.  It was like something out of a magazine:
photographers lined up behind a waist-high fence with reporters and TV
hosts dotted along its length.  Chris instinctively reached for his pockets
and again, they were still sewn shut.  He suddenly felt very uncomfortable
in his suit, even though he and Jake had decided not to wear ties.

     "You'll do fine," Jake said, suddenly at Chris' side, "just remember
to keep smiling."  Jake waved at Dean, who was talking to someone with a
clipboard, and nudged Chris towards the crowd on the carpet.  The
flashbulbs were bright and startling at first, "Just wait a minute, it'll
get better," Jake whispered in his ear.  Together, they took slow steps
down the carpet, stopping when photographers asked them for pictures,
Vivian and Dean stayed a few steps behind them as promised, answering
questions from the paparazzi.

     "Who are you with, Jake?" screamed a photographer.

     Jake looked his way, completely composed, "a good good friend.  He's a
writer, you'll be hearing good things about him soon."  Chris was amazed at
how fast the photographer wrote down the information, listening intently to
any word coming from Jake.  "Let's get a picture!  A picture!"

     Jake pulled Chris closer and they posed for a few minutes.  "Which one
am I looking at?"  Chris asked.

     "I can never tell," Jake said.  Chris didn't mind the smiling as long
as he was with Jake, it was like visiting Jake at work.  This was the sort
of thing he did all the time, like it was just another day at the office.

     "Keep it going," Chris heard Dean say.  Jake and Chris walked a few
more steps before being stopped by a reporter.

     "Giuliana here with E! News, can we have a chat?"  Chris recognized
her from TV.  In person, she was taller than he imagined and much more
bubbly.

     "Jake, you've been taking some time off.  How's that going?" she
asked.

     "I'm never really taking a break, I'm here, right?" Jake joked.
Juliana's giggle was nasal, Chris noticed.  "But no, it's been good."

     "And who's this you brought with you?"

     "This is Christopher," Jake said, pushing Chris towards Giuliana,
"he's a great writer, poem in the New Yorker this week."

     "That's exciting," she said, obviously not interested.

     Vivian pushed herself into the interview, "let's keep it going."  E!
was definitely not Chris' target audience, and she didn't want him wasting
his time.

     "This isn't so bad," Chris whispered into Jake's ear.  They stopped
one more time for pictures and kept walking.

     "Christopher Lewis!" Chris heard, he squinted towards the
photographers, surprised that someone recognized him.  Jake stopped too,
scanning the crowd.  It was noisy and bustling, so they were both having
trouble.  "Over here!"

     Chris saw someone waving a few feet down the carpet.  When they made
eye contact, his waving got more vigorous.  Vivian sped towards him and
Chris saw them talking about something.  He stayed beside Jake as more
flashbulbs went off, letting Vivian do her job.  "It's Craig Davis," she
said when she came back, "from McSweeney's."

     McSweeney's was one of Chris' first big breaks.  His first piece was
published on their website, frequented by hipsters who were into new
fiction.  He never had a chance to write for them again, eventually losing
contact with the magazine.  He didn't recognize the name Craig Davis,
either.  Chris grabbed Jake's hand and walked towards the reporter.

     "What are you doing here?"  Davis asked, "are you a movie star and a
writer?"

     "No, just a plus one," Chris joked, "I have some big projects coming
up, taking a break from that and getting my name out."  Jake stood beside
him, ignoring the photographers and reporters alike.  He let Chris handle
this one, knowing that Chris felt a little more comfortable with a lit- mag
than a TV rag.

     "And the poem, what made you want to submit that to Quinn?"

     "I didn't, it was an accident.  Did you like it?"

     "Loved it, everyone in the office did."

     Chris smiled; he was relieved that it was being well received.
"Thanks.  I wrote it for someone I really love.  It just came out.  I've
never felt this way before, and I never wrote that way before.  Weird,
huh?"  Jake perked up when he heard Chris say that.

     "So we can expect more poems?  A new book?  What's on your plate?"

     "I don't know what's going on.  Right now, I'm working on a book, but
anything's possible.  I'm trying a lot of new things.  I'm in a really good
place right now."

     "Thanks for talking, I'll let you finish the trek," Craig said,
motioning to the rest of the carpet.

     "Vivian will give you my info, maybe we can see about another piece."

     "For sure," Craig said, excited.

     Chris turned to look at Jake, who was waiting patiently.  "Almost
done," Jake said.

     "Jake!  Chris!"  They both turned to look down the carpet.
Practically bounding towards them was Topher Grace.

     "We met this morning," Chris said to Jake as Topher made his way
towards them.

     "Didn't expect to see you guys here," Topher said, catching his
breath.  Chris noticed that he had shaved.  It looked better.  He hugged
Chris, patting him firmly on his back.  "I read that poem you have in the
New Yorker.  Awesome stuff."

     "Thanks.  You know Jake, right?"  Chris said.

     "We've met a few times," Jake said, shaking Topher's hand.

     The three of them were oblivious to the constant flashes of the
cameras as they spoke.  "How did your meeting with Scott go?" Topher asked.

     "We talked about a lot of things, nothing concrete yet, just that the
movie is a sure thing."

     Both Dean and Vivian came up behind Topher, motioning for Jake and
Chris to keep it moving.  "Hey, we have to head inside, but it was nice
seeing you," Jake said.

     "Yeah, see you two around," Topher said, turning to face the
photographers.

     "You're making quick friends," Jake said as soon as they were out of
earshot.

     Chris just now noticed that they'd reached the end of the carpet.  He
looked over his shoulder at the celebrities still making their way to the
theater.  Had he really just walked a red carpet?  With real stars and real
photographers?  It was sort of surreal, but he'd survived.

     "You did great," Jake said, "a few more trips down these carpets and
you'll be as bored of it as I am."  His hand on the small of Chris' back,
Jake led the way into the darkness of the theater.

---

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