Seventeen
Lance opened his eyes and
blinked hard. As he focused on the clock, he was surprised to see that it was
almost noon. His lips smacked at the
cotton in his mouth and he slowly sat up.
He looked down and saw that he was still in his costume. When he rubbed
his eyes, eyeliner smudged his knuckles. Lance groaned, wondering how he had
even made it to his bed if he had been too drunk to remove the makeup.
Lance opened his bedroom
door and stumbled out, running smack into Nick Carter. "God, Lance, I'm
sorry!" Nick gasped.
"Shh," Lance
commanded. Nick grinned.
"You WERE hitting
the bottle kinda hard last night," Nick said. "You okay?"
"I may never be okay
again," Lance said. "I need to go throw up."
"Okay. On THAT
note…" Nick backed away. "I'll see you later."
"Later," Lance
whispered, making a beeline for the bathroom.
Lance managed to get a
shower and pull on sweats before making his way downstairs. A few of the brothers were loudly watching a
football game on TV, so Lance avoided the rec room. He started water for tea and sat down at the kitchen table.
"Hey," a soft
voice said from the doorway.
"Hey," Lance
said, looking up at Justin. Justin was biting at his bottom lip as he leaned
against the wall. "You okay?"
"Um, yeah. Are
you?"
"Please. No faked
concern, okay? I can't handle it." Lance cradled his head in his hands.
"It's not
faked. You look like shit." Justin sat down across from Lance.
"Thank you SO
much," Lance said sarcastically. The water came to a boil and Justin
poured it in a mug over Lance's teabag.
He handed Lance the mug and sat back down. "God, I need to NEVER
drink again."
"You definitely
weren't yourself," Justin said, carefully watching Lance.
"Well, that's what
Halloween is all about, right? Being someone else?" Lance stirred sugar
into his tea. "I don't think I like being someone else."
"So…" Justin
said nervously.
"WHAT is your
problem, Justin? You look petrified.
What did I do…kick your ass last night?" Lance asked, trying to
smile.
"Don't you remember
anything?" Justin asked, shocked.
"No. I remember
dancing with you, and then I woke up. Did you put me to bed?" Lance was mortified, wondering what had
happened.
"Yeah," Justin
said honestly. "I did. After we danced."
"Okay," Lance
said, relieved.
"I gotta go. I'll
talk to you later." Justin got up and left the kitchen.
"Hmm?"
"Jayce?"
"Lance?" JC said, clearly more awake.
"Were you sleeping?
I'm sorry," Lance said. "It's after two, and I thought you'd be
up."
"We had a late
night," JC said.
"Horny little
kitten," Lance said, grinning.
"Yeah," JC said
vaguely. "How are YOU?"
"Hungover like never
before. Please don't let me drink again. Justin Timberlake actually had to put
me to bed. How embarrassing."
"Anything else about
Justin?"
"What did I do?
JC!"
"Nothing,
Lance," JC lied. "Just wonder if you were ready to admit your big
crush now that you're hungover."
"I don't have a
crush on him!" Lance insisted, then winced. "Ow."
"Okay, Lance. I'm
not gonna argue with you. Just do me a favor, okay? Forget everything you don't
like about him. Forget everything in him that reminds you of whatever makes you
hate him. Just try and like him for his good points, okay?"
"Why?"
"Because he deserves
it," JC said, and hung up.
