::Chapter 3::

“I never knew how to worship until I knew how to love.”

--Henry Ward Beecher

He fell. He fell hard. Justin couldn’t have even imagined looking at someone the way he looked at Mira. The problem was, she didn’t know it.

A week later...

“Yo, pop star! You gonna pass it sometime this century?” yelled Mira, bouncing her leg anxiously.

“Calm down Princess… I’ll pass it when I’m good and ready,” retorted Joey.

“If you call me Princess one more time, I swear to you it’ll be your last!” replied Mira. Joey laughed out loud.

“Right. Sure you will,” he laughed.

“Hey, moron! Why are you wasting breath on her?” called JC from a few yards away.

“Uh oh…” muttered Mike, who stood nearby. “He’s gonna get it,” he sang quietly.

“If I were you Chasez, I’d shut that big mouth of yours! You never know what kind of trouble you could find yourself in,” said Mira.

“Is that a threat, Stewart?” asked JC, taking a step towards her.

“Do you want it to be Chasez?” replied Mira, taking a step towards him so that they were only inches apart.

“Guys!” said Lance, stepping in between them and pushing them apart. “You’re supposed to be playing basketball, not WWF!”

Justin suddenly appeared behind Mira and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

“Yes? Do you need something?” asked Mira dryly.

“I didn’t want you going all kung fu on poor defenseless Jace over there,” said Justin softly into her ear.

“Hey! No making out on the court!” cried Chris. “Unless it’s with me.”

“I’ll make out with you Chris,” said Joey, opening his arms to Chris dramatically.

“Been there, done that,” said Chris, waving away a dejected looking Joey.

“Guys! Are you gonna play or what?” called Leanna from the side of the court. She sat on the bleachers, filing her nails. “I’m getting bored!”

“And we don’t want to keep Precious waiting, now do we?” responded Mike sarcastically. Leanna glared at him from the bleachers. Mike smiled sugary-sweetly in her direction. She let out a small giggle and rolled her eyes.

“Alright guys. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s three on three. Justin, Mira, and Joey, against Mike, Chris, and JC,” said Lance, standing between them.

“Lance, it’s not like we’re three or something. We can remember who’s playing who,” said JC bitterly, his hands on his waist. Lance arched an eyebrow and regarded JC doubtfully.

“Ok, about five minutes ago, Chris here was jumping on Mike’s back in a pathetic effort to steal the ball,” said Lance. “And you wonder why I think you guys need clarification.”

“And don’t even think about trying that one again,” warned Mike, rubbing his neck. Chris shrugged innocently.

“I only strive to make the game more interesting.”

Mira rolled her eyes and took the ball from Lance’s hands. “Alright ref. Let’s get this game started.”

Lance snatched the ball back from Mira. “I’ll be needing this, thank you,” he said curtly. The two teams headed to center court where Mira and JC stood, toe to toe, ready to pass the ball. Lance stood beside them, held his arm out holding the ball, and tossed the ball in the air.

Immediately Mira and JC jumped. JC, having the advantage of height and longer limbs, hit the ball first, passing it to Mike. Mira tripped over JC’s long legs and toppled directly into JC, knocking him to the floor, her on top of him.

She glared down at him bitterly. “Thanks so much,” she said sarcastically. JC regarded Mira mysteriously for a moment, his eyes locked on hers.

“Watch where you’re going My-rat,” said JC, recovering a moment later.

“Oh gee, that was creative,” she said, getting up and dusting herself off. “How long did it take you to come up with that one? Two weeks?”

“A lot less time that it took you to come up with Chas-gay,” he muttered. Mira grinned proudly.

“You like that one, don’t you?” JC arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

“Whatever Rat,” he muttered.

“Yo! Princess! You planning on playing here or what?” cried Joey exasperatedly, running past them, dribbling the ball.

“Ready when you are,” she shrugged, opening her hands. Joey tossed her the ball and she swiftly did a lay up and made the basket. She rubbed her hands together proudly. “Now that’s a basket Chas-gay. Ever heard of it?” she whispered into JC’s ear as she walked past him.

JC rolled his eyes and motioned for Mike to bounce in the ball to him. JC easily caught the ball and spotted the perfect opening for what he had in mind. He dribbled his ball past Joey, through Justin’s legs, and shoved Mira out of the way, knocking her to the ground as he leapt for the basket, making it easily. He looked down at Mira, who sat on the ground glaring at him viciously. He grinned, pleased with himself, and walked away.

“Stupid piece of-“ she muttered under her breath.

“I’m beginning to understand why you don’t like him,” said Justin, offering a hand to Mira. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“See? Tell me it’s not just me!” he said.

“I can tell you he’s acting like an asshole, but I’ll also tell you he’s not like this all the time. Actually, he’s never like this. I don’t get it,” shrugged Justin, placing a hand on the small of Mira’s back. “Come on. Let’s go kick his ass,” he said, narrowing his eyebrows evilly. Mira let out an amused laugh and let him lead her to the other side of the court.

JC pounded his fist on the table in frustration. He looked down at the notepad in front of him, adorned with only crossed out words, scribbles, and sketches. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

It had been months since he’d written a song, and it was beginning to eat away at him. Music and writing went hand in hand with him; it was just a part of his very being.

And now it was stuck. It had been stuck for months. He felt the creative energy inside him building up, and it wasn’t pretty.

‘I’ll write about Leanna’ he had decided. He had sat down at the table, trying to put into words how he felt about her. But nothing. ‘I’ll write about life in general’ he thought, but still nothing. The words weren’t coming and neither was the relief.

There was something about writing that completed him. It was the emotional, private part of him that was released in some way, shape, or form through his writing. There was no mistaking or replacing the feeling it gave him knowing that he had created something.

But he hadn’t. Not yet, and he wasn’t sure when he would again. All he knew was he had to find some inspiration, and quickly.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” grumbled Mira, maneuvering the steering wheel of her beat up silver Honda Civic up onto a driveway, blocked off by a large metal gate. “What the hell?” she wondered out loud. She drove up to the small speaker and leaned out, pressing the call button.

“State your business” came a deep, gruff voice. Mira was slightly taken aback, but responded quickly.

“I’m supposed to deliver something to JC Chasez,” she shouted.

“Deliver what, ma’am?” asked the voice.

“I think it’s a love letter or something…” muttered Mira, opening the envelope that sat on the passenger seat. “Yeah, it’s a love letter,” she groaned.

“A love letter?” asked the man skeptically. “I can’t let you in to deliver just a love letter ma’am. What’s in the letter?”

“Please don’t make me read it,” pleaded Mira. “It’s from Leanna for JC. They’re dating, in case you didn’t know, and Leanna’s at a meeting right now and asked me to bring this to him. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get this done and over with as soon as possible,” she explained. The deep, faceless voice chuckled.

“Come on in,” he said as the metal gate opened.

“Thank you!” shouted Mira out her window as she pulled further into the driveway. She followed the long driveway until she spotted the large white, modernized house. Her jaw dropped in amazement at the pure enormity of the home that stood before her. Mira parked the car and slipped her key out of the ignition, stepping out of the car slowly. She stared up at the house, and looked down at her own, plain gray sweatshirt and jeans with white sneakers. Mira suddenly wished she’d made the effort to put on makeup that morning, and take time on her hair, rather than lazily pull it up into a messy bun. It wasn’t that she wanted to look good for JC. Not at all. It was more of a matter of pride; of feeling worth something when standing beside a house of such luxury and enormity.

Mira let out a sigh and accepted the inevitable. She trudged up the stone walkway to the door. She slowly pressed the small, round, lighted button and listened as the sounds of chimes filled the house. A moment later, the door opened, revealing JC in jeans and a black T-shirt, wearing a backwards baseball cap, and completely barefoot. In his hands he held a bowl of cereal, which he was nosily munching away.

He regarded Mira curiously for a moment while he chewed. Mira looked at him, disgusted. “It wasn’t my idea,” she said, in response to the question she knew JC was forming in his head. “Leanna begged me. Here,” she said, shoving the envelope in his face. He carefully took the envelope from her hands.

“How typical,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“What?” asked Mira.

“Not even a hello,” he said sardonically. Mira rolled her eyes and glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hello bastard,” she said, smiling innocently. “Hope you’ve been having the week from hell.”

JC smiled in response. “Nice to know you never, ever change Mira.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she cried defensively.

“It’s really not that hard, My-rat. Unless it’s a little too complicated for that simple little mind of yours,” he grinned sarcastically, patting her on the head. She shoved his hand away and glared at him.

“I only asked because you’re liable to have a missing circuit between your brain and your mouth, therefore saying things that make no sense whatsoever. For example, your little comment just now, Chas-gay,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

JC glared at her bitterly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’ll let you think that,” she said, grinning happily, knowing that she had beaten him. “Have a horrible day,” she called, waving as she walked away. JC rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind him.

He hated her. He really did. All she did was find ways to annoy him. He hated the fact that she strived on making him look foolish. He hated the fact that all she did was argue. He hated the fact that she could push his buttons.

And he hated the fact that she’d looked so beautiful when she came to the door.

Chapter 4