The Three Best Days of The Last Three Years...

Monday, November 21st, 2016.

JC brushed down his pants as the producer called that the show was about to come back from commercial. He took a sip of water out of the "Meredith" show mug at his side as the host sat next to him on the peach-coloured leather couch.

"You good to go?" she asked, smoothing down her skirt as the director counted down.

"...4, 3, 2, 1...and we're live."

"Hey, everyone. Welcome back to the Meredith Show. I'm of course Meredith, and my current guest in the studio is former *NSYNC heartthrob, JC Chasez. Hi JC."

"Hey Meredith."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing good."

"Great. Now you're here promoting your new movie Opening Night, a musical comedy you did with Topher Grace and Taye Diggs."

"Yep."

"Great. Before we get to that, everyday we have a question we ask all of our guests first."

"Um...OK."

"Now, today's topic is ‘The Three Best Days of The Last Three Years.' Tell me, JC, what were the three best days of the last three years for you?"

He thought for a moment. "Probably the day I met my girlfriend, the day I first saw her dance and the day she became my girlfriend."

"Not even the *NSYNC reunion at the 2013 VMAs?"

"That was longer than three years ago."

Saturday, July 12th, 2014.

JC held the door open for a tall, brunette woman as they both entered the burger joint.

"Thank you." She turned and smiled. She stood next to him as he gazed over the menu. "I don't know about you, but I am absolutely craving a double bacon cheeseburger," she commented as she stretched her legs. "I am so ravished, I could just devour a whole pig right now."

"Chitterlings and all?" he asked.

She pursed her lips. "Only with a bottle of Franks," she joked. "Let me buy you dinner," she offered.

"No, I can take this."

"It's only an extra five dollars. Help a friend out, you know."

"Really, I can get this."

"Nah, it's fine."

"You know who I am, don't you?"

r32;"I would know those pretty blue eyes anywhere. I loved you in the Backstreet Boys," she joked. "No, really, I heard about that tour thing cancelling. I know how shitty it is for your show to close right before opening night."

"You're an entertainer?"

"Ballerina to be exact. I'm with the LAB, or Los Angeles Ballet. Just got out of practice. Looking to consume some of the calories I just spent all day burning. Plus I need some fucking protein."

"Fine then, I'll have what you're having."

"Sweet, sweet. I really hope you're not lactose intolerant, though." She bounced a little as she waited for the customer before her to leave the counter. "I get to have dinner with a dude from 98 Degrees. My friends are going to be sooooo jealous."

They sat at a little table at the back of the joint, the little cardboard tray taking up most of the room between them. She immediately peeled open the lid on her chocolate shake and dipped three french fries into the light brown cream.

"So, where abouts are you from?" JC asked as he tore a fry in half.

"I'm originally from Raleigh, North Carolina, but I decided to try out for the LAB randomly in 2009. I mean, I loved working with the Raleigh Ballet, but I kind of wanted to try something a little different."

"How old were you when you did that? If you don't mind me asking."

"28, nearly 29."

"So you were born 1980. Funny, you don't look 34."

"I'm 33, actually."

"So, second half of the year birth...let me guess...Libra?"

"Nope, Sagittarius. November 30th. And I'm pretty sure you're the 8th of August, 1976. I mean, you are Drew Lachey of the New Kids on the Block, right?"

He pursed his lips and smiled coyly. "I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not."

"Maybe," she said, drawing out her answer.

He walked her to his car, just as the sun was starting to set. "Do you have a way of getting home?"

"Yeah, I live..." She pointed to a tower of condos behind the gas station across the highway. "Right over there."

"Do you want a ride?"

"Nah, the walk will be good for digestion." She dug a pair of aviators from her tatty canvas shoulder bag, putting them on.

"I guess I'll see you around then."

"I guess, good luck with everything." She turned to walk away. He opened the door to his car as she swung back around, digging through her bag for a pamphlet.

"Wait..." She handed him the pamphlet as she lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. "How would you like to be a patron of the arts?"

"What is this for?"

"My company hosts a gala every season to raise money. We're having this year's summer one in a few weeks. There's this vineyard just north of the city that has its own cherry orchard. Basically there's going to be a wine tasting, then the dinner, and during that, we're doing a preview of a show we're opening in the fall. It's about $250 a head, but I'm supposed to cold-call any rich people I come across."

He looked over the pamphlet. "I've spent more money on stupider things."

"Awesome." She pointed to a number on the back. "Just call this number before Monday."

"Do you get some kind of bonus if I tell them that you referred me?"

"No, why?"

"You never told me your name."

She smiled. "Abigail."

"Cool."

"Cool." She lowered her sunglasses. "JC, right?" She pointed her finger. "*NSYNC..."

"You were right the first time."

She pursed her lips in an amused smile, starting her way home.

Saturday, August 2nd, 2014.

JC walked through the lavender garden from the car park to the visitor centre of the vineyard. He placed his phone into his khakis, straightening his dark blue button up and belt. He caught Abigail's eye as she made her way up a long white carpet leading down to the cherry orchard.

"JC! Hey!" She waved in greeting, calling out, "You're going to have to come over here. I'll ruin my slippers if I walk on the pebbles!"

He ran over to her. "Well, don't you look cute." He looked over the cropped t-shirt and denim cutoffs she was wearing with her pointe shoes, her newly honey blonde hair twisted into a massive bun of a mess on top of her head.

She smiled. "Thank you. You don't look that bad yourself."

"Blonde looks good on you."

"I bet blond looks on you, too."

"Trust me, I did the frosted tip thing. It..." He shook his head. "It did not work."

"I wasn't talking about frosted tips, but if you think I mean that, then whatever." She shrugged, smiling.

A willowy, black dancer stopped short, her curls falling around her face. "Holy shit, you're JC from *NSYNC." She patted down her purple warm up dress. "I do not have my phone on me. Damn it, I was going to ask for a selfie."

"I've got my phone," Abigail said. "I'll take it and text you it."

"Awesome, I'm Cassie." Cassie shook JC's hand. "It's sooo awesome to meet you. I swear, you guys were the reason why I stuck to dancing."

"Cool, it's always nice to meet a fan." JC stood with Cassie, smiling as Abigail took out her phone.

"Oh my God, oh my God! My sister is going to freak. Tell me when it says delivered." Cassie jumped up and down.

"It says delivered."

"I totes need to make sure I got it." Cassie ran off, scurrying up a flight of stairs.

He peered down the trail of carpet. "So, what are they doing down there?"

"Just setting up the reception area." Abigail leaned against a lamp post. "It's basically this huge dance floor amongst the cherry trees. Cassie and I play one of six dancers in the opening dance, basically flower maids and stuff. I don't want to give away the story, but our prima, blonde girl named Rose, plays a windup doll and Jeff, tall, Korean guy, plays an inventor who creates her and falls in love with her."

"In a Petrushka way or a Coppélia kind of way?"

She gasped. "I'm impressed, but Franz is the one that falls in love with Coppélia, not her creator. And Petrushka is about a love triangle between three enchanted puppets, but I'm still impressed." Abigail received a text message. "I need to go. Jack's calling me to wardrobe."

"I'll let you go."

She clicked her fingers again and held out two fingers. "Peace." She checked her phone. "I really need to get going." She patted his bicep before she ran off up the stairs.

Later, as the gala sat down for dinner, the lights around the reception area dimmed as the M.C. walked out.

"Now for your enjoyment, I would like to present the first act of our fall show, The Windup Doll by choreographer Jack Rigby." He motioned to a greying man in his fifties off to the side, and both bowed as the M.C. left the stage. The lights went completely off as there was some commotion in the darkness. The stage lights snapped on as six ballerinas stood in the centre of the stage in delicate, lilac dresses, arms linked as they held flower baskets. Abigail lifted her eyebrows as she faced JC dead centre, licking her lips as she set in position. A string quartet started playing as the dancers went en pointe, stepping to their right, then stepping to the left. They danced in formation before they leaped and spun around the audience, Abigail placing a silk rose into JC's hand. Four male dancers pulled a box into the centre of the stage, a fifth male dancer clapping his hands as he wore a top hat and tails. One of the male assistant dancers brought an oversized windup key on stage, passing it to the inventor for him to awaken his doll. Unfortunately, JC tuned out most of this as his eyes followed Abigail to the side of the stage.

He waited back, offering to drive her home afterwards. They flirted back and forth the drive back, stealing their first kiss at a red light around a mile from her apartment.

She pointed to an open space in the parking garage underneath her place. "Visitor parking is over there."

He drove the car into the space. "I guess this is the end of our night."

"Do you want to come up and see my place?"

He nodded. "I would like to come up and see it."

"Cool."

"Cool."

They rode the elevator up in silence, holding hands. She leaned in to kiss him again as the door opened on her floor. She led him to her front door, untying her bun as she dug her keys out of her bag.

"Can I get you a drink? Are you OK with ale?"

"Yeah." He walked through to the tiny living area past the kitchenette, sitting down on the couch. He adjusted himself as he used a cushion to hide his erection.

She passed him a bottle of beer. "I guess I'm going to have to get you tickets for the show. I noticed you didn't see much of it."

"I'm OK paying for a pair. It'll make a nice birthday present for my mom."

She nodded, running her thumb around the lip of her bottle. "It would."

They sat together in silence for a while. "Do you want to put some music on?"
Abigail paused for a moment. "I don't really own anything to play music on."
JC took his phone out of his pocket. "Do you like Prince?"
"There are people who don't like Prince?"
JC turned up the volume on his phone, placing it on the bookcase by the couch. "You'd be surprised." He reached out his hand as the tinkle of a piano ballad started. "Do you dance?"
"No," she said sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure I'm actually one of those 'two left feet' people."
"Your feet look fine to me." He wrapped his arm around her waist, softly singing as they swayed back and forth. She stood up on her toes, making direct eye contact with him. Their lips were only inches apart as they slowly spun around. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be." He scooped her up into his arms, placing her back on the sofa.
She bit her lip, trying not to make eye contact. "Look, JC..."
He leaned his head onto the back of the couch. "Yes, Abigail."
"Look, I like you. I mean, I really like you. And I'm pretty sure you like me, right?"
"That would be correct."
"Well...all of my time goes into my work. I can spend up to 14 hours a day, 6 days a week at the studio rehearsing, especially with a show coming up. I really like you, but it's not fair on you if I start dating you when I don't have any time to actually go out on dates with you."
"I get what you mean."
"I mean, you want a girlfriend, right?"
"Not really."
"So..." She pointed to him, then to herself. "What do you want this to be?"
He thought for a moment, "Whatever, I guess. Whatever you want, I'd be happy to do it..." He trailed off, pulling her knees closer to him.
"Like a friends who occasionally hang out together kinda thing."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
She stood up, taking his hand. "Do you want to see the bedroom?"

JC ran his fingers through his hair as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Do you want me to go?"
"I don't really know." She bit her lip.
"I'll go." He started to collect together his clothes off the floor. "Do you still want my number?"
"Um...I'm not sure yet. You have a Twitter, right? I could just DM you if I want it."
"Um, yeah. It's Abigail Grace Priestly, right?"
"Yeah, you followed me as I was walking home after dinner."
"You don't mind, do you?" He zipped up his fly, buckling his belt.
"No, no...I mean it's not like you're the most famous person following me. Celebrities sometimes do a mass following if they like a show. At least 4 people from Glee follow me."
He sat back down next to her, buttoning up his shirt. "Do you just want to be friends, or do you just want me to fade off, never contacting you again?"
"Again, I'm not sure."

They parted cordially, Abigail taking awhile to process exactly what had happened. By the end of September, he had contacted her again to ask if she was comfortable with him seeing her show. She left him a message saying that she didn't mind, but her heart stopped when he came backstage to meet the rest of the cast. They bumped into each other again when she and a few of the cast managed to get invited to Matthew Morrison's Halloween party. Though they quickly agreed to only stay friends, their urges got the best of them whenever they were occasionally drunk enough.

Monday, May 2nd, 2015.
Over the last ten months, Abigail and JC had become good friends. She had somehow even managed to integrate into the troop of nerds that called themselves "Camp Podwall," the leader Eric begging her to consider acting. Eric had invited her along to his Memorial Day celebration in the Hamptons, her and JC being the only singles amongst what seemed like hundreds of married couples. They slipped away for a quiet walk along the beach to avoid a game of Pictionary.

"I am going to stab Matt in the eye with a swizzle stick if he suggests we hook up again," Abigail muttered as they plodded through the sand.
"I'm going to stab him in the eye if he mentions 'Singin' in the Rain' again," JC joked.
"Oh my God, I know! I get that Gene Kelly's the greatest performer ever..." She paused. "Not this again."
He looked at her. "I mean...come on! Michael was incredible!"
"Yeah, but he was no Baryshnikov."
"Baryshnikov can't sing!"
"Says you."

They walked along a little further, looking at the reflection of the moon in the waves. "If you don't mind me asking, why aren't you in a rush to have children? Don't you want them?"
"It's not that. It's not even that I'm at the peak of my career. It's just that I don't know how long I've got until I'm not going to be able to dance again. Even in the event that I'd be able to return to dancing, that's still around a year I'd be unable to dance. I don't really want to make that sacrifice. Why?"
"Just asking."
"Seriously, JC, why?"

He turned towards her. "I have a small problem."
"What?"
"Well, I've gotten to know you a little better and I was kind of wondering if you might want to give us a chance, you know. I think I like like you."
"I don't think you know quite what that means."
"I think I do." He reached out, pulling her into his arms. "I super like hanging out with you and I think we'd go well together. Anyway, I only tried to make you friends with my friends because I can't stand the idea of never seeing you."
"Is that why I've met all five *NSYNC members in less than a year?"
"I mean, that wasn't intentional, but you wanted JT tickets."
"And I'm grateful you got them for me."

Her body tensed as he kissed her, and it took her a moment to catch her breath as they parted. "We're also rather good at the friends with benefits thing."
"That's not really a feat."
"I don't know. I think we go well together, that's all." He took her hand, continuing down the beach. "You can't honestly tell me that you don't at least have a little crush on me?"
She thought about it. "Maybe a little one."
"Just a little one?"
"Maybe more than just a little one."
"Sooo..?"
"Nothing heavy, keep it low key, ‘kay?"
"OK."
"Sweet."
"Sweet."