Nine
Justin
didn’t see Lance for the first week after he was home. And from what he could learn by snooping and
asking questions, neither did JC. Lance
apparently spent all his time either hanging out with Joey, or by dealing with
different business things. Justin tried
to pretend it didn’t bother him; he was Justin Timberlake, for fuck’s sake. He
didn’t care WHAT Lance did. Lance was
just a nice lay in Paris for him.
Unfortunately,
while lying awake late every night, wondering what Lance was doing, he DID care
what Lance did. He actually hated Lance
a bit…hated him for making him care. At
the beginning, when Lance started to buff up, it was all about the sexual
attraction. Justin often thought with
his dick more than he should have, but as he spent time with Lance, or even
just talked to him while Lance was away, he got to know Lance in a way he
should have years before. And now…now
he was hooked. Stupid Lance.
“Love…let’s
stay together…” JC sang softly as he daubed red paint onto the canvas. “Whether…good or bad…happy or sad…”
“Is
that the On the Line Soundtrack?” A low voice said behind him. He dropped his
paintbrush and it splattered onto his bare foot.
JC
whirled around. “Lance! Hey!” JC reached over and turned off the CD
player. “Uh, yeah, it is.”
“Sorry
if I scared you.” Lance carefully sat
down on a wooden stool, making sure there was no wet paint on it first. “Your front door was open. I know you get
absent-minded when you’re painting, Jayce, but that’s dangerous!”
“I
know,” JC said, blushing slightly. “So, um, how have you been? I haven’t heard
from you in a while.”
“I
know. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy, catching up on things. You know.”
“Right.” JC made himself turn around and begin to
paint again. “So, what’s up?”
“I
thought you might like to go out for dinner tonight.”
“Really?”
JC whirled around again, a happy smile on his face. He had been going crazy for
the past week, wondering what he had done to make Lance totally ignore him.
“Yeah. I’ll be here at seven, okay…dress nice but
casual.”
“Okay,”
JC whispered. Lance walked over to
JC.
“You’ve
got paint on your nose,” Lance said softly.
He bent in and gently kissed JC, letting his tongue lick over JC’s lips.
JC moaned when Lance pulled away.
“That’s
not my nose.”
“I’m
not kissing your nose.” Lance made a
face. “It has paint on it.” Lance smiled, then let himself out of the
studio.
“Hold
on!” Justin held up a hand to Chris,
who stood and dribbled the basketball.
Justin ran over and picked up his phone. “Hello?”
“Hi,
Justin.”
“Lance!” Justin said in surprise. “Hey.”
“Hi…I’m
sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while…just been busy. How are ya?”
“Fine,”
Justin said almost nervously. “You?”
“I’m
good. “Hey…I thought we’d go out for dinner tonight. What do you think?”
“I
think that sounds nice,” Justin said. “What time?”
“Be
at my house at six forty-five. Wear something nice but casual, okay?”
“Okay,
I’ll see you then.” Justin turned off
his cellphone and went back onto the court.
“Sorry.”
“That
was Lance?” Chris started to move with
the ball and Justin followed him.
“Yep.”
“You
two have a date?”
“We’re
having dinner,” Justin corrected. He didn’t want to get into this with Chris.
“Hmm…don’t
see him inviting me for dinner alone.”
“Maybe
that’s because you tend to put breadsticks up your nose at the table,” Justin
pointed out. He stole the ball from Chris and made a beautiful shot. “Yes!”
“What’s
going on with you two?” Chris demanded.
“Nothing,”
Justin said truthfully, because he didn’t really know WHAT was going on.
“I
thought Lance was hooking up with JC.”
“Lance
is NOT hooking up with JC,” Justin snapped.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “I mean, he would have told me.”
“Lance
is good at secrets,” Chris pointed out.
“You
can say that again,” Justin muttered, tossing the ball to Chris.
