Date: Wed, 7 Feb 2007 08:56:49 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 34

Usual disclaimers apply, this is all fiction.  No implications are made
about the celebrities mentioned.  This is intended for adults, so if you're
not allowed to read this, don't do it.

Author's Note: head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the
latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty.  It's a great
place and I'm really grateful for all the people I've met there.  Sign up
at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew.

A special thanks to everyone who's written to me from the very beginning
and to those just starting. I know that the story's taken a lot of twists
and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking with me
through it all.  As always, e-mail can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com
or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail address.  I'm on all the time,
don't be afraid to drop me a quick message.

Award winner for "Best Non-Boy-Band Story Award" at Nifty's Boy-Band Awards
for 2006.

Part XXXIV

    Every time Chris had a book coming out, he tried his best not to read
the reviews.  Vivian did it for him and always told him which were good and
which were bad.  Instead of doing that, though, Celeste--being the
fantastic publicist that she was--decided that it would be a nice change if
she arranged it so that he actually got them before they were even printed.
Chris had them neatly piled up on his desk, LA Times, New York Post, New
York Review of Books, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, every single
one untouched.  He figured he'd read them on the plane, maybe then he'd
know what to talk about at signings and press events.  Celeste was being
great, but between Jake going practically crazy with wedding planning and
his own work, Chris didn't think he needed the extra stress of these
reviews.  Jake managed to keep cool when he multitasked; Chris just looked
like a wreck.

     "You got another one," Jake said, startling Chris right out of his
spaced-out reverie.

     "From where?" Chris said, getting up out of his chair.  Jake shrugged
and handed it over, giving Chris a quick kiss on the forehead before Chris
glanced at it.  He dropped it instantly, panic in his eyes.

     "What's going on?" Jake asked, picking it back up.

     "New York Times," Chris said, "Jesus Christ."

     "You've gotten reviewed in the Times before," Jake said, still
confused.  He leaned down to pick it up and gave Chris a questioning look.

     "That's Michiko Kakutani," Chris said, the smoothness of his
pronunciation surprising Jake, "I...she is the most vile, most harsh, most
unbelievably mean critic there is."

     "You only get good reviews," Jake said, "so what Misha Tsunami says
doesn't really matter, does it?"

     "Not until now.  My last book bombed.  Nobody cared.  Why would they
let Michiko Kakutani review my book?  She only does really big writers.  I
have to call Celeste," he sounded panicked and scared.

     "Celeste is the one that sent it over, I'm sure she knows," Jake said.
He always tried his best to calm Chris down when these book crises
happened, but every single time, Jake just got really confused.  He didn't
know critics, he didn't know the system, and more than anything else, he
thought everything Chris wrote was great.

     "It doesn't matter if all the reviews before this were good, this
could be the one that she tears apart.  This could be the bad one."

     "It's not, trust me," Jake said, "I think it only took me...two days
to finish it."

      Chris smiled, it felt so good to hear it.  He'd seen it those two
days, felt his heart flutter every time Jake turned a page, but hearing it
out loud just filled Chris with a sense of warmth he didn't find anywhere
else.  Jake loved him for a lot of things, he knew that, but his writing
was still something he needed Jake to see.

     "Want to read it together?" Jake asked.

     "I'm scared," Chris said, letting himself fall into Jake's arms,
feeling a different sort of warmth against him.

     "You have nothing to be scared of," Jake whispered, hands pulling
Chris tight, "you're smart, you're a good writer--a great writer.  You're
the guy who got the biggest advance in publishing history.  You have so
many awards we don't have room for them all.  And even if you didn't have
all that, even if you were nobody, you've got me."

     "Okay," Chris said, voice quiet and shaky, "but we should leave this
one for last, I don't think I can handle Michiko first."

***

     "We read them all, every single one," Chris said, pushing his pasta
around his plate.

     "And?" Celeste asked, sitting back in her chair, legs crossed, "are
you the toast of the town or are you going straight to the half-off bin?"

     "Somewhere in the middle, I guess," Chris said, "people hated it or
they loved it.  Maybe I'll just be on sale and not in the bargain bin."

     "What did Jake think?"

     "He doesn't care, he always likes my stories," Chris said, eyes still
focused on his plate.

     "That guy has been staring at you for the last ten minutes," Celeste
said, motioning over Chris' shoulder.

     "Who?" Chris asked, turning around to look.

     "You can't look!" Celeste practically yelled, "the one with the short
hair.  Looks like Topher Grace, sort of."

     Chris pulled his sunglasses up into his hair, "Jesus, Celeste, that is
Topher." Chris waved him over, a huge smile on his face as he got up and
pulled the extra chair out.

     "Hey buddy," Topher said, giving Chris a firm hug, both of them
smiling under the bright, warm Los Angeles sun.  "It's been too long.
Didn't recognize you with your hair like that.  How have you been?"

     Grinning, Chris ran his fingers through his messy hair, "The sun does
this," he said, "sit down.  This is my new publicist Celeste, we're just
talking about the new book and work stuff.  Now that you're here, though,
we can stop."

     "New book?  Why don't I have a copy yet?" Topher said, sitting down.
The waitress came over with a menu, obviously a little flustered.  It had
been a long time since the heyday of Jake, Topher, and Chris, Hollywood's
new three musketeers, but seeing just two out of the three seemed to be
enough for her.  After all, two out of three wasn't so bad.

     "It's not out yet," Celeste said, scooting her chair over and
straightening herself.  Chris' attention span was shorter than a kid's;
she'd learned that right from the get go.  It was frustrating, but it was
just how Chris worked.

     "You know you're getting an advance copy.  You always do," Chris said,
still smiling, "what are you doing out?"

     "Eating," Topher said, "but that's not important.  You're good?"

     Chris knew there was much more packed into those two words than just
polite conversation.  Topher was asking about the methadone, the outpatient
treatments, and everything else having to do with rehab.  It was the first
thing Topher always asked when they saw each other, and every time, Chris
said the same thing, "Better than ever."

     "Really?" Topher smiled, eyes creasing at the corners, "I knew you'd
do good.  So what's good here?"

     No matter how much time passed between them, Chris and Topher always
had things to talk about and Celeste was finding out how hard it was to get
a word in.  They talked fast, they kept interrupting each other, they
switched subjects with every bite of food, and they kept laughing and
joking.  Celeste couldn't tell if jokes were jokes or if they were real,
she could barely keep track of what they were talking about.

     "Awards season is the worst," Chris said, rolling his eyes.

     Celeste couldn't stop herself this time, "You're going to every one,"
she said, grabbing his arm, "I know you don't want to, but I talked to Dean
about it and he thinks that it'll be good for you and for Jake."

     "But he's not even nominated for anything," Chris said, "there's no
reason for us to go."

     "You're an alum.  You need to get out there," she said, turning to
Topher, "you're going, aren't you?  You know important it is."

     "I go for the free stuff," Topher said, shrugging, "it's fun when
you're with friends."

     "There you go," Celeste said, "you have to go to keep Topher company."

     "Jake's really going?" Chris asked.

     "Well, his sister's up for a bunch of things this year and you'll want
to support her too, right?"

     "There you go pulling the family card out," Topher said, "you know he
can't say no to that."

     "That's right," Chris said, "I wish I could fast forward right to the
honeymoon, because this is going to be a long three months."

     "It's not that bad," Topher said, "you just walk in and sit down.  I
even take naps."

     Chris rolled his eyes again, "I know you do.  So the three musketeers
are going to ride again?"

     "All for one and one for all," Topher said, smile spreading from ear
to ear.

***

     "Not cool," Chris said, tossing a magazine down, "now we're slackers
and we're party animals."

      Jake picked up the glossy magazine, eyes scanning the page.  It was
him, Chris, and Topher, bowties untied and jackets unbuttoned as they
walked out of the Golden Globes or the Screen Actor's Guild Awards, he
couldn't remember, but there was the caption, loud and clear, "Gyllenhaal,
Grace, and Lewis long after last call at the HBO after-party for the Screen
Actor's Guild Awards in Hollywood."

     "None of us look drunk," Jake said, a smile on his face.  He was used
to seeing his picture in the magazines, Chris wasn't.  "Actually," Jake
continued, "you look really good."

     "Stop," Chris said.  Seeing Jake acting so nonchalant and cool calmed
him down instantly, "I hate this.  First they said that we weren't doing
anything, completely forgetting that I have a book coming out, and now
we're dancing on tables and staying out until dawn."

     "We stayed out pretty late that night," Jake said, pulling Chris down
onto the couch, "forget about this shit.  Of course people want to say
things like that.  You won an Oscar.  You got spoiled by that, how can
these things compare?"  Chris just stood there, disheartened and confused,
"Come here," Jake said, holding his hand out.

     "It was exciting because you were winning things left and right,"
Chris said, leaning over to kiss Jake, forehead pressed to Jake's, hands on
his shoulders as he straddled Jake's lap, his voice went low, "and I was
just along for the ride."

     "Wasn't that the night that Meryl Streep told you that she thought you
were cute?"  Jake asked, hands running up under Chris' t-shirt, "or was it
the night Topher bumped into you or spilled something on you and we had to
run out and get a new shirt?"

     "Ralph Lauren sent one, remember?" Chris said, chuckling, "I changed
in the car."

     "Celeste was right on it, wasn't she?" Jake whispered.

     "She's doing her job," Chris said, kissing Jake again, hands moving up
his chest.

     "Then Ralph Lauren is a good man," Jake said, pulling Chris' t-shirt
off.

     "I like your hair like this," Chris whispered, raking his fingers
through Jake's longer hair, the thick strands sliding between his fingers
as he kissed Jake, "looks good when you comb it back for these damn awards
things."

     Jake grunted in approval, lips on Chris' neck, "I like you like this,"
Jake said softly, "you get all hot when you get mad."  His hand slid down
Chris' back, "And it gets me all hot."

     "He's going to walk in," Chris said, shaking his head slightly, "he
always does."

     "Fuck it," Jake said, pulling his own shirt off, "he can watch."  Jake
pulled their bodies together, a gasp escaping Chris' lips as their chests
crashed together.  Chris felt breathless, Jake's hands sliding down his
back as he pushed Chris down onto the couch.  Topher was going to pop in
any minute now, Chris knew it, he always had a thing for timing.

     "Jesus," Chris gasped as Jake pulled his jeans off, underwear going
right with it.  Jake's body slid on top of his, their lips crashing
together, stubble rasping against Chris' smooth skin, Jake's knee spreading
Chris' legs apart.

     "What do you want?" Jake asked, finger sliding behind Chris' balls,
sending a shock right up Chris' spine.

     "Want you," Chris groaned, "want you in me." He arched upwards,
rolling on to his shoulders as Jake licked at his collarbone, his other
hand gripping Chris' leg, lifting it up.

     "I want you so bad," Jake whispered, voice muffled, a slick finger
sliding up to Chris' hole.  He gasped and gripped the couch, didn't know
where Jake got the lube and didn't care, spreading his legs a little wider
when Jake's finger circled his hole.  A spark ran through Chris' body when
Jake slid his finger in, a second following right after, pulling another
loud grunt from his lips, Jake's tongue suddenly flicking across the head
of his cock and then down to his balls.

     Jake slid his fingers in deeper, grazing Chris' prostate and sending a
drip of pre-cum out of his cock, a satisfied smirk on Jake's face.  "Get
in," Chris groaned, "just fuck...get it in me."

      "Fuck, Jake," Chris groaned, gripping Jake's hair.  His eyes shut
tight and his toes curling, the double sensations rocking his body as
Jake's lips attacked his neck again, their breathing heavy and their bodies
moving together, slick skin sliding together as Jake pulled his fingers
out, kissing Chris deeply one more time.  Jake pulled Chris toward him,
Chris' legs automatically wrapping around his waist, eyes shutting tight as
he took a deep breath, biting his lip as he waited for that familiar
stretch, that dull aching burn.

     Jake stroked his cock, smearing clear pre-cum down his length as he
watched Chris, body lithe and supple in eager expectation.  Pressing at
Chris' hole, he saw the sharp intake of breath as he pushed in, slowly
sliding his dick in as he leaned down, kissing Chris' cheek, stubble
scratching Chris' skin as he breathed hot and heavy breaths into his ear.

     Jake's cock slid in deeper and Chris gripped his shoulders tight in
anticipation, knew exactly what would come as soon as Jake hit his
prostate, but it never happened.  Sliding back out, Jake's cock missed it
by a hair's breadth and Chris' eyes shot open to see a look of deep
concentration on Jake's face, his eyes focused and his neck tense, every
cord prominent as tiny beads of sweat slid down his skin.  "Come on, Jake,"
Chris said, voice shaking as he grabbed Jake's shoulders, he was
practically begging, stroking the back of Jake's neck with trembling
fingers, could swear that it came out as more of a whimper than a string of
words, but Jake teasing was unrelenting, his cock sliding in and out slowly
and steadily, coming just close enough and instantly backing off.

    "How bad do you want it?" Jake asked, hand pulling Chris' hair back to
gain better access to his neck.  Jake's tongue slid out over Chris' Adam's
apple as he stopped all movement.

     Chris' entire body shook, this mind spinning as he tried to think of
something to say, anything that would get Jake to get going, "Jake," he
groaned, running a hand down Jake's sweaty back, "fuck.  Me."

     Jake grinned, could feel each tiny ounce of need and yearning in
Chris' every move, he gripped Chris' shoulder and slammed in hard, Chris'
back arching and his breath catching as he let out a long moan, Jake's
grunt echoing in the room as he felt his balls press against Chris' ass,
every inch of his cock sheathed in the tight warmth of Chris' ass.  Chris'
body tingled from his toes to the ends of his hair, warmth spreading from
his hole up his spine.

     "More?" Jake asked, blue eyes dark, "you got to ask."

     "Jake," Chris groaned, squeezing his muscles tight around Jake's cock.
He tugged at Jake's earlobe with his teeth, "Fuck the cum out of me."

     "That's my boy," Jake whispered, bracing his arms on the sofa,
"ready?"  Chris nodded feverishly, gripping Jake's shoulders with white
knuckles.  Jake slid out slowly and slid back in, steady and hard, the slow
thrusts raking the head of his cock across Chris' prostate, sending shocks
of lightning up his back and through his body.  Chris grunted, breaths
heaving and body writhing under Jake's steady thrusts, the slow pace and
intense connection startling.  Jake pressed his forehead against Chris',
sweat dripping down his face and onto Chris'.  He felt Chris' fingers
tangle in his hair, gripping tight as he took every slow thrust.  His jaw
was tight and his breathing was choppy, grunts ringing in Jake's ears.

     "Jesus," Chris groaned, fingers raking across Jake's back, sliding
against slick skin as Jake's thrusts got faster, Chris' moans escalating as
the waves started rushing through him, his own cock leaking pre-cum all
over his stomach.  Jake's neck was tense, every muscle of his chest in
clear definition as he thrust hard and fast, Chris' body shaking and toes
curling as he felt himself get closer and closer, his body barreling
towards orgasm as he felt his balls rise and Jake stop.  Chris' eyes shot
open, vision blurred as he felt Jake pull out slowly, pushing his hair back
off his forehead as he tried to catch his breath, cock hard and dripping.

     "Get on me," Jake said, voice raspy and dry.  He swallowed and pulled
Chris on top of him, his dick sliding easily back into Chris' hole as he
settled down on it.  Grabbing Jake's shoulders for support as he fucked
himself on Jake's cock.  Their chests rubbed together, Jake's tongue
tracing his collarbones as Chris moved up and down at his own volition,
choosing quick, short jabs at his prostate, feeling himself edge close
again.  Chris eyes were half-lidded, body moving almost automatically,
instinct sending him over the edge as Jake held him tight, cum spurting
between their sweaty bodies as Jake's tongue found its place alongside
Chris'.  Chris shook, body racked by the waves of his orgasm, lungs gasping
for air as Jake kept him moving, thrusting up into the tight confines of
Chris' clutching ass.  Jake's name came out of Chris' mouth over and over,
his entire body still shivering as Jake pushed him down again, thrusting
harder and faster.

     "So fucking tight," Jake grunted, "fucking hot." He slammed in hard,
gritting his teeth as he ran his fingers through the cum on Chris' stomach,
groaning loud as he thrust in and out Chris whimpering again, Jake keeping
him right on the edge of orgasm, shudders still coursing through his body.
"Almost there," Jake groaned, gripping Chris' shoulder, "fuck."  His voice
fell away to silence, the words choking in his throat as the cum shot from
his cock, thick ropes spilling into Chris' body as Jake fell on top of him,
body shaking as he gripped the sides of Chris' face, their mouths crashing
together in a breathless kiss.

     Chris pushed Jake's hair back again, his glazed eyes focusing on the
deep blue, "Amazing," Chris whispered, settling himself into the couch.
Jake only nodded, letting out a long breath as he rested his head in the
crook of Chris' neck, reveling in the tingle of Chris' fingers on his back.
He could lay like this forever, he thought, loving the limbo between sleep
and consciousness, Chris' steady heartbeat the only thing tethering him to
reality.

***

     "Was that vanilla icing or regular cream cheese?" Chris asked, licking
the last bit off of Jake's finger.

     "Vanilla," Jake said, grinning.  He always thought that Chris was
sexiest when he wasn't trying--and it drove Jake crazy.  He felt a chill go
down his spine as Chris pulled back, his expression concentrated as Jake
watched him absorb the flavors in his mouth.

     "I like it," Chris said, "I like chocolate with white icing.  Vanilla
or cream cheese, it doesn't matter to me."

      "You've always liked that," Jake said, leaning into kiss Chris
softly, "and it has to matter.  This is your wedding, too.  I can't choose
everything."

     "But I really don't think it's a big deal.  I like them both."

     "Try this one," Jake said, bringing a piece of cake to Chris' mouth.

     Jake watched again, Chris sitting back as he took in the new explosion
of flavor, "What is this one?"

     "Mocha," Jake said, popping a piece into his own mouth.

     "What frosting would go with this one?" Chris asked, sliding his
finger through the vanilla again.

     Grabbing Chris' wrist, Jake pulled his finger close, bringing it to
his mouth to get the sweet white cream off, "This one's good," he said.

     Chris leaned in, licking the tiny bit that remained on Jake's lips; he
nodded in agreement, "I like it."

     "Get over here," Jake whispered, pulling Chris' body tight against
his.  He pressed his mouth hard against Chris', tongue instantly sliding
out as his hands reached up under Chris' thin t-shirt to run up his back.

     Shivering, Chris gripped Jake's shoulders, breath catching as Jake
pushed him against the kitchen counter, cold granite hitting his lower back
as Jake's hands pulled his t-shirt off.  Chris' hands darted to Jake's
pants, well-practiced fingers popping Jake's jeans open.  He felt Jake
shudder when he wrapped his fingers around Jake's cock, felt his entire
body tighten as he pulled his fingers up.

     "You guys home?" Chris heard as he snapped his hand back, Jake
seemingly oblivious as he kissed and nipped at Chris' neck.  Chris gripped
his shoulders again, body wanting more, craving the contact more than
anything, but his brain telling him to put the brakes on.  It was Topher,
his voice and footsteps distinct and clear.

     "Jake," Chris whispered, pulling Jake's head up, "he's here."

     Jake sighed, panting as he regained his breath, "I can't help it
sometimes," he said, eyes scanning up and down Chris' chest, "you're too
much."

     "We're in the kitchen," Chris said, slipping his t-shirt on again just
as Topher stepped in, "want some cake?"

     "Whoa," he said, staring at all the little cakes and tiny cups of
frosting spread out over the kitchen island, "can't believe this is
happening so fast.  When am I going to get my invite in the mail?"

     Chris smoothed his t-shirt, smiling as Jake subtly buttoned his jeans
back up, Topher seemingly oblivious as he patted Atticus' head and
scratched behind his ear.  "Invitations?  Did we even do that?" Chris
asked, shrugging as he popped another piece of cake into his mouth, "I
doubt you'll have trouble getting in without one."

     Topher picked up a little piece for himself, licking the last vestige
of icing off his own finger as he nodded in approval, "Red velvet,
definitely."

     "I liked it," Jake said, tossing Topher a soda.

     "So this party," Topher said as he popped the top, "it's the real
deal.  I heard my publicist talking about getting me in at just the same
time as Jake.  No joke."

     "It's just a little get-together," Chris said, "with media.  And
cameras.  And charity."

     "How Hollywood," Topher said, sarcasm heavy, "what are they doing to
you?"

     "I'm not selling out," Chris said, eyes glancing at Jake, who seemed
to be taking in every word and not offering any of his own ideas, "it's for
a good cause."

     "Book sales?" Topher asked.

     "And literacy," Jake finally added, "he has to keep the money coming
in, right?"

     "Shut up," Chris said, blushing lightly, "both of you.  It wasn't my
idea."

     Jake grabbed him swiftly, pulling their bodies together one more time,
"It'll be a good time," he said, tickling Chris' sides, "I'll make sure,"
he whispered, tongue darting out to trace Chris' ear.

     "Alright," Topher said, grinning from ear to ear, "enough of that.
Who wants coffee?"

     "Are you spending the night, Grace?"

     "It depends how drunk we're planning on getting," he said, leaning
down to pick Boo up, scratching his back as he licked at Topher's face.

     "We'll see," Jake said, "I've got some wine we should polish off."

     "Then I'm definitely staying," Topher said, "groceries are on me."
Chris kissed Jake's cheek softly, running his hand over Jake's chest again.
It was just like he wanted it, he couldn't imagine it getting any better.

***

     Chris pulled the sheets up around his neck, rubbing his eyes with his
other hand as Peter cocked an eyebrow, "What's that for?"

     "So you don't see my boobies," Chris said, yawning and chuckling at
the same time, the sleep slowly fading from his head, "you're married."

     "I've seen them before," Peter said, grinning, "get up."

     "I don't want to," Chris said, waving Peter away, "Jake's getting food
and I'm a mess.  I just want to stay here all day."

     "Jake's outside," Peter said, "come out and we'll just look at the
paper together.  Or I can just tell you."

     "Don't tell me," Chris said, voice on the edge of yelling, "I don't
want to know!"  Chris bolted out of bed, rushing past Peter, who grabbed
his wrist, halting his rushed exit.

     "Hey, we're here for you," he said quietly, "no matter what.  Good or
bad, you're stuck with us, remember?  No running."  He motioned with his
fingers from Chris' eyes to his own, warm and bright.

     "I'm in my underwear and I'm about to be number one or I'm going to be
the kid who used to be a bestselling author," Chris said, "I don't want to
be washed up yet.  I don't want to be the writer that used to be good.  I
don't want to run away, not in my underwear."

     "You can drink your sorrows away at your party tonight," he said,
voice soothing as he pulled Chris into a tight bear hug.

     "No I can't," Chris said, voice muffled by Peter's shoulder, "unless
they apple cider that washes away sorrow."

     "Drown it in chocolate cupcakes then," Peter said, "just get your ass
out there so I can get to the crossword puzzle."

     "I have to grab a shirt or something," Chris said, pulling himself
free from Peter and grabbing the first thing he saw, one of Jake's hoodies,
"and I do the crossword."  He followed Peter out and saw the newspaper on
the counter, still folded in a neat stack, right next to the coffee,
steaming in Chris' Stanford mug.

     "You know how I feel about you in my clothes," Jake said, biting his
lower lip, a mischievous glint in his eye.

     "Did you look at it yet?" Chris asked, running his fingers through
Jake's hair before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, "and why
didn't you wake me up?"

     "Because I wanted to see it first," Jake said, shrugging, "and I know
it's not a big deal to you."

     Chris pushed him away playfully, shaking his head as he rolled his
eyes and grabbed the newspaper, "Asshole," he said under his breath,
bringing a smile to Jake's lips, "if I'm on the list, that'll be good
enough."

     Peter and Jake watched as Chris flipped through the pages, fingers
shaky from excitement and fear, trepidation and anticipation.  He'd done
everything he could to get his name out--well, Celeste had--but he didn't
know how anything would go.  Talk shows, radio shows, magazines, he'd done
everything Celeste had set up for him.  And now, being Jake's plus one for
everything Hollywood, the two of them thought he'd done a flawless job
bridging the gap between the book nerds and the Hollywood crowd.

    "We're waiting for a reaction, Christopher," Peter said, eyebrow raised
as he took a long sip of coffee.

     "So am I," Chris said, voice soft and even, "I can't believe it.  It's
like the first time all over again."

     "Number one," Jake said, a proud smile spreading across his face, "my
baby's number one."

      "It's over!" Chris said, shaky laughs falling from his lips, "I can't
believe it."  He threw the paper down on the counter, Jake pulling him into
his arms, their lips smashing together as Chris' heart raced.

     "It's all you," Jake whispered, "I told you it was good.  So good."

     "'Christopher Lewis isn't lost, isn't groping around for his voice or
anything else for that matter,'" Peter said, reading the review, Michiko's
review finally in print, "'he's found himself somewhere between the
grittiness of reality and the ephemeral fantasies that his readers have
come to recognize.'"

     "Sounds good," Jake said, squeezing Chris even tighter, "sounds like
Michiko Kakutani gave you, Mr. Christopher Lewis, a good review."

     "'Lewis has found his voice: confident where it once wavered, strong
where it was once weak.  Coming of age is still his vehicle because he
himself is still coming along.  But obvious endings and neat packages have
never been his style and they remain far from his work.  With this, his
finest, most polished, most provocative work...'"

     "Peter," Chris said, smiling, "we read it already, she didn't change
anything.  It's exactly what she sent Celeste.  No edits.  It's good and
they liked it good.  They didn't make her change it."  His words ran fast
and quick, falling on top of one another the way they did when he was
excited.

     "So it was worth getting out of bed?" Peter asked, knowing that he was
being ignored.  He glanced up to see Jake's forehead pressed to Chris'
their eyes shut tight as their lips slid together, perfect in their
coupling, every tiny movement smooth and instinctive.  He slid the
crossword puzzle out of the paper and grabbed his mug, biting his lip and
shaking his head, unable to resist the smile that came to his lips.  The
happiness was contagious.

***

     "Thanks for coming," Chris said, shaking Natalie's hand, dress
sparkling in her wake, "I'll talk to you soon, Nat, I'll find you in
there."  She only smiled over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss as she
stepped away, the clicking of her high heels echoing in Chris' ears as he
turned to Celeste, "Everyone's here."

     "Everyone," she said, sliding a wisp of red hair behind her ear, "and
you look so handsome.  You clean up good."

     Blushing, Chris looked down at his shoes, shiny and new, another gift
from another designer whose name he couldn't pronounce.  "Well, it's
because of you.  You make the calls.  I just wear what you tell me to."

     "I'm not your stylist, Chris, I just want what's good for you," she
said, pointing over Chris' shoulder to the huge poster of him,
dreamy-looking and meticulously mussed in the nicest clothes he'd ever
worn.  It was from his GQ spread.  Everything about the party screamed GQ,
the gloss, the glitz, and the glamour.  It wasn't him, but for just one
night, he figured he could get lost in what was expected of him.  He'd let
everyone drown in champagne, eat fancy little snacks, and smile for the
cameras.  Tomorrow, it'd be back to business as usual.  He was missing his
flip-flops already.

     "Looking good," Chris heard over his shoulder, "but I'm sorry to say
that we're wearing the same thing.  Who's going to win in the magazines?
You know, 'who wore it better?'"

     Chris couldn't wipe the smile off his face, even with Topher's bad
jokes, "Don't flatter yourself, you're too skinny."

     "And you're what?  Mr. Universe?" Topher said, pulling him into a hug,
"this is awesome.  You should have done this every time."

     "Vivian knew I wasn't into it.  Celeste sort of said she'd do it
whether I wanted it or not," Chris said, looking around.  He was still
soaking it all in, wondered when he'd wake up from this dream.  "You have
fun, I'm supposed to go around and say 'hi' to everyone."

     "No way, you're done with that.  Let's get you inside," Topher said,
pulling Chris towards the main part of the party, flashbulbs went off and
Chris suddenly realized that they'd been going off the whole time, every
time someone went by it was flashes and clicks.  He wondered what the
headlines would say, wondered what magazines would even give him and his
party the time of day.  After all, he was just a writer, not a movie star.
He just knew movie stars.

     "We should find Jake," Chris said as his eyes scanned the room, "he's
probably stuffing his face full of canapes."

     "Mermaids?" Chris heard, Natalie grabbing his shoulder, "I didn't
think you could do it, but this was amazing.  Where do you get these crazy
ideas?"

     "He's heard it all," Topher said, "he's the best thing to happen to
books since the printing press."

     Chris blushed, shaking his head as he smiled, "You guys debate, I'm
going to look for Jake."  He slipped away before either of them could say
anything, dodging conversation as he headed towards the food, hoping that
Jake would be there.  He wasn't.

     "He's looking for you, don't worry," Chris heard.  It was Emmy.  He
had no idea how Celeste had managed to find so many people to invite, but
he gave her a hug nonetheless, "I saw him a second ago...with his sister."

     "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Chris asked, tilting his head to take
in Emmy's new haircut, the pale creaminess of her skin, the way her dress
seemed to float around her with even her slightest move.

     "Too long," she said, "I knew you guys would last.  I could see it in
the way you looked at each other."

     He didn't know why, but he seemed to be blushing every time anyone
said anything to him.  It seemed so self-satisfying, but after getting this
book out, he almost felt like he deserved to feel this proud.  He'd been
through enough shit to deserve feeling good, especially about himself.  It
was hard earned, this new confidence.

     "I'm not going to lie, I haven't read it yet," Emmy said, tearing
Chris out of his head, "but you'll forgive me, right?  It only came out a
few days ago."  She laughed, giggles filling the air as she grabbed two
flutes of champagne from a passing tray.

     Chris took one from her, watching the sparkling bubbles rise through
the narrow glass.  He loved champagne, remembered how it was usually the
one thing he liked about these parties, but he wasn't allowed anymore.  The
lines between the proper rules and his own self-imposed ones seemed to
blur.  "I'm going to find him," Chris said, "I'm glad you came."

     "I'll read it, I promise," she said, waving her delicate hand, "give
him my best.  You both deserve it."

***

     "He didn't leave, did he?" Chris asked, straining his eyes one last
time to survey the crowd.  He hadn't eaten all night, every time he wanted
to, an editor or a writer would distract him, pulling him into a
conversation where they did most of the talking and he did some nodding and
kept glancing over their shoulder looking for Jake.  Unless they knew him
personally, most of the celebrities ignored him completely.

     "I know he's here, but I haven't seen him around," Peter said,
gripping Chris' shoulder tightly, "why don't you call him?"

     "I don't have my phone on me," Chris said, feeling his heart sink a
little.  Jake could always find him in a crowd; he wished it went both
ways.

     "He's letting you have the spotlight tonight," Peter said, "you
deserve it."

     Chris pulled himself away from the comfort that Peter seemed to exude,
promising himself that this would be the last time he ventured out into the
crowd.  Focusing above everyone else, he closed his eyes for just a second,
seeing if maybe Jake would just come find him.  It was a long shot and
Chris realized after just a few seconds that it wasn't going to happen.
Taking a deep breath, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed
outside.  There had to be somewhere he could hide from everyone.  Sliding
past the congratulations and well wishes, he managed to find himself on a
terrace, paper lanterns casting a soft glow, an uncharacteristic cool
crispness sending even the most diehard smokers inside.  He looked up to
the velvety dark sky, stars twinkling against the twilight.  Another deep
breath, Jake could wait just one more second while he reveled in the
solitude

     "I found you," Jake said, voice soft as he walked towards Chris,
"well...I guess you found me."

     "You were hiding," Chris said, leaning to kiss Jake softly, trying to
absorb the warmth from his body as he straightened his collar and smoothed
his tie.

     Jake shrugged, "Parties have never really been our thing, right?" Jake
leaned in and kissed his forehead, traces of stubble scratching Chris'
smooth skin.  Even though he'd shaved that morning, some of it had come
back; Chris ran his fingers over Jake's face, smiling as he took in his
features, still enamored by Jake's blue eyes, his strong jaw, everything.
"I just came out to..." Jake started.

     "Think," Chris said, finishing for Jake, "not for air or for anything
else."

     Eyes shooting down to the floor, Jake pushed away, taking a step back
before turning his eyes to the stars, "You know what this reminds me of?"
Jake asked, sweeping his hands through the air above him.

     Chris didn't say anything, just stepped closer to Jake again, staring
up at the sky with him.

     "Your book," Jake said quietly, "the very last scene when he reaches
up and swirls the stars around with his hands.  It's just like that, except
I can't make it spell what I want it to."

     "What do you want it to say?"

     Jake didn't say anything.

     Reaching for Jake, Chris pulled him over so that they were facing each
other again.  He looked deep into Jake's eyes, examining what was confusing
and soothing all at once and reached for Jake's tie.  He pulled it down,
slipping the knot loose before unbuttoning his shirt.  Jake's hand ran up
Chris' arm, gripping his shoulder, "I don't like that they're talking about
you in there.  They don't know you like I do."

     "Nobody does," Chris whispered, "not even me."

     "But they talk about you like they do," Jake said, "they only know one
part of you.  I know every part of you."  He reached around and pulled
Chris tight to him, "They're talking about making this book into a movie
already.  It came out four days ago."

     "Let them talk," Chris said, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed Jake,
feeling him relax instantly, the tension melting from Jake's shoulders, his
body softening with every slide of their lips.

     "I don't want to 'let them talk,'" Jake said, "I don't want you to get
hurt like that again.  You said no more movies."

     "I'll be okay, Jake," Chris said, smiling, "it's just talk."

     Jake didn't want to admit that it was much more than talk, that he'd
overheard serious conversations between very important people.  The way
they picked Chris' work apart, the way they were already talking about what
would need to be changed and picking apart the open-ended imaginative
things that Chris loved to do.  They were taking out everything that made
it Chris'.  "I don't want you to go through that.  You were really
disappointed.  I can't see you like that again," Jake whispered, voice even
and low.  Somehow, the stars had somehow aligned just so.  Big deals were
going on in that room, and outside, Chris and Jake were completely
oblivious.

     "But I got through it--we got through it--and now we have our Oscar
bookends," Chris said, chuckling slightly at the sentiment, "I think you
should get inside and have fun at my party."

     "One second," Jake said, pulling Chris to him again, "I think we can
have our own private party for a second."  Jake pressed his forehead to
Chris', hands sliding down to Chris' waist as he pulled their lips
together.  The stars sparkled above the two of them, the party fading from
both their minds.  Chris tangled his fingers in Jake's hair as Jake's
tongue slid alongside his own, both melting into the embrace and into each
other.

     Pulling away, Jake pressed Chris' head to his shoulder, his eyes
turning to the sky one more time, "Please let him be happy," Jake mouthed
silently, hoping that someone up there heard him.

***

     "You weren't fucking, were you?" Topher asked, handing Chris a fizzy
drink before adding, "it's just Pellegrino."

     "Jake seems a little down," Chris said, sipping his water, "work
stuff, you know?"

     "You ready to head home?" Jake asked, suddenly appearing over his
shoulder, hand resting on Chris' lower back.

     "You're going all the way back to Santa Barbara?" Topher asked,
eyebrow raised.

     "I just want to get out of this whole scene," Jake said, letting out a
heavy breath, "I'm going to get the car, alright?"  He gave Topher a weak
smile and looked Chris in the eye, a silent apology jumping the space
between them.  "Have a good night, Grace, we'll see you around."

     "That's different," Topher said as they both watched Jake make his way
through the crowd, paying nobody any attention, "he's got something going
on in that head of his."

     "I know," Chris said as he glanced around the room.  He'd have to find
Peter and Maggie at least, Celeste, too.  After saying goodbye to them, the
car would probably be there, Jake sitting behind the steering wheel, eyes
focused and jaw tense.  He could see it already.

     "Well, I guess this is goodnight," Topher said, pulling Chris into a
hug, "the book is epic, Chris.  I loved every word on every page."  Chris
felt safe, the warmth and the familiarity of how Topher felt, the way he
smelled, everything was just so nice that Chris didn't want to let go.  He
always found himself falling back to Topher when Jake seemed a little off,
Peter was there, too, but Topher seemed more objective, more thorough in
his decisions.  He hated that he did it, but it was almost instinctual and
it always happened before Chris even realized he'd done it.

     "I'm glad you liked it," Chris said, "it means everything to me."

     Chris buttoned his coat as he walked out, Jake just as he pictured
him, sitting in the car with his eyes focused straight ahead, but
everything was tense, not just his jaw.  As they drove down the freeway,
the city fading away as they went over the hills and past the canyons,
Chris could feel the tension ebb little by little.

     "I want in," Chris said, grabbing Jake's hand.

     "What?" Jake asked, eyes still focused on the road.

     Shutting the radio off, Chris gripped Jake's hand harder, "Your head.
Let me in."

     Jake's jaw tightened and he slipped his hand free of Chris', both
hands gripping the steering wheel now, "It's stupid."

     "I'm sure it is," Chris said, "but I still want to hear it."  The
coast was on their left, the watery darkness stretching out until it met
velvety purple sky.  They still had time, lots of it.  This scenery meant
that they were in the long stretch between Malibu and Santa Barbara, no
matter how stupid Jake thought his sentiments were, they'd come out before
they'd be driving through the familiar twists and turns of their
neighborhood.

      "It's nothing," Jake said, "I'm just tired of all the shows and the
parties.  I want to take a break from everything."

     "Don't lie to me," Chris said, staring out his window.  He could feel
the space between them widening, both their bodies shifting to their
respective corners.  The words were harsher than he intended, obviously,
but they were already out.

     "I'm not.  I really do want to take a break.  We've got the wedding to
think about, we've got the fucking Oscars, too.  I can barely keep my
schedule straight," Jake said, voice tinged with irritation in a way Chris
couldn't ever remember hearing before.

     "I...yeah," Chris said, startled, "sorry.  I didn't mean for all this
to happen at once."

     "It's not your fault," Jake said, wiping his face with his hand.

     "Then why does it feel that way?"

     It was Jake's turn to be startled.  He glanced over at Chris, body
turned towards the passenger's door, eyes fixed on the passing scenery.
"Chris," Jake whispered, voice soothing as he reached for Chris' hand.
Chris ignored it, sliding his hand towards the radio buttons.  Jake caught
it in midair, the surprise causing Chris' face to snap towards him.

     "It was supposed to be my night, Jake.  I go to all these premieres,
even when you're not in the movie, I go to every single charity banquet
luncheon benefit shit and every event you ask me to.  You couldn't even
pretend to be happy for me?" Chris' eyes were narrow as he pulled his hand
away, "I earned this.  I worked hard."

     "I know you did, Chris," Jake pleaded, "it's not that.  I just...it's
hard to explain."

     "Fine," Chris said, voice flat.  And before Jake could say anything
else, he knew he'd been shut out.  It was too late.  Jake wanted to talk,
he just didn't know how to fit the words together the way Chris did.  It
made sense to him: he wanted to be part of the new and exciting things that
were going to come to Chris.  He just didn't know how to say it or why he
couldn't just ask.  It just wouldn't come out.

***

     "You didn't wait for me," Jake said as Chris walked past him, towel
wrapped around low his waist.  Tiny drops of water were falling from his
hair to his shoulders as he slid by, bare feet barely making any sound on
the floor.

     "You were taking too long," Chris said curtly, "I felt all gross."

     "I was taking the dogs out.  I'll be quick," Jake said, voice trailing
off, "we can't leave it like this."  He pulled his shirt up and over his
head, watching Chris quickly slip his underwear and t-shirt on.  He dried
his hair one more time before looking up, still visibly hurt, still trying
to wrap his head around why Jake was being so hardheaded.

     "I'll be in the living room," Chris said, "with the dogs.  We can talk
about it tomorrow."

     Chris tossed and turned, not because sleep was eluding him, but
because Atticus and Boo wondered why he was sleeping in what was normally
their bed.  The couch was comfortable and plush, but with two dogs hopping
up on him over and over and then vying for their own space, Chris was sure
that being stubborn was the one trait that everyone in the house shared,
human or canine.

     "I said get off me," Chris groaned, the morning sunlight beaming
through the living room.  He pushed hard, but it wasn't Atticus or Boo, it
was obviously Jake.  He half- heartedly protested the pleasant heaviness
and comforting contact, but Jake managed to nestle himself under the
sheets, the couch nowhere big enough for Chris and two dogs, but almost too
perfect for Chris and Jake.

     "I'm sorry," Jake said, legs tangling with Chris' as his lips grazed
Chris' ear, "I was being an asshole."  It was the quickest apology either
of them had ever given.  No brooding, no mulling; it came right out the way
Jake's other ideas wouldn't.

     Sighing, Chris let it happen, he wasn't going to fight it.  Jake held
him close and wrapped his arms around Chris' chest, fingers coming together
in a tight knot, "I'm fine."

     "I'm not," Jake said softly, "I'm mad."

     "Don't be mad at me," Chris whispered back, "I didn't do anything."

     "I'm mad at me."

     "Don't be mad at you either," Chris said.

     "It's complicated," Jake sighed, pulling Chris tighter.

     "Nothing's ever easy."

     Jake let out a soft chuckle, "Never easy.  Not for us, at least."

     "So what's next?"

     "Getting out of bed."

     "Getting out of couch."

     "Right," Jake said, making no move to do it.

     Chris knew what Jake wanted to do. It was all Jake wanted to do
lately.  "Call her.  What are we doing next?"

     A quick hour later, Chris slid his sunglasses up into his hair and
unzipped his hoodie as Jake held the door open for him, the pungent scent
of flowers filling their noses.  The argument, if they could even call it
that, had been forgotten or ignored and they were doing what Jake wanted:
planning the wedding.

     It never even entered Chris' mind unless they were talking about it
actually doing it, but it seemed like Jake was obsessed with it.  He was
engrossed in the traditions, wondering which ones would work for the two of
them, who would do what, and what everything would look like all together.
Chris was almost sure that Jake had actually asked around for Martha
Stewart's phone number.  It was strange to see him so focused on something
other than work.

     "What do you like?" Jake asked, "other than peonies.  Those are going
to be everywhere."

     "Anything's fine with me," Chris said, glancing around the store.
Flowers were flowers, he just vaguely recalled his mom liking peonies.
Other than that, Jake could do whatever he wanted.

     "I like those," Jake said, pointing to a bucket of pale purple lilacs.
They were small and when Chris picked one up to smell, a soft smile came to
his lips, "Definitely," Jake said as soon as he saw Chris' reaction, "those
are in."

     The flower shop was narrow but long, every silver bucket overflowing
with fragrant flowers and fresh greenery, "It's up to you," Chris said,
"whatever you want."

     "Right on time," they both heard, Chris spinning around on his heel,
"and I see you like the lilacs.  Masculine.  They'll work."

     "These are masculine?" Chris asked, fingers running over the bundle of
tight purple flowers.

     "They're not roses," Jennifer said.  She was the premiere Santa
Barbara wedding planner.  She was in all the magazines, was recommended by
Maggie's wedding planner, and more than that, she knew people.  Every time
Jake or Chris talked to her, she was always promising to talk to people, to
get in touch with vendors and chefs, distributors and just "people,"
whoever they were.

     "Simple, right?" she said, already wandering the store, her slight
British accent always seducing anyone that she talked to.

     "Simple," Jake repeated, "lots of green stuff. I...I mean we don't
want it to look like every other wedding."

     "Green.  Woody.  Maybe some birch branches...maybe some grapevines.
Something like that," she muttered, the sharp sound of her boots on the
concrete floor resonating through the shop, "I like it.  What did you think
about the cakes I sent over?  I was thinking you'd like the coffee filling,
but I wasn't sure on the icing."

     Chris dawdled behind as Jake talked to her, soaking in the vibrant
colors and the soft scents.  Boo and Atticus were always nosing through
flowerbeds on their walks, and now Chris could see why.  There were so many
smells, so many different shapes and textures.  "Chris?"  Jake's voice and
his phone surprised him simultaneously.  He looked up and Jake was waving
him over, a huge smile on his face.  That was enough to push Chris out of
his reverie, seeing that big grin.  This wasn't the time to be doing
anything solitary.  "Bored already?"

     "No," Chris said as he checked his phone, "just got distracted."

     "So," Jennifer said, but Chris was already zoning out, biting his
lower lip as he stared into Jake's blue eyes, looking at that crooked smile
and his messy hair.

     "I can't believe I get to marry you," Chris said, running his hand up
to Jake's shoulder, "tell me I'm dreaming."

     "The flowers are getting to you," Jake said, still smiling, "like the
Wizard of Oz."

     Chris shook his head, "I love you so much."

     "What's gotten into you?" Jake asked, pulling Chris into a hug, "last
night you were sleeping on the couch."

     "I'm just feeling good," Chris said as he leaned in closer, "Celeste
sent me a message.  They're talking about a movie."  Jake's stomach dropped
to his feet and the grin melted from his face.  Suddenly, all the smells
and the colors seemed overwhelming, bombarding him with things he couldn't
process.  Chris could feel him tensing, almost trembling.  "Are you okay?"
Chris asked, stepping away.

     Jake looked confused and dazed, silently trying to soak in the
information.  Everything was going on too fast, just like he knew it would.
There was no way this could be happening already.

     "Is he going to be okay?" Jennifer asked.

     "I can't believe it," Jake said, shaking his head, "if things went any
faster, they might as well...I don't even know."  He threw his hands up,
the confusion changing to anger, "I just can't."

     "I think the sticks and leaves will be fine," Chris told Jennifer, "we
need to get home."

     Jennifer looked dumbfounded and Chris would have been too, but someone
had to keep some semblance of control.  Everyone, including Chris, was much
more accustomed to a more carefree, more easygoing, much more mellow Jake;
so when he got emotional, good or bad, it always caught people a little off
guard.  "I'll see what I can do and I'll send you some pictures.  Check
your e-mail tonight."

     "That'll be great," Chris said, grabbing Jake's arm, "let's get home
and chill out, Jake."

     He let out a huff and yanked his arm free, shaking his head.
Silently, he stomped out of the store, leaving a heavy veil of stagnant
awkwardness behind him.  Chris didn't know what to do or what to say to
either Jake or Jennifer.  "I'm sorry," he said, figuring that those two
words fixed most problems.  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his
jeans and followed Jake out, practically jogging to catch up with him.

     "Jake," Chris said, grabbing his shoulder, "you have to just say it.
I can take whatever's going on in your thick head."

     Jake sighed, eyes focused on his shoes, lips tight as he tried to sort
out his head.  He could feel Chris' pleading eyes on him, a gentle hand
running over his tense shoulder.  "A long time ago," Jake said, grabbing
Chris' hand, "you were just a writer."

     "Should we talk about this at home?" Chris asked, looking around.

     Jake lifted his head, eyes glancing both ways down the street.  It was
quiet, but the gravity of the situation seemed to merit more privacy.  Jake
just shrugged, face masked with fatigue and confusion.

     "Beach?" Chris asked, his eyes turning to the coast.

     "Perfect," Jake said, already headed towards the sand.

     A few minutes later, the two of them were staring at the ocean,
sunlight glistening off the waves as Chris waited.  "When you said 'a long
time ago,' I figured we'd need this," Chris said, grabbing Jake's hand.

     "This is going to sound stupid," Jake said, shaking his head.  He ran
his hands over his face and Chris could tell he was still struggling with
his own feelings.  Suddenly, Chris felt the entire dynamic shift.  This was
the complete opposite of how things normally were.  He was the one that
cried on Jake's shoulder, he was the one that was confused and scared, but
here Jake was, body on the verge of trembles, muscles tense, mind reeling;
Chris didn't like it.  He didn't know how to react or what to say, so he
decided to keep silent and let whatever Jake had to say come out on its
own.

     "I don't know how to say," Jake said, falling back on the sand.  Chris
couldn't see his eyes, but knew they were closed--his sunglasses weren't
hiding anything.

     "Just say it," Chris said, falling to his side, eyes glued to Jake's
profile, "I can't...you can't be like this anymore."

     "I still can't believe you didn't choose me for your movie," Jake
said, words blurting out into the air, stumbling over each other in their
rush to escape.

     Chris shot up, "What are you talking about?"

     "You chose him," Jake said, covering his face with his hands, "and I
don't care how fucking selfish I sound, but you belong to me.  We belong to
each other.  I wanted that part, Chris.  So if there's a second time around
for this movie shit, I don't know if I'll be able to stand seeing someone
else do it."

     Chris flopped over onto his back, stunned and dazed.  He didn't know
how long he stayed like that, quietly concentrating on his breathing and
his heartbeat, Jake just as silent beside him.

     "I just want you to know," Jake said, reaching for Chris' hand, "so
don't get too worked up about it.  It's not you."

     "It's all me, Jake," Chris said, his voice suddenly went quiet, "it's
been a long time coming."

     "It's not just him," Jake said, gripping Chris' hand, "he's like a
brother now.  I can't be mad at him for anything after what he did for us."

     "Then what is it about?"

     "Us," Jake said, "I don't want us to be apart anymore.  Not after we
get married.  If you're making a movie, if I'm making a movie, I want us to
be together."

     "Promise?" Chris asked, rolling over to nestle into the crook of
Jake's neck, couldn't help let the smile form on his face as he ran his
hand up under Jake's shirt, fingers gliding over warm skin and soft hair,
"because I never want to be away from this."

     "Then if you say yes to the movie, say yes to me."

     "I already said yes," Chris said.  He leaned in closer to Jake's ear,
"To both."

---

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