Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2006 22:57:57 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 7

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.

Thanks to everyone that sent me an email, it's great getting to know all my
readers.  Keep 'em coming!  Like I said, these may be coming out more
frequently, so this is me keeping my promise.

Part VII

     "His eyes were shut so tight he could barely cry and his whole body
was shaking.  I didn't know what to do," Jake said.

     "It's a big change to make," Maggie said, looking over her shoulder at
Chris.  He was wrapped in a blanket, a mug of steaming tea in his hand.
His glazed eyes were fixed on the open window.

     "I don't know where he is.  He's not picking up his phone or anything.
He said he was going for a walk."

     "I'm sure he's okay," Maggie said, "he's a big boy.  He's been on his
own."

     "I'm going to look for him again, I'll call you when everything's back
to normal."

     "Okay, do what you have to."  Maggie shut her phone and turned around,
"So he's looking for you."

     "Thanks for letting me crash here," Chris said, his voice flat.

     "You're not crashing here, I'm taking you home," Maggie said, "you
can't just leave someone wondering where you are.  He'll call the police."

     Chris nodded, setting his mug down.  "I don't know what happened,
Maggie.  It was just a lot coming at once and I had to get away."  He
looked confused, flustered, and more than anything, scared.  Maggie sat
down on the couch next to him, not sure what to do.

     "You need to talk to him is what you need to do.  He loves you, you
know that."

     "We talk all the time."

     "Then you're not saying the right things.  I love both of you, I just
don't see what's going on.  Everything looked good from where I was
standing."

     "Where's the closest Starbuck's?" Chris asked, "I'm going to get a
coffee and then could you drive me back?"

      Maggie nodded, "it's just around the corner and a block down I think.
I can drop you off."

     "No no, it's okay.  Give me some time to think and I'll be over all
this.  I should be happy, right?  I have Jake."  He said, more to himself
than to Maggie.  She nodded again and watched as Chris walked slowly to the
door.  "Thanks for everything."

     Maggie watched as Chris closed the door behind him, flipping her phone
open again.  "He's with me.  I'm bringing him home soon."

     "What?  What do you mean?"

     "He called me and asked me where my apartment was and then he just
showed up.  He's really out of it."

     "I'll come get him," Jake said, his voice urgent.

     "No, I'll bring him up there.  He said he needed to be alone, so he
went to get coffee."  It was silent on the other line, Maggie didn't hear
anything but Jake's steady breathing.

     "Okay.  I'll be waiting for you guys."

     "Jake, it's going to be fine.  He just needs to think."

     As he walked along the busy streets of Hollywood, Chris realized what
a mess he was.  His eyes were puffy, his shirt wrinkled, and his hair out
of control, he just wanted to take a shower and crawl into bed.  Jake had
honest intentions and Chris didn't even want to think about what things
were going to be like back at home.  He pulled on his sunglasses, hoping
they'd cover his red eyes and indecision.  He thought about pulling his
hood over his head, but decided against it.  He didn't want to look like a
bank robber.

     "Grande latte, extra foam," Chris said as he scooted up to the
counter.  He felt a tap on his shoulder, a momentary lapse of deja vu
coursing through him.  He handed cash to the cashier before turning around.

     It was Eric.  Of all the people in all the Starbuck's, Eric had
somehow lost his way and entered one in Los Angeles.  "What are you doing
here?"  Chris didn't know what to say, bewildered, he couldn't move.  Was
the world crashing in on itself?  "Hello?"

     "What are you doing here?"  Chris asked.

     "Your publishing house flew me out here for some things," Eric said,
"I didn't think I'd get to see you though."

     "It's a surprise for me too," Chris said, fatigue suddenly washing
over his body.  "Are you staying long?"

     "A few days.  I'm in a hotel, the Regent?  Something like that," Eric
said.

     Chris reached for his coffee, wishing that he'd at least done
something to his hair or maybe bothered to change his shirt back at the
house.  "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

     "That's what I said," Eric said, a confused grin spreading across his
face.

     "Yeah, I guess, I, um, let's go sit down," Chris said, pulling Eric
over to a set of chair.

     "You don't live here, you said," Eric asked, warming his hands on his
coffee even though it wasn't a particularly cold day.

     "No, I just had to get out of the house," Chris said, "I've got a lot
on my mind."

     "I can tell just looking at you," Eric said.

     "Play nice," Chris said, "you have no idea."  Chris watched as Eric's
fingers slid across the table and reached for his.  He didn't do anything
to stop the contact and it sent a shiver up his arm.

     "They wanted me to design the text on the back and then work on
another book, too," Eric said, "I thought I could do it from New York, but
they wanted me out here."

     "Good for you," Chris said, "I knew you'd be big."

     "Me?  Have you looked at the New York Times Book Review?  They called
you our generation's cross-genre whiz kid."

     "Idiot savant is more like it," Chris said, looking down at his
coffee, "it seems like the only thing I can get right."

      "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you yet?" Eric asked, an eyebrow
cocked.

     "I don't want to get into it," Chris said.

     "You don't, but you do," Eric said, "I can tell."

     What was going on in his head was nobody's business but his own.  Eric
sat there, expecting an answer, maybe expecting more, but Chris sat there,
stern and solid.  Eric's hand reached for his again, but he slid his away
this time, placing it into the pocket on his sweatshirt.  He sat back in
his chair, staring Eric in the eyes.  "I'm not like that.  I'm not."

     Eric could tell something had happened to make Chris doubt what he and
Jake had.  He didn't know who was at fault or if anyone was at fault at
all, but he saw Chris like he never had before, unsure of not only himself,
but of everything around him, too.

     "I'm going to head out," Chris said, "if I need anything for the
cover, I'll call you."

     Eric nodded, "Maybe I'll see you around?"

     "Not around here," Chris said, "I hate LA."  He grabbed his coffee and
headed out, noticing that every time he walked away from Eric, he wished it
was the last.

***

     "He didn't say anything on the drive up, except 'thank you,'" Maggie
said, "at least he's polite about it."

     "I don't know what's going on," Jake said, looking down at his hands,
"when he gets out of the shower, we're going to have to have a talk."

     "Whatever it is, you'll work it out."

     "You sound like a Lifetime movie."

     "Don't get all hostile, I'm just trying to help.  Everything's going
to be okay, I'm going to run though," Maggie said leaning against the wall
of the entryway, "call me."  Jake walked her outside to her car, watching
as she drove away, lazily waving.  Turning back towards the house, their
house, Jake still thought that things had been going in the right
direction.  They were taking logical steps and it wasn't too fast for
either of them.  What was going on?  Everything seemed to be going okay,
but Jake could feel something different between them, the air charged with
a new sort of tension that hadn't been there before.

     "Chris?" Jake asked quietly, walking down the hallway.  He heard the
water stop a minute or so ago.  "Chris?"  He didn't hear anything.  Opening
the door to the guestroom, where Chris' furniture was, Jake didn't see
anyone.  The same with the room that Jake set up as an office, but in the
other bedroom, he saw Chris under the down comforter, the slow rise and
fall of Chris' breathing.  "Chris."

     "I'm sorry," Jake heard, Chris' muffled voice quiet and low, "I don't
know what's going on in my head."

     Jake sat down on the bed, running his hand over Chris' back, "Your
head or your heart?"

     "No, I know exactly what my heart wants.  It's my head."

     Jake pulled off his shirt and jeans, slipping under the sheets with
Chris.  He drew Chris' body close to his, fingers tracing the back of
Chris' neck.  "It's raining outside, isn't it?"

     "Looks like it," Jake said, feeling Chris' warm skin against his.
They could both hear the heavy drops slam against the old house, the storm
intensifying the sound of the crashing waves that they normally forgot
about.  "You know I love you, right?"

     Chris nodded, "You tell me sometimes."

     Jake kissed the back of his head his nose nestling into Chris' hair,
inhaling the clean shower smell, his hands wrapping around Chris' waist,
"Do I tell you enough?"

     "It's not that," Chris said, "it's not that at all."  He hated
listening to Jake tiptoe around the issue, but he didn't have any idea what
was going on.  He was hoping that Jake's questions would lead him
somewhere, but they weren't.

     "Whatever it is," Jake said, but he didn't finish.  Chris's steady
breathing, his arms laying over Jake's on his stomach, his stillness and
silence; he was already asleep.  Sighing, he pulled Chris tight to his body
and ignored the ache in his heart.

***

     It was still raining the next morning, the sky an angry gray.  Chris
looked over at Jake, a hand running over Jake's chest.  His eyes closed, an
eerily calm expression on his face.

     "I'm sorry, Jake," Chris whispered, "I don't deserve you."

     "No, don't say things like that," Jake said, his eyes still closed,
"is it just because it's all happening to fast?"

     Chris moved his hand to Jake's jaw, feeling Jake's hand on his back.
"I think it was that at first.  I've just been on my own for a long time
and I didn't realize it'd be so final.  What happens if, if something
happens and I don't have a place to go?"

     "Nothing's going to happen," Jake said.

     The rain seemed to lighten up, the room filling with a dim light.
"Promise?"

     Jake hesitated, "I'll try and you'll try, but I can't make that
promise though."

     "Lie to me," Chris said, "just tell me."

     "I can't do that," Jake whispered, his words coming out slowly, "I
love you too much."

     Chris looked into Jake's blue eyes, still lazy with sleep.  Jake
looked disarmingly serious, something Chris wasn't used to.  Instead of the
goofy grins and creased eyes, he was stern.  Chris leaned in for a kiss,
letting Jake's lips slide over his own, his hands running down Chris' back.
"I didn't mean to make such a big deal about this."

     "Then we won't," Jake said, their foreheads pressed together, "I just
want you to know that I'm not going anywhere this time."  Looking away,
Chris felt Jake push his head so that they were eye-to-eye again, "I love
you too much."

     Chris smiled, Jake sweeping a tear off his cheek with his thumb.  "Can
we just stay like this for a little?"  Jake nodded, pulling Chris closer to
his body.  They could stay like that forever.

***

     "He's writing again," Jake said, staring out the picture window at
Chris.  The studio was dark, but his green lamp was on, a pool of light
splashing across his desk and around his laptop.

     "Writers thrive on experience," Maggie said, "I heard that somewhere."

     "A movie or a book?"

     "I don't remember.  So he's fixed?" Maggie asked, a little giggle
finding its way into the end of her question.

     "As far as I can tell," Jake said, "he's good as new."

     "Nah, he's damaged goods," Maggie said, giggling, "I'll talk to you
later."

     Jake chuckled, shutting his phone as he watched Chris type away,
stopping only to glance at his journal or scratch the back of his head.
Jake always wondered what was going on up in Chris' head, how the thoughts
swirled around and what it took to get them out through his fingers.
Chris' face was a mask of intensity, but that was something Jake was used
to.  He watched Chris write all the time, loved how gracefully Chris'
fingers seemed to float over the keyboard or how his pen would scratch the
paper of his journals with his narrow penmanship.  Chris stopped and looked
right at him, blushing when he realized he was being watched.  Jake waved
and Chris waved back before glancing at the little clock he kept on his
desk.  Jake looked away first, his fingers running through his messy hair.

     "You're working too hard," Jake said.

     "Why are you calling me?  I can see you through the window."

     "I don't want to distract you out there."

     "So you called me?  That's just as distracting.  I can't write and
talk to you at the same time."

     "Then take a break.  You've been out there all morning."  Jake watched
as Chris stretched, a peek of skin flashing as his t-shirt lifted.  "You
look cute with your glasses on."

     "I couldn't find my contacts this morning," Chris said, peeling the
wire rims off his face before shutting his laptop.  "Thanks for space
heater though."

     "I can't have you freezing your fingers off in a garage," Jake said,
"how much longer until this gets ridiculous?"

     "It already is," Chris said, hanging up.  Jake watched Chris pull his
hoodie on, hands in the pockets as he walked across the little lawn into
the house.  Chris leaned into his body, drawing a deep breath at his neck.
"Did you just do the laundry?"

     "I had to occupy myself while you work to bring home the bread," Jake
said, smiling.  "Your contacts are in the bathroom."  Chris kept nuzzling
into his neck, his hands running under the hem of Jake's t-shirt, his
fingers combing through the short hairs there.  Jake shivered, Chris'
fingers running up higher, pulling Jake's shirt off over his head.  The
cold metal zipper of Chris' sweatshirt scratched his skin as Chris planted
soft kisses on his jaw.

     "You always smell like laundry and something else," Chris whispered,
"it drives me crazy.  I want to smell just like you."

     Jake pulled Chris' mouth to his own, slipping his sweatshirt off.
"No, you smell good."  Jake's hands rested on the small of Chris' back,
their mouths colliding as Jake slipped his hands under the waistband of
Chris' jeans.  "You smell clean," Jake sighed, "and you always shave, and
you always, always are just so..." Jake couldn't figure out what to say,
Chris had reached into his pajama bottoms and his lips had latched onto his
spot, an attack on two fronts.

     Chris kissed Jake on the lips, pulling his own shirt off as soon as
they had to come up for air.  He could feel Jake's erection pressing
urgently on his thigh and Jake's fingers slipping under the waistband of
his underwear.  His kisses moved down onto Jake's collarbone and lower to
his chest, a hiss escaping Jake's lips when he lightly nibbled on a nipple.
Jake's hard cock arched toward his stomach when Chris pulled down Jake's
soft flannel pants, his lips attaching themselves to Jake's balls.  He
could hear Jake's soft moaning, the instinctive thrusts forward as Jake's
fingers slipped into his hair.  Slowly, he let his tongue trail up Jake's
length, the thick shaft pulsing with every beat of his heart.  Jake let out
a long breath when Chris took the head in his mouth, his tongue slowly
lapping at the sensitive skin there.  Chris unbuttoned his own jeans, his
fingers shaking, clumsy with lust.  Pulling his cock out, he stroked it
lightly as he took Jake into his throat.

     "That's it," Jake whispered, thrusting softly into Chris' mouth.  Eyes
closed, Chris felt Jake's length stretch his throat open, the soft skin of
Jake's balls brushing up against his chin with every push.  Slowly, Jake
pulled out and Chris licked his length with long strokes, tasting the
pre-cum as his hand reached to cup Jake's balls.

     His breathing heavy, Chris took Jake's cock into his mouth again,
determined to get Jake off as he stroked his own dick.  Jake's groans grew
louder, his breathing short and shallow as Chris took more of his length.
"Almost there," he heard Jake whisper.  Chris pulled off, his hand moving
up to Jake's cock, stroking it slowly.  Chris looked up to see Jake's eye
shut tight, his body flush from exertion and strain.  He held Chris' head
still, not sure if he wanted to cum now or wait to do it in Chris' ass.
Groaning, Chris stroked his cock faster as he licked a trail of pre- cum up
Jake's dick, drawing out another steady stream.  Jake shuddered, every
muscle in his body rigid, trying to hold it in.

     Chris felt a hot jet hit his tongue, a second landing on his lips.  He
closed his eyes, feeling Jake thrust his cock forward into his throat his
cum shooting deep into Chris' mouth.  "Yeah yeah yeah," Jake groaned, his
voice low.  Chris pulled off, trying to catch his breath.  He wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the slick but sticky cum sliding
onto his hand.  He swallowed, trying to clear his mouth as Jake pulled him
back up to his feet.  Kicking off his pants, Chris felt Jake's hands on his
back, his tongue slipping into his mouth and as they kissed.

     His breathing still shallow and his cock still hard and leaking, Chris
let Jake push him against the back of the couch, hands braced against it
while he spread his legs.  Jake kissed the back of Chris' neck, feeling
Chris' body tense when he slipped a finger into his ass.  "You're always so
tight," Jake panted.  Chris groaned, wincing as Jake's finger pressed into
him.  His head hung slack and he tried to concentrate on the feeling of
Jake's lips on his neck.  Two fingers and he was breathing heavily, sweat
rolling down his temples.  Jake was never one for patience, and no matter
how much he tried to get Chris to relax, it always hurt a little bit,
biting his lip through the pain, Chris sighed because he knew what was on
the other side.  He gritted his teeth, hissing when he felt Jake's fingers
tickle his prostate.  Jake's other hand gripped his shoulder, his lips
tugging on Chris' earlobe as his cock leaked pre-cum.

     Groaning, Chris felt the head of Jake's cock press into him.  He
squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles white on the back of the couch.  Jake
leaned back, watching as his thick cock sunk into Chris, inch by inch, the
muscles of Chris' back tense and quivering.  Jake ran a soothing hand down
Chris' spine, encouraged to press deeper when Chris spread his legs wider
and braced himself against the sofa.  Jake leaned down, his chest against
Chris' back, his heavy breaths sweeping against Chris' ear.  "You have no
idea what you do to me," Jake said, his hand moving down to stroke Chris'
cock.  Chris threw his head back, Jake catching his lips with his own.  His
body felt stiff and twisted at the same time, Jake's cock sending a searing
heat through his entire body.  When he felt the scratch of Jake's pubes at
his hole, he fell forward, resting his forehead on the couch.

     Chris did his best to relax, not just his hole but his entire body.
His legs felt stiff, his arms too.  He felt Jake pull out and he shut his
eyes, concentrating on the feeling in his ass as Jake slowly stroked his
cock.  Jake let out a string of incoherent grunts as he pushed back in,
Chris rising up onto his arms again.  Jake slid his hand up to Chris'
shoulder, his thrusts short but deep, pulling out halfway just to push back
in hard and fast.  Chris felt the couch slide with every thrust, his
slippery feet sliding over the hardwood floor of the living room.  He could
hear Jake's grunts with every thrust, his breathing getting quicker.
Jake's hand rested on top of his, the other stroking Chris' cock with hard,
quick movements.  Jake's chest hair was scratchy on his back, their
sweat-slicked bodies slipping against one another as Chris felt his cock
tingle.

     "I'm almost there," Chris groaned.  Jake's stroking got faster, his
scratchy chin resting on Chris' shoulder.  Jake thrust faster, pulling
almost all the way out with long, steady strokes.  Chris cringed, not
wanting it to be over but needing to shoot at the same time.  He let out a
long groan as his cock shot thick spurts of cum into Jake's stroking fist.
His head hung slack, his mouth agape as he shot, Jake's cock still
thrusting into his tightening hole.  He leaned his head back, shuddering as
Jake kept stroking his cock.  Chris fell back down, his chest on the couch
as Jake's thrusts got more erratic and forceful.  Jake's thrusts got harder
and faster, steadying himself by grabbing onto Chris' waist, cum smearing
across the skin as he

      Jake reared back, every muscle in his body rigid and taut as he shot,
Chris' clenching ass squeezing cum from his thick pole.  His mouth was open
in a silent groan, his throat too dry to make a sound.  Chris' body
flinched when he felt the hot cum spurt into him, Jake's grip on his
shoulder tightening as his body tensed.  Chris groaned when he felt Jake's
body on top of his, both too tired to move after the exertion, but Chris'
arms shaking from fatigue.  "Let me get this one," Chris whispered, sliding
his hips forward.  He held his breath as he felt Jake's cock pull out of
him, both falling to the floor as they separated, Chris sitting against
couch as he caught his breath.

     Jake pulled their bodies together, his tongue inching into Chris'
mouth as their bodies came together again.  A lazy smile on Chris' face, he
ran his hands over Jake's jaw, fingers sliding across the damp skin.
Jake's blue eyes were heavy-lidded, clouded with exhaustion.  He rested
Chris' head on his shoulder, too tired to get up and wanting the moment to
last as long as it could.

***

     "You don't need to be setting up play-dates for me, I'm a grown-up,"
Chris said.

     "I just know that I'll be longer than you, I don't want you bored.
And since when are you a grown-up?"

     "One of these days," Chris said, laughing, "so she'll be waiting for
me and I'll be waiting for you where?"

     "I'll call you, probably meet up with you at a Starbuck's somewhere.
That's the easiest."

     Chris nodded, clutching his leather portfolio.  A short manuscript
inside, he hoped it was something the New Yorker might consider, or maybe
getting it into a collection somewhere.

     "I liked that story a lot," Jake said, "it's not like anything you've
done before."

     "It's the story from the post-its," Chris said, unzipping and zipping
the portfolio again, "I'm proud of it.  It should get out there."

     "I'm sure someone will want it, they eat up everything you write."

     "Let's hope you're right," Chris said, opening the car door, "I'll see
you later."

     Jake slid his sunglasses onto the top of his head, mouthing a soft 'I
love you,' before speeding down to his meeting.  Taking a deep breath,
Chris walked into the West Coast offices of Houghton Mifflin like a peddler
selling his wares.  Jake had read the story twice, giving Chris some
confidence, but it was always a gamble.  People were going to like it or
hate it, and the odds never seemed to be in his favor.

***

     Chris walked into Mr. Chow, the only thing he knew about it from
magazines and gossip columns.  He wondered if it was Jake's idea or whoever
he was meeting's.  Chris gave his name to the girl at the receptionist's
podium and he led him through the twisting labyrinth of the restaurant.  It
was just after lunch, so it was nearly empty, but the girl kept walking
towards the back of the restaurant.  "Here you go, sir.  She's in the
restroom, she told me to tell you that she'd be right out."

     "Thank you," Chris said, still uncomfortable in the super-trendy
surroundings.  He glanced over the menu, wondering who was going to sit
down in the booth with him.  He hoped it was Maggie, just so it wouldn't be
completely uncomfortable, but he knew she was in New York again, her
bicoastal lifestyle something he could never comprehend.

     "Did you bring a pen, because you're singing my book," Chris heard.
He looked up and saw a girl with short hair, her almond shaped eyes
perfectly lined, her white blouse crisp.  "Jake said you'd take a while to
warm up to me," she said.

     "It's just that I'm still not used to meeting his friends," Chris
said, "they're all, you know, famous."

     She giggled, offering her hand.  "So we'll do this old school?
Natalie."

     "I know who you are," Chris said, taking her hand, "I just didn't know
you knew Jake."

     "We went to Columbia together, had a few classes here and there," she
said.

     "So other kids were in these classes with Jake and you?  How do you
concentrate when you have Natalie Portman in your class?"

     "They manage when they realize that I get C's on my papers just like
they do."

     Chris smiled, noticing that Natalie was pulling a hardcover copy of
Independence Day out of her purse.  "I actually do have a pen in here
somewhere," Chris said, rummaging through his portfolio as their server
came over to the table, "can you just order whatever you're having for me
too?"

     "We'll just have two of the chef's special, whatever it is," Natalie
said, smiling.  She was bubbly and easy to talk to, just like Chris thought
she'd be.  It made everything easier.  The server walked away, the two of
them making his job entirely too easy.

     "You can write whatever you want in it.  I loved it, and I can't wait
for the new one," Natalie said, "I still can't believe I'm talking to you."

     "You?  What about me?"

     "You're the voice of a generation and you've got Gyllenhaal on your
arm.  What more do you want?"

     Chris blushed, "I actually have a copy of the new one in here, they
rushed the printing because of the whole movie thing."

     "I heard about that," Natalie said, "any ideas who's going to get
parts and stuff?  I know my agent requested a copy of the script."

     Chris' ears perked.  He didn't know who was showing any interest in
the movie, but if Natalie Portman wanted a part, who else did?  It had
slipped his mind until he was reminded in his meeting today.

     "Ohmy gosh," Natalie said all in one breath, her eyes wide, "can I
look at it?"  Her voice got quiet all of a sudden, "Is that against the
rules?"

     "No, I have a box being shipped to the house, you can have this one."

     Natalie was practically shaking to get her hands on it.  "I really
like the cover," she said, her delicate fingers tracing the perimeter of
the blue eye.  "Jake took the picture of you on the back?"

     "Yeah, I don't know why they put his name on the back," Chris said,
looking at it closer.

     "I like that too," Natalie said.  Chris hated the idea of putting his
picture on his book, but that seemed to be part of the rules.  Jake had
taken the picture one morning after coffee, and Chris was sitting, waiting
on the porch steps for him to bring it home.  Jake snapped the picture
after remembering he had the camera in his pocket.  Chris' hair was messy,
his smile genuine, whether from Jake or the coffee, and everything just
looked casual and serendipitous, not posed like some of the other author's
pictures.  Right underneath the picture in tiny type, it read "photo
credit: Jake Gyllenhaal."

     "It's just something they thought would be a good idea.  I didn't have
time for a sitting anyway," Chris said.

     "I want to get into this right now," Natalie said, "but I don't want
to be rude."

     "No you don't," Chris said, laughing.  "I'll sign this one for you
too."  Natalie was practically beaming, "You're the first person to see
this.  Even before Jake."

     "It's a good thing you two've got going, isn't it?"  Natalie said,
fingering the paper of the book.  "I mean this right here, this is
serious."

     Chris looked at what she was pointing at, noticing it was the
dedication.  "Yeah, I guess you could say that."  He dedicated his last
book to his parents, mostly because it was about the process of finding an
identity, but since this book was about love from afar, love unrequited,
love in its purest form, he wrote simply, "For J, with the blue eyes."
Even Jake didn't know about it.

     "I mean, that's going to be there forever," Natalie said, "no pressure
or anything."

     Chris couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but she couldn't hold
her serious expression long.  She erupted in another bout of giggles, her
hand reaching for his.  "You're entirely too serious."  Chris smiled,
pulling the cap off of his pen.  "I like that you stick to your guns.  You
have no idea how much that says about you.  You don't let anyone tell you
what's okay and what's not."

     He let it mull in his head for a little bit, amazed that some people
called it stubborn and others called it dedication, "I just want what I
want," Chris said, shrugging.

     "Everyone does," Natalie said, "but you don't stop until you get it.
That's what makes you different."

***

     "You know me, I'm not good at selling my stuff," Chris said, "Vivian
does it for me most of the time."

     "I'm sure someone will pick it up," Jake said, "can I read it again?"

     "I gave my manuscript to Natalie," Chris said, "I'll print another one
out for you when we get home."

     "She cleaned you out," Jake said, smiling, "are you going to see each
other again?"

     "I hope so," Chris said, stirring his coffee, "she's really cool.  How
did it go for you?"

     "There's big news," Jake said, "you'll never guess what's on the table
now."  Chris knew Jake got offers all the time, especially now after his
choices were getting more serious and gaining more acclaim.  Chris was
pretty sure he read something about The Lazarus Effect, the movie Jake just
finished, and the Oscars.  Jake had a stack of scripts in the office back
at the house and an even bigger stack in the recycling bin, so Chris really
had no idea.  "It looks like Independence Day is in its casting stage."

     Chris' eyes grew wide, not knowing what his role was at this stage.
Did the director care what the writer thought?  Chris had helped out Mike
White, deciding that it would be better if they worked on it together.  He
was more than accommodating, glad to adapt something with the actual
author.  Jake said that it was just something else Chris could to add to
his achievements: published writer and now screenwriter.

     "I do believe that this is called a conflict of interest,
Mr. Gyllenhaal," Chris said.

     "What can I say," Jake said, his eyes sparkling, "I'm hooked up."

     Chris laughed, not really knowing what he wanted for the movie.  It
wasn't his movie, it was just a movie based on his book.  It was up to the
director now, and Chris could never remember his name.

     "So you talked to the director today?"

     "No, Steven's not talking to anyone.  Dean just got me on the list for
a script."

     Chris nodded.  Twice in one day?  Was Hollywood really buzzing over
his little book?  Chris started to wonder who else was talking about the
movie.  He didn't think about it after Natalie talked about it, but now
that Jake wanted in, he couldn't avoid it.

     "We have an event to go to," Chris said, "Natalie said something about
a charity silent auction.  It's for a good cause."  He didn't realize how
lame that sounded until he heard it from his own mouth.  "We're members of
high society now that they printed us up in the New York Times Magazine."

     Jake nodded, "When is it?"

     "Tomorrow," Chris said, "black tie."

     "They usually are," Jake said, rolling his eyes, "but it's probably
good for us.  They think that I'm anti-Hollywood now that there are no
pictures of me in the rags."

     "You are anti-Hollywood," Chris said before sipping the last of his
coffee, "but that's why I like you."

***

     "Thanks for coming, guys," Natalie said, beaming.  Jake had waved and
smiled at a lot of people Chris recognized from magazines, but couldn't
name.  It was eerily quiet, everyone talking in a murmur of whispers.
"UNICEF says thank you, and so do I."

     "Doesn't look like you needed us here, Nat," Jake said, glancing
around the room, "it looks like you managed to draw a big crowd."

    "But you can't have too many bidders," Natalie said, "I'll see you
around, I have to say hi to people or they'll think I hate them."

     "Everyone thinks I hate them then," Chris whispered.

     Jake chuckled, "No, everything thinks that you think you're better
than them."

     Chris slapped Jake's arm lightly, hoping nobody was watching them,
"That's not helping."

     "Go bid on something, we have to look like we're interested in
something," Jake said.

     Chris nodded, walking over to the tables, Jake following right behind
him.  "We don't need bracelets or purses," Chris said, "and I hate that
everyone's whispering."

     "Go bid on those earrings, we can give them to Maggie," Jake said,
pointing to a pair of diamond earrings.

     Chris wrote his name down on the clipboard, flashbulbs going off as he
just wrote his name.  A woman shoved her way through the crowd, tape
recorder in hand.  "Excuse me, Christopher Lewis is it?  Who are you?"

     "I'm not famous," Chris said quickly, "I'm a writer."  He turned to
Jake, who was surveying everyone else in the room, "Is this all we should
bid on?"

     Jake shrugged, looking just as confused as Chris did.  Silent auctions
were definitely not as cool as loud ones.  Chris noticed that there were
tape-recording women all over, shoving their recorders into everyone's
face.  Chris recognized Scarlett Johansson and Elijah Wood, but not many
other people.  The reporters, on the other hand, recognized everyone;
flocking to any celebrity they could reach, including Jake.  Chris watched
Jake expertly answer their questions with vague but complete answers,
making sure that his answers didn't lead to more questions, especially when
they asked him who he was there with.

    "Let's get something to drink," Jake said, pulling Chris towards the
bar.  Chris didn't even notice that there weren't well-dressed waiters
shoving flutes of champagne at him.

     "Get me whatever you get yourself," Chris said, staying a few steps
behind Jake.  He didn't mind staying out of the spotlight at all.

     "Chris!" Surprised that anyone knew who he was Chris turned around,
looking for whoever called his name.  Topher grace stepped over, doing his
best to avoid the reporters, just like Jake was.

     "Hey Topher," Chris said, shaking his hand.  "You're looking good."

     "Well, they said 'black tie.'  So I just showed up," Topher said,
blushing.  Chris saw Jake waiting in line for drinks over Topher's
shoulder, "Bid on anything?"

     "Earrings or something, I can't remember," Chris said, "they're for a
friend."

     "Good luck," Topher said, "hey listen, I put myself on the list for
your script, so I mean, we're going to be seeing more of each other.  I
don't want anything weird between us to effect the movie."

    "Do you know who else is looking into this?  People have been telling
me and I really can't believe that anyone's interested," Chris said.

     "Well, with a director like Soderbergh and a script like that, we're
all hoping to get it.  It's fresh and new," Topher said, "and I want in."

     "Hey guys," Jake said, handing Chris a tall champagne flute, "it's the
only thing they didn't have to mix, I figured it'd be the easiest.  I
didn't know you'd be here, Grace."

     "You know how it is," Topher said, shrugging.  Jake looked a little
imposing, Chris thought, almost looking down over Topher.  "Good luck on
everything tonight, you two.  I hope you get those earrings."

     Chris could feel the tension between Topher and Jake, but deep down,
he liked Topher.  He liked him, but he didn't love him, Jake just had to
get that through his stubborn head.

     "You don't have to be mean to him," Chris said.

     "It's not that I'm mean, I just don't like him," Jake said, "I don't
want to talk shop, but we're always going for the same roles."

     Chris finished his champagne, spinning the glass around in his
fingers, "I'm just as bored as you are," he said quietly, "but there's no
reason to be cranky."

     Jake's face softened, his hand resting on Chris' shoulder.  "I just
don't like being around this many actors," Jake whispered into Chris' ear,
"nobody likes anyone else, we're all pretending."  Jake let his lips
linger, giving Chris the lightest kiss on his ear, blowing over the moist
skin ever so slightly.  Chris felt his entire body shiver, his breath
catching in his throat.  He ran his fingers through Chris hair, leaving it
messier than it already was.  "Remember to breathe," Jake whispered,
smiling, before walking back over to the bar.

     Glancing over his shoulder, Jake saw Chris still standing there, a
look of surprise on his face.  Jake smiled, grabbing another round of
champagne.  "Are you crazy," Chris asked, snatching the champagne from
Jake's hand.

     "I'm just having a little fun," Jake said, smiling, "I think we're the
only ones."  Jake grabbed Chris by the arm and pulled him into a corner, "I
want to kiss you so bad."

     "Everyone's talking about you," Natalie said, rushing up to the two of
them.  Chris pulled away from Jake, his hands sliding instinctively into
his pockets.

     "Me or Jake?" Chris asked, backing in to Jake, needing some sort of
support.

     "You!  I guess everyone's been asking who that kid with Jake was, and
when they found out you were the one who wrote the Independence Day script,
they freaked out," Natalie said.

     Jake looked surprised, "And here we are, hiding," he said, "you should
be mingling."

     "Me or Natalie?" Chris asked, glancing back at Jake.

     "Both of us," Natalie said, "Jake might not like parties, but you
don't want to end up like him."

     "I like parties even less than Jake does," Chris said, "so I don't
know what I'd say to anyone."

     Had the room really been buzzing with talk of Independence Day?  Chris
looked around, nobody really taking notice of the three of them huddled in
the corner, but then again, most of them had been drinking.  The closer the
movie got to getting started, the more he wondered how involved he'd be.  H
had no idea what he'd be doing, if he'd be doing anything at all.

     "You're going to have to get used to this," Natalie said, "everyone
wants to know who you are."

     Chris leaned up to Jake's ear, "Let's get out of here."  Jake grabbed
his hand, nodding.  "Natalie, thanks for inviting us, but you know we've
got a long drive back up to Santa Barbara," Chris said.

     Natalie smacked him on the arm, "It's eight o' clock!" she said.

     "Excuse me," Chris said, practically running past her to the bathroom.
Jake followed right behind him, almost slipping in his dress shoes.

     "Whoa Chris, what's going on," Jake said, opening the bathroom door.
Chris stood at the sink, splashing water on his face.  "Is everything
okay?"

     "I don't know," Chris said, his heart racing, "is everyone really
talking about me?"

     "I've been with you all night," Jake said, his hand lightly running
over Chris' neck.

     "I need to sit down," Chris said, leaning against the sink.  Jake
walked closer to him, hands on Chris' waist.

     "Most people would be excited about this sort of thing," Jake said.
Chris' hand came up to pull Jake down for a kiss, needing to get his mind
off of everything.  Jake pulled their bodies together, his tongue sneaking
into Chris' mouth.  Chris grabbed the back of Jake's head, trying to lose
himself in the sensation, his eyes shut as Jake's scratchy facial hair ran
over his skin.

     "We should just do this all night," Chris said, "fuck 'em out there."
Jake smiled, planting one more kiss on Chris' lips.  "You can do better
than that."

     Jake pulled them together again, this time the kiss was slower, Jake's
lips lingering and his hands on the small of Chris' back.  Chris felt the
muscles shift under his fingers, Jake's shoulders tensing every time his
mouth pressed into Chris'.

     "Whoa whoa, sorry guys," Topher said, stepping backwards.  He didn't
expect to see anything like this, he actually hoped he wouldn't see it.  He
wanted to look away, but stood watching as Jake and Chris pulled apart but
still clutching to each other.  "I didn't mean to, you know, sorry.  I'll
go."

     "No, no, it's okay.  We should get back out there, I guess," Chris
said, smoothing his jacket.  Jake was grinning, blushing deeply.

     "It's great, you know, what you guys have," Topher said, his hands
behind his back.  He hadn't looked them in the eye yet, "it sucks that you
have to sneak off to the bathroom though."

     "What can you do?" Jake said, pulling Chris towards him.  Topher
watched as Chris clung to Jake's arm, blushing almost as red as he had
been.  "We'll see you out there."

     Topher nodded, watching as the two of them walked back out to the
ballroom.  He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering what Jake saw in
him that made him so angry.  They'd only met a handful of times, and though
they'd both been cordial, there'd always been an anxiety that existed
between them.  He was sure that crushing on Jake's boyfriend might have
something to do with it, but even before any of that, they'd never been the
best of friends.  It seemed that Jake had it all, his movies were amazing
and now he had someone to share his success with.

     "I'll see you around," Chris said, popping his head into the bathroom.
Topher spun around, a weak smile on his face.  Chris had gone before he
could say anything, but that gesture alone was enough to bring a smile to
Topher's face.

---

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