The Way You Said Hello ~ Chapter Seven

That Saturday was the most hectic day of my life. I knew AJ was just another regular person like me, but I wanted everything to be perfectly…perfect. I ran around getting things ready for my trip to Orlando that night. He was going to be so surprised, and I wanted his first impression of me in person to be a good one.

I had my hotel room booked and my tickets to get into Pleasure Island pre-ordered. I even had my overnight bag packed by two o'clock that afternoon-that HAD to have been a record, because I'm never packed ahead of time. Maybe it was nerves that were making me rush around like a mad woman.

I scrambled around my room trying to ready as soon as possible. My radio was blaring, ironically enough, 98 Degrees as I decided what to wear.

I stood in front of my full-length mirror and debated with myself: "Skirt?" I held up a short black skirt and twirled around. "No, I look like a slut." I threw the skirt down on my bed. "Pants?" I examined a pair of tight, black pants. "Much better," I decided. Especially since I would be dancing. "Shirt, shirt, shirt…" I muttered while searching through a pile of clothing I had randomly pulled from my walk-in closet. "This one?" I held up a white, sheer, short-sleeved shirt that had a white silk camisole attached underneath it. "Too fancy." Down went that shirt onto the pile of rejected outfits. I dug around through my choices for a few more minutes before, "Perfect!" I selected a light blue, silk, spaghetti strap tank top that contrasted perfectly with my dark brown hair and fair skin.

I was so nervous. I danced around my room while getting dressed and fixing my hair. I decided to throw my hair up in a bun, but left a few wisps around my face. "For that sultry look," I joked, and laughed out loud.

Finally, at seven o'clock, I loaded my things into the car and hit the road. I raced along the highway with the top of my BMW convertible down, the wind in my hair. I popped an old Celine Dion CD in the player and sang along to only the fast songs. The sun was setting, and it was absolutely breathtaking. I felt like I was flying.

I hadn't told anyone I was going to do this. I knew that if I did, someone would try to stop me, to tell me it was too dangerous or too foolish or too impetuous. Well, goddamn it, I was always so conservative and careful. For once in my eighteen years of existence, I wanted to take a chance. I'd just started taking risks during the past couple of days, and so far I liked how the results were looking.

"Well, Becky," I commented to myself dryly, "you sure know how to pick a time to start living on the edge."

It took me an hour to drive from my house in north Tampa to the hotel where I was staying in Orlando. I checked in at eight o'clock and then headed toward Pleasure Island. I got there at nine, but I couldn't bring myself to get out of the car. I just sat there. I felt like I was going to throw up, I was so nervous.

Finally - "Jesus," I said, sounding disgusted. "Be a woman about it, and get your ass in there." I stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. I pulled my ticket out of my pocket and walked right up to the entrance.

Once I was inside, I was lost as for what to do next. I didn't know what club to go to, what restaurant, or even what street to walk down. I ducked inside the first club I saw.

A wave of sound hit me as soon as I opened the door. Entering, I was crushed by a massive throng of humanity. I made it, unharmed, to the dance floor and began to move. At first, I was so into my dancing that I totally forgot about even looking for AJ. The pulsing rhythm squeezed at my body and wouldn't let go - it was calling me, irresistible. Bumping, grinding people were packed on the floor, and I had the strange sensation that if I had simply decided to let myself fall, I would remain upright because of all the people crushed around me.

After forty-five minutes of this strenuous exercise, I needed a drink terribly. I exited the club, breathing heavily but having a wonderful time. I walked down the street alone and managed to get hit on by only four drunk guys.

I sauntered into a restaurant and sat down at the bar. I looked up at the bartender and smiled.

"What'll it be?" he asked me.

"Bottled water, please." I was underage, and besides, I didn't want to do anything stupid.

He slid me a bottle of Evian, and I twisted the top open. I gulped down the water thirstily and considered my next plan of action. So far there had been no sign of AJ anywhere. I took another sip and turned around on my bar stool. I had to stop myself from dropping my water and spilling it everywhere because of what I saw.

Only twenty feet away from me, five young men were sitting at a dark booth in a corner. Four of them were laughing and having a wonderful time, holding bottles of beer (or Coke, in the blond one's case) and slapping each other on the back. The fifth was sitting at the end of the booth. He had no drink and appeared to be lost deep in thought. He faced away from the others and stared into space. He slowly reached up to scratch his moustache, his sleeveless shirt revealing numerous tattoos. He wore baggy dark jeans and several earrings.

I strained my ears to catch what they were saying.

"Yo Bone, what's wrong?" one of them suddenly turned and asked him.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "Look, guys, I'll be back in a minute." He stood up and slowly walked toward me. I realized he was coming to the bar to get something to drink. I enjoyed looking at him, recognizing him, and knowing that he didn't have a clue who the hell I was.

"Bottled water," he told the bartender, and I smiled to myself. I should have known we would have the same taste.

He glanced at me and noticed my grin. He politely nodded and stood up. As he was turning to go back to his table, I quickly said, "You know, it's a shame I decided to come. I really was looking forward to waiting by the phone."

His head snapped around and his eyes pierced mine with a thousand daggers. His mouth hung slightly open as he asked incredulously, "Becky?"

"Well, I guess you won't have to call me tonight when you get home, will you?" I beamed. He actually recognized my voice-so far, so good.

He continued to gawk at me, standing completely still, until I laughingly said, "Alexander James, didn't your mother teach you it isn't polite to stare?"

He snapped out of his trance and took a step closer to me. "Is it really you?" he said in that deep voice I had come to adore.

"I hope so," I replied. "I'd hate to wake up and discover I dreamed the whole thing."

"…This is…unbelievable," he said slowly. He glanced back at his table and then back at me. "Let's go somewhere to talk. Where we can be alone. Is that all right?"

I looked over his shoulder to where the other four guys were sitting. "Do you think it'll be okay with the guys?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he answered eagerly. "They weren't getting too much enjoyment out of my company tonight anyway. Wait here one second," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders quickly, and then whirling around and striding to his table. I saw him gesture with his hands and point to me. The rest of the Backstreet Boys nodded and smiled. Brian gave him a pat on the back and Nick gave him the thumbs up sign.

When he returned, I was more than ready to leave. "Let's blow this joint."

"Whatever my lady wishes," he said. I linked my arm through his, looked up, and smiled.

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Continue to chapter eight

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