“What?” I ask, my voice shocked, my mind spinning as I look up at my art history professor. “But…but I thought…I thought you said that I was…”

 

“Miss McKibbons, I’m sorry, I over estimated the amount of space we had on the dig. We really don’t need four graduate students.”

 

My face shows shock and confusion. He hasn’t called me Miss McKibbons since my freshman year. He looks down at me, a glint of satisfaction in his eye and I know this has nothing to do with available space, and everything to do with me not sucking his dick in his office last week.

 

“There’ll be other trips,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and I want to slap it away.

 

“But sir,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “This is a Grecian ruin. You of all people know how seldom the government lets you-”

 

“Yes Skylar, I know,” he replies impatiently. “But it cannot be helped. You’re young still, well over a year ahead of other graduates your age.”

 

I scowl, looking at the ground. Never once did I think my ambition and drive would hinder me in college. Then again I never thought I’d have to spurn my mentor’s advances either.

 

“But Greek art is my concentration,” I say, a little less than pleadingly. “You know this. Why not one of the other graduate students?” I ask, but I already know the answer. I just want to hear him say it…or at least watch him uncomfortably skate around it.

 

“As I said, you are young and there will be other digs,” he says with a finality that suggests our discussion is over. “However, I know how important it was to you to get your internship out of the way this summer, so I took the liberty of securing you a position as a tutor.”

 

“A tutor?” I scoff. “Sir, you know education isn’t-”

 

“I’ve been asked by a former student of mine,” he says over me and I stop speaking with a sigh, “to teach a young musician who’s touring all summer. Obviously I can’t go because I have this dig.” I scoff again. “But I promised her I would send my best graduate student. Sky,” he says and I look up at him, “you’re my best graduate student.”

 

I purse my lips. Damn straight I’m his best graduate student. I grade his fucking papers. I draw up some of his undergraduate quizzes. I am his best graduate student, which is the reason I should be going on this fucking dig.

 

“Sir,” I whine a little and look away. I fucking hate teaching. I’m not very good at it, despite my love for the subject, and I despise kids.

 

“It’s good money, more than you’d make on the dig and you’ll be traveling the country. It will also give you ample time to work on your thesis...”

 

“How old is this kid?” I ask and he smiles.

 

“Seventeen, I believe,” he says and I roll my eyes. “You’d be doing me a huge favor here, Sky.”

 

Sure, now we’re back to first names. I curse inwardly and I know I’m going to give in. Even after the stunt he pulled last week I still seek his approval. I’ve affectionately called him my yoda since my first quarter at school, him having guided me in choosing my major and then ultimately my concentration. I still want to please him, to make him proud of me.

 

“It will be good for you,” he says and I look at him again. “You’ll have time to work on that thesis.”

 

I sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it.” 

 

 ***************

 

 

 

Upon entering the National Car Rental Center in Fort Lauderdale, Florida I’m immediately taken aback by the grandeur of it all. The hustle and bustle of various carts and rigging being zoomed back and forth across the large empty floor of the arena, the booming sounds of instruments being checked, all of it so big.

 

I scowl. It’s still not Greece. It’s not Mycenaean ruins. It’s not history at my finger tips. What it is, is a boy band. A boy band on tour. It’s me teaching some whiney, pampered brat the bare minimum about sculpture and painting. It’s condensing roughly twenty-six thousand years of art and architecture and six years of my college education into three months. It’s fucking torture.

 

A large, dark man approaches me and gives me lip about not being allowed to be here. I show him my backstage pass and explain to him miserably that I’m here to teach Justin Timberlake art history. He lightens up considerably and offers to show me back to the dressing rooms.

 

I follow him, looking around still a little stunned by it all but am ultimately unimpressed. I should be digging in the dirt right now. I should be uncovering the mysteries of ancient civilizations. I’m jarred out of my thoughts by the large man stopping abruptly in front of a door marked “Nsync Toy Room.” The door opens and an explosion of laughter and chatter greets me, the room obscured by the large form of the bodyguard.

 

“Justin, your tutor is here,” he says and then steps out of the way, allowing me entrance to the room.

 

I step inside and all conversation stops. Five guys are lying across couches, a television blaring MTV in the background. I’ve seen them before, each of their faces plastered on the front of the magazines I surveyed when I was waiting in line at the gas station or desperately searching for the latest issue of the American Journal of Archeology. They just stare at me and I give them a tight lipped smile. Nice welcome. A woman emerges from the side of the room, reaching out to shake my hand.

 

“Hello, I’m Lynn Harless, Justin’s mother,” she says with the slightest hint of a southern drawl, smiling warmly.

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” I reply. “Skylar McKibbons.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine, Skylar,” she says, and turns her head to the guys on the couches. “Justin, come over here and introduce yourself.”

 

The boy on the end of the couch closest to me sighs and pulls himself up, trudging over. He’s tall, taller than me with a boyish face and platinum blonde curls. He really is kind of adorable in a sullen, bratty way. He gives me a tight lipped smile, standing obediently next to his mother, looking very bored. Oh, this is going to be just fucking great.

 

“I’m sorry Skylar, this is my son Justin,” Lynn says, pinching his arm as she says his name and he scowls at her before turning to me.

 

“Hi,” he replies curtly, before turning away to go back to his seat.

“Justin Randall Timberlake, get your butt back over here!” the woman exclaims and I watch him cringe as the men still on the couches snigger quietly. “I’m so sorry,” she says to me again and I shake my head, smiling tightly. Justin is standing next to her again, looking weary and forlorn. She grips his ear and he winces. “You are going into the other room and you are going to listen to this nice young woman and you are going to pass this do you understand me?”

 

“Yes, Momma,” he grits, leaning down to relieve the pressure on his ear. I try not to laugh. This is priceless.

 

“Good,” Lynn says, releasing him. “Now gimme a kiss,” she adds, turning her cheek to him and he gives her a light peck before looking at me scowling.

 

“Let’s go into the dressing room,” he mutters, and we both move to walk through the door at the same time. I pause and he rolls his eyes, walking ahead of me. Oh yeah…this is gonna be a real pleasure.

 

He takes me a few doors down and falls into a swivel chair next to a large rack of clothing. He glances in the mirror next to him, and then does a double take, squinting his eyes at his reflection as he picks at his hair, moving a curl over a little before turning to look at me. This cannot be happening to me. I sigh, slipping my book bag from my shoulder, unzipping the main compartment. Might as well get down to business.

 

“Okay, so I figured we’d start with-”

 

“Look, let’s get something straight,” he says and I stop all movement, my hands buried deep in my bag, “The only reason you’re here is because my mother is pissed that I was more interested in the European club scene than all the museums and architecture and shit.” He gives a wave of his hand and my jaw drops. Did he just call the Lourve, the Pantheon, the Zwinger Palace shit? “I already have a 4.0 with my other tutor that’s teaching me the important stuff, so if you could just-”

 

“Just what?” I say, and he looks at me astonished, like he’s never been interrupted before. “Just float you by? I’m sorry but I can’t do that. Well, I guess I could, but I’m not.”

 

His brow furrows and he swivels a little in his chair, his long legs jittering slightly against the floor. Then a slow smile creeps over his face. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and tilts his head to the side. Jesus Christ…he’s trying to charm me.

 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says smoothly and I roll my eyes, laughing a little as I pull a textbook out of my bag.

 

“Yes I think we did,” I say, dropping the heavy manual on the table next to him. He eyes it.

 

“That is my textbook?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “That? It’s fucking huge.”

 

“It’s not that bad. It’s a lot of images,” I say, pulling out a folder.

 

“Jesus, it’s heavy,” he says, picking it up and flipping through. “And it has tiny print…nice.”

 

I roll my eyes, fighting the scathing comment that is bubbling in my throat. I pull out a syllabus and hold it out to him. He takes it, surveying it and pursing his lips.

 

“You’re to have the first reading done by tomorrow and we’ll discuss these works and terms,” I say, giving him a hand out with a list of art pieces and vocabulary words. “It’s pretty straight forward.”

 

“You want me to have the first chapter read by tomorrow?” he asks, his eyebrows raised and I grit my teeth nodding. “That’s like thirty pages!” he exclaims flipping through, “Look, I don’t know if you realize, but this tour is kicking off in two days and-”

 

“You’ll read it and you’ll know it,” I say with a sigh and he scowls at me again. “You’ll make time for it.”

 

“You’ve obviously never been on tour before,” he grumbles, looking down at the book in his lap and I just can’t take it anymore.

 

“Look!” I say harshly and his head snaps up. I take a deep breath, calming myself. “Let’s just try and get through this as painlessly as possible okay? You don’t have to have anything memorized, just read the chapter.”

 

“Wait, I’m going to have to memorize stuff?” he questions suspiciously and it takes all of my will power not to roll my eyes.

 

“Yes, the sheet that I gave you for chapter one, on Prehistoric and Neolithic Art and Architecture, you’ll need to be able to identify all of the images and give their location and date range for your test.”

 

“I have to remember dates!” he whines, falling back in his chair and scowling and I want to slap him.

 

“Yes, Justin,” I say, gritting my teeth. “This is Art History. You need to know when stuff happened. It won’t be so bad, though. Most of the dates are circa in this chapter so if you’re close you’ll still get credit.”

 

“This is so bogus,” he mutters after a moment, tucking his papers inside before closing the book. “Can I go now?”

 

“Yes,” I say, rubbing my temples. “Please.”

 

He makes his way out of the room and I sigh falling into the chair he had just occupied. It’s going to be a long ass three months.

I’m running late. I never run late but for some reason, I just couldn’t muster up the stamina to drag myself from my fluffy hotel room sheets this morning, misery and frustration willing me to hide away under the covers.

 

I had gotten a very brief call on my cell last night before bed from my friend Marta, fellow graduate student and one of the lucky three to make it to the dig in Greece. She had quickly described the landscape and the living quarters and the expansive plain just waiting to be dug into. I had gone to bed dreaming of Grecian temples and bronze statues and woke up to the alarm clock glaring eight forty-five and I was supposed to be at the arena at nine.

 

I breeze past security, flashing my nifty little lanyard and stagger my way into the arena. Fuck, I need some coffee. It’s pretty dark and I stumble a little over cords, squinting at the five figures on the stage.

 

“So now we’re sitting on the steps for the acapella section of ‘I Drive Myself Crazy?’” one of them asks a man on the floor, voice coming loudly through a microphone.

 

“Yes,” the man responds. All five figures plop onto the four large steps leading up to the section of the stage where the band is set up. “Okay guys, let’s try this again.”

 

I yawn bringing myself forward, the darkness of the room not helping my sleepiness at all. My foot catches on a thick cable and I’m going down. I close my eyes, waiting for my body to hit the concrete, but instead I feel strong arms under my ribs, holding me up. I open one eye and look up, finding myself in the arms of a very handsome man, looking down at me amusedly from under long lashes.

 

“Whoa there,” he says, his voice slightly raised because the group has started singing and I snap out of it, pulling my feet under myself and gaining some composure.

 

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, situating my book bag more firmly on my shoulders and he just grins at me. Shit, he’s good looking.

 

“No worries,” he says, and grabs a Styrofoam cup from the ledge of the sound booth we’re standing next to. “Looks like you need this more than me.”

 

He hands me the steaming cup of coffee and I smile appreciatively, holding out my free hand. “Skylar,” I say, taking a sip, but keeping my eyes on him as he reaches out to grip my hand, firmly. I love a man with a good handshake.

 

“Khefren,” he says and my eyes widen a little, bringing the cup down from my lips.

 

“Khefren?” I ask, smiling at him. “As in the Egyptian pharaoh?”

 

His eyes widen a little and he laughs nodding.

 

“Yes,” he says, his smile widening, crinkling around the eyes. “Not many people know that. They just think I have a weird name.”

 

“Well, they went back to the original Egyptian name for him several years back,” I say, sipping my coffee again.

 

“You’re the art history tutor, aren’t you?” he asks and I laugh.

 

“That obvious, huh?”

 

He says something but I can’t quite hear him as the band kicks in behind the vocals and I have to lean forward as he repeats what he said into my ear.

 

“A little,” he shouts and then leans back smiling at me and I smile back, noticing a slight dimple in his cheek.

 

“So what do you do?” I ask and he quirks an eyebrow, leaning in again and I repeat my question.

 

“Oh I’m a front of house engineer,” he says, turning to say the words into my ear, his cheek brushing mine slightly. I have to fight my giddy smile. “I’m responsible for what the audience hears, and my buddy Dale back there,” he points to a man standing behind the soundboards, who waves when he sees us looking, “is the monitor engineer. He deals with all the mics and in-ear monitors.”

 

I nod my head enthusiastically, smiling widely, trying to convey interest and he laughs. Jeez, he has a great laugh; it really just lights up his face.

 

“You don’t care about any of this, do you?”

 

“No, it’s good to know what’s going on!” I exclaim and he gives me a smile that says he doesn’t believe me. Shit, I don’t care if he believes me or not; he’s smiling at me again.

 

“So would you maybe wanna go get some lunch later?!” he yells, but the music cuts off as soon as he starts speaking so his words echo into the arena.

 

All eyes are on us and I laugh a little turning towards the back of the arena in embarrassment. He chuckles discomfited and whispers “smooth Khefren” and I laugh out loud, smiling at him. Maybe this summer isn’t going to be a complete drag after all.

 

“Okay guys let’s take a break. Meet again in an hour,” the man on the floor is saying and I watch the five band mates make their way off the stage.

 

“Time for me to go to work,” I say, and smile back at him. “Nice meeting you, Khefren.”

 

He gives me a bashful, closed lipped smile, waving good bye to me as he turns to Dale. I turn away, smiling softly to myself. Yes, this could be a very nice reprieve from the hell of babysitting that boy band brat.

 

Speaking of which, I’m walking down the hallway, finding my way back to the room that I had met Justin in the day before, loud laughter guiding me. I stand in front of the closed door marked “Nsync Toy Room” and knock gently. A muffled “come in” bids me enter and I open the door on a scene very similar to yesterday.

 

“Well, well, well,” one of the guys says, pulling himself from the couch. He’s taller than me and bearded with short brown hair, and a warm smile. “You’re Justin’s teacher?”

 

“Yes, I am,” I say, smiling slowly as he takes my hand smoothly in his, stepping close to me.

“I’m Joey, Single, Aquarius,” he says smiling cheekily at me and I can’t help but giggle at his charm. “What’s your sign, darlin’?” he asks and I hear the guys behind him snigger.

 

I smile sweetly at him and reply. “No entry.”

 

A chorus of “oh’s” follows my response and he laughs good naturedly, ushering me into the room.

 

“Allow me to introduce, Mr. JC Chasez, Leo, also single” Joey says, and a tall, sleepy looking man with high cheekbones and blue eyes that are discernable from across the room gives Joey a condescending look and me a small wave.

 

“How’s it going,” he says and I smile back at him, giving him a nod.

 

“Mr. Chris Kirkpatrick, Libra, and you guessed it, also single.” Joey says, gesturing to a short man with a beard and a high braided ponytail, who waves at me enthusiastically and I laugh a little, waving back

 

“Mr. Lance Bass, Taurus, wait for it,” Joey says covering his eyes with his hand and I can’t help but laugh, and neither can the stocky young man with a baby face and blonde spiky hair as he gives me a tight lipped smile and a short wave, “Single!”

 

Joey plops himself down next to Justin, who’s leaning tiredly against the arm of one of the couches. Joey throws an arm around him and Justin cuts his eyes at the older man before rolling his eyes.

 

“And you know our wittle Justin,” Joey says pinching his cheek, Justin scowling and slapping his hand away. “Aquarius and-”

 

“Lemme guess,” I say cutting him off and smiling wryly. “Single?”

 

“Well, I was gonna say virgin, but single works,” Joey says, hooking Justin’s head under his arm and giving the younger man a noogie.

 

“Fuckin’ stop Joe!” Justin exclaims, pushing the other man’s hands away from him, his own hands flying to his head and manically messing with his curly hair as he grumbles, “and I am not a fucking virgin.”

 

“Hey J?” Chris says with a sly glance at the other men around him. “Curl number 734 is out of place.”

 

“Shut up asshole,” Justin scowls, flattening his hand over his head nervously.

 

I giggle along with the rest of the chuckling guys and the young man reddens considerably before crossing his arms over his chest and huffing a perturbed sigh.

 

“Come on Justin,” I say, tilting my head towards the door. “Let’s get started.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks and the smile slips from my face. There goes my sunny disposition. “I just spent the last two hours dancing my ass off and now I have to study during my break!”

 

“Yes,” I say flatly and point toward the door, vowing to hold my temper in check and keep a firm grip on my good mood, Khefren’s smiling face floating through my mind.

 

“This is fucking bullshit,” I hear him mutter, pulling himself off the couch.

 

“Don’t forget your book, man,” JC says, lifting the heavy volume off the table with one hand and passing it to him. “Jeez, that’s heavy.”

 

“I fucking know!” Justin exclaims, snatching it from him and walking with me to the door.

 

We both make a move to go through and just like yesterday, he rolls his eyes and brushes past me, leading me down the hall and into the dressing room. He drops the book loudly on the vanity, bending over it to fix his hair in the mirror, his bottom lip sticking out as he fluffs at his curls with his fingers.

 

“Okay Justin, prehistoric art,” I say, pulling up a swivel chair and dropping my book bag to the floor before plopping into it, balancing my coffee cup on my knee. “tell me a little about it.”

 

“Uh…” he says, glancing at me briefly before going back to the mirror. “It was prehistoric…and there was art at the time.”

 

“Astute observation,” I reply dryly, pulling my folder with my notes from my bag and fighting the urge to roll my eyes. This kid is not ruining my day. “What is significant about this time period?”

 

“Significant?” he asks, finally falling into the chair with a sigh and looking at me blankly. “Um…it was prehistoric,” he pauses, thinking. “Were there dinosaurs?”

 

I stare at him blankly and try my best to remain calm. The dig races through my mind again and I can see the Grecian plain, see the pile of artifacts in my head, I can fucking see it. And here I am…trying to talk to a kid who thinks that there were dinosaurs in the prehistoric period.

 

Good mood, gone.

 

“No Justin, there were not dinosaurs,” I say, sighing and he crosses his arms over his chest, pursing his lips. “Just tell me something from the reading,” I say, draining the rest of my coffee and tossing the empty cup into the trashcan.

 

“Look, I already told you. I don’t have time to read thirty pages on some stupid paintings and shit. This tour is kicking off tonight. Our first big American tour. This could make or break us. I’m sorry, but I don’t give a flying fuck about this bullshit.”

 

And I can’t help it, all the rage that I have over being stuck here with him, over missing possibly the biggest archeological dig that will occur in my lifetime, just boils over and I snap. I drop my folder to the floor and propel myself from my seat. I lean forward, gripping the arms of his chair and his eyes widen, pressing himself back into the chair, and as far away from me as he can.

 

“You listen to me you pampered, little brat, I don’t care who you are or what you want. I don’t wanna be doing this any more than you want to do it, so why don’t you just shut the hell up and do the work and make this as painless as possible for the both of us.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I know that I’m gone, done, fired. There’s no way that this kid is gonna not tell his mother, or his handler, or whoever the hell is signing my paychecks. I wait for him to scowl at me, to rage and call for security.

 

Instead he just swallows hard, his blue eyes large. “Okay.”

 

I step back, my brows furrowing, regarding him suspiciously. He situates himself more firmly in his chair, his hand going down to adjust himself as inconspicuously as possible as he looks away from me.

 

He grabs the textbook from the vanity and flips it open. “Just gimme a minute,” he says surveying the first page. “Prehistoric art, is prehistory,” he says, his finger pointing to a sentence in the book, “which means it predates the written word.”

 

He looks up at me expectantly and I nod, smiling a little. He grins back at me and I breathe out slowly, falling back into my chair as he dips his head to read on. Apparently all you had to do was show this kid whose boss.

 

He continues to spout random facts at me waiting for my nod of approval before going back to reading, a small smile playing across his lips. He steals glances at me every once and awhile, stopping to listen patiently when I expound on a fact from the text.

 

He’s reading along slowly, fingers flipping the page when his head snaps up suddenly, whispering “holy shit” quietly and I lean forward to survey the page.

 

“Ah, the Woman of Willendorf,” I say smiling at him, as he stares wide eyed down at the statue. “Tell me about her.”

 

“T-tell you about her?” he asks, swallowing hard.

 

“Yes,” I say, relishing in his shock a little. “You’ll be required to analyze pieces of art for your tests. So…tell me about her…tell me what you see.”

 

“Um…” he says, shifting in his seat, pressing the book more firmly into his lap. “She has no face.”

 

“Good…and what of her form?” I ask, smiling inwardly, watching as an uncomfortable look crosses his face.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, glancing at me quickly and I bite my lip to keep the amused smile from my face.

 

“Is she clothed?” I ask and he swallows hard. I probably shouldn’t push him like this but I’m still slightly bitter... okay a lot bitter…and making him squirm is the perfect payback for his shitty attitude.

 

“No.”

 

“And what does that tell you?” I am such a bitch sometimes.

 

“That she’s naked.”

 

“Yes, Justin,” I say sighing. “What does that tell you about her, about the culture this piece was carved in?”

 

“Um…women were naked?” he asks and I sigh.

 

“Describe her form,” I say and he looks at me pleadingly. “Its okay,” I say smiling a little. “You can state the obvious.”

 

“She has huge…” he pauses, glancing at me and then at the floor, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“Breasts,” I say smiling as I nod my head at him, finally letting him off the hook. “And very pronounced genitalia. Good job.”

 

He smiles weakly at me and I go on about how she is possibly a fertility goddess or some kind of doll for little girls to play with, which he scoffs at slightly, eyeing the statues voluptuous form.

 

“Hey Bounce,” I hear from behind me and I crane my neck around to see JC standing in the doorway. “Time to get to work, man.”

A pained look comes across Justin’s face but he nods at the older man and he just sits there for a minute, not really moving. He sighs finally, standing and quickly holds his book to his front and I realize…fuck…he’s hard. It takes everything in me not to just fall out of my chair laughing. Teenage boys…they have a hair trigger. He shimmies past me, making sure to keep his book firmly in front of him as he walks to the door.

 

“Are you…” he asks trailing as he pauses in the doorway and I look at him over my shoulder. “Are you gonna watch the rehearsal?” he asks and I just look at him blankly.

 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I say, because actually I was planning on finding Khefren again.

 

“Oh,” he says, his voice a little disappointed. “You should,” he adds, giving me a small smile before making his way out of the room.

 

I shake my head in amusement. The little brat just needs some  discipline. I can handle that.

Okay so I’ll admit that I grievously overestimated the amount of time that Justin would have available on this tour. The schedule had them performing three nights in a row with a one to two day break in between. I figured that this would give me ample time to work with him and get him prepared for his first test, which I had planned for two weeks after our first meeting. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

 

What I had failed to understand was that the group got up at five every morning to do radio interviews until about eight and then they have personal appearances and charity work that takes them through lunch. My days were spent just trying to keep up, car rides, bus trips and a lot of hurry up and wait. It was enough to make me dizzy. After lunch it’s sound check and rehearsal before the Meet and Greet and then the show which doesn’t have them back at the hotel until about eleven. And then they have to hit the club scene.

 

But Lynn put a stop to Justin's late night activities most directly, her fingers gripping her son’s ear painfully and dragging him to my hotel room door after a show in Camden, New Jersey saying he was ready to study. He had pecked her cheek obediently but scowled at her retreating form, looking at me wearily, rubbing the feeling back into his ear.

 

I found out quickly that trying to get him to focus after a show was virtually impossible. He is a ball of adrenaline, tapping his pencil manically against his paper while I’m speaking, legs fidgeting all over the place. After the third night of him standing up mid-discussion to stretch and dance across the room I called it quits, resigning instead to try and teach him whenever he had a free moment, usually on long bus rides or after sound checks.

 

Two weeks had passed and we were behind already but Justin was a quick learner and he never again came to me unprepared. After that first lesson he was eager to please, almost polite in a petulant kind of way. He would whine occasionally, but all it took was a weary glance from me and he straightened up, the memory of my outburst enough to keep his bitching in check. In fact, he was usually over prepared for our sessions, having a lot of the things from his hand outs memorized. He was very smart and often had eloquent things to say on the subject, his smile beaming bright whenever I praised him.

 

The passing of those two weeks also showed me a lot more of Khefren, his charming smile and “well, well if it isn’t Skylar the Scholar” being one of the high points of my day. Morning coffee became our ritual, me retrieving the cups from the catering room before making my way to the front of house booth. He would greet me warmly and take the cup from me, his fingers brushing mine, whether accidentally or deliberately I couldn't quite tell, but regardless, the shiver up my spine was the same. We would, of course, flirt shamelessly and we had even had lunch a few times. I’d spend most of my mornings learning about the sound equipment and swapping stories with him and while it was no dig for Mycenaean ruins, it was still not as bad as I had anticipated.

 

Today was no exception, joking and laughing with Khefren and Dale, waiting for Justin to get off the stage so we could go over the next section on near eastern art. I can’t even explain the feelings that I have for Khefren, watching him give Dale a soft punch on the shoulder, tugging his plush bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes catch mine, softening a little and ugh, my insides turn to mush. I really like him. Like I really like him.

 

“Sky, tell him I’m a prince!” Khefren says, standing next to me and crossing his arms over his chest glaring at Dale who is laughing.

 

“Well…” I trail, biting my lip and he looks over at me, raising an eyebrow. “He was named after one.”

 

“See I told you,” he says clapping his hands and pointing at Dale but throwing an arm around my shoulder.

 

I giggle a little as heat floods through me, the dry, spicy scent of him making me a little dizzy. I bring my hand up to lace through his fingers and look at him with a smile, his lips close to mine. He looks at me, his eyes, green with small flecks of gold, glittering in the dimly lit arena.

 

“Hey Sky!” Justin says bounding up to me and the spell is broken.

 

He’s smiling and a little out of breath and when I turn my head to him I notice his smile fade as he eyes Khefren, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

 

“Hey Little Man,” Khefren says, slipping his arm from around my shoulder and I have to fight my frown. Justin scowls at him before turning back to me.

 

“Did you see the sound check?” he asks me a little eagerly and I nod smiling at him.

 

“Yeah, it was nice,” I say even though I hadn’t been paying attention. He beams back at me.

 

“You ready to study?” he asks, eyes cutting to Khefren before settling back on me.

 

“Yeah, you go ahead and get set up and I’ll be back in a sec,” I say and he waits a beat before nodding and walking back toward the dressing rooms.

 

“Someone has a crush,” Khefren says laughing a little as he watches Justin’s retreating form.

 

“Oh, he does not,” I say laughing.

 

“Did you see the daggers he was shooting at me,” Khefren asks and I roll my eyes. “He’s smitten.”

 

“Oh shut up,” I reply, pushing at his chest a little and he smiles warmly down at me.

 

Our eyes lock and I bite my lip. God, I just want him to kiss me. We’ve been dancing around in this little flirtation for nearly two weeks now. It’s about time one of us made a move. He leans in a little and I hold my breath but he must have lost his nerve because he backs away, smiling wryly at me. Or he could just be a tease.

 

“Better not keep loverboy waiting,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows and I roll my eyes turning away from him, but I throw a smile over my shoulder as I leave.

 

Justin is sitting at the table in the dressing room, his book open in front of him, reading along silently. He really is kind of adorable in a boyish way. And I’m not the only one that thinks so. I made the mistake of walking to the bus with him one morning and nearly lost my hearing. The girls love him; absolutely, fucking adore the kid. They scream and cry and claw at him and he just smiles and signs autographs, thanking them politely for their marriage proposals and offers of bearing his children.

 

He glances up and sees me, his face breaking into a grin as he turns his body towards me, leg jiggling slightly. If he had been a puppy I'd expect his tail to be wagging or something. Jeez, maybe Khefren was right. He has a chair pulled up next to his and I grab it, dragging it a few feet over. He frowns a little and shit, maybe he really does have a crush on me. Great, just fucking great.

 

“Okay Justin, first things first,” I say and he holds up his finger, turning away from me to grab a cup on the other side of him.

 

“Here, I got this for you,” he says, handing it to me and I look at it wearily. “It’s hot chocolate.”

 

I can’t help but laugh a little, shaking my head at him to take it, feeling a little flustered. I jump a little when I grip the cup and his fingers move down and out of their way to brush mine intentionally. I never know how to act when guys have a crush on me. It just gets awkward and tense and I really don’t need that with a student. I move to pull back, and he lets go of the cup, the backs of his fingers brushing mine and I give him an astonished look because this time I have now doubt that it was intentional. Yeah, awkward and tense….fucking great. He smiles widely at me, watching me until I take a sip and then looking down at his book. Jeez, Khefren is never gonna let me live this down.

 

“Okay,” I say, setting the cup down and he looks at me attentively. “First, how’s your paper coming?”

 

His face falls a little and he looks away. Not a good sign.

 

“Justin,” I say slowly and he looks at me. “You have started your paper haven’t you?”

 

“Um…” he trails biting his bottom lip. I sigh. “I’m sorry!” he exclaims. “I’m just…we’ve just had so much stuff and…I’ll start to tonight…er…wait… tomorrow.”

 

He flinches a little, looking at me, his blue eyes large and apprehensive. He tugs his plush bottom lip between his teeth and I sigh. He wants to please me, worried I’ll be disappointed in him, and I am slightly, but I know the feeling. I’ve spent my entire life trying to please my instructors, striving to be the best, and it’s practically torture when you fall short of their expectations.

 

“Justin, it’s due the day after tomorrow.” I say gently but sternly, and he sighs nodding. “I don’t except late work. You get it done by midnight the day of or it’s a zero, okay?”

 

“Okay, I definitely will,” he says nodding. “Do you like the hot chocolate?”

 

“What?” I ask, and then I realize. “Oh…” I reach over and pick up the cup again, bringing it to my lips. “Yes, thank you.”

 

“Sooo…” he says, and I quirk an eyebrow at him. “You and Khefren are friends?”

 

Jesus Christ… “Yes.”

 

“You…like him?”

 

I nearly spray hot chocolate all over him. I swallow before saying, “What’s it to you?”

 

“I dunno,” he shrugs indifferently, eyes searching mine imploringly. “You just…you’re always with him.”

 

“No, I’m always with you.” I say flatly, rolling my eyes slightly but he doesn’t seem to notice, and I watch him inflate a little, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling. I smile a little too because he really is cute sometimes.

 

He flips the pages in his book a little and jitters his leg. Okay, so he has a crush on me. But it may not be so bad. He’s doing the work, he’s quit being such a whiney bitch…what’s an innocent, little crush gonna hurt?

 

***

 

This…this could be it. Seriously, it really could be. I can’t help but giggle a little as Khefren and I make our way back to my hotel room. He wants to know more about himself, as in the Egyptian pharaoh he’s named after. I’ve told him there isn’t much. He says he wants to see for himself.

 

This…this could be it. The butterflies in my stomach feel like they’re the size of mack trucks as I slip my key in the lock and allow him entry. His lanky frame slides past me, his chest brushing mine lightly as he passes.

 

 “Nice room,” he says, looking around and then kicking his legs out and falling onto the bed.

“Make yourself at home,” I laugh and he smiles brilliantly up at me, resting his head on his hand.

 

His eyes fall on the table, piled with books and papers. He quirks an eyebrow at me, pulling himself up to look through the pile of notes and research.

 

“What’s all this?” he asks, grabbing a book and flipping through the pages.

 

I sigh, stress creeping its way up my back and tensing my shoulders. “My thesis paper. On the regional art and history of ancient Greece and Macedonia.”

 

“Thesis?” he asks, snapping the book shut and examining the cover. “sounds… interesting.”

 

I laugh a little at him and his throwback to our very first meeting. He grins at me, setting the book back down on the table and falling onto the bed again.

 

I bite my bottom lip, eyes roving over his body all laid out across my bed. Long, denim clad legs, brown leather belt, and just a hint of skin peeking from under his soft cotton polo.

 

“Come’ere” he says softly, tugging his head back in a beckoning gesture.

 

I smile, dragging my feet a little and climb onto the bed, resting on my knees next to him, my palms flat on my cloth covered thighs. His hand reaches for mine, lacing our fingers together.

 

“Dinner was good,” he says, hazel eyes watching his fingers intertwine with mine. “Well, I guess it wasn’t really dinner. Midnight snack?”

 

I laugh. “Yeah your job kinda prevents the traditional dinner date doesn’t it?” I bite my lip. “It was good though,” I say softly, watching his face. God, he’s gorgeous.

 

“Would…” he trails, biting his lip and then taking a deep breath starts again. “Would it be forward of me to kiss you right now?”

 

My stomach does a summersault as I bite my lip and shake my head no. He grins slowly, propping himself up on his hand, locking his arm to come face to face with me. His nose brushes mine and I nuzzle back, both of us laughing a little, his breath warm against my lips. My tongue snakes out to wet my bottom lip and he mimics me, both of us grinning.

 

His head tilts and I close my eyes, waiting for the contact and then…

 

There’s a fucking knock at the door.

 

He pulls back, tucking his chin to his chest and sighing. I hang my head back and the knock comes again. I growl, pulling myself from the bed and stomping to the door. I swing it open and there’s Justin, notebook tucked under his arm. He smiles brightly at me and I fight the urge to glare at him.

 

“Hey,” he says a little breathlessly and I force a smile.

 

“Hey Justin,” I respond and he moves to walk in the door but I put out my arm, grabbing the door frame, baring his entry. “What do you need?”

 

His face falls. “Um, well this paper…you said it had to be in…” he pauses looking down at his assignment sheet, “emlah.” He looks back at me expectantly.

 

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” What the fuck is he talking about?

 

“Right here,” he says pointing to the assignment sheet and I lean in, tucking my hair behind my ear as I survey it, “emlah.” His voice is soft, right next to my ear as he leans in as well, his shoulder pressing into mine.

 

I sigh. “Justin, that’s MLA. It stands for Modern Language Association,” I say and he opens his mouth in a silent “oh” of comprehension and shakes his head.

 

“Oh…I…I get it,” he chuckles at himself a little and the look on his face tells me that he had it all along.

 

“Uh huh…” I say, looking at him skeptically and he grins kind of sheepishly.

 

“Yeah…it was…confusing.” He grins at me boyishly and even though I’m annoyed I smile at him. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s cute sometimes.

 

“Who is it, Sky?” Khefren’s voice calls from inside the room and Justin’s smile slides off his face immediately. He looks at me, his eyes showing hurt and confusion. “Oh hey little man!” Khefren says and I feel him step up behind me.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Justin scowls, hand going to his hair and adjusting it nervously. Khefren’s hand slides across my lower back and hugs me to his side.

 

“Was that all you needed?” I ask, feeling a little bad for him.

 

“Yeah, that was all,” he says dejectedly, turning to leave.

 

“Bye, Justin,” I say, watching him trudge away, feeling a small pang of guilt in my chest.

 

“He so has a thing for you,” Khefren says laughing, his nose nuzzling my ear, breath fanning against my hair. “Then again… so do I,” he adds, swinging the door shut

 

 

***

 

I can’t stop grinning. I’m practically skipping to the coffee cart in the catering room. He likes me! He really does actually like me. Yes, we kissed last night, for hours we just kissed and kissed and kissed like we were fucking teenagers. And then we talked. Jesus we talked and he told me about how he grew up in Michigan, raised by his grandmother, how he had three sisters but wasn’t sure where they were anymore. How he played trombone in middle school and how he always loved music he was just shit at it. But he had a good ear. How he loved his job. How he was really glad that I was here.

 

And I told him about how I was an only child of parents still married. I told him about growing up in West Virginia and my father’s job as a pharmaceutical drug rep, my mother’s life as a housewife. About my passion for history and art, how I love the steadfastness of dates and the timelessness of art. How I can’t draw to save my life. How I initially hated being stuck on this stupid tour…but now not so much.

 

And then we kissed some more. He didn’t leave my room until four o’clock in the morning, kissing me sweetly and chastely, making me wish he wasn’t leaving. Wanting him to stay…for us to go further. But I knew we should take it slow. We need to not rush this…we need to savor it. I woke up this morning, or should I say this afternoon, his taste still on my lips along with a smile, his face creeping into my mind. I remembered the way his hands skimmed up my body, touching and feeling tentatively, learning me as I did the same to him. We need to savor this, but not for too long…

 

I’m practically dancing into the arena of the Hershey Park Stadium as I scuttle my way to the front of house booth. I can’t wait to see him. I walk up, setting his coffee on the side of the booth, fully prepared to smile cheekily at him….

 

But he’s nowhere around. The booth is empty. I check my watch. 1:36. He’s usually back from lunch by now…

 

“Hey Sky,” Dale says, brushing past me. He looks harassed and disgruntled.

 

“Hey Dale,” I reply, watching him fiddle with knobs and buttons, doing what Khefren usually does. “Where’s Khefren?”

 

Dale sighs, turning to look wearily at me.

 

“He was fired this morning,” Dale says with a sigh and it’s all I can do to not let my Styrofoam cup of coffee fall to the floor.

 

“W-what?” I stutter, my mind jamming, not understanding

 

“Yeah,” Dale replies, sighing tiredly. “They sent him home this morning.”

 

“I-I-I don’t understand,” I stutter, breath coming in pants. “Fired?”

 

“Apparently,” Dale says bitterly, “One of the guys had a serious issue with the way the show sounded last night.”

 

“What?” I ask, astounded.

 

This doesn’t make any sense. Khefren was good at his job and strove for perfection at every show. It was absurd to think that one of the group was… Wait a minute…

 

“Which one of the guys had the issue?” I ask, rage already starting to bubble inside me.

 

“I dunno. Their manager was waiting here when we got in this morning. Said he had to let him go,” Dale replies. “Look, I’m sorry Sky I gotta go. I’m doing his and my work both for this show.”

 

I watch him make his way across the arena, disappearing backstage, anger rooting me to the spot. Oh, I know exactly which one of the guys it was that had him fired and it had nothing to do with how the show sounded last night, and everything to do with a so-called innocent crush. I’m so mad I’m shaking all over, as I stomp back to the dressing rooms.

 

I tear down the hallway, breezing past security as I tear towards the room I know he’s in. I stop in the doorway, chest heaving with repressed anger. He’s sitting at the vanity, book open in front of him, cutting out photocopied images of art pieces and architecture and pasting them to index cards. He has his first test next week. He looks up at me and seeing me in the doorway he looks back down to what he’s doing, throwing out a distracted “hey.”

 

“Did you fire Khefren?” I ask angrily, hands fisting at my sides.

 

He glances up at me again, his jaw clenched, eyes triumphant. He does a poor job of repressing his smile as he looks back down at the scissors in his hands.

 

“Who said it was me?” he asks and I clench my teeth.

 

“I know it was you, Justin,” I growl. “Why would you do that? He was good at what he did. The shows sounded great-”

 

“And how would you know?” he asks, looking up at me, eyes cold. “It’s not like you’ve ever been to one.”

 

My jaw drops a little. I had indeed never attended a show, but Khefren was such a perfectionist, and the sound check’s always sounded amazing.

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” I spit, but its weak and even he can see that.

 

He gives a perturbed sigh before looking up at me and condescendingly replying, “Look, Sky, it was business, okay. I’m sorry you lost your little boyfriend but this tour isn’t about your love life.”

 

He gives a wave of his hand, sighing annoyedly and rage boils in me. This whiney little bitch is treating me like some love sick teenager, like one of his stupid fans. I grind my teeth and step inside slamming the door behind me. He looks up at me startled.

 

“Put your stuff away,” I growl and he looks at me perplexed.

 

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

 

“Because you’re taking your test right now.”

 

His eyes widen and his jaw drops.

 

“What?” he asks, his voice jumping an octave. “You said it wasn’t until next week!”

 

“Well, you’re taking it now. Take out some notebook paper and a pencil and put your other shit away.”

 

I’m so livid I can barely even see straight. He scoffs, frozen in his seat unmoving.

 

“That’s not fair!” he whines. “You haven’t even given me any time to study! I don’t know any of the dates!”

 

“Put your stuff away now or you get an automatic zero.”

 

He scowls deeply, dropping all his things to the floor and kicking it violently under the vanity, pulling out a pencil and a page of notebook paper.

 

“Your test will consist of four essay questions-”

 

“Essay questions!” he exclaims and I give him a menacing look and he shuts up immediately.

 

“You will need to have an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. Spelling and grammar will be taken into account.”

 

“Skylar you can’t be-”

 

“Question number one!” I say over him and he sighs, defeated. “Describe in detail the function, iconography, symbolism, religious meaning, and explain the significance of the Ancient Egyptian Shawabti. Be sure to cite specific pieces. ”

 

“Wait…what?” he asks looking at me confused. “We didn’t cover that-”

 

“Names, dates, and locations are required.” I sigh, falling into a chair and he looks at me, completely lost.

 

“Wait so-”

 

“This is an exam, Justin,” I reply coldly. “There’s no need to talk.”

 

He sighs, putting his pencil to paper and writing, brow furrowed in confusion. I almost feel bad for him as I spout out three more graduate level essay questions at him, watching his scowl deepen, feeling the satisfaction of revenge. Everything was going so well. I was finally not hating this stupid job. I was finally dating a guy who respected me and had his act together. And Justin just had to screw all of that up. He’s gritting his teeth the entire time, and I can tell he’s holding back his smart ass remarks, forcing down his whines of protest.

 

“Times up,” I say, looking down at my watch, having given him only twenty minutes on his last essay, and I can tell that he just can’t take it anymore.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” he exclaims and I walk over and snatch up his papers, before going back over to my chair.

 

“You forgot your name,” I said, pulling my red pen out of my bag. “That’s ten points off.” His eyes widen.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

 

“And you didn’t indent your paragraphs; that’s another five points.”

 

“Skylar!” he exclaims, his eyes pleading with me and I feel a small pang of guilt. “God dammit this is fucking stupid. You can’t be that pissed off about losing some stupid guy. I mean Jesus I heard girls went batshit crazy after giving a guy some pussy but this is ridiculous.”

 

Guilt. Gone.

 

“You selfish, spoiled prick. What the hell would you know about it? You’re a fucking virgin!” I spat and he scowls deeply at me, opening his mouth to retort but I lean forward, dropping my voice to a throaty whisper. “And you wish you could get a taste of this pussy.” I watch his eyes widen and he sucks in his breath, eye wide as he scans my face. “That’s the reason you fired Khefren right? You figured with him out of the way you’d get this little snatch all to yourself, well three words, Justin.” I say relishing in the shocked look on his face, falling back against my chair again. “Never. Gonna. Happen.”

 

“You are such a cold hearted bitch,” he grits out, clenching his fists that are resting on the vanity and I sigh in satisfaction.

 

“And keeping with that theme,” I say. “You are to write me a ten page research paper on the Apollo of Veii, Italy.”

 

“Ten pages!” he exclaims, jaw dropping.

 

“Due in one week.”

 

“One week!

 

“You need five sources aside from your book.”

 

“Where am I going to get the time to-”

 

“You wanted my attention, Justin!” I say cutting him off harshly, “you got it. I’m gonna ride you so hard you’ll feel it for days. And I’m not talking in a way you might enjoy.”

I miss Khefren. I miss him so much. I have spent the last three days meandering about in a dazed state, sort of at a loss as to what to do with myself. I guess I hadn’t really realized how much time we had spent together because now my life consisted of nothing but my thesis paper and arguing with Justin over his school work. I miss his laugh. I miss his smile. I miss the way he kissed me.

 

Which is part of the reason for my pilgrimage to the library today. I need a distraction. I need to clear my mind and get centered. There’s just something about a university library that settles my emotions and brings a small ounce of peace to my mind. This trip to the library, while still thesis oriented, brings me back to what I’m good at. It lets me forget that I’m babysitting instead of searching for relics of the ancient world. The quiet allows me to focus, to-

 

Tap

 

Tap

 

Tap

 

I grit my teeth and do my best to ignore Justin’s fidgeting. I glance up at him and find him gazing glassily down at the book in front of him, mouth slightly open, pencil tapping slowly against the table.

 

He hasn’t really spoken to me in days, just sneering at me and refusing to answer questions as we glare moodily at each other during lessons. He’s pouting, which really just makes me want to strangle him. I want to strangle him anyway, but when he’s so damn obstinate the urge becomes almost unbearable.

 

He threw a fit when I told him he would be spending his day off in the library. He whined and bitched the entire way here, not to me, but to the body guard that was taking us to the library, making pointed references to me without actually looking at me or speaking to me. He really is very mature sometimes.

 

TapTapTap

 

“Justin, will you fucking stop?” I exclaim suddenly and he snaps out of his trance, glaring at me moodily, and silence descends on us again.

 

Okay so maybe I’m a little on edge. But this trip to the library wasn’t strictly a research mission. It was a way for my professor to fax me the latest draft of my thesis which I had left with him before even starting the tour. I’ve been anxious to hear his thoughts on my research and on my arguments. Parts of it are direct quotes from his lectures, things he’s taught me over my college career. I can’t wait to see what he thinks.

 

“This is bullshit,” Justin says finally, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He sighs defeatedly and I almost feel bad for him. Almost. “It’s impossible. There’s not enough information for ten pages.”

 

“There’s enough,” I say simply, going back to taking notes. “You just aren’t looking hard enough.”

 

“I’ve looked all over this goddamned library,” he says, gesturing towards the stacks around us. “There’s not enough. I have seven pages,” he says looking at me pointedly.

 

“Only three more to go then,” I say, not looking up at him and I hear his scoff of indignation.

 

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, Skylar,” he sighs, falling back against his chair.

 

“And you’re being a whiney, little bitch,” I reply and he gives me a condescending smile.

 

“You can’t talk to me that way,” he says smarmily. “You have to be professional and polite.”

 

“What are you gonna do?” I ask, laughing. He narrows his eyes at me and I look back down at my paper before adding, “Tell your mommy?”

 

“Hey!” His voice is so forceful that I look up at him, astonished. His eyes lock on mine and I see fire smoldering in his blue orbs. “You can be a bitch to me all you want but don’t say shit about my mother. Do you understand?”

 

His intensity shocks me, the serious look on his face so much more than a pout. Justin is very close with his mother. The guys tease him about it but it isn’t really until this moment that I realize that he just brushes it off, instead of violently opposing it and whining about it like he usually does when they make fun of him for something. His eyes are still locked on mine; glaring at me sternly and I nod to him in concession. I can respect this in him. It’s the one thing about him that I can really tolerate at this moment in time. He gives me a slight nod back before sighing and turning back to his research.

 

“What are you working on?” he asks, somewhat grudgingly. I look up at him and find him looking at me guardedly, like he wants to know but he doesn’t want me to think he really cares.

 

“My thesis,” I respond simply, looking back down to my paper, somewhat on edge myself.

 

“What’s that?” he asks and I look up at him about to respond but he cuts me off, a cocky smirk on his face. “A really long paper that has no purpose whatsoever except to torture you?”

 

I give him a condescending smile, setting my pencil down. “Something you’ll never get far enough in your academic career to write.”

 

“Shit, I don’t need to go to college,” he says, stretching his arms over his head and then sighing, “which, you would know if you came to the show.”

 

“You’re an idiot if you think this pop music thing is gonna last forever,” I say crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my chair. We’re sparring now. This could take hours, but it’s a nice respite from studying.

 

He grins at me. “I’ve got leverage,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m versatile.”

 

“No, you’re a sparkly dance boy,” I laugh and he narrows his eyes at me.

 

He opens his mouth to retort but then I hear the fax machine going off. I practically bolt from my chair, zigzagging a little through the stacks before getting to the small table holding the public fax machine. I bounce on the balls of my feet when I see it’s my paper and I turn away, waiting for it to finish coming through before looking. The suspense is killing me. I want to know what he thinks. I want to know if I did well. More than anything I want him to tell me I did well.

 

After what seems like an eternity, I finally hear the machine stop and I turn around, gripping the long roll of paper that is coming out of the device. I grip the paper in my hands, trying to find the beginning but I stop when I see all the little scribbles of writing in the margins.

 

I furrow my brow as the words “ill-thought” and “rambling here” jump out at me. I run the long paper through my hands, reading more of the scribbled criticism, none of it praising as I was sure it would be. My entire body is tense, my heart racing as a panic settles in my chest. I make it to the first page, going through the entire thing, reading every harsh word, every scathing remark. I’m panting by the time I get to the end, where the following words are jotted below my final paragraph

 

This is unacceptable work. Your sources are weak and your language is sub-par. I suggest starting over. Send me your improved draft ASAP – Prof H.

 

I stand in shocked silence, my mouth slightly open, breath coming in short pants. And it all just hits me then, being kicked off the dig of my dreams, losing a man who was perfect for me, and now, now my paper, this thesis that I have poured my heart and soul into, all of it just decimated, blown to bits right before my eyes.

 

And I just can’t take it anymore. I can’t do it. All this disappointment is just too much as I slide down the bookshelf, tears stinging my eyes. Why does everything always have to be so hard? Why can’t for just once in my life things work out and not require a constant struggle for attention and excellence.

 

My breathing is hitching now, my fingers fisting in the paper, crumpling my professor’s criticism in my palms as I pull my knees to my chest, and sob bitterly. Every pent up emotion just pours from me as I rest my elbows on my knees and cradle my head in my hands.

 

“Okay Sky…seriously I can’t make this into ten pages-”

 

Justin appears from around one of the shelves of books and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of my crumpled, sniveling form. He just stands there, frozen and I turn my face away from him, ashamed of my emotion but still unable to stop the flow of tears. Great…just fucking great. This is all I need, for the pop prince to see me this way, to give him the opportunity to kick me when I’m down.

 

“Oh,” he says, shifting awkwardly and I feel him crouch next to me, his large hand resting hesitantly on my shoulder. “Um…it’s okay…what’s wrong?”

 

His voice is strained and his touch is clumsy and it almost makes me laugh. He tries so hard sometimes. His fingers pry my hands from around the long ream of paper, the shreds of my former thesis, and looks over it briefly. I watch his brow furrow deeper and deeper as he reads along and I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment, hiccoughing as I begin to sob harder.

“Sky,” he whispers, his voice soft and deep and I just can’t stop, pressing my hands to my face and shaking my head at him. This is horrible.

 

I gasp slightly when I feel his arm slide under my knees, pulling my body over and into his lap. Before I can fully understand what is happening to me, I’m cradled in his arms, my face tucked into his neck. He’s rocking me slowly, shushing me gently as one of his large hands holds my hip while the other combs through my hair. My nose is pressed against his pulse point and my senses are overwhelmed with the deep, woodsy scent of him.

 

I’m astounded at his compassion. After all that I have done to him over the past three days, all the scathing remarks, all the bitch work I had him do. It all just crashes down on me and I feel terrible. I’m not used to this. I’m not used to guys being there for me when I’m freaking out. I’m not used to guys taking care of me.

 

“Don’t listen to him, Skylar,” Justin whispers into my hair, his breath stirring the hair at my temple, and my hand fists in his shirt. “He’s a dick and he wouldn’t know art history if it bit him in the ass.”

 

I cough out a laugh because really, my professor is one of the greatest in his field but Justin doesn’t know this. He’s just trying to comfort me. This realization causes me to gasp and then a new flow of tears works its way through my body, shaking my frame with the force of it. I’ve been a complete bitch to him and here he is, holding me, taking care of me.

 

He’s shushing me, rocking me slowly, humming in my ear and I finally calm down a little, pulling my face from his neck to meet his eyes. He smiles softly at me, one of his large hands smoothing across my cheekbone, wiping my wet face. His eyes are soft and deep and I feel like I can see forever just looking at him. I shift my head and my nose nuzzles his a little and he smiles more, nuzzling back.

 

My breath hitches as I look at his lips, plush and pink and all I want to do is…

 

His lips descend on mine and it’s all I can do to keep from moaning into his mouth. His hand slides down my cheek to hold my jaw gently, his mouth slanting over mine. I’m shocked, not only by the kiss but by how sweet he tastes, how good he tastes. I don’t even realize I’ve gasped until his tongue slides in, mingling with mine, tasting me thoroughly before retreating and I find myself almost whining at the loss.

 

He pulls back just slightly, nuzzling my nose with his again and grinning at me. And that’s when I snap back to myself. My eyes widen and I scramble from his lap, pressing my back against the stacks across from him and just looking at him panting. What the hell did we just do?

 

What the hell did I just do?

After the week that I’ve had I need a fucking drink. I need ten drinks. I need to not be Skylar the Scholar for the night. I need to not be the one with the answers. I need to not be the tutor that kissed her seventeen year old student. Ugh…

 

After the incident in the library I had successfully avoided any contact with Justin that didn’t involve me giving him a hand out. He had stopped coming by my room to ask me questions and as far as I know is just as embarrassed about the whole thing as I am.

 

I’m not used to guys taking care of me. I was perfectly content to just sit there against the stacks and sob for awhile before going back out but no, he had to swoop in and be all knight in shining armor. And his lips, Christ, the way he kissed me, but I have to stop. I have to stop. He’s seventeen years old. And he’s my student. And he’s a brat. A spoiled, pampered, little…good kisser, holy shit!

 

I slam my eyeliner on the counter of the bathroom, closing my eyes and trying to compose myself. When did he go from being the whiney, annoying little brat to someone one that I can’t get out of my head? What happened to my intense loathing for him? I have to stop this. I can’t keep thinking about how soft his lips were, his long slender fingers threading through my hair, brushing my cheek, and god, the way he tasted.

 

Like I said, I need a fucking drink. Some of the wardrobe girls are hitting a few local clubs and agreed to let me tag along. They all knew how close Khefren and I were, and they figured I just needed to get him off my brain, but honestly ever since…well let’s just say Khefren’s lips weren’t the ones I was thinking about.

 

We left the lobby of the hotel about twenty after eleven, three girls dressed like whores. Like I said, I don’t want to be a teacher tonight. I want to be twenty-three years old, a college student; I want to get fucking wasted.

 

And I do. Mixed drinks and shots for the first hour and I feel warm and heady and good. For the first time all week I just feel good. Well, maybe not the first time… I throw back another shot.

 

“Damn Sky!” It’s Jillian, one of the girls I came here with, leaning over my shoulder to hand her money to the bartender. “Who knew you were such a heavyweight?”

 

“I’m not,” I say thickly, the alcohol burning in my stomach. “I just am tonight.”

 

She squeals throwing back her shot and grabs my arm pulling me to the dance floor. The place is completely packed, bodies pressing against each other and it’s hot and sweaty but it’s nice. Men are pressing around us, copping a feel and I usually would glare at them but my tipsy brain just soaks it all in, letting me smile flirtily back at them.

 

Jillian turns away from me, backing her ass into me as she sways to the music and I let my head fall back, letting the thumping bass roll through me. It isn’t long before we both have male partners, guys just sliding up to us, grinding against us.

 

My current partner is tall and lean and he has good rhythm, hips working steadily against me. God, I need to get laid. My mind is fuzzy and unclear and all I can think about is the ache in my stomach, the want. I wanna get fucked tonight.

 

“Oh my God!” Jillian exclaims, but it’s barely audible over the pounding music. “Look, its Joey!”

 

She’s pointing to the platform and I see Joey smiling down onto the floor, glass in his hand. Jillian is jumping up and down, waving at him, her breasts threatening to bounce right out of her top. Joey spots her and waves back, grinning wildly at her. He turns back and hollers at someone and my eyes widen when I see Justin’s smiling face peering around someone, pushing his way to the railing. Our eyes lock and his smile fades. I turn away abruptly, pushing my way through the crowd back to the bar. It’s time for another drink, or maybe three.

 

I lean against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back by. My vision is a little blurred and my head is swimming. I really shouldn’t drink anymore for awhile. I really shouldn’t have let him kiss me in the library.

 

“Three shots of Patron,” I yell over the music and the bartender quirks an eyebrow at me but obliges, lining me up.

 

I hand him a wad of cash, not really caring how much I give him and throw them back, one, two, three, my head spinning like a top, my insides churning.

 

I open my eyes when I feel a hand on the small of my back and a low voice whispers in my ear.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

I smile, that burning in my stomach coming back and it’s not the alcohol. I wanna get fucked tonight. I turn, a smile pulling at my lips but it immediately fades when I see Justin, smiling down at me.

 

“Get away from me, Justin,” I spat, stumbling a little as I try to make my way around him.

 

His face registers shock and a little hurt, but I don’t care. I’m on a mission. Skylar the Scholar is getting fucked tonight. I just need to find the right guy.

 

I make the rounds, dancing with a few guys, flirting and just letting myself go. But every time I get close to asking one back to my room, I see him, grinding up on some random girl, his eyes flitting to me every once in awhile, jealously and concern marking his features. And I move on, trying to put as much space between us as possible.

 

I’m feeling a little woozy now, dancing with a short muscular guy that has his hands all over me. My skin is on fire as I grind against his crotch, wanting to feel him, actually trying to get him hard. His hands are slipping under my tank top, inching the hem higher and I want this. I want to just shut my brain off and do this. I don’t care who it is.

 

“Mind if I cut in?”

 

I barely hear the words, my eyes sliding open lazily and it’s Justin again, standing next to us.

 

“Yeah actually I do, kid,” the guy behind me says and Justin reaches into his pocket pulls out a few bills, holding them between his fore and middle fingers, raising an eyes brow at the guy.

 

My eyes narrow but it takes me a moment to realize what’s happening and in that moment the money exchanges hands and my wobbly body is shifted into Justin’s, his arms wrapping around my waist.

 

My eyes close as the spicy, woodsy scent of him invades my senses and I let my head fall to his shoulder, hands wrapping around his elbows.

 

“Come on, Sky,” he says, softly into my ear. “Maybe you should sit down.”

 

“No,” I moan, gripping his arms lifting my head to look at him through half lidded eyes.

 

Jesus, he’s gorgeous. His boyish face shows uncertainty and concern, his slender fingers, brushing the hair away from my cheek. I tilt my head to the side running my hands up his arms and he watches me, his face still unsure. He jumps a little when my fingers brush his neck, hands flattening to slide down his chest, feeling hard muscle underneath his shirt. This is wrong on so many levels. Wrong, wrong, wrong my brain screams but my hands don’t stop, smoothing around to clutch his back, swishing my hips against his.

 

He’s slow in reciprocation, but eventually he’s grinding against me, his body moving effortlessly with the music. His body moves like nothing I’ve ever seen, his motion flowing and graceful. His hands smooth down across my hips, guiding me a little, pressing me harder against him.

 

I spin, pressing my ass against his crotch, my mind chanting over and over that this is wrong, but I’m not his tutor tonight. I’m a drunk girl at a club and he is not my student. He’s just a guy I’m dancing with, my arms back around his neck, his head dipping to nuzzle my neck.

 

His hands are still guiding my body against his, his hips rolling into me with the beat of the music and I feel him, solid and wanting, trapped beneath the fabric of his jeans. I bite my lip, working that bulge, my mind hazily telling me that I shouldn’t be doing this. Not with him.

 

But I want this with him. I’ve been pushing the thought from my mind all week, the thought of him touching me, needing me like I need him right now. I’d kept it at bay, my logic and morals keeping a firm hold on my desires. But tonight alcohol has dropped my inhibitions and all I feel for him is want.

 

I spin again to face him, finding him flushed and panting. He pulls my body against his quickly, not wanting to lose the friction. I bring my arms up around his neck, pressing myself harder against him and his eyelids flutter, a low moan vibrating in his chest but the music drowns it out. This is so wrong.

 

“I know this is wrong…” I slur and he’s looking at me, eyes penetrating me, pleading a little, “but I really fucking want you right now.”

 

I laugh a little, dropping my head to his shoulder and this time I hear him groan, because his mouth is right next to my ear. Jesus, I’m so fucking wasted.

 

“You wanna go back to the hotel?” He says it with a slight tremor in his voice, and I pull back to look him in the face.

 

His eyes are dark, lights dancing across his face from the strobes. We’re close to the entrance and it wouldn’t take much to just slip out unnoticed. I feel him hard against my leg and I want it, I want it so bad, the burning in my stomach so intense, the ache between my legs almost unbearable. I look up at him and bite my bottom lip, nodding my head slightly.

 

He grins at me, hands slipping from around my waist to grab one of my hands, pulling me deeper into the club. I’m confused, tugging his arm but he stops after a few feet and he’s talking to Tiny, the bodyguard that had led me backstage my very first day on the tour. The man just nods to whatever Justin is saying, stepping past both of us, leading us out of the club.

 

Its balmy outside, a warm summer breeze ruffling my hair as Justin helps me stumble to the parking lot. Alcohol has made me giggly and stumbly and it’s all I can do to stay upright. Justin’s laughing with me, his arm tight around my waist as we walk to the car and then helping me in the backseat of the SUV.

 

I slide in, laying a little across the seat and grin down my body at him. He smiles back at me and hauls himself inside when I crook my finger at him. I sit up a little and kiss him. I kiss him and stars explode behind my eyes. I kiss him and it’s like everything else falls away.

 

I clutch at his shirt, pulling his body close to mine, my tongue probing against his lips before he allows me entry to his mouth. He tastes so good, so clean and young and that voice in my head tells me I should stop this but I ignore it because his hands are on my stomach, sliding up my ribcage, pressing up under my breasts. I take his hands and place them on my chest, not only giving him permission but asking for it.

 

He moans a little into my mouth, hands massaging a little roughly. I grab at his waist, pulling him closer to me and pull my mouth from his, trailing kisses along his smooth jaw back to his ear. I flick the lobe before sucking his earring into my mouth, rolling the diamond stud against my tongue, feeling him pant against my neck. My hands are roaming his chest as my lips slide down his neck, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling his stomach tremble.

 

His skin is so smooth as I skim my hand under his shirt, tweaking his nipples a little before sliding back down, finger circling his belly button. I’m sucking on his throat now, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. I run a finger down the fly of his jeans and feel him jump under me, his hands moving to cup the back of my head, my lips sliding over his chin.

 

My lips claim his again as I rub the heel of my hand against the bulge in his jeans, feeling him gasp into my mouth. His fingers are fisting in my hair as I work him hard, wanting him. His hands grip my wrist suddenly, pulling me away from him and I pull back looking at him questioningly. I look around and realize we are back at the hotel. When the hell did that happen?

 

He slips out of the car, helping me to the ground and takes my hand, guiding me as we follow Tiny into the back entrance. My vision is still a little hazy and I trip over my own feet. He stops, pulling me up to him, his arm going around my waist again, his body warm against mine.

 

“You know,” I slur a little as we walk through the kitchens. “This is probably a really bad idea.” He stops briefly, just looking at me. “Oh, I don’t wanna stop,” I say and he laughs a little, starting up again, making our way to the elevator. Tiny presses the button before giving Justin a weary look and walking away into the depths of the kitchen. “No, this is going to be a great end to a shitty week. First you fired Khefren, you’re an asshole for that by the way…”

 

I can’t stop myself. All this stuff just keeps pouring from my mouth as we wait for the elevator to come and he’s fidgeting a little, watching the numbers descend on the digital indicator above the elevator doors.

 

“And then that thing with my thesis,” I laugh as we step onto the elevator. “I mean, I don’t know why I care what that asshole professor thinks.”

 

“Me either,” he replies absently, jabbing the seven button, taking us up to his floor.

 

“I mean, he kicked me off the Greek dig, which by the way was total bullshit! Greek art is my fucking concentration. It’s all because I wouldn’t suck his dick.”

 

“Yeah,” he says and then looks at me. “Wait…what? Justin asks, looking slightly alarmed and I nod animatedly.

 

“Oh yeah! He was all ‘Sky you’re not like the other girls’ and feeling up on me.” I say shaking my head and Justin eyes me, his face showing slight concern. “I don’t know why I care so much about what he thinks.” I pause for a moment and the elevator doors ding open. “You know, he kind of reminds me of my dad,” I say as we stumble out of the elevator.

 

Shit, I haven’t thought about my dad in forever. Why am I saying this shit to him?

 

“My dad was a drug rep for some pharmaceutical company…well he still is.” I’m rambling now and I can’t stop the words just bubbling from me as we make our way down the hall, stopping at his door, him fumbling for his key. “He was never around, is never around. When I was a kid I would always wait for him on the porch when Mom said he would be coming home. Like some kind of damn dog or something.” I say laughing as we trip into the room. “I would always beg him to stay,” I sigh falling back onto the bed, stretching a little against the sheets.

 

Justin is at the foot of the bed, kicking off his shoes eagerly before plopping down next to me. He’s lying on his side, head propped on one hand while the other skims lusciously down my body. But I can’t stop, and I just keep jabbering on.

 

 “He never would… stay I mean. He always had to be somewhere, sell something, meet someone. I always thought that if I was good, if I did well in school, or was president of all these clubs, or if I got into the right school maybe he would stick around for longer than a couple days. That if I was perfect I could make him stay. But he never did.”

 

What the hell am I talking about? I open my eyes and Justin is looking down at me, his eyes soft. His hand that had been wandering my body is now brushing the hair away from my face. I shake my head a little, trying to snap out of it and the room spins a little.

 

“We don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice a little strained but soft and I look at him.

 

“No, I waaaaaaaaaaant to,” I moan, throwing my leg over his hip and rolling him to his back.

 

I’m perched atop him, grinding my hips into his lap but he’s not hard anymore. I pout a little as his hands slide up my thighs, around the curve of my waist and going to cup my face. I lean down to kiss him again, just wanting to taste him. He tastes so fucking good.

 

“Sky,” he whispers, wrenching his mouth from mine. And then with a sigh he grits out, “you’re drunk. We shouldn’t do this.”

 

“Noooooo,” I whine as he rolls me off him. “I want to. Justin, please.” I say, my eyes heavy.

 

“You’re tired,” he whispers, leaning down to pull my heels from my feet. “Come on why don’t we just sleep.”

 

“Noooooo,” I say but it’s cut off by a yawn, and I feel him moving to tug the covers back. “I wanna fuck you.”

 

I hear him gasp a little, all his movements stopping. I roll onto my side and look at him, finding his face pained, indecision painting his boyish features. I crawl up onto my knees and wrap my arms around his shoulders, nuzzling my nose with his.

 

“Come on, Jus,” I whisper, reaching my tongue out to run along his bottom lip. “Just…just this once. Please I need it.”

 

His hands tremble as they reach back to pull my arms from around his neck and I pout at him, watching him heave a shaky sigh. He nuzzles his nose with mine again and shakes his head. I whine a little, tugging at his shirt but he just nudges my shoulder and in my inebriated state I tumble backwards. He slips under the covers, fully clothed and a nod of his head beckons me to do the same.

 

I scowl a little but oblige, laying there next to him. He turns to me, his hand reaching for my hip and I scoot close to him, burying my face in his chest. I slide one leg between his thighs, bringing it up to press against him and he hums a little, one hand running through my hair, the other holding me at my lower back for a moment before sliding lower to rest on my ass.

 

And that is how I fall asleep, lying against him, my ear over his heart.

PART 6

 

My head is fucking killing me. This is the only thought in my mind upon waking. That, and I just want to die. Seriously, who am I? Where am I? What the fuck did I do to make my brain want to scrape its way out of my skull?

 

I keep my eyes closed but I can still see the morning light through my lids. I don’t dare crack them open. Even though I think the pain can’t get worse, I know it will if I even so much as peek from under my lashes. I shift my head a little and it’s now that the soft thudding I had been hearing disappears and I panic as I realize I’m laying against someone, a male someone, my ear resting on his chest.

 

I think back to last night and everything is a blurry haze. I remember being at the club. I remember ordering a shit ton of drinks. I remember dancing…dancing with…

 

My eyes fly open and I’m completely blinded, my head seeming to split open as I try to sit up. I let out a frustrated moan as I fall back against the blankets, snapping my eyes shut as my stomach lurches.

 

“Whoa, slow down there, Sky.” I feel his hands clutch at my shoulders as his voice, low and raspy from lack of use, filters into my pounding brain.

 

One hand clutches my head, shielding my eyes as the other pushes against his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingers, the thin fabric of his shirt barely masking the heat of his skin. Holy shit…what the fuck did we do?

 

“Hang on,” he says and I feel his body shift, the bed rising as he pulls away and then dipping again as he leans back in.

 

He’s cradling me against him, one arm wrapping around my shoulders, while his other hand is pressing a glass of liquid into mine. I’m panting as the ache in my head intensifies and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, just willing it to go away. I jerk back when I feel something pressing against my lips.

 

“Calm down, it’s an Advil,” he says, his voice still soft. “Open your mouth.”

 

I do as he says. Something about the way he’s holding me, the way he’s speaking to me, makes my defenses go down. He aides me in bringing the glass to my lips and takes it back from me, pulling away to set it on the bedside table. He sighs as he settles back against the pillows, hugging me to his side. And I wonder, what the fuck did we do?

 

He’s humming to me softly, his long fingers combing through my hair, fingers massaging my scalp and I swear I could fall asleep again. I want to fall asleep again. He’s so warm and comforting; his heart is thudding steadily against my cheek, the rhythm hypnotizing me into a dozy state.

 

My eyes fly open as I feel his lips press against my temple, sweet and chaste, just a demonstration of affection. I scramble away from him, forcing my eyes open and the bile from my throat as the pain intensifies. I feel my hip slide off the edge of my bed and I yelp as I collide with the floor. I squint up at the edge of the bed and Justin’s worried face comes into view.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice slightly alarmed and I rest my forehead against the side table, willing the room to stop spinning. “Dude…” he says, and I take deep breaths, trying not to flip the fuck out. What the hell did we do? “Dude…” he says again, “You’re not gonna barf are you?”

 

“What…” I say, panting slightly, cracking my eyes open. “What the hell did we do?”

 

The events of last night are quickly coming back to me. My hands on his chest, my ass grinding against him at the club…shit! My hands massaging him through his pants in the car…fuck! Asking him to fuck me…Jesus fucking Christ!

 

“Oh god,” I groan softly, when the movie reel in my head cuts off and I can’t remember what happened next. Holy fucking shit I’m in so much trouble. “Justin, what the fuck did we do!”

 

“Calm down,” he whispers urgently as I start to panic, my chest heaving. “Sky we didn’t do anything. I mean we made out but we didn’t…I mean…we weren’t like…”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ I’m going to get fired,” I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face my stomach turning and it’s not from the hangover. He says my name but I continue on, ignoring him. “I’m so fucking screwed. God, what we did was illegal!” He says my name again but I’m too busy panicking to notice. “Shit, you’re only seventeen years old!”

 

“Sky!” he barks and the pain stabbing in my head is enough to shut me up. “Nothing happened. We’re both fully clothed.”

 

I look down at myself and find that I am indeed still wearing my little tank top and jeans from last night. I squint up at him and all I see of him are his face, looking down at me amusedly and his shoulders, clad in the baby blue jersey he was wearing at the club.

 

“Oh…” I say quietly and he chuckles a little, my stomach flipping and this time it’s not from nausea or nerves. Holy shit… “So um…I should go…”

 

I say the words quickly as I clamber to my feet. I nearly lose my balance, the room spinning and I stumble a little, my hand going to my head, trying to stop the jackhammer in my skull. I feel myself teetering forward, my balance gone, and I await my collision with the floor. But I feel arms tuck under mine, and my face falls into his chest, the scent of his cologne still lingering, but his natural scent dominating my senses.

 

“Whoa there, girl,” he says softly, and I feel his voice vibrating in his chest, just like his groan did the night before. Fuck!

 

I push myself off of him and put a few feet of space between us. He’s looking at me, a small, shy smile creeping across his face and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. We both look away at the same time, both of us shifting awkwardly.

 

“I’m…I’m gonna go,” I say finally, walking forward and he’s directly in front of me.

 

I step to the left and he goes right, blocking my back. I step to the right at the same time he steps left we’re face to face again. We both let out a nervous chuckle as he steps aside, holding out his arm in a guiding gesture, allowing me to pass. My shoulder brushes his chest a little and I find myself spinning, his hands clutching my biceps as he pulls me to him. Before I have a chance to think about it his mouth is crushed to mine and I fucking panic.

 

I shove his chest hard, peddling backwards until I run into the small table. He looks at me astonished, his eyes showing confusion and hurt.

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I say lowly, pointing my finger at him and I watch his face fall, wounded and sad. “Justin, we can never do this again. We can’t. Do you know what kind of trouble I can get in?”

 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he says, stepping forward, reaching out for me, his voice eager and I hold up a hand, warding him off. “Sky…come on…”

 

“No, Justin,” I say slowly, and he sighs, eyeing me defeated. “I am your teacher. You are my student. You’re seventeen years old. This can never ever happen again.”

 

And with that I rush past him and out of the room.

 

***

 

When I get scared, my default emotion is anger. Like when everything just gets to be too much and I can’t handle all the thoughts going through my head I just…I just snap. At everyone. Okay, it’s a serious character flaw, I get that. I don’t know why I’m that way. It’s like something inside me just can’t deal and I cover up that insecurity with a sour disposition.

 

A week and a half after the horrible morning after, sour was a delicate way of describing my disposition. I rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of my time by myself, trying to resurrect the ghost of my thesis, and of course doing everything in my power to avoid Justin. Lessons were strained; his sad, pleading eyes looking at me from across the room because I’m sure as hell not sitting anywhere near him, and my nervous fidgeting as I try to avoid his gaze. As I try to forget how soft his lips are…fuck.

 

He had come to my room several times, pleading with me, hands reaching out to touch me but I never let him. I was cold…and mean and fuck if I didn’t want to just grab him by his shirt and pull him in my room and…god dammit. But I have to say no. I can’t do this with him. I can’t. He’s seventeen years old. Fuck, I’m going to hell…

 

But all that ends today.

 

I decided as we pulled in to Columbus, Ohio that I wasn’t going to play this fucking game anymore. I spent all morning going over the next lesson and preparing for it and fuck if I was going to be nervous, or scared, or thinking about how hard his dick was…god FUCKING dammit.

 

I’m waiting in the dressing room when I see Tiny walk past. I call out to him and he stops, telling me the guys are just getting back from interviews and will be in shortly. I see several members of their staff pass by and a few of the guys pop their head in and say hello, and now my short temper has reached its breaking point. Where the fuck is he?

 

I get up and start to make my way out to the parking lot where there are a few people milling around, anger pulsing in my veins. I nearly run smack into JC as I walk around a row of cars and he grabs onto my arms to steady me.

 

“Whoa there, girl,” he says, taking a step back and smiling at me. “Where’s the fire?”

 

“I’m just looking for Justin,” I snap and he looks at me strangely, his face going a little tight.

 

“Um…just go inside and wait for him,” he says and I just roll my eyes.

 

“I’ve been waiting for him for ten minutes,” I say, trying to keep calm because really it’s not his fault that Justin is a fucking brat. “Where is he?” JC shifts his feet uncomfortably.

 

“Um…he’s on the bus. But-”

 

I cut him off with a curt “thanks” and stomp off toward the bus.

 

“Seriously, Sky,” JC calls after me, “just…just give him a minute!”

 

“I’m not giving him anything,” I mutter under my breath as I step onto the bus.

 

It’s relatively quiet as I make my way to the back of the bus, passing the tables and couches and going back into the area with the bunks. The door is closed and I can hear muffled sounds from behind the thin wood. I sigh…he’s just fucking screwing around watching TV back there or something. I grab the knob, not even knocking, and say:

 

“Justin, we have shit to do. I don’t know wha-”

 

My flow of words stop and my breathing hitches as I take in the scene in front of me. Justin is sitting back on the couch, a dark headed girl kneeling between his open knees. Her head whips back to look at me and she scowls deeply and I gasp as I see him, hard and ready poking out of the fly of his pants, glistening in the dim lighting from the girl’s saliva.

 

My mouth is hanging open and my eyes immediately snap away, looking at the ground, at the television, at anything but his hard cock. Jesus…

 

“Just give us like five minutes.”

 

His voice is deep and raspy and my eyes snap to him. His hand is wrapping in the girls hair, guiding her mouth back to his aching dick, letting his head fall back against the couch. My breathing hitches again as I hear him hum and I shake my head to clear it, turning away, my face flaming pink.

 

“And close the door behind you.”

 

His parting words are a breathy, pleasured sigh and I nearly moan as I slam the door behind me, leaning against it on trembling legs. I did not just see that. I did not just walk in on him getting his…fuck.

 

I jump when I hear his soft moan wafting through the door, and I press my thighs together as heat coils in my belly and rushes between my legs. God this is bad. I shake my head again and make my way quickly off the bus, trying to pull air into my lungs and forget that sound…the sound of his pleasure…holy God I’m going to hell.

 

As I make my way back into the venue my panic is slowly replaced by another emotion, an emotion that shocks and scares me to no end.

 

Hurt…

 

Why…I have no idea. Maybe because he’d spent the past week and a half chasing after me, telling me he wanted me…practically begging. I had spent it avoiding him, avoiding the very thought of him…something I hadn’t quite accomplished. Okay I hadn’t accomplished it at all in any way, shape, or form. Ugh…

 

I sit dejectedly at the vanity, tapping my pencil against my book, waiting. Waiting like I should have just done in the first place. Why do I have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t I have just let well enough alone? Why…why in the name of god do I have to want him? I gasp as the thought flits through my brain. I want him. I really…really fucking want-

 

“Hey Sky.”

 

I nearly jump out of my chair as he jogs into the room. His face is flushed and he’s slightly breathless but I know it’s not from running. My stomach trembles slightly as the image of him on the couch passes through my mind. I can’t think about this now.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” he sighs as he falls into a chair and pulls close to me.

 

I fight the urge to shut my eyes as the woodsy scent of him surrounds me, him leaning close over the book. I sputter a little, scooting further back and away from him, suddenly nervous and shaky.

 

“You okay?” he asks me and I glance at him quickly, just enough time to take in his quizzical and slightly amused expression.

 

“Yes…” I say, swallowing hard and clearing my throat, still pushing away from him. “Let’s get started.”

 

He nods, eyeing me wearily as I turn to the book. “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Hagia Sophia, erected in-” I stutter slightly…fuck, why did I say that?... “um…I mean constructed in 532 c.e. Hagia Sophia’s most unique feature is it’s dome…which was very hard…” my breath hitches again, my face growing hot…what am I saying!...

 

“Yes?” Justin says, looking at me perplexed, nodding encouragingly at me and I run a hand over my face.

 

“Its most unique feature is its floating dome, which was an architectural marvel,” I say quickly, heaving a sigh at the end of my sentence.

 

“Whoa, hold up,” he says, pen flying across his page. “It was hard-”

 

“It was an architectural marvel,” I spat, my face pinkening.

 

“Yeah, but why was it hard-”

 

“It wasn’t hard!” I exclaim, suddenly, and I swear my ears are going to burn off. Why is this happening to me? He’s looking at me a little uneasily. “It was difficult…”

 

“Okay,” he says slowly, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Why was it difficult?”

 

“Because…because…” I can’t get the image of his cock out of my head. God fucking dammit all to hell… “Because it was…didn’t you do the reading?”

 

“Um yeah,” he says, looking down into the book. “Um…”

 

“Justin, how many times have I told you,” I snap, my temper flaring suddenly, “you need to come prepared to these lessons!”

 

“Calm down,” he says, his brow furrowing, his voice defensive, glaring at me. “I did read it…I can’t remember fucking everything from one read through.”

 

“Well…” I spat, unable to argue with his logic. “You need to focus.”

He scowls at me. “I am focused.”

 

“Right.” I say, glaring back at him. “Just…just keep it that way.”

 

Shit, maybe I should be the one keeping it that way.

The more I thought about the events of the day the more and more pissed off I became. Sure, he says he likes me, claims he wants to be with me but then he shoves his dick in the mouth of the first available groupie! What the hell!

 

And why am I so pissed off by it? He’s my student. I’m his teacher. We’ve made out…I’ve asked him to fuck me…shit! This is so fucking ridiculous. I turn on the TV and try to zone out. Just lay across the bed and let the hotel cable burn my brain cells but I can’t. The image of his head tilted slightly back, lips parted, face screwed up in pleasure is burned in my minds eye.

 

I hate him. I fucking hate him for doing this to me. For being so fucking gorgeous when he’s so young and so off limits. For making me think that he liked me, for making me want him. Jesus…

 

My thoughts are jarred back to the present by a knock on my door. I sigh, flicking off the television as I stomp to the door. I swing it open and there he is, textbook tucked under his arm. But I barely notice that because he’s panting a little, body covered in sweat, making his white wifebeater almost transparent against his skin.

 

“Hey,” he says, slipping past me to walk into the room, his bare arm brushing mine, leaving the slickness of his sweat on my skin. Fuck. “I had a question about the diagram you were talking about…”

 

But I’m not listening. I’m watching a bead of sweat trail from his curly head, down the side of his face, over his jaw and down his neck, disappearing into the neckline of his tank top.

 

“Skylar,” he says and I snap out of it, looking into his eyes and he’s grinning uncertainly at me. “Are you listening?”

 

“Yes, what?” I ask a little harshly and he quirks an eyebrow before opening his book.

 

“You said I had to know the church plan,” he says pointing to the diagram on the page. “But there are two.”

 

A bead of perspiration rolls off his face and falls right onto the middle of the page, and I just snap, all the events of the day crashing down on me.

 

“Justin!” I exclaim snatching the book from him. “You’re sweating all over my book!”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he replies sarcastically, running a hand over his face. “I was at the gym.”

 

“You need to sit and concentrate on this stuff instead of gallivanting around. No wonder you’ve been slipping” I spat, slamming the book on the table and he scowls at me.

 

“Maybe the reason I’m not doing so well is because the only thing I can think about is the teacher grabbing my-”

 

“Justin!” I exclaim and he cuts off, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away pouting. His stance extenuates his biceps and tightens his chest. Shit. “I’m just saying that maybe if you paid a little bit more attention to what you were reading and a little less time chasing groupies then maybe you wouldn’t always be in here asking me asinine questions!”

 

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me and I can feel my face color a little. I shift uncomfortably, as a slow smirk tugs at his lips and he laughs a little. I nearly groan at the sound bubbling from his chest, low and throaty. God dammit.

 

“You’re…you’re jealous,” he says, laughing.

 

“Oh, please!” I exclaim, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

 

“You are,” he grins. “You wish it was you on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

 

I hear the slap before I actually feel it sting my hand. His head is turned to the side, his arms having fallen to his sides in shock. I’m breathing heavy, my face red, humiliated. It was one thing to have the thought plaguing me from the back of my mind. It was an entirely different thing to have it spit in my face by him.

 

His head turns slowly back to face me, blue eyes on fire with rage. We just stare at each other for a moment and then it happens. His large hands clamp around my biceps, pushing me back up against the closed door, pressing his body flush against mine. He’s warm, almost hot to the touch and he smells of sweat and spice. His face is millimeters from mine, his breath hot on my face. I struggle against him and he just grips me tighter, not saying anything.

 

“What are you gonna do, Justin?” I pant, fighting the urge to wriggle my hips against his.

 

“Give you what you want,” he whispers, his voice low and seductive but there’s a slight tremor in it. And when I laugh in his face his eyes darken a little, scowling.

 

“You?” I say, all of my anger over not being able to have him coming to a boiling point. “Little sparkly dance boy? Probably couldn’t even get it up.”

 

He growls and I gasp when his hands slide down my arms to grip my wrists and pin them up over my head against the door. He presses his hips hard into me and I feel him stirring beneath his basketball shorts. This is going too far. I’m not drunk anymore and I know what this will mean if I give in to this desire. This is wrong.

 

“Justin, let me go,” I say and his hands tighten around my wrists, pressing them back harder into the door behind me, grinding his hips slowly against mine. Christ, he’s almost completely hard now and fuck I want him so bad.

 

“Feels pretty hard to me,” he pants, and I moan a little, my hips grinding back against his. Shit, this is so fucking wrong.

 

“Justin…” I sigh, struggling lightly against him. “We can’t…you’re my…”

 

But my breathing is hitching, because he has buried his face in my neck, the sweat from his forehead slicking against my skin as he rolls his hips hard into mine. I fist my hands, nails digging into my palms, as I feel a rush of pleasure between my legs when his lips brush my neck lightly, not really kissing, just rubbing against my skin.

 

And I can’t take it anymore. I’m sick of always doing the right thing, of being the good little girl who always does her homework and never takes the shortcut to get ahead. I’m tired of being the responsible one. God, I just want to feel him, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, inside me.

 

His grip has loosened since he started grinding against me, concentrating on his pleasure and I’m easily able to push him off me. He looks at me surprised as he trips backwards. I charge forward, gripping his shoulders with my hands and his eyes are wide when I push him back onto the bed. I think his eyes are going to explode from their sockets when I rip my shirt over my head and bring my hands down to unbutton my pants.

 

“Take your clothes off,” I say and he scrambles to remove his shoes and socks.

 

I figure that if I do this quick, just get it out of my system I’ll be okay. I’ll be better and I won’t want him anymore. Maybe it will be horrible. He tugs his wifebeater over his head and tosses it aside, and shit there’s no way this is going to be horrible. I push my jeans down my hips and push his shoulders so that he falls back onto the bed, still clad in his loose fitting shorts, erection straining against the fabric.

 

I straddle his waist and his hands immediately go to my hips, pressing me hard against him, his breath coming in pants. And god, he’s so fucking hard, pressed against my center and all I want is our clothes fucking gone and him inside me.

 

I reach behind me and flick my bra open, sliding it down my arms and his eyes are big as saucers, glued to my chest. His hands loosen on my hips and skim, trembling, up my stomach, eyes looking into mine for permission and I nod.

 

He takes my breasts in his large hands, massaging and molding them, his palms teasing my nipples. I moan a little and feel him jump, his movements stopping for a moment before continuing again. My hips are still rolling steady into him and god, I need these clothes off now.

 

I slide back and he whines a little. Whether it’s from loosing his grip on my chest or losing my weight from his lap I’m not sure but he gasps when my fingers grip the elastic of his shorts, tugging them down with his boxers. His length falls back against his stomach and all my movement stops as I just stare for a minute. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Yeah, there’s no way in hell this is going to be horrible.

 

I push my panties down my hips in a swift motion and his eyes are locked on my body as I climb over him, hovering over his straining cock. He’s panting hard now, hands back on my hips, fingers digging in painfully, trying to tug me down against him.

 

“Um…Sky?” he says quietly, as I reach between us and position him at my entrance.

 

“What?” I pant. God, I just wanna…

 

“We should…like we need…a…a…condom…right? Do you have one? Cause, I mean, I don't have one...”

 

Fuck he’s rambling…I remember what happened the last time one of us started rambling…

 

“Shut up, I'm on the pill,” I say, the feeling of him pulsing in my hand, so close to touching me, making me impatient. He swallows hard.

 

“But I mean… we should still use one, right?” he asks, his voice shaking, his hands gripping my hips so hard I’m sure I’m going to have bruises in the morning.

 

“Justin, I’m getting ready to fuck you. Are you trying to talk me out of it?” I ask and he shuts up immediately, his eyes sliding shut as I lower a little, feeling the silken head slide against my entrance.

 

His mouth falls open in a silent “oh” of pleasure as I slide down onto him and I swear to god I could come right then, just from the feeling of him stretching me so completely, seeing him lying out under me, his beautiful face contorted in pleasure.

 

He’s shaking hard, eyes staring glassily at where our bodies are connected and I come back to myself a little. His hands are still gripping my hips but they tremble against my skin and his breathing is hitching hard, almost as if he were sobbing. A horrible thought crosses my mind…

 

“Justin,” I say slowly, and it takes him a moment to meet my eyes, swallowing hard. “You…you aren’t…you’re not a virgin are you?” I ask, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. This is so fucking wrong.

 

“No!” he exclaims quickly and I close my eyes, pursing my lips.

 

“Oh really? How many times have you done it?” I ask and he looks away, shifting a little beneath me and my eyelids flutter as pleasure ripples through me.

 

“Once…” he says, quietly, “…and my mom kinda walked in on it and made us stop…”

 

“Oh god,” I groan, covering my face with my hands, feeling more and more like a sick pervert by the second.

 

“But it counts!” he exclaims, hands pressing on my hips. “It totally still counts.”

 

“You never even came, Justin,” I say, hanging my head back. “Jesus, this is so wrong. What the hell am I doing?”

 

“No!” he practically screams as I try to pull away from him and before I know it, I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, still inside me, pulsing. “Please Sky…” he moans, hips rocking against mine slightly and oh my god I need this so bad. “Don’t make me stop…”

 

He breathes the last part into my neck, lips brushing my skin before placing a small peck there and I let my eyes slide shut, head falling back against the pillows. My hands move to his hips, holding them in my hands for a moment. He’s still just nudging inside me slightly, rocking just enough to get a little friction but it’s not enough. No, I want to feel him move.

 

I give his hips a squeeze before running my hands up his back, smooth and warm under my touch. I cup my hand around the back of his neck, fingers fisting in the curls at the base of his skull, tugging slightly. He pulls his head back, his nose bumping mine and I press my mouth to his, tongue reaching to taste him.

 

“You wanna do it,” I whisper against his lips, bringing my legs up, shifting my hips to give him better penetration, “then do it.”

 

He moans against me, raising himself higher on his elbows, pulling out a little before sliding back in and his arms tremble, his body shaking violently, pressing his forehead hard into mine. I look at his face, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. He’s trying so hard.

 

“Calm down, baby,” I whisper soothingly, fingertips massaging the back of his head slowly and his face relaxes a little, pulling back and nudging back in again.

 

“Oh god,” he mutters, burying his face in my neck and he feels so good, his body a contradiction of velvet skin stretched over hard sinewy muscle. I need this so bad. I need him to hang on.

 

“Justin,” I say, hands sliding down his back, feeling the muscles tight and rigid. “Aulus Metellus.”

 

“Huh?” he says and I can feel his brow furrowing against my neck.

 

“When and where,” I say, pushing my hips needily up into his. “Tell me, Justin.”

 

“Um,” he breathes, pulling out and then sliding back in again. “Roman, right?”

 

“Yeeeeeeeees,” I hiss lowly as he bumps that spot inside me it usually takes men twenty minutes to find, if they find it at all. “Oh god…”

 

“E-early first century,” he breathes as he pulls out, pausing again to grit his teeth.

 

“Made of?” I moan, when he doesn’t move and his hips twitch hard against me and I groan deep in my throat.

 

“Bronze?” he questions and I nod against him.

 

“Good…” I groan as he gives me another slow thrust. “So good…”

 

“Sky,” he breathes, nuzzling his nose against me and he’s starting to speed up a little.

 

“Ara Pacis Augustae,” I whisper in his ear, pressing kisses against the lobe and on the side of his face.

 

“Ugh,” he groans, hips rolling steady. “Sky…”

 

“Tell me, Justin,” I whisper, my nails raking down his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

 

“Shit…” he pants, raising himself on his hands, giving himself leverage to slam into me and I see stars. I haven’t been fucked like this…maybe ever. Jesus, my body is on fucking fire. “Thirteen to nine…B.C.E.?”

 

“Oh god, Justin,” I moan, wrapping my hands around his forearms, my body burning around him, his dick massaging me in just the right way. “Yes…please.”

 

“Holy…” His sentence is cut off with a grunt as he settles himself more on his hands and rolls his hips so fast that it makes me dizzy.

 

His breathing hitches when my body sucks at him and I tell him I’m close. I ask him to hang on, just a few more seconds and he pulls his face from my neck to press his mouth to mine, tongue sliding in sloppily and that one taste of him is enough to have me moaning, my pussy clamping him in a vice that causes him to choke on his breath and his back to go rigid. My orgasm is intensified by his, feeling him shoot into me with a sob of pleasure that is so primal it almost sends me into another wave of pleasure.

 

He collapses against me, face burying into my shoulder, pressing his hips hard into me, trying to push himself as deep as possible as he rides his wave. He’s moaning softly as my body still sucks at him, hissing against me when it becomes too much. I hold him close to me and let him just feel this. I tell myself it’s for him…he deserves his first real sexual experience to be loving and gentle but I know it’s not just for him. It’s for me too.

The infamous morning after. I’ve had a few of them in the past but none like that. Waking up at three thirty in the morning, his body curled tightly around mine, face buried in my hair, arms clamped in a death grip around my stomach. There was no way of sneaking out of it. And really, if it had been possible I don’t think I could have done that to him…not after last night.

 

I laid there panicking for a few moments, wondering what the hell I was going to do, stuck somewhere between revulsion at my own weakness and satisfied giddiness…fuck that was amazing. I had stretched a little, relishing in the soreness of my muscles and he stirred behind me, whining a little. We can’t stay this way my mind chanted at me over and over again, along with things like You’re going to get caught and What the hell were you thinking?

 

I had rolled over, causing him to huff, annoyed and he growled at me when I pushed his shoulder, waking him up.

 

“Justin, you have to go,” I had said and he moaned, holding me close, burying his face in my neck. “Justin, you have to go,” I said again, shivering at the heat of his breath sighing against my skin.

 

“Nooooooooooo,” he whined, arms clutching at me and I steeled myself for what I had to say.

“Justin, you have to get out of here.” I said as harshly as I could considering he was cuddled against me like I was some fucking security blanket. What was wrong with me? I had never had problems telling his ass what to do before. “Your mother wakes you up at four.”

 

“Just…just five more minutes,” he sighed, nuzzling his nose against my throat, lips kissing softly and I pushed hard at his chest, sliding away from him, glad I couldn’t see his face in the dark because I didn’t think I could bear to see the hurt in his eyes.

 

What the fuck was wrong with me? This was just… I was just trying to get him out of my system. This…this was not…it was just sex. Nothing more. Then why the hell did I feel so guilty?

 

“Justin…go,” I had said, turning away from him and curling into myself, hating myself when I heard his shaky sigh as he pulled himself from the bed and gathered his clothes, slipping out without another word.

 

Guilt eats at me as the memory replays itself over and over while I look around my hotel room, making sure I have everything I need before I head out for the day. My eyes fall on the bed, the rumpled sheets a testament to the act that was performed in them the night before. I turn away but the soreness in my legs won’t let me forget. Nothing can make me forget.

 

I close the door gently behind me, walking out into the dimly lit hallway. It isn’t even light out yet, and I stagger somewhat sleepily towards the elevator, my mind running rampant. What we did was wrong. It was illegal and wrong and…so fucking good. Jesus Christ the mere memory of it is enough to set my body on fire. And it wasn’t even anything that spectacular. I mean…it was amazing…god was it ever amazing but he didn’t like…hang me from the rafters or anything. It was…simple… probably the only simple thing we are ever going to have. What the fuck am I saying? We aren’t going to have anything! This has to stop…

 

 My entire body tenses when I feel a pair of hands grab my biceps and I nearly scream as my body spins and I’m pressed against the hallway wall. Justin grins down at me, pressing his body to mine and I heave a sigh of relief before slapping at his chest.

 

“What the fuck are you doing? You scared the shit out of me!” I exclaim and his grin widens before he dips his head, pressing his lips to mine.

 

I push at his chest a little before eventually giving in, his tongue swiping my bottom lip and I sigh into his mouth, allowing him to massage my tongue with his. I don’t know what it is about his lips but he always tastes so fucking good. There’s no describing it; its just him. His hips press into mine and I can feel him stirring in his pants. I wrench my mouth away from his, but he doesn’t stop, trailing kisses down my jaw. We can’t do this. Not here. Not anywhere. We can’t fucking do this.

 

“Justin…” I sigh, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around him, to feel his body against mine. “Justin…what are we doing?”

 

“Nothing,” he mumbles, nibbling at the side of my neck and I can feel him smile as he adds, “…yet.”

 

I gasp, a little shocked at his candor and I feel him chuckle against me. I push at his shoulders and his lips finally detach from my neck and he looks down at me adoringly. God, no man has ever looked at me that way before. I shake my head.

 

“Justin…we can’t do this…”

 

“Oh save it Sky,” he says cutting me off and I look up at him slightly bewildered. “You want me. I want you.” He shrugs, grinning. “Seems pretty simple to me.”

 

I look at him, my mouth hanging open. “Are you fucking stupid?” I ask and he pouts a little. “This is the furthest thing from simple-”

 

“No…” he argues, “No its not. You’re just making it really fucking complicated.”

 

“Justin, do you know how much trouble I can get in?” I ask him, trying to keep my voice down, suddenly aware we are in a very public place. “What we did was illegal!”

 

He hums, his head dipping to kiss me again and he presses his hips harder against mine as he whispers, “So that’s why it felt so fucking good.”

 

I moan a little as that familiar tingle spreads through my body directly to my center. Fuck, the things he does to me… I shake my head again, trying to clear it and I push him away again, him sighing, annoyed.

 

“Skylar…I don’t fucking get it,” he sighs. “I mean what...what we did…last night…” his eyes go soft and I swallow hard, “that was…amazing. And not just the orgasm.”

 

I laugh a little and he looks at me slightly confused for a second before breaking into a grin himself. I place my hands on his shoulders, sighing a little, trying not to look him in the face because I know the way he’s looking at me is going to melt my resolve instantly. I really have no clue what’s going on with me. I’ve never been this affected by sex before. Usually it’s just…okay…that was nice…done. But this… this is different. This is almost primal. Fuck, I just wanna rip his clothes off right now and all he’s doing is standing there, his hands warm on my hips, lips so close to mine…

 

“Sky,” he says softly and I’m brought back to the moment, looking up into his eyes… which is a really bad idea. “You want this…I want this…why are you fighting it?”

 

I eye him skeptically and the way he’s looking at me…Jesus…like he’s never seen anything like me before. Like he’s never going to stop looking at me this way. Like he adores me. Like I’m the only person in the entire fucking world. And God the way his body is pressed against mine…

 

I have a decision to make. Right here, right now. I can do the right thing. I can tell him that what happened last night was a fluke, a mistake, something that can never ever, under any circumstances happen again. I can tell him that he is my student and am I am his teacher and we are to maintain a certain degree of decorum with each other. Or…

 

“We…we can’t tell anyone.” I say shakily and the smile that breaks out over his face is so dazzling I nearly melt into a puddle on the floor…Jesus Christ there is something seriously wrong with me.

 

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, nodding his head eagerly, his hands coming up to curl tightly around my arms, tugging me closer to him.

 

“I mean…not anyone, Justin,” I say slowly, my insides turning. Maybe this is a bad idea…

 

“I get it,” he says nodding, his head dipping down and I pull back a little, looking at him wide eyed.

 

“Seriously Justin, no one…not the guys, not your little friend, what’s his name-“

 

“Trace.”

 

“Yeah, him. Not your mom…fuck, especially not your mom…not even your fucking dog-”

 

“SKY,” he says, and I jump at the loudness of his voice. He grins, laughing a little as he says. “I fucking get it, okay.”

 

“Okay…” I say, looking at him skeptically and he just smiles giddily down at me.

 

“Okay then,” he whispers, his breath fanning my face as he bends down to kiss me again.

 

“Justin…” I say, placing a hand on his chest, holding him back reluctantly. “Not here…”

 

“What?” he asks, cocking his head to the side, grinning innocently at me. “I just wanna kiss you…”

 

He nuzzles his nose with mine and I look around uneasily, just waiting for one of the doors around us to open. This is such a bad idea. We really shouldn’t be doing this. But all thought is cut off when his mouth claims mine, tongue dipping in to taste me briefly and there’s no way I can turn back now. Even if this ruins us…I can’t quit him. He feels too good and I know that after last night I could never deny him again. Shit, as simple as the act was it was probably one of the best I’ve had. No, I’m in this…right or wrong…I’m in this.

 

***

 

This is not how I planned on spending the day. When the guys invited me to go on yet another “adventure” with them I figured it would be to a record store or something else equally as mediocre to the normal person but was a huge ordeal for them. So imagine my surprise when we pulled up to a tattoo parlor in downtown Atlanta, all the members of the group cheering and grinning as they piled out of the car. Well…all except for JC who’s hesitation was ridiculed by the rest of the group.

 

“I have this thing…” he had said, swallowing hard, “I have this thing with needles…they…they just kinda…freak me out.”

 

Justin had offered me his hand as I had climbed out of the car and I had taken it, his fingers clutching at mine, reluctant to let go when I was safely on the ground. It had been three days since our agreement in the hallway, three nights since we…and my mind always stutters there. Saying we ‘had sex’ sounds so technical, ‘made love’ implies that it was something intimate, which it was but not that way and saying we ‘fucked’ doesn’t give it the credit it deserves. But I digress…

 

While my admonitions about secrecy and caution were met with his promise of compliance, he seems to be doing little to conceal his affections. He is constantly touching me, fingers brushing mine, placing a hand on my lower back, or resting his chin on my shoulder. And don’t even get me started on the giddy grin he has on his face when he looks at me. I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t find it so fucking adorable.

 

I hug my stomach as I meander around the parlor, surveying the art on the walls. This is definitely not my scene but I can appreciate the work as an art connoisseur, the colors, the designs all reminiscent of art from all over the world. I see ghosts of Picasso, Mondrian, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh in all of these works covering these walls, a modern testament to classic art.

 

The guys are dispersed around the room, emotions varying from bouncing excitement, Justin practically jumping up and down, to freaking the fuck out, JC sitting in the corner, white as a sheet, trying not to look at Lance or Chris, both of whom are laying across padded tables, Joey and Justin watching as the artists tattoo the Nsync flame around their band mates’ ankles.

 

“You okay there C?” I ask him, stepping up next to him and he looks at me glassily, swallowing hard.

 

“Yeah…yeah I’m…” he swallows hard, wiping the sweat from his upper lip, “I’m cool.”

 

“Dude,” Chris says, glancing up from the tattoo artist working on his leg, “You are the farthest thing from cool right now.”

 

JC just swallows hard, shifting uneasily in his seat. I turn to find Chris shaking his head, laughing a little as he goes back to watching the tattoo gun work on his leg.

 

“So…Sky,” Joey says, sidling up to me, draping an arm around my shoulders. I sigh and try to contain my grin. “What are you getting today?”

 

I look at him a little shocked. “Oh I’m not getting anything…” I say, shaking my head, glancing back at the tattoo artist and Joey flicks his eyes back at Chris, both of them laughing.

 

“You should get a little something,” Joey says and I shake my head at him again, scrunching up my nose.

 

“You’re getting one too?” Justin asks, stepping up behind me and I have to fight the urge to close my eyes as his scent encloses around me.

 

“No,” I say, turning a little towards him and then stepping away when I see how close he is to me. He has to stop doing that…

 

“Oh come on,” Joey encourages, poking my arm. “Live a little, Sky.”

 

“I’m living perfectly fine without a tattoo,” I say, huffily, crossing my arms over my chest defensively and they all laugh…except for Justin who looks at the floor, not wanting to be a part of this argument. “And what would I possibly get, anyway?”

 

“A textbook,” Joey grins and I purse my lips at him, narrowing my eyes.

 

“My name,” Justin says, grinning at me cheekily and I give him a menacing stare that wipes the smile right off his face.

 

“Yeah fuckin right man,” Joey says, giving Justin a playful shove, oblivious to Justin and mines silent innuendo.

 

“You could get a heart,” Justin suggests and I glare at him again, he smiling innocently at me and I crack a smile in return, both of us looking immediately at the floor. We have to stop doing this…

 

“You could get five music notes to remember us by,” Lance says, coming up behind us. “Justin, you’re up,” he adds, gesturing to the table with a nod of his head.

 

“Sweet!” Justin exclaims, bouncing his way over to the table and I look over at JC who is watching apprehensively as Justin settles onto the table.

 

“I’m NOT getting anything!” I exclaim annoyed. This is ridiculous! But everyone ignores me.

 

“You’re totally getting something,” Joey grins, poking me in the side and I glare at him a little but his grin is so contagious that I’m smiling back at him in a matter of seconds.

 

“You alright man?” Justin asks as he settles back onto the table, nodding his head at JC, watching as the tattoo artist pulls on his gloves.

 

“Yeah…I’m…I’m fine,” JC responds and then as if snapping back to himself, “Hey… how are you doing this? There’s no way Lynn signed a consent form.”

 

Justin clears his throat and shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it, man.”

 

“But you’re only seventeen…” JC says and I wince. I hate it when people mention how old he is…

 

“Don’t fucking worry about it, C,” Justin says harshly, scowling deeply. Justin knows this too.

 

“Okay, okay,” JC says, eyeing the younger man, “no need to get all hostile.”

 

I walk over between the two tables, watching as the large, tattooed man pulls out a razor and begins to shave halfway up Justin’s calf. I giggle a little, crossing my arms over my chest and he looks up at me, his blue eyes dancing happily.

 

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, his eyes softening as he looks at me.

 

“He’s shaving your leg,” I giggle. “That’s a really sexy look for you.”

 

“Oh you think so,” he teases back, his eyes darkening slightly and I tense a little, realizing what I’ve said. “So what are you gonna get?”

 

“I’m NOT getting anything!” I exclaim, watching as the artist applies the stencil to Justin’s leg.

 

“Oh come on!” Justin says smiling. “You know you want something.” Oh I want something alright…but it’s not a tattoo. I sigh irritated. Why does he have such an effect on me?

 

“You ready?” the tattoo artist asks and Justin looks at him nodding, steeling himself a little.

 

“You wanna hold Sky’s hand, J?” Chris teases and Justin looks up at me, trying to conceal his smile by biting his bottom lip. I nearly moan…guh the shit he does to me without even knowing it.

 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I reply stiffly, watching as the artist brings the needle to Justin’s skin.

 

He winces before relaxing a little but I can tell he’s on edge. Without really thinking, I reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. His head snaps to mine and he gives me a small smile which fades when I pull back, looking around the room as if nothing happened.

 

“Alright you’re done,” the tattoo artist behind me says and I turn to look at Chris who’s examining his leg.

 

“Nice, huh?” Chris asks and I nod. “So,” he says, swinging his legs over the side and standing, moving out of the way so Joey can have his turn, “What are you getting?”

 

“I’m not getting anything,” I practically yell, shaking my head adamantly.

 

“Oh come on, Sky!” Joey exclaims. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

 

“I am not a pussy,” I say defensively and I try to ignore the way Justin shivers, “I’m just not getting a tattoo on a whim. Its tacky,” I say and then looking at the heavily tattooed man working on Justin’s leg I add, “no offense.”

 

“None taken,” he says, smiling up at me and Justin eyes him a little, his bottom lip protruding a little, moving his hand from his lap to the edge of the table, the back of his hand brushing my thigh. I ignore it, continuing on my rant.

 

“And it’s so permanent.”

 

“You’ve never even thought about what you would get if you ever got one?” Lance asks, sitting next to JC who is eyeing the younger man’s leg.

 

“They…they wrap it in saran wrap?” JC asks, looking at Lance’s leg and Lance nods.

 

“Yeah, he said it was to fight infection,” Lance replies, stretching out his leg. “Its still kinda bloody.”

 

JC’s face blanches and he jumps to his feet. “I’m…I’m gonna get some air.”

 

“You have to have thought about it a little,” Joey says, watching as JC makes his way hastily to the door.

 

“Well…” I say, looking from one guy to the next. The truth is I had thought about it, but not seriously. This is ridiculous! I am NOT getting a tattoo.

 

“So you have thought about it?” Chris asks. “And what would it be, Sky? The Mona Lisa down your arm? Water Lillies across your stomach?”

 

“The Last Supper across your ass?” Joey adds and the rest of the guys snigger.

 

“No!” I say defensively. And finally giving in a little I add. “I’ve thought about getting something in ancient Greek…”

 

“Get it!” Joey says and his exclamation is echoed in various ways from the rest of the group.

 

“I don’t know…” I say noncommittally, my stomach tying in knots. This is not me. I am not the kind of person that just decides to get a tattoo.

 

“You got time for one more?” Justin asks, looking at the man working on his leg and the guy looks up at me, his eyes roving over me.

 

“Justin…seriously,” I say, shaking my head at him.

 

“Where do you want it?” he asks, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips and Justin looks from me to him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

“I don’t want it anywhere! I am not getting a tattoo!”

 

“Okay,” the tattoo artist says smiling. “If you were to get one…where would it be?”

 

I shift uncomfortably. All eyes are on me now and I really really don’t want to say it. “Um…” I trail and I know my response is going to get catcalls from the rest of the group. “Here,” I sigh pointing to where my hipbone dips to my stomach.

 

“Sky!” Joey exclaims, and my cheeks redden as laughter fills the room. “You little vixen you!”

 

“It was hypothetical!” I exclaim, feeling my ears burn. “I’m not doing it!”

“You have to do it, Sky,” Lance says, matter of factly, the lowness of his voice giving his words a certain finality that melts my reserve. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

 

“Yeah,” the tattoo artist says grinning, looking back at Justin’s leg. “I got time for that.”

 

Justin is glaring at him and I’m pretty sure if the guy hadn’t been putting something permanent on his body, Justin would have said something to him. Instead he sits back, pouting slightly, never taking his eyes off the artist who would glance at me every once and awhile.  I feel Justin’s hand slide around the edge of the table, knuckles brushing against my hipbone and I lean forward a little, trapping his hand against the table for a second, pressing hard, hopefully painfully and then pulling back. His eyes flick to mine and I give him an inconspicuous shake of my head. He can’t keep doing this. He pulls his hand back, watching the tattoo artist moodily.

 

“Does it hurt?” I ask after a moment and Justin looks up at me.

 

“Not really,” he says nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders and then he winces, the tattoo artist moving around the back of his leg.

 

“Oh you’re such a badass J,” I chuckle and he scowls at me, shifting a little.

 

“You’re almost done, kid,” the artist says and Justin’s face pinkens a little.

 

“I’m fine,” he insists, pouting a little and I rest my hand on the chair, the side of my hand, pressing against his hip slightly. Okay, so sometimes I’m a hypocrite…

 

He doesn’t look at me this time but his face relaxes a little, waiting for the man to put the final touches of ink in before allowing him to look at it.

 

“Done,” the artist says, setting the gun down and Justin cocks his head to the side, a grin spreading wide across his face.

 

“Pretty cool, huh?” he asks me and I nod, smiling a little at his enthusiasm, watching as his leg is wrapped in saran wrap.

 

“Okay,” the tattoo artist says, pulling off his gloves and grabbing another pair. “You’re next.”

 

“What?” I ask, my eyes widening a little. “what…no…no seriously. Like…like no!”

 

“Sky…” Chris says, sighing. “Just do it…for once in your life don’t think. Just do it.”

 

And I can’t help but glance at Justin when he says this. Spontaneity seems be a theme for me as of late. Justin grins at me as he says “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

My eyes widen and the guys all turn to look at him quizzically. The smile slides off his face when he realizes what he has said and he stutters slightly, trying to explain himself.

 

“I mean…um…you know…like-”

 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say and all eyes snap from Justin to me in an instant. Victorious cheers fill the room and I feel hands patting me on the back and shoulders.

 

“Alright let’s get you set up,” the tattoo artist grins

 

“The other guy can do her,” Justin says harshly, glaring at him but the man seems undeterred.

 

“Yeah, I can do her,” the other artist grins.

 

Justin’s head whips to him, his eyes wide. I can’t help but giggle, covering my mouth with my hand, a little embarrassed. Justin scowls deeply, whether from the loss of my touch against his hip or from the artists’ racy comment I’m not sure. Justin opens his mouth to say something but I drop my hand from my mouth, leaning hard onto his wrist.

 

“Oh sorry, J,” I say when he yelps and I pull away from him, eyes lingering on his, admonishing him silently before looking away again.

 

“Nah, Scott’s still workin’ on your friend,” He looks at me and I can’t help but smile a little at his obvious flirtation. “I got this.”

 

Justin is sitting back now, arms crossed over his chest obviously pouting. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but part of me likes his possessiveness. No man I’ve ever been with has ever been so protective of me. It’s kind of endearing in an annoying sort of way.

 

“What do I have to do?” I ask my stomach flipping, and he leans over, pulling out a clipboard. I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.

 

“Just sign on the dotted line.”

 

I eye the paper, skimming the legal agreement before signing my name at the bottom, my stomach flipping again as I hand it back to him. I seriously can’t believe I’m doing this.

 

“Okay…Skylar,” the man says, smiling at me and holding out his hand, “I’m Dom.” I shake his hand and I smile back nervously, ignoring Justin’s huff of displeasure. “What can I do for you today?”

 

“Well…” I say with a sigh. “I guess something in ancient Greek.”

 

Dom nods his head. “Do you have a sample or something? I don’t know any ancient Greek.”

“Oh I do,” I say, nodding. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

 

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “I do.”

 

“Wait…” It’s Joey, who’s still laying across the table. I turn to find him laying back with his hand over his eyes. “You know Greek?”

 

“Ancient Greek,” I say, taking the pen and paper that Dom is offering me, my hands shaking a little. This is insane.

 

“Oh…” Chris says smarmily, sharing a look with Lance and Joey. “Ancient Greek.”

 

“There’s a difference!” I say defensively as I look at the paper and try and think of a good word to get branded on my body for the rest of my life…ugh. “I don’t know what it should say.”

 

“What about art?” Lance suggests.

 

“Scholar!” Chris exclaims. “Khefren used to call you Skylar the Scholar!”

 

“That’s stupid,” Justin spats and the guys look at him a little bewildered and he looks at the floor, his ears pinkening.

 

“What’s your problem, Curly?” Joey asks, eyeing the young man, his voice suggesting that he can’t hold back the question any longer. “You’ve been a pissy bitch today.”

 

“Yeah,” Chris says smiling. “Your hair frizzing more than usual?”

 

“Fuck you,” Justin replies scowling, his pout deepening as he flattens a hand over his hair nervously.

 

“Confucius say that a cranky virgin doesn’t get laid,” Chris teases, poking Justin in the ribs, Justin smacking his hands away impatiently.

 

“Wisdom!” I say, leaning over the table to write out the word. “Thanks, Chris.”

 

“What the hell is that?” Joey asks, snatching the paper from me and I realize he’s done.

 

“That’s sigma, omicron, psi, iota, chi,” I say pointing to each symbol as I read it. “You just-”

 

“Don’t,” Chris says, putting his hand on my arm and shaking his head. “Don’t try to explain it. Joey’s head will explode.”

 

Joey gives Chris a condescending smile as I hand the paper to Dom, who eyes it appraisingly. I bite my lip, my stomach flipping over. I’m going to have this on my body for the rest of my life… the rest of my life.

 

“Very cool,” Dom says after a moment. “Just gimme a sec to trace this up and we’ll be ready to go.”

 

I shift nervously, sitting on the edge of the padded table. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m never this spontaneous. Justin is standing in front of me, glaring at Dom’s retreating form and then he looks down at me. Yeah…spontaneity seems to be my new thing.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, reaching out for me and I give an inconspicuous shake of my head that has him snatching his hand back.

 

“I’m fine,” I say stiffly, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously.

 

Justin shifts his feet and steps closer to me, his leg pressing into my knee. I sigh. We really need to stop doing this.

 

“HEEEEEEEEEEY C!” Chris exclaims as JC makes his way cautiously into the door again, face still tense. “You ready for yours?”

 

Scott, who had been cleaning up his area, grins and revs his tattoo gun. JC’s face blanches completely and he sways ominously, swallowing hard.

 

“Um…I think…I think I’m gonna pass,” he says shakily and the rest of the group moans in protest.

 

“Come on you big pussy!” Joey exclaims, throwing his arm around the older man, jostling him roughly. “Even Sky’s getting a little ink.”

 

He looks at me a little bewildered and I smile weakly back at him. I feel Justin settle on the table next to me, his knee leaning against mine, his hip pressed against me. I feel his chin rest on my shoulder and I fight the urge to let my eyes slide shut. I shouldn’t let him do this but his body is so warm and fuck if I don’t want him right now. I jump when I feel his hand on my thigh and I elbow him lightly in the ribs.

 

“Watch your hands there, J.” It’s JC that says it and we both look up startled.

 

He sits up reluctantly and I shift away from him a little and try to look anywhere but at JC’s piercing gaze. This is why I didn’t want to do this…

 

“Okay, Skylar,” Dom says coming back and holding a thin strip of tracing paper. I stand from the table to look at him and he grins at me playfully as he says, “drop your pants.”

 

My jaw drops and the guys burst into laughter…all except Justin who looks like he could kill Dom with his bare hands. But Dom doesn’t seem to notice, wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.

 

“We can take it in the back if you don’t want an audience,” he adds, his eyes flitting to the five other men in the room.

 

“No, she can do it here,” Justin says flatly and my head whips to him, finding him staring coldly at Dom.

 

“What the fuck is your problem man?” Joey asks and Justin crosses his arms over his chest, not responding.

 

“No, its fine,” I say quickly and all eyes are on me again. Shit…

 

“Alright then,” Dom says before I have a chance to change my mind and he’s grinning at me again. “Drop em.”

 

I purse my lips at him, glaring playfully as my hands go down to the button on my jeans. Joey and Chris catcall me a little and I give them a cheeky smile over my shoulder, seeing Justin move to stand next to them, crossing his arms over his chest in a scowl.

 

“Aw girl you’re gonna have to push em down lower than that,” Dom grins, as he pops his latex gloves.

 

I feel my face burn a little as the guys snigger, Justin still scowling a little, but his eyes are trained on my waist as I shimmy a little, pushing my jeans down low on my hips, revealing my underwear…shit…my lacy-I-may-be-getting-some-later underwear. Dom holds my hand as I hop up on the table, laying back.

 

Then Joey and Chris burst into laughter and Justin shifts uncomfortably, glancing from my exposed flesh to the floor and back again. My face reddens even more. Laughter is not something you want to hear from guys when you’re laying on a table in your underwear.

 

“Check it out, J,” Joey teases, nudging the younger man. “She’s wearing your favorite color.”

 

I look down at myself as Dom lays the stencil against my skin and I see my underwear…a lacy scrap of baby blue fabric peeking out from my open jeans. My eyes flit to Justin and he’s staring glassily at my exposed flesh, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. Shit, maybe I’m not the only one who gets unintentionally turned on these days.

 

“S-s-shut up, Joe,” Justin stutters crossing his arms in front of himself….shit.

 

“May I?” Dom asks his fingers reaching for the waistband of my panties and my head snaps to him, alarmed. “I’m just gonna roll the band down a little,” he adds gently, pulling his hands back and opening his palms to me. “If that’s okay I mean this was where you pointed to earlier…”

 

“No its fine,” I say nodding my head nervously and I feel his gloved fingers roll the waistband over itself, exposing more of my flesh. Shit maybe I should have gone in the backroom.

 

“Whats the matter, Curly?” Chris teases and I look to find Justin staring resolutely at the ground. “Oh yeah, you’ve never seen girly parts like these before, huh?”

 

I do my best to mask my blush and I try to concentrate on Dom wiping my lower stomach with antiseptic, the coolness causing goosebumps to ripple out over my body. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

 

“Shut the fuck up man,” Justin grumbles and I chance a look at him, finding his face flushed, looking at the ground, eyes flitting to my face every once and awhile as he shifts uncomfortably.

 

“Okay how’s that,” Dom asks leaning back so I can look down my body at myself.

 

And there it is…Wisdom in ancient Greek, just below my panty line. It will probably be half obscured by my underwear when it’s done, only viewable to me and – I chance a look at Justin – those I’m intimate with. It’s actually kind of cute. Some of my anxiety quells for a moment before coming back full force. This is going to be here for the rest of my life.

 

“We can reposition it if you want,” Dom says and I snap out of my daze.

 

“What do you guys think?” I ask uneasily, seriously considering calling this ridiculous thing off.

 

“I like it,” Joey says, cocking his head to the side.

 

“Me too,” Chris says, mimicking Joey’s pose.

 

“It is very cool,” Lance says nodding.

 

“Yeah it is,” JC says craning his neck to see.

 

Everyone’s eyes fall on Justin who is looking at the floor, forcing himself not to look at me, hands still crossed in front of himself.

 

“What do you think, Curly?” Lance asks, nudging Justin lightly with his elbow and Justin jumps.

 

“Its…nice...I like it,” Justin says clearing his throat, his eyes watching his shoes scuff the tiled floor.

 

“You didn’t even look at it,” Chris says, doing his best to hide his smile.

 

“I fuckin saw it Chris and it’s cool,” Justin spats, shifting from one foot to the other.

 

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

 

“You sure?” Dom asks, pulling over a stool and getting settled.

 

“Yes,” I say after a moment and he nods, reaching for his tattoo gun, checking the needle before dipping it in the ink.

 

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little sting,” Dom says, leaning over me, resting his forearms against me as he poises the gun at my skin.

 

I gasp a little as the needle digs in and I tense immediately, yelping a little. Okay so apparently I’m a big fucking wuss because this is NOT a little sting. This is a big, searing pain. I pant a little, my hand moving to grip the edge of the table and that’s when I feel it, his hand covering mine warmly. He pries my fingers away from the edge, holding my fingers in his as he crouches down next to me and my thumb wraps around his hand, squeezing hard.

 

“Aw poor Sky,” Lance says, patting my knee before moving to sit down, JC following him because now he has a front row view and from the looks of it, JC doesn’t want to be anywhere near that needle.

 

“Take care of her, Bounce,” Joey says, patting Justin’s shoulder as he and Chris move to survey the art around the walls.

 

“You doing okay?” Dom asks, pulling back to wipe at my skin with a towel, smearing black ink across my skin.

 

“Yeah,” I breathe, swallowing hard. “I’m…I’m okay.”

 

I feel Justin’s thumb rub soothingly across my knuckles and I breathe out slow, sucking in deep when the needle comes back down. I squeeze Justin’s hand tight and his grip tightens on mine, dipping his head to rub my fingers against his cheek, seemingly scratching an itch but I know that’s not the case. I look at him and give him a small smile, which he returns widely, glancing around briefly, assessing that the other guys are occupied before reaching up to brush my hair back from my forehead. I squeeze his hand, this time out of warning and he winks at me. I narrow my eyes at him playfully before chuckling a little to myself.

 

“Quiz me,” he says when I wince again, and I look back at him glassily.

 

“Huh?” I ask, a little dazed. Jeez I never realized what a fucking pussy I am.

 

“Quiz me,” Justin says again, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “Like ask me art questions.”

 

“Oh um…” I say, trying to think.

 

“Or…” he grins evilly. “How bout I quiz you?”

 

I purse my lips at him. “Justin, I’m your teacher. I know everything you know.”

 

“Sure…” he says, mockingly, “when you have your notes in front of you.”

 

Indignation rises in me and his grin tells me that this is just the reaction he was looking for. Well, at least I’m distracted.

 

“Fine!” I spat. “Quiz me.”

 

He screws his face up in thought, pulling his plush bottom lip between his teeth and I fight the quiver in my stomach as he lets its slide slowly out. His eyes lock on mine, blue orbs dancing giddily as he says.

 

“Temple of Athena,” he says, grinning at me.

 

“That’s not on your sheet,” I say, a little shocked and he beams at me triumphantly, thinking he’s won.

 

“Yeah but it’s in the chapter,” he replies smarmily. “If you don’t know that’s oka-”

 

“The Temple of Athena is part of the Pantheon complex. Its architect was Kilikrates and it was constructed in 425 BC. It is done in the ionic style and is amphiprostyle, meaning it has a porch on each end. There is no entrance to the cella-”

 

“Okay, okay,” Justin grumbles, eyeing me slightly disappointed. “I get it. You know everything.”

 

I smile triumphantly at him. I know everything. I know about Greek art. I know about… and then he grins back at me and my mind goes blank. I definitely know one thing, that’s for sure. There is no stopping this.

“The Gemma Auguste, made sometime in the early first century of the current era, is made of onyx. Why do you think they used onyx?”

 

I look up and find Justin gazing at me from across the room, much the same way he has been for the past twenty minutes. This is the rule that I’ve set. No messing around during lessons. Period. But just to be safe I always sit at least an arms length away. I hate that I can’t resist him sometimes. I can hold him off for awhile but all it takes is one kiss, or a touch, or hell sometimes even just a look and I give in completely. Tonight is looking like one of those nights, him laying sprawled out across the bed in my hotel room and me in a chair across the room. Sometimes an arms length isn’t enough space. Sometimes we need the entire room.

 

The past week has been a whirlwind of heated kisses in deserted corridors and quick fondling behind closed doors. It’s been five days since we first… It’s been five days. It seems like there’s always an excuse not to, there’s never enough time, there are too many people around, something… or maybe we’re just nervous. Okay maybe I’m just nervous. Once is one thing. A slip of resolve, a momentary lapse of judgment, but a repeat occurrence of us… guh I need to think of what to call this thing between us.

 

Wrong works well.

 

I fight the urge to smack myself in the head. I still feel guilt. Still feel shame, for being weak, for not having the willpower to fight him on this. It’s inappropriate, and illegal, and just wrong. I should know better. I’m his teacher, I’m older but damn him if every time he presses his mouth to mine I don’t forget all that. He has this way of making me not care. I’ve never not cared about anything before. It’s kind of…refreshing. In a gut wrenching, I-could-go-to-jail-for-this kind of way.

 

“Justin,” I say after a moment of him not answering me, shifting slightly under the heat of his gaze. “Can you tell me why you think they used onyx?”

 

He’s lying on his side, his cheek propped on his palm, dressed in loose fitting basketball shorts and a wife beater, seemingly ready for bed, his book open next to him. His eyes lick up and down my frame, the heat of his gaze smoldering even from all the way across the room. Yeah, there’s nothing stopping this tonight. Except…

 

“They used onyx because it was readily available,” he sighs, rolling onto his stomach, shoving his book out of the way, irritated, still watching me, his chin resting on his folded arms. “And it was expensive. So it was used for royal stuff.”

 

“Yes, very good,” I say, flipping the page in my notes. “There are two registers, the top of which shows Augustus and his court and the bottom-”

 

“Sky,” he says and I look up, to see him wiggling a little in the bed, eyes dancing mischievously, “Are we almost done?”

 

“Um,” I say, flipping through several pages of notes. “No, actually we’re not.”

 

He groans rolling onto his back and heaving a sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. I do my best to ignore the rather prominent bulge in the front of his shorts. I swallow hard looking down at my notes.

 

“The lower register shows-”

 

“Will you come over here?” he asks, rolling onto his side and I look up to find him with his head propped on his hand again, his other hand smoothing over the empty space next to him.

 

“Justin,” I say, giving him a weary look. We have to get through the section. We’re already behind.

 

“Come on, Sky,” he sighs, reaching down to adjust himself in his shorts and this is in no way sexual but Christ if it doesn’t turn me on anyway, “You can teach me just as well from here as you can from over there.”

 

“Actually, I think having the room between us makes for a more productive learning environment,” I say, smiling a little as he pouts.

 

“Skyyyyyyyyy,” he groans, and I shake my head at him, looking down at my notes again.

 

“The lower register shows barbarians being taken captive by roman soldiers. How do we know they’re barbarians?”

 

When he doesn’t respond right away I look up and find him once again staring intently at me, his smoldering blue eyes discernable even from across the room. A shiver runs through me as I shift in my chair, crossing my legs trying to quell the ache between my thighs. Yeah, sometimes an entire room isn’t even enough space.

 

“Justin,” I say and he sighs, glancing down at his book.

 

“They have bushy hair and cork necklaces,” he says flatly, rolling onto his back again, rubbing at the crotch of his shorts a little and I have to drop my eyes back to my notes lest I be tempted to simply run over there and ravage him.

 

“Torque necklaces,” I say clearing my throat and he makes a sound of indifference in his throat.

 

“Whatever,” he mutters and rolls on his side again propping himself up on an elbow, surveying me from under his long lashes. “You sure you don’t wanna come over here and lay with me?”

 

“Justin,” I warn again, eyeing him sternly but my resolve crumbles when he lets his head fall to the side and he pulls his plush bottom lip between his teeth and all it takes is one word, uttered innocently.

 

“Please?”

 

I sigh, a little irritated as I haul myself out of my chair and close the gap between us. He’s grinning giddily up at me, scooting back to allow more room for me, pulling his book up to lay above his head. He may have won this battle, but we are going to get through this section tonight. I drop my notes between us as I lay down next to him, mimicking his pose, propping my head on my hand and looking down at the folder between us.

 

Before I even get one word out of my mouth one of his large hands is smoothing over my hip, the heat of his skin searing me through my lounge pants. I sigh as his hand slides higher, fingers brushing the small exposed strip of skin between the top of my pants and the hem of my tank top. I try to ignore him and continue on.

 

“In the top register we have Augustus seated with his feet on a shield. The shield is the only thing breaking the two registers. Seated next to him is Roma, the goddess of – Justin would you stop!”

 

His finger, that was slowly stroking the exposed skin of my hip had dipped down, wrapping in the thin ribbon of my drawstring, and he is now tugging slightly, undoing the bow and I can feel them loosen around my waist. He pouts at me as I shove his hands away, huffing a little before going back to my notes.

 

“Would you focus, please,” I say, doing my best to keep my breathing steady. I don’t know much longer I can…

 

“Yes,” he says, his voice deep, his face contorted in mock seriousness. “focus.”

 

As he says this, he moves to pull his hand to his chest, palm brushing my breast as he does and there is no way in hell that shit was unintentional. I huff, fighting the shudder that’s threatening to quake through me and I grab my notebook, rolling until my back is to him.

 

“Now, where was I,” I say, ignoring his arm that is snaking around my waist, tugging me closer to him.

 

I nearly moan as I feel him hard and wanting, pressing into my ass. His hips wiggle impatiently, his face burying in my hair. His hand slides up my stomach to cup my breast in his large hand, squeezing a little and I can practically feel him twitch in his pants, a slow hiss stirring my hair. Jesus Christ he’s pressing his hips into me like some kind of horny teenager…which…he is…shit.

 

I shake my head, trying to ignore him as I go on, covering the rest of the Gemma Augustae and the Forum of Trajan, the Coliseum, and the pantheon. He’s really restless now, rocking his hips into me steadily and I can barely fucking breathe his arms are wrapped so tight around me.

 

“Are we done yet,” he whines, as I tell him the very last fact on the pantheon.

 

I flip through my notes, counting that we have three more pieces to go. Just three more pieces, but the way he’s pressing into me, the way his breath is coming in pants against my ear. He can’t wait three more pieces. Fuck, I can’t wait three more pieces.

 

“Yeah,” I sigh, hating myself as I toss the notebook onto the floor. “We’re done for the night.”

 

“Great!” Justin exclaims brightly, jumping off the bed. “Are you ready? I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

My eyes widen as I watch him tear his wife beater over his head, thumbs hooking in the waistband of his basketball shorts. “Justin, calm down,” I giggle slightly, watching him reach down to try and pull his sock from his foot.

 

“Its been five days,” he pants, stumbling a little as he pulls off his other sock, nearly falling but he catches himself on the bed.

 

“You okay there J?” I ask, giggling slightly, but it turns into a moan as he pushes his boxers to the floor. Five days is a long fucking time…

 

“I’m fine. Let’s do this,” he breathes excitedly

 

He practically pounces on me and I have to giggle at his enthusiasm. His mouth is on mine instantly, tongue sliding in, hips pressing needily against mine, fingers tugging clumsily at my clothes. I giggle again, pushing at his shoulder a little so I can tug my tank top over my head. He sits back and watches me, gaze intense, mouth slightly open as my body is revealed to him. I reach back to undo my bra, looking anywhere but at him, slightly uncomfortable under his predatory stare. He makes a strangled sound in his throat when my breasts are revealed to him and his large hands reach out to cover them instantly, fondling roughly.

 

I wince. “Easy, Justin,” I breathe and he looks at my face, his touch softening instantly, stroking my skin slowly.

 

“Sorry…is this better?” he pants and I nod, reaching down to push my pants and panties down my hips, kicking them off my legs.

 

He climbs on top of me instantly, his mouth pressing to mine and I giggle again, feeling him pressing into my belly so hard, so needy. I wrap my arms around him, hands smoothing around his back, one going up to fist in the curls at the base of his skull, pulling his mouth from mine and he whines a little, looking down at me.

 

“Slow. Down. Justin,” I say slowly, laughing a little at his earnestness and he smiles sheepishly.

 

“Sorry,” he grins, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and a wave of heat flows through me, settling in my center.

 

He dips his head, kissing me slow and passionate, his tongue sliding in and massaging mine. I moan into his mouth, shifting my hips impatiently. He knows now, after five days of quick make out sessions just how to make me moan, how to make me press harder into him, how to drive me fucking insane. I swear to god this boy’s mouth…

 

“OH!” he says pulling back suddenly and bounding off the bed.

 

I’m dizzied slightly by his quick movement, watching him grab his basketball shorts, turning them over and over in his hands, searching for the pockets. I watch him for a moment, sitting up a little when he produces a small foil square, dropping his shorts to the floor again.

 

“I remembered the condom!”

 

He’s grinning proudly at me, as if waiting to be patted on the head and I smile back at him nodding. I fight the urge to say “very good” because while I am his teacher and he’s my student, we are NOT bringing that into this. I’m guilty enough as it is.

 

But shit he’s like fucking Adonis or something else equally as poetic and ridiculous. His body is…perfect. Angelic face, broad shoulders, rippled abdomen, small waist, and his dick, standing at attention. I feel another rush of pleasure and I can feel myself practically dripping on the sheets.

 

“Now, I just have to figure out how to use it,” he mumbles and my attention is snapped back to his face again.

 

His brow is furrowed and he’s holding the condom close to his nose, reading something on the package. Oh god…

 

“Justin,” I say, closing my eyes, the guilt washing over me again. “What…what are you doing?”

 

“Readin’ the directions,” he says absently, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

 

I run a hand over my face, trying to remain calm. He’s reading the directions. He doesn’t know how to put on a condom. He’s seventeen years old, my conscience screams at me and I wince a little before shoving it down.

 

“Justin, I know how to put on a fucking condom,” I say quickly and his eyes snap to mine, widening, and I can practically see his cock twitch.

 

And he’s back on the bed in half a second, settling in front of me panting, shoving the condom into my hand. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I kneel in front of him. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

 

“Okay, first you open the package…with your hands not your teeth. Just tear along the edge,” I say as I tear into the foil and he nods, his eyes trained on my hands as I pull the condom out. “You’re gonna hold the end,” I say as I pinch the tip, “so you don’t get air or anything in there when you put it on. You don’t want it to break.” He nods his head at me, his eyes still watching my hands. “And then you just roll it on,” I say as I begin to roll it down his shaft and he shivers. “Oh, and make sure the roll is on the outside,” I add as roll it all the way to the base.

 

Our eyes meet and we both just stare at each other for a moment. Okay so I swore I would never be his teacher in bed but…hell, who am I kidding. It seems that rules are just meant to be broken when it comes to him, even the ones I’ve made for myself. After a moment we burst into giggles, him blushing a little. I place my hands on his shoulders and kiss him, feeling my body heat up again at the mere taste of him. How can he just do this to me…with one kiss?

 

I press him back and his legs slide out straight as he settles underneath me, gazing up at me in anticipation. His hands move to grip my hips and he pauses, reaching out to brush his thumb over the black ink on my lower belly. I hiss a little as it stings and he moves to brush under it instead, studying my face intently.

 

“Still healing?” he asks, licking his lips and I nod, looking down my body at it. I still can’t believe I have a fucking tattoo. “Skylar,” he breathes and I see that his face is contorted in want.

 

He’s looking down at the space where our bodies are about to be connected and I watch as one of his hands leaves my hip to reach between us tentatively. His eyes flit to mine, asking permission and I nod to him, eye lids fluttering as he rubs the tip of his cock along my folds, sending jolts of pleasure through me. He’s panting as he places himself at my entrance and nudges his hips up a little, piercing me slightly and I moan, beginning my descent down, taking him in slowly inch by inch.

 

His head is pressed back hard into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut and I lean forward a little, bracing myself on his chest as I get ready to roll my hips into him. His nails dig hard into my hips, gritting his teeth. God, he’s so fucking gorgeous.

 

I begin to roll hard against him, my eyes sliding shut, working my hips slowly. I’m panting now, concentrating on the feel of him stretching me completely, filling me up. Five days is just too damn long.

 

“This is amazing,” he breathes and my eyes open to find him staring up at me, eyes glassy. I can’t help but grin.

 

“Yeah,” I breathe, leaning back a little and I feel him slide deeper, my mouth falling open in a groan.

 

I’m rocking hard against him, my palms flat against his chest, his heart thudding under my hand. He’s pressing hard on my hips and his breath is coming in short, manic pants. I peek down at him, finding his face contorted in pleasure, and I lean down, pressing my mouth to his. He kisses me back hungrily, his hands smoothing up my back, nails clutching at my spine.

 

“God, Sky,” he pants, his hands skimming up and down my back and I’m too caught up in the feeling of him inside me to even respond.

 

I lean back again, pushing my hair out of my face, my fingers lining up with his ribs. He’s pressing against that spot inside of me and my hips roll faster, my knees sliding further apart trying to take him deeper still and I can feel myself clutch at him involuntarily. I’m close already…god I’m so fucking close.

 

“Sky,” he moans, his hips pressing up into me and I’m practically there if he would just… “Sky I’m gonna…” he swallows hard and my nails dig into his chest because I’m so… “Sky don’t…”

 

And then he groans deep in his chest, the muscles in his stomach tightening and his hips twitch hard up into me and I know what just happened. I roll my hips harder but I know it’s over. I hang my head back, groaning low in my chest, my body still pulsing and tears sting my eyes. I was so fucking close.

 

“God, Sky… I’m… I’m sorry,” he pants and I look down at him and his face is red, whether it’s from his release or embarrassment I’m not sure.

 

“It’s… it’s fine,” I grit out, pulling off of him, running my hands through my hair. My body is still on fire, the ache in my stomach so intense and I’m fighting the urge to just finish myself off right in front of him.

 

“No,” he says sitting up, growling as he rips the condom off and tosses it in the trashcan. “I can fix this.”

 

I chuckle. “Fix it?” I reply disbelievingly. “Justin…it’s…” I sigh, closing my eyes and swallowing hard. “It’s okay.”

 

“No,” he says quickly and I feel him climb on top of me, my body falling back against the bed, my head hitting the pillow with a plop. “I got this.”

 

He kisses my neck and I pant, pressing my hips up against him, trying to get some type of friction but he’s soft against my hip and I groan. There’s no way… but his lips are sliding down to my collarbone, his hands palming my breasts in the gentle way I had admonished him into. When his lips find one peak I groan loud, wrapping my legs around his waist and rock against him. I just…I need it… I can’t even think any more.

 

His mouth is moving down my stomach, his tongue leaving a wet trail in the dim light. His hands are sliding warmly up the outside of my thighs as he moves to settle between my legs. He grins up at me sheepishly and I feel one of his hands move from my thigh and when he touches me I arch my back, tingles rushing down to my toes.

 

I yelp when he slides his fingers in, reaching down to grip his shoulders. “Easy there, Jus,” I breathe and he cringes a little.

 

“Sorry,” he breathes, pulling out and then thrusting back in gently and I let my head fall back. “Sky,” he says and I can feel his breath against me, goose bumps prickling my flesh. Shit the things he does to me.

 

“Hmmm,” I respond, wiggling my hips a little because his fingers have stopped.

 

“Can I…” he trails, and I look down at him and he gestures down and licks his lips, grinning a little uncertainly and my eyes widen at his suggestion.

 

I nod slowly and he dips his head, nothing visible but platinum blond curls nestled between my legs. I groan low as I feel his tongue reach out to tentatively lick my folds, my hands moving to wrap in his hair. He’s slow and cautious, his tongue laving me gently, his fingers moving slowly. He stumbles across my clit and I moan loudly, feeling him jump a little at the sound, looking up at me before grinning and dipping his head again. His tongue rolls right next to my clit and if he would just move over a little… I sigh, frustrated, tugging one hand from his hair and he stops.

 

“Here,” I say, making a “v” of my middle and forefinger, framing my clit for him and he leans down, flattening his tongue between my fingers and I moan loudly, my hips rising up against him.

 

Fire is coiling in my belly and his fingers massage in and out of me, his tongue working against me. My breathing is hitching, soft whimpers and low groans escaping my lips at the sensations that are rolling through my body, the hand in his hair scraping his scalp.

 

“Am I doing this right?” he asks, looking up at me and I tug hard on his hair.

 

“Don’t stop,” I growl, and he immediately starts again, his lips smudging against my clit, staying within the confines of my fingers.

 

I can feel myself start to tremble, the pleasure building in me and I tug at his hair, my hips bucking into his face, chasing that feeling that’s coiling in me. I feel my toes start to tingle and my breathing hitches when he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, throwing me over the edge abruptly. I shout out, my hips arching off the bed and I can feel him growl a little, using his free hand to hold me down so he can keep his lips firmly in place.

 

I collapse back against the sheets, my body limp, my breathing ragged. I whimper a little when I feel him slide his fingers out, gasping as I watch him lick them clean. I pull my own hand from my folds and he catches my wrist, sucking my fingers into his mouth and I let my head fall back against the pillow, eyes closing. He amazes me sometimes.

 

“That was so cool,” he says breathlessly as he climbs up my body and plops down next to me. I chuckle a little at the enthusiasm in his voice. “I mean I could feel you co-”

 

“Justin,” I cut him off, sighing and he stops abruptly.

 

“Sorry, am I ruining your post coital thing?” he says and I feel him stretch out next to me, pressing his front against my side.

 

“A little,” I breathe and he nuzzles his nose into my neck.

 

“Sorry,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my pulse point before burying his face in my neck, his arm snaking across my stomach, tugging me closer and curling his body around mine.

 

“Justin,” I say after a moment and shiver when I feel his hum of acknowledgement vibrate against my skin. “You should go.”

 

The words taste bitter in my mouth but I have a rule about him sleeping here. His mom wakes him up in the morning. I’m pretty sure she would freak the fuck out if he wasn’t there. And the first door she would knock on would most likely be mine because I was the one who saw him last. That’s all we need. So he absolutely, cannot, under any circumstances-

 

“Sky, just let me stay a little while,” he begs softly, placing soft, dry kisses along the column of my neck. “I’ll get up and leave early. I promise.”

 

“Justin,” I sigh, but his tongue darts out, flicking against my pulse point and I know I’m done for. “Just this once.”

 

But as he hugs me tight against him I know it’s not just this once.

 

It never is with us.

My eyelids are drooping as we make our way through the fading daylight, the headlights of the passing cars being the only thing that’s keeping me from drifting into a peaceful slumber. My forehead rests against the cool window, bleary eyes watching the lines on the road as we twist and turn our way through downtown Los Angeles. Justin is in the seat next to me, his hand resting between us, not quite close enough to touch me but a constant reminder that he’s there, willing to hold my hand if I reach for him, which he knows I won’t but he still does it anyway.

 

This is his idea, wherever it is we’re going tonight. Even though its only 7:30 I’d be perfectly happy to be in my hotel room, getting ready for bed, the combination of the switch from east coast to west coast time and flying all day taking its toll on my body. But Justin insisted. We’re in town for some award show tomorrow night and today is the group’s only day off for another week, and Justin does what he wants on his day off. And today he wants to take me somewhere and he wants it to be a surprise.

 

The last two weeks have been… well, they’ve been something, that’s for sure. The tour has really picked up, long bus rides, made even longer by the close quarters, lessons full of discrete touches and shared smiles. Then the shows, the waiting in my room, feebly working on my thesis, watching the clock until that knock sounds on my door. Maybe jetlag isn’t the only thing that’s got me exhausted.

 

My eyes flit to the large man sitting shotgun, and then the driver in front of me, that ridiculous fleeting fear that they could be mind readers gnawing at me, just like the guilt, wondering where the hell we’re going as we drive along. I sit up, craning my neck as we come to a gate. Justin is fidgeting in his seat, trying to suppress his smile. The driver pays the parking fee and I’m looking everywhere for a sign, some indication of where the hell we are.

 

“Justin-”

 

“Just wait,” he says bouncing slightly as the driver pulls into the parking garage.

 

The driver drops us off by the elevators and we all climb out and I see it, a large mural on the wall, The Getty. As in the J. Paul Getty Museum, one of the largest collections of European paintings and sculpture in the United States. I’m so shocked, I stop walking and Justin and Tiny look back at me as I stare dumbly at the wall.

 

“Come on, Sky,” Justin says, chuckling slightly, “We haven’t even gotten to the real art yet.”

 

I’m completely speechless as we ride up and get on the tram, star struck as we climb high above Los Angeles, the setting sun at my back, the 405 beneath me and Bel-Air looming in front of me, the city lights twinkling to my right. I’m wrapped up in it, anticipation causing me to shift impatiently in my seat. The Getty collection is one of the most priceless and extensive in the country and ever since I knew what classical art was I’ve wanted to see this collection. This desire strengthened when two years ago they moved the collection from the small home gallery to the Center we’re ascending toward now.

 

It takes all of my will power not to run towards the main building as we step off the tram, taking in the marble walkways smiling at the man who greets us and hands us maps.

 

“Where do you wanna go first?” Justin asks me softly as we lean into each other, looking over the map.

I look back at him and he smiles widely at me, his ball cap casting a shadow onto his boyish face and now I can’t speak for a different reason.

 

“Why don’t we start at the North Pavilion,” he says, pointing to the little building on the map. “That has the oldest stuff.”

 

I just nod dumbly, following him slowly, Tiny trailing behind us. We step in and the first thing I see is a Greek relief and it takes every ounce of resolve not to squeal like one of Justin’s fans. I run up to it, leaning in close, taking in the detail of the horses, ranging from low relief to high relief, giving the piece incredible depth.

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

It’s Justin, his voice right next to my ear. He’s leaning in close too, his arm pressed against mine and I stare at him for a moment still slightly dumbstruck.

 

“It’s um,” I stutter slightly, finally finding my voice. “It’s Achilles and his mother Thetis and they’re on a chariot coming up on… worshippers I would assume.” I lean in again surveying it closely. “They’re only seven in this piece but I would imagine there were about ten originally. It was probably a religious votive for the Achilleides cult.”

 

“Bingo,” Justin says, reading the little plaque underneath the relief. “How do you do that?”

 

“What?” I ask, moving excitedly into the first room, taking in the various pieces of pottery.

 

“Know all this crap,” he says, studying me curiously and then his attention turns to what I’m looking at. “Hey, red form pottery!”

 

“Very good, Justin!” I exclaim, bouncing slightly. I turn, fighting the urge to hug him and nearly smack right into Tiny, gasping slightly in shock.

 

“Sorry,” he says, his deep voice vibrating with laughter. “I was just looking.”

 

“Be careful in here man,” Justin says, walking around the room, glancing at things with slight interest. “You break it, you bought it.”

 

“Oh, these are priceless,” I say, and I’m sure I’m grinning like a fool.

 

“Oh, I’m sure they’d price it for us if this oaf knocked it over,” Justin quips, grinning cheekily up at Tiny who glares back at him sternly, before shaking his head, chuckling slightly.

 

“I can’t believe you did this!” I say, barely containing my excitement as we move to the next room.

 

“Well, you know,” he says, hands in his pockets, swaggering behind me. “It’s about time I took you on a date.”

 

And I nearly break my neck turning to look at him, Tiny standing right next to him and the panic curling in me is enough to nearly knock me over. He’s smiling at me, unaffected and Tiny is looking at a chalice in a glass case.

 

“Justin…” I say slowly, my eyes flitting to Tiny, giving him a warning look.

 

“Oh, he knows,” Justin says, waving his hand dismissively and Tiny’s eyes flit to me, nodding hesitantly before looking away again.

 

I feel my knees go weak and my entire body flushes, my breath coming in pants. Justin looks at me concerned and I’m sure my face is completely white. He steps forward, one large hand cupping my shoulder, the other moving to hold my chin, his eyes looking into mine. I slap his hands away, looking at him horrified. I’m done. This is it. I’m fired and probably going to jail. Goodbye to my dreams of being a curator of someplace like this. Goodbye to my masters and to my doctorate and every other ambition I ever had. Hello to a three by nine cell and an orange jumpsuit.

 

“Skylar, calm down,” Justin laughs easily, “It’s Tiny! He was there at the club that one night. Remember? He took us back to the hotel.”

 

I close my eyes, wincing slightly at the memory. My heart is thudding hard in my chest and my stomach is turning over and over itself. Tiny is still avoiding my gaze, reading the plaque for the chalice. This is why this was a bad idea. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets. My father knew when I had one more popsicle than I was allowed because I left the stick on the counter. My mother knew that I was still seeing that boy she told me I wasn’t allowed to date because I wore his jacket home from school one day. And Tiny knows I’m having sex with my underage student because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I close my eyes again, and for what seems like the millionth time, I hate myself for what I’m doing.

 

“He’s cool, Sky,” Justin says slowly and I open my eyes to find him looking at me steadily, assuredly. “He didn’t tell the first time your drunk ass tried to seduce me, why would he bring it up now.”

 

I gasp and he grins cockily at me. I reach out and hit him with the back of my hand, pursing my lips to suppress my smile. He dodges me, grinning and I sigh, turning back to the art around me.

 

“You are a brat,” I say, and he follows me as I walk along the wall, surveying the small pieces of jewelry and purse covers behind the glass. “And I did not seduce you,” I add lowly, not wanting the other patrons to hear.

 

“Excuse me!” he exclaims softly, scurrying up behind me after he had stopped from the shock of my statement. “I seem to remember someone backing her ass up into me on the dance floor.”

 

“That was not seduction,” I say, doing my best to contain my smile as we move down the hall toward the next room, “that was just dancing.”

 

“Oh, okay,” he says sarcastically and then he comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me snugly against him, his breath warm on my ear. “What do you call your hand on my dick in the backseat of the car?”

 

I gasp slightly, and I can feel him grin, his lips pressed to my earlobe and I shake him off, casting nervous glances at the people around us.

 

“Okay, maybe that was…”

 

My voice trails as the hall opens up and in front of me is a large statue of a woman, completely nude aside from a small scrap of cloth she’s reaching for to shield herself and I’m in awe because this… this is a replica of my favorite piece of Greek art. It’s not the exact same, but it’s one of the only surviving Roman replicas of the Aphrodite of Cnidus.

 

“Hey!” Justin exclaims, pushing past me to stand close to the statue and he cocks his head to the side. “Isn’t this that statue from the book?”

 

“Yes,” I say, finding my voice again and stepping forward to stand next to him.

 

“Aphrodite of Cider,” he says nodding and I roll my eyes, laughing a little.

 

“Cnidus, Justin,” I say and he shrugs indifferently.

 

“This is kinda cool,” he says, gazing up at her intently, “you know… seeing a piece from the book in real life.”

 

“Yeah,” I say, absently and he’s moving on, heading out the door and I linger a little, taking in the folds of the cloth and the delicate features of her face.

 

“You ready?” he calls to me and I turn fully towards him, following him and Tiny back out of the room.

 

We head up the stairs and view a few paintings and the illuminated manuscripts before moving on to the East Pavilion, taking our time in surveying the 17th century Baroque paintings. Justin questions me on various works and I pester him with school work, forcing him to analyze at least one painting from each room.

 

It’s starting to get darker and darker as we step out into the courtyard again, the warm summer air laying against my skin like a blanket. Justin is walking ahead of me, chatting with Tiny about basketball and I watch him tug his ball cap lower over his eyes as a group of young women pass, his eyes following them briefly before turning back to his conversation. My blood heats up a little but I push it down. This thing with he and I, it’s… it’s… god what is it about us that defies my grasp of the English language? We fuck. There, that wasn’t so hard. It’s what we do, no strings, no emotions…well, for me anyway. I eye him, watching his head fall back as he laughs. Being with him isn’t easy, but well, I’ve tried the alternative. That worked out just great.

 

“Hey Sky,” Justin says, turning to me and I snap out of my daze. “Want an ice cream?”

 

I glance ahead and see an old man with a cart set up in the middle of the courtyard, handing ice cream cones to a middle aged couple. He nods his head at me, gesturing for me come with him and I do, striding up next to him to stand at the cart.

 

“Hey, can I get two please,” Justin says, holding up two fingers as his other hand digs into his pocket. He’s buying me ice cream. Seriously, is he for real?

 

“Enjoying the museum?” the man asks as he scoops vanilla ice cream into cones for us and I nod animatedly.

 

“Oh yes, it’s amazing!” I exclaim, taking my ice cream from him and he begins to make Justin’s.

 

“What’s been your favorite piece so far?” the old man asks, handing a cone to Justin and I open my mouth to speak but Justin cuts me off.

 

“You don’t wanna ask her that, man,” he says, handing the man a few bills. “You’ll be stuck here for days.”

 

“Hey!” I exclaim, nudging him gently and he laughs, that deep, throaty laugh from his chest and I can’t fight the shiver that runs through me.

 

We turn to sit on a bench near the fountain, Tiny moving to sit across the way, giving us some privacy. I watch Tiny take his seat, watching his surroundings, keeping his eye on a few of the younger women milling around. My stomach turns a little because he knows. He knows! Someone besides Justin and I knows and this could be the end of everything. Justin was right, he had never said anything from the incident before but that was different. I was drunk and it was late and it hadn’t been happening every night for the past two weeks – oh my god I’m going to hell.

 

“Having fun?” Justin’s voice startles me out of my thoughts and I realize that he’s been watching me all along.

 

“What?” I ask and then his words register in my brain and my spirits lift again. “Yes! Oh my god, this is fabulous!” I say and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as I run mine alone the outside of my ice cream cone.

 

We’re quiet for a moment, just listening to the water flow into the fountain, me watching the few people that are bustling through the courtyard, him watching me, eyes trained on my mouth and I know what he’s thinking. God, he’s such a perv sometimes.

 

“You’re dripping there, J,” I say, smiling slightly and he looks down, seeing his ice cream melting down over his hand.

 

“Oh…yeah,” he chuckles, bringing his hand up, his tongue lapping up the liquid around his fingers.

 

Heat flushes through me as I watch him flatten his tongue along the side of the cone, licking in one long sweep, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, licking his lips before going in for another. Okay so apparently I’m a perv too.

 

“Sooooo…” he says slowly, not looking at me for what seems like the first time all night. “Have you ever had a serious boyfriend?”

 

I nearly choke, coughing, my ice cream grazing my chin, and before I can get a hand up to wipe it away, his hand his cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing the stickiness away. His brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean and I swear there is no way that I am not going to hell for this.

 

“W-what’s it to you?” I ask, wiping at my chin with the back of my hand nervously and he shrugs.

 

“Nothing really. I just never have,” he says and then he tenses a little, “well there was this one girl…”

 

“Oh really?” I grin at him and he smiles weakly back at me. “The one your mom caught you with?”

 

“Oh no that was a different one,” he says, waving his hand dismissively and I laugh a little. “No… no I really liked this other girl. She was on this TV show I did for awhile. We had really hit it off and then the show ended…and I went home,” he says sighing and then grinning at me adds, “And that’s when I met the girl Mom caught me with.”

 

“You’re such a playboy,” I tease lightly and he grins.

 

“Two girls,” he says, looking at me pointedly. “Oh yeah, I’m big pimpin’ baby. Well… three girls now.” He smiles softly at me and I feel my stomach flip.

 

“We are not dating,” I say after I get a hold of my senses and he frowns at me.

 

“Yes, we are,” he says nodding.

 

“No…no we aren’t.”

 

“We’re here together, aren’t we?”

 

“This is not a date, Justin,” I say sternly and he shakes his head.

 

“No, see I took you here and I bought you food. It’s a date. We are on a date, therefore we are dating.”

 

I scoff. “No…” I say, searching for something to rebut with. “just…no!”

 

He chuckles. “Good argument, babe,” he says, and he licks at his ice cream again and I have to look away.

 

“Justin... seriously,” I say, the guilt rising in me. This is a strictly physical thing. He has to know that. He has to believe it and live it because we cannot…we are not dating.

 

“Sky, seriously,” he mocks and I purse my lips, huffing quietly. “So, have you dated anyone seriously?”

 

I shift uncomfortably. “Not really,” I reply and he eyes me skeptically.

 

“You’re lying,” he states and I sigh, glaring at him.

 

“Why the sudden interest in my past love life?” I ask and he grins.

 

“Just curious.”

 

“Well, get over it,” I reply, a little too harshly to be just simply annoyed. His eyes soften a little.

 

“Was he an asshole?” Justin asks, licking at his ice cream cone and I can’t believe we’re talking about this.

 

“Yeah, he was,” I say flatly, and he places a comforting hand on my knee.

 

“He break up with you?” Justin pries gently and I sigh rolling my eyes.

 

“Yeah, Justin, he did…after he got my best friend pregnant,” I spit and his eyes widen, whether it’s from the news I delivered or the venom in my voice I’m not sure. “Why are we talking about this?” I ask, turning away from him slightly so that his hand falls from my knee. Shit, I haven’t thought about that in forever.

 

“He’s a moron,” Justin says softly, his hand running smoothly up and down my back as the hurt that I buried inside me so long ago surfaces again. “Seriously, baby… he’d have to be to let you get away from him.”

 

I cringe slightly at the term of endearment. He usually only calls me that when he’s joking, his voice light and teasing or when we’re in bed, his tone soft and gentle. He’s not teasing me now so one guess as to how his voice sounds. I’m just about to reply when a man in a suit approaches us.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his Italian accent light and apologetic. “Its nine o’clock and the museum is closing.”

 

My heart constricts. We’ve only been through two of the buildings! We can’t go yet! There’s still so much to see! The 18th century European paintings, the furnished and paneled rooms, the Italian paintings and sculpture ranging from the 1700s through the 1900s! We can’t go yet!

 

“Oh yeah, um, I called about that,” Justin says, fidgeting with the hat on his head, glancing around before pulling it up quickly, revealing his mess of blond curls underneath before replacing it nervously.

 

“Yes, I thought it was you,” the man says smiling and I nearly fall off the bench. “I’m John Giurini, director of Public Affairs. I’ll be accompanying you through the museum after hours.”

 

“Thanks for doing this,” Justin says, extending his hand and John shakes it enthusiastically.

 

“It’s not a problem at all! You’re my daughter’s favorite,” John says and Justin drops his head, smiling as he nods a little.

 

“Well, tell her thank you for me. I’d be happy to sign something for her.”

 

I trail along behind them as John goes on and on about his daughter, Justin nodding and laughing politely. Tiny strides up next to me and I glance at him briefly as we make our way into the South Pavilion.

 

“You know,” Tiny says and I look up at him, finding him peering down at me hesitantly, “it’s not my job to tell him what to do. It’s not my job to tell his mother what he does. In fact doing that greatly impedes my job. If he doesn’t trust me then he tries to ditch me and that’s how people get hurt. It’s my job to protect him. I’ve known this kid since he was fourteen years old. I know him. I know how he thinks. I know how he works. I’m not surprised that he was able to get to you.” I cringe, looking away but he continues on. “I’m not surprised you gave in.” My eyes meet his again and he’s looking at me steadily. “I’ll keep your secret, Skylar, but I’m telling you now, nothing good can come of this.”

 

I look up at him, slightly shocked. I think that this is the most Tiny has ever said to me in the entire two months we’ve been together on this tour. He’s looking down at me sympathetically…well…sympathetically for Tiny. He glares. It’s his constant expression but you just have to learn to read his glares.

 

It takes a few moments for what he’s said to register and the overwhelming guilt consumes me again. I look at the ground and then at Justin, who’s still nodding politely to John. I know Tiny is right. I know my conscience is right. I know this, but… there’s no stopping this. We’ve opened Pandora’s Box and it can’t be closed again, no matter how much I wish I had the willpower to do it.

 

Tiny is still looking at me, his black eyes imploring, begging for my understanding. I give him a slight nod and he returns it, the look on his face saying he knows nothing has changed. I’ll be in Justin’s bed again… or he’ll be in mine, but this is going to continue. As much as I hate it, I’m in this.

 

“Sky,” Justin says and I look up to find him standing in front of a large canvas, John having melted into the background. “Tell me about this one!”

 

I move forward, taking in the large painting of Pluto and Proserpine. He leans in close to me, pretending to be looking closely at the painting as he whispers, “Sorry about that.”

 

I shake my head at him before beginning to explain the piece to him and he listens intently following me along as we move through the South Pavilion and then the West, John and Tiny following us in a quiet sentinel.

 

“You’re not even thinking critically, Justin!” I exclaim as we make our way out of the West Pavilion.

 

“Sky! It’s a fucking landscape!” Justin shoots back and John clears his throat causing us to turn our attention to him

 

“The changing exhibit is last,” John informs us, an amused expression on his face as he opens the door to the building. “It’s a small exhibition celebrating nudity in art.”

 

He ushers us inside and waits at the doorway to the exhibit, gesturing us inside. He and Tiny wait at the entrance, allowing us to go inside unchaperoned.

 

“Still,” I say, picking up our conversation as I make my way into the room. “I’ve told you before ‘pretty’ is not a critique!”

 

“Ugh, it was a grove of trees, Skylar! How the hell am I supposed to…Holy Shit!”

 

It seems that now he’s finally noticed the large painting on the wall in front of us. I look at him and it takes all of my will power not to burst out laughing. His eyes are large as saucers, his mouth hanging open in shock as he takes in the large painting of a woman’s spread legs.

 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” I ask, leaning forward to survey the brush strokes and I swear I can hear him swallow the lump in his throat. I glance back at him and he’s standing with his arms crossed over his front. I roll my eyes playfully, moving back from the painting and grinning at him. “Jesus, Justin do you ever not think about sex?”

 

I shake my head at him as I turn my back, moving along to the next painting. I hear him scurry up behind me, his voice quiet and tense as he says, “Sky, that is a ten foot by twelve foot vagina on the wall!”

 

“And here’s its companion,” I say, barely containing my smile as he looks from me to the painting in front of us.

 

“Oh, Jesus,” he says, cringing and throwing his hands up in front of his face. “Dick is not my thing.”

 

I hum in response, the risqué retort bounding around inside my head. And then I think to hell with it. If I’m going to hell I want a first class ticket.

 

“No, you like pussy don’t you, baby?” I ask, giggling a little when he moans.

 

“You can’t saaaaaay that to me,” he whines, his hands moving to my hips as we stand in front of a portrait of two bodies erotically entwined. “God, Sky what the hell is this shit?”

 

“Art,” I reply simply, leaning back into him, feeling him pressing into me.

 

“Why don’t we study this stuff?” he breathes into my ear and I laugh slightly, as he hugs me tight against him.

 

“We do,” I say, ignoring his hand that is inching up my stomach. “The Greeks were all about nudity in art.”

 

“But not like this,” he says, his large hand giving my breast a squeeze as his lips nibble at my neck. I allow my head to loll to the side, my eyes closing, pushing the guilt down. God, I just can’t get enough of him.

 

“Can we go back to the hotel?” he whispers in my ear.

 

My eyes open, my body on fire as I shiver, his mouth opening against my neck, tongue reaching out to flick at my pulse point. Tiny’s words echo in my head and I know I should say no. I know when we get back I shouldn’t tell him to come to my room to “study.” I know I should tell him that we need to stop this crazy thing before we both go up in flames. I should tell him no…

 

“Yes,” I say, turning in his arms to look into his handsome face, resolve no where in sight. “Let’s get out of here.”

My heart is thundering in my chest as I make my way back to my hotel room. My ears are ringing and my throat is sore and for the millionth time I think why the hell did I wait so long to go to one of these concerts.

 

He had begged me to go tonight. He’d taken my hands in his and listened as I gave him excuse after excuse not to go. My thesis, I was tired, I had to get his next lesson ready, and he stood there, nodding along and when I was finished he leaned in and kissed me, tongue sliding in slowly, giving me a little taste before pulling back. Then he sighed and cocked his head to one side, blue eyes sparking as he said please. The smile that exploded onto his features when I reluctantly agreed was enough to dazzle me into actually being on time.

 

Once I got over the initial lameless of it all and really just concentrated on him, the way he moved, the sound of his voice, I was entranced. I was fucking mesmerized by him. The way he could stand in the middle of that stage, just stand there, a smoldering look on his face, so much like the one he gives me when he’s ready to rip my clothes off and I’m taking too long to let him, and the crowd just screams for him, the way I scream for him when he does it just right.

 

My body is still tingling from it all as I fall back onto my bed and wait… wait for him to get back from the arena, wait to throw him down on this bed and tear his clothes off. My eyes flick to the clock and it reads 10:47. He should be back any minute. I wonder briefly if I have time to shave my legs. I want this to be fucking fantastic. I decide against it because seriously, he’ll be here any second now and I don’t want him coming in then having to wait. I don’t want to wait one second.

 

The phone rings and I reach for it, sighing slightly as I answer. My stomach tightens when I hear his voice.

 

“I’m gonna be a little longer than I thought,” he says, his voice low and soft and I know he can’t really talk, voices chattering in the background.

 

“Justin,” I whine, drawing out his name as a flash of heat travels through me, my want for him intensifying to an almost unbearable level.

 

“I know,” he growls, and I can tell he’s not pleased either. “Lou has us doing this thing in this club. It’s just an appearance. I’ll be there in half an hour, forty-five minutes tops.”

 

I sigh, my eyes falling closed as the ache between my legs intensifies. I need him right now, not in half an hour.

 

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks and his voice is low, but this time I know it’s not from trying to be unheard. “Will you wait for me in my room?”

 

“I guess I could do that,” I say, sighing and the line is quiet for a moment.

 

“Will you wait for me naked?”

 

I nearly groan out loud. I can tell he’s grinning just from the sound of his voice and I bet he’s chewing on his bottom lip, like he always does when he asks me to do something risqué or sexy.

 

“Justin…” I say, uneasiness in my voice.

 

His mother has been known to just go into his room. The mere thought of a scenario in which she walks in to find me naked on her underage son’s bed… Let’s just say jail would be the least of my worries at that point.

 

“Please, Skylar,” he begs, a slight whine in his voice and I sigh.

 

“What if your mother-”

 

“Mom’s with me. She always comes to the aftershow club things we do and she’ll go to her room when I come back. Please Sky.”

 

“Ugh…” I moan slightly, running a hand over my face. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. “Alright…”

 

“Yes!” he hisses quietly and I know he just did a victory dance. I grin at the visual.

 

“Just hurry, okay?” I say, barely containing the slight whine in my voice.

 

“Oh trust me,” he says with a snort of laughter. “I’m trying.”

 

I sigh as I hang up and begin peeling off my clothes slowly, eyeing myself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door for a moment before pulling on my fluffy hotel robe. I grab a clip, twisting my hair up on my head because he likes taking it down and running his hands through it. I snatch the two room keys off the bedside table – one mine, the other Justin’s – and head down the hall. I’m looking over my shoulder as I slip the key in and let myself into his room.

 

He has clothes everywhere, CDs piled on the table, a basketball sitting in a chair and I shift awkwardly in the doorway. This room is a testament to its occupant, a seventeen year old boy…who I’m waiting for…naked.

 

Maybe this has gone on for too long. Maybe I need to just go back to my room and put my clothes on and fall asleep to Leno on TV. I shift again, my thighs slick from the concert earlier and my calves slide against each other, the prickling hairs scratching against my skin. I really need to shave my legs.

 

The clock on the bedside table says 11:07. Justin should be back in about fifteen minutes. I chew my bottom lip, debating what to do. It will take me ten minutes to shave my legs, one or two to dry off, one or two to get back here, a few to position myself on the bed. It would cut it too close. I sigh, my eyes falling on the bathroom door and I have an idea.

 

I step inside and look around the counter, searching for his razor. Oh god, what if he doesn’t have a razor? What if he doesn’t need to shave yet? Panic floods me for a moment, the guilt gnawing at my insides but my common sense kicks in, remembering a few times when he would kiss me goodbye in the morning, the soft hairs on his upper lip tickling my cheek. I tug the shower curtain back and find it lying on the soap holder.

 

I sigh, turning the knobs and water pours from the showerhead. I let my robe fall to the floor, stepping under the spray. I let the water caress over me for a moment before reaching for the small soap wrapped in paper that’s sitting on the side of the tub.

 

As I begin to shave, my mind wanders back to an hour or so ago. I just can’t get the way he moved out of my head. He was different up there on that stage, less bumbling and shy, his voice always confident and strong. I was amazed at how he could sing and dance on a stage in front of twenty thousand people and not even blink over it, but so often he’s fidgeting and nervous sitting in front of me just analyzing a piece of art.

 

God, the way he moved, his body seeming to just glide across the stage, hips rolling and shimmying and the crowd fucking loved him. And he took it all in, smiling and laughing and pointing when someone did something he liked. And this thing he did with his mouth, holding the microphone to his lips and shimmying his body, pulsing beats coming through the speakers and I stood amazed, wondering how the hell he did that. He would bend over his shoulders jerking this way and that with the beat his mouth was setting and then tipped back again, a high, almost beeping sound that his twitched his hips in time to. I’d have to ask him about that later…

 

But his voice! God it gives me chills just thinking about it. His voice caressed those notes like his hands caress my body behind closed doors. And at one point during a song about God spending time on something or other, their shtick seeming to be that Justin refused to end the song, his eyes met mine and he gave me that small smile before cocking his head to the side and bringing the microphone to his mouth and the sound that came out was so…Christ, I can’t even describe it. And he brought his hand above his head, just like the four other men on stage, and he let it fall, his finger pointing at me, a smile tugging at his mouth before looking away and scanning the arena, the crowd going wild.

 

By the time I’m finish shaving I’m so hot I can barely breathe. I lay his razor back in place and turn the hot water down, the spray instantly chilling my skin, my nipples tightening almost painfully. My eyes close as I run my hand down my neck, in between my breasts and down over my hip, just trying to breathe. God, the shit he does to me and he’s not even here.

 

My eyes fly open and I nearly scream when I hear the curtain pull back and someone steps in behind me. My body relaxes when I feel Justin’s hand slide around my stomach.

 

“You know, when I told you to wait for me naked I was just thinking you’d lay across the bed or something,” he chuckles, his breath tickling my ear, “but shit this is so much better.”

 

I moan a little, leaning back into him and he hugs me close, my hands sliding over his arms, feeling the goose bumps prickling his skin.

 

“Whew baby…” he says and I feel the shiver shake through him. “Why’s the water so cold?”

 

He leans down, reaching out to twirl the hot water knob and the water warms instantly and so does my skin because I can feel him pressing into me. I just want to devour him. I spin in his arms and capture his mouth, taking him a little by surprise as I press my body fully against his. He moans into my mouth, his hands sliding down to grip my ass in his hands.

 

I nibble at his bottom lip, my hands roaming up and down his chest, nails skittering over his abs, feeling his stomach tremble under my fingers. He moans into my mouth as my hands hold his hips, fingers pressing into his skin.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” he breathes, his mouth wrenching away from mine.

 

“I saw the show,” I pant breathlessly and he laughs, his head falling back and I take the opportunity to lick at his neck, his laugh melting into a moan.

 

“Liked it did ya?” he grins, tilting his head back down to look at my face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

 

“Oh yeah,” I tease, a finger trailing down his chest. “Especially that thing you did…with your mouth.”

 

He cocks an eyebrow at me, looking at me curiously. “My mouth?”

 

“Yeah,” I say, nuzzling his nose with mine. “It was…” I trail, not even knowing how to make the sounds he made, “it was like drums.”

 

“What this?” he asks, and presses his lips together and this sound, like nothing I’d ever heard before, comes out.

 

I nod, mesmerized, my fingers going up to brush his lips, feeling them vibrate before he stops, licking his lips.

 

“That’s beat boxing,” he says nodding his head assuredly and I smile at him. “It started with Doug E Fresh and Biz Markie in the 80s and-”

 

“Do it again,” I say softly cutting him off, and he smiles widely at me before licking his lips.

 

He presses his lips together again, setting a beat that has my heart pulsing, my hips itching to swish. I bring my hand up again to touch his lips, completely intrigued. He pulls back a little laughing.

 

“It’s hard to do when you press on my mouth, babe,” he grins, licking his lips again and I can’t take it.

 

My lips crush to his as my hand finds his dick, hard and ready, giving him a slow stroke. His mouth opens against mine in a silent gasp of pleasure as my thumb swipes over the head. He drops his head to my shoulder, whimpering softly as I work him slow, his hands sliding up my back to cup my shoulders. I grip him tighter, the water pouring onto us making my hands slippery as I pepper kisses along his ear.

 

“St-stop,” he pants softly, his fingers gripping my wrist and tugging my hand away from him.

 

I pout at him slightly as he pulls his head up, his heavy breath fanning my lips and he kisses me hard, his hands moving around my stomach and down, parting my folds with his long fingers. I reach to grip his shoulders but he’s sliding down to his knees, grinning up at me. He grips my ankle softly, tugging a little and I reach one arm out to steady myself on the tiled wall of the shower as he slips my leg over his shoulder.

 

“You know,” he whispers, taking my free hand and pressing it to myself, nudging it with his nose and I make a “v” of my fingers for him, receiving a grin in return. “I’ve always kinda wanted to try this.”

 

I give him a confused look but he just licks his lips before dipping his head and I wait for his tongue to touch me. I moan loudly when I feel his lips vibrate against me, the beat he’s setting slow and deep and I feel my knees tremble. His hand slides slickly up my outer thigh that’s resting on his shoulder, caressing me softly as his lips work between my fingers, vibrating and shivering against my clit. My entire body is trembling and shaking and I whine when he pulls back, smacking his lips as he looks up at me, grinning before dipping his head again..

 

I let my head fall back and I hiss when I feel his fingers pressing into me, stretching me open and his beat stutters for a moment as he moans.

 

“Fuck, babe,” he pants, watching his fingers work in and out slowly. “You’re…god you’re soaked.”

 

My free hand wraps in his hair as he brings his lips to me again, pulsing and vibrating against my clit and I can feel it building in me. My fingers pull from his hair as I reach out to grab onto the shower rod, my knees threatening to give way any second, as the pleasure pulses through me. I moan his name and I feel him growl against me, his beat becoming more furious as his fingers work me harder and I cry out, my body clutching at his fingers, my voice echoing off the tiled walls.

 

I’m shaking hard as he slides up again and I grip onto his shoulders for support, my eyes still closed. His hands are turning me around slowly and he moves us so I’m under the spray, the water beating soothingly down onto my chest. His fingers come up, and I feel the claw release my hair, sending it tumbling down over my shoulders and he hums softly as it tickles across his chest and neck. He clasps the clip around the shower rod, his arms circling around to hold me, my head laying back on his shoulder as he presses his lips to my temple, humming softly, swaying me slowly.

 

My skin is tingling and my body is buzzing, feeling him pressed up against me, his arms holding me tight. His hand is pressed flat against my stomach, rubbing slowly in a soothing way, his hips wiggling against me as his lips slide down my neck, sucking the skin softly. I can’t wait anymore. I need him inside me now. I reach out bracing myself on the wall in front of me and lean forward, water cascading down my back, chewing on my lip, waiting.

 

When nothing happens I glance over my shoulder and find him staring at my ass, his mouth slightly agape. His hands are massaging over the rounded flesh of my bottom, just staring, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. I giggle a little, biting my lip as I shimmy my hips against him.

 

“Come on, Jus,” I tease, and his eyes meet mine. “You know how this works.”

 

He chuckles softly, hands still rolling my flesh, and I feel him press intimately against me. “We’ve never done it this way before,” he pants breathlessly and before I can even respond he nudges in slowly.

 

I hang my head forward as he pushes completely in, his hands holding my hips steady, a low groan tearing from his throat. I feel him shiver hard, fingernails biting into my skin and I’m panting already.

 

“Fuck... it’s so…” he gasps lowly, “…tight.”

 

I grin, licking my lips, bracing myself against the wall as he pulls out slow and slides back in, a low moan rumbling from his chest and I need him to do this. His hands are moving from my hips, slipping wetly up my back, sliding down over my shoulder blades and down, cupping my breasts. He gives a gentle squeeze as he pulls out again sliding back in smoothly, as his hands slick down my stomach and he grips my hips again.

 

The pace he’s setting is slow but deep and I’m moaning with every stroke, body tingling with pleasure, hands scratching at the tile wall. I’m so into it that I guess I don’t hear the hotel room door open and close. He must be too because the way he’s working me, shit I could just…

 

“Justin, baby!” his mother’s voice floats in from the other room.

 

We both freeze and I gasp as I hear the creak of the bathroom door as its pushed open. Justin’s hand moves quickly, covering my mouth to suppress the sound, and my entire body tenses. My entire body. I feel him shiver against me, the hand still on my hip gripping almost painfully.

 

“Mom…” he pants, his voice slightly strangled. “What…what are you doing in here?”

 

I’m panicking…completely and utterly falling apart but I’m paralyzed by fear, unable to move. I knew…I knew this would happen. Why didn’t I listen to myself? Why didn’t I listen to Tiny? I’m going to be fired. I’m going to jail! All for what? Some sex? Why…why didn’t I listen! But then I know why when Justin shifts nervously behind me, his dick, still buried deep inside me, nudging that spot and a small strangled sound comes from my throat. His hand tightens over my mouth, his fingers digging into my cheeks hard enough to bruise.

 

“Just getting your dirty clothes. The show was great tonight, honey. You did a good job,” she says and I hear her rustling around just outside the curtain. This is not happening right now.

 

“Uh…thanks,” Justin replies, swallowing hard and it feels like he isn’t breathing.

 

“I know you think you messed up during “You Got It” but I think you’re wrong,” Lynn goes on and this is not happening to me right now.

 

“Yeah,” he responds shortly and I’m wondering how the hell is he still hard. But he is. The miracle of a teenage boy’s body. I nearly sob at the thought. This is too much right now.

 

“You know I was talking to Trace’s mother earlier today,” Lynn says and I hate my life. I hate my entire existence. Why didn’t I listen?

 

Justin hums an uninterested response and I know he’s just trying to get her to shut up. His hips wiggle a little and I bite at his fingers. He can do that right now. He just can’t. I know this has to be torture for him because I’m still tense but, Jesus, he can’t fucking do that right now.

 

“She had just gotten some film developed and one of the rolls was those pictures of you and Trace in Rachel’s homecoming dresses,” Lynn says, the laughter evident in her voice. “You and that glitter eye shadow. You made a very pretty girl, Justin.” Lynn chuckles to herself.

 

I’m done. It’s over… wait… what? My brain jams at Lynn’s words. Justin? In a dress? I turn my head, trying to look at him but the grip he has on my face is holding my head steady. My panic slowly begins to ebb as the visual of Justin dressed as a girl floats into my brain. Justin – the kid who does everything in his power to seem as manly as possible at all times – wearing a pretty pink dress. And something happens that can only be explained by blind panic, I get the horrifying urge to laugh.

 

“Mom!” Justin exclaims and I’m fighting the giggles that are bubbling in my throat. “That… that was a long time ago. We were just playing around,” he adds and I know that is more for me than for her.

 

“Oh honey, that was just four months ago… remember because Rachel was gonna wear the purple one to the prom and Trace ripped the zipper out,” Lynn corrects and my body is shaking with repressed laughter.

 

“Yeah well…” Justin trails and I’m pretty sure he’s blushing.

 

“And you and that PURSE, Justin,” Lynn exclaims laughing. “I swear I have never laughed so hard in my life as when you walked down those stairs in high heels-”

 

“MOTHER, PLEASE!” Justin exclaims finally, the hand on my hip releasing me and I know he’s covering his face. It is taking every ounce of will power I have not to just fall over laughing, the image of Justin in a pink evening gown playing over and over in my mind.

 

"Justin…” Lynn trails, and I can hear the discomfort in her voice. “Am…am I interrupting you or something...."

 

My entire body seizes again and he gasps, his hand coming back down to grab my hip roughly. She knows. She knows I’m in here and she’s going to rip me out of this shower by my hair and kill me. And then… I’ll be sent to prison.

 

“What?” he asks, panting slightly, his fingers digging hard into my flesh.

 

There’s an uncomfortable silence and then, her voice soft. “You know...”  

 

Her trailing sentence lingers in the air and it takes me a minute to realize what she’s implying. I don’t know whether to sigh in relief or laugh out loud. Justin’s hand moves from my hip again and I hear the smack of skin on skin as he hits himself in the forehead.

 

“Oh my god,” he breathes, “NO, MOM…god…”

 

“Because that one time…”

 

"MOM" Justin practically screams, his voice jumping an octave and I bite his fingers again to keep from laughing.

 

“Honey, are you alright,” Lynn asks with an exasperated sigh.  “You sound stressed.”

 

“Mom!” he exclaims again and I can tell he’s almost to his breaking point. “I'm in the shower...naked...can we please just talk about this later!”

 

I can hear her huff slightly “Alright, alright,” she sighs and I can hear her shoes smacking against the tile as she turns to leave, muttering all the while “…seen you naked since the day you were born… you act like its something I haven't seen before...”

 

We wait to hear the snap of the door as Lynn leaves his hotel room and both of us heave a sigh of relief, Justin’s hand trembling as he pulls it away from my mouth. And I just can’t hold it in anymore, giggles bubbling up from my throat.

 

“Shut. Up,” he says breathlessly and I look over my shoulder at him, finding his face flushed, digging the heels of his hands into his forehead.

 

“A prom dress, J? Glitter eye shadow?” I can barely breathe as I say the words, the laughter just rumbling from me, the relieved tension making me a little slap happy.

 

But my laughter is abruptly cut short when his hand comes down hard on my ass and I gasp, half from shock and half from pleasure. I can feel his body lean over mine, his chest slick from the water and his voice is right next to my ear as he whispers, “I said. Shut. Up.”

 

I moan slightly as his lips press against my ear and I feel him grin, straightening back up again before pulling out and sliding back in. I hang my head forward, bracing my hands against the wall, just letting him work me. I should probably tell him to stop. I should probably be a lot more freaked out right now than I really am. That was close…what two weeks ago would have been too close for comfort. And that’s when it hits me. I don’t feel as guilty anymore. I mean I have my moments, but now… right now, him fucking me is the only thing on my mind. Not getting caught, not the moral ramifications. Just his cock inside me.

 

He’s torturously slow, his dick massaging in and out of me sensually and each time he pushes in he nudges that spot inside me that makes my knees tremble and pulls the air from my lungs. If he would just go a little faster…

 

“Is that good for you, baby?” he asks lowly and pleasure tremors through me at the husky sound of his voice.

 

He’s taken to talking to me lately, whispering questions breathlessly, growling instructions. It still amazes me how much he’s changed sexually since that first time. He’s less inhibited, more vocal, less afraid of doing something wrong, more adventurous. But he still has that eagerness to please and the look on his face every time I tell him yes…god it’s enough to set my skin on fire.

 

“Please… Justin, please,” I moan, my nails trying to dig into the slick tile, and I say something I’ve never said to him before. “Fuck me.”

 

I hear him gasp and his rhythm falters slightly before a deep groan is pulled from his chest and his hips slam into mine. I cry out, staggering forward a little, the side of my face pressing into the tile wall as he works me hard and fast. I use my arms for leverage, pressing back against him needily, gritting my teeth as I feel it build inside me.

 

He’s grunting with the force of his thrusts, one hand holding my hip while the other reaches up to grab my shoulder, trying to tug me back harder against him. I whimper his name as pleasure shoots through me and I can’t fucking breathe, small sounds of pleasure falling from my lips and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop from whining and moaning and breathing his name, my hands clawing at the wall just trying to hang on, the water beating down onto my back, caressing its way down my body.  My back arches as the first waves hit me and he groans loud, my body sucking at him and I can tell I’m going to scream. He just feels too good not too.

 

“Sky,” he whimpers, and by the sound of his voice I know he’s practically there. “Please…”

 

And with that my entire body convulses and I open my mouth to cry out but no sound comes, every last ounce of energy being used to clamp down on him and he falls forward against me, the hand on my shoulder moving up to press over one of mine against the wall as he comes hard, hips twitching violently against mine.

 

We hold steady like this for a moment, my face pressed against the tile wall, hands braced at my shoulders. His hand that’s covering mine is trembling, his fingers curling to wrap through mine as he rests his cheek against my shoulder, his breath fanning my skin.

 

My legs are trembling violently as he straightens and I try and do the same, my body weak and unstable. His hands grip my upper arms, guiding me back against him. I close my eyes as we stand under the spray together, trying to just breathe. He holds me close, pressing kisses to the side of my face, his arms wrapping around me.

 

We let the water run over us for what seems like days, his fingers caressing my skin softly, my head resting back on his shoulder. I whimper softly when he leans down to turn off the water, shivering from the loss of its warmth. He shushes me gently and I gasp when he hooks his hand behind my knees and lifts me, holding me against his chest as he steps out of the tub.

 

He sets me down and I place a hand on the counter to steady myself, my eyes still closed, exhaustion making my limbs heavy and my mind slow. I hum as I feel the soft terrycloth of a towel on my legs and this his lips on my thigh as he works his way up, drying me off. I peek at him through heavy lids as he dries himself quickly and when he pulls me to him again I just let them close, letting him take care of me.

 

I wrap my arms around his neck as he picks me up again and carries me into the bedroom, laying me softly on the bed, before climbing in with me, cuddling against me. He rests his head on my shoulder, his face burying in my neck and his arm draping over my waist. I struggle a little and his head snaps up, looking down at me confused as I try and wriggle my arm free. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and he smiles softly, settling back in again. I let my other hand cup his elbow, fingertips reaching to brush the soft skin of his bicep.

 

I’m fighting sleep, my brain fading and then snapping back into the moment and when I remember I should be leaving. I cannot stay here.

 

“I need to go,” I breathe hazily, my voice weak from exhaustion.

 

“Nooooooooooooooooo,” he whines, snuggling closer to me, holding me tight and it’s the first night all over again.

 

“Justin, your mom wakes you up in the morning,” I rationalize, and shudder as I add, “being almost caught by her once is enough.”

 

“No, she doesn’t,” he sighs and I shiver as his breath tickles my skin. “Not anymore,” he gives me a squeeze and I can feel him grin as he adds, “I told her I wanted to be more responsible.”

 

I laugh at this, and I feel his head lift and I open my eyes to find him pouting down at me. “What?” he asks.

 

“Getting yourself up in the morning… big responsibility.”

 

He grumbles softly, laying his hand back on my shoulder and I sigh, the hand on his shoulder sliding up to run through his damp curls. He moans softly as my nails scratch at his scalp and he yawns, his nose nuzzling me softly.

 

My body relaxes completely against him, my cheek resting against the top of his head as I let myself succumb to sleep… but it doesn’t come. My mind is completely blank but alert. God, with the way he worked me I should be sleeping for days but I just can’t…

 

My eyes snap open when I realize that my mind is completely blank. The guilt, that bone-crushing, mind-numbing guilt that plagues and consumes me after every tryst is gone. I panic slightly, wriggling nervously and he groans, holding me tighter, trying to still my movements. I settle again, rubbing my cheek against his curls softly and I know I should be happy. Who wouldn’t be if gnawing guilt was finally absolved? But it isn’t absolved only merely pushed down so far that I don’t even feel it anymore.

 

And for the millionth time I wonder what the hell I’m doing with him. What am I risking my entire future for? And then he shifts slightly, his lips resting against my collarbone and he sighs, his breath fanning my skin and I let my eyes close, eventually succumbing to sleep.

“You’re a fucking liar, man,” Joey exclaims and JC is shaking his head, grinning giddily.

 

“I swear on my life dude.”

 

“She did not!” Joey says, smacking his band mate’s shoulder and JC nods.

 

“She did!”

 

These are the kind of conversations I have to endure while riding on the tour bus with the group. We’ve been on the road for nearly five hours now, the majority of which, I have been fighting with the four other guys for Justin’s attention. Between fart jokes, and play fights, and talk about girls, getting him to focus on Early Medieval Art has been virtually impossible. Especially since his mother isn’t here to rein him in like usual. Justin was practically bouncing off the walls when he told me that she was going home for the next couple weeks for her and his stepfather’s anniversary. He says it’s really because she didn’t want to spend another second on the bus with five guys and needed a break. He misses her.

 

“No fucking way, man,” Justin chimes in, looking away from his book for the umpteenth time. “That girl was grade A pussy. She did not just drop those panties. You know what you had to do.” He makes an obscene gesture with his tongue and fingers that makes me press my thighs together. Yeah, he misses his mother but he’s enjoying the freedom.

 

I smack my hand against the page, causing him to whip his head around to look at me. “Focus, Justin,” I sigh.

 

“Sky, why don’t we call it a night,” Justin yawns, leaning back against the seat and stretching, a thin piece of skin peeking from between the top of his jeans and his t-shirt. I look away.

 

“Justin,” I say lowly, and he leans in to hear me, casting a weary glance at JC and Joey who are still arguing playfully and not paying any attention to the two of us. “We’re really behind.”

 

“I know, but I’m tired babe,” he sighs and I can tell he is.

 

They haven’t had a day off in nearly two weeks now, interviews all day, shows at night, club appearances after that and then all-night bus rides like the one we’re on now. I glance at my watch and see that it’s nearly three in the morning. He yawns again, scratching at his stomach before running his hands over his face and sighing.

 

“Okay…” I say, giving in and he closes his eyes thankfully. “And don’t call me babe,” I add in a quick whisper and he grins at me, his foot rubbing against mine underneath the table. I give him a small smile back.

 

Chris comes from the back of the bus and falls into the booth next to me with a sigh. He lays his head on my shoulder and I laugh a little. Justin’s eyes narrow before he relaxes his face, pursing his lips as he watches Chris sit up again. He’s getting better at controlling his emotions, better at keeping his hands to himself. He still looks at me in that way he does, a mixture of adoration and lust, and he still smiles that giddy smile, but he’s getting better.

 

“I’m huuuuuuuungry,” Chris whines, very much like a child and I can’t help but giggle. He’s the oldest of the group but sometimes he’s just like a little kid.

 

“Me too,” Justin sighs, looking out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

 

“Food?” Joey asks finally pulling from his conversation and JC turns his head, hollering at the driver.

 

“Hey, James! You think we could stop for some grub?”

 

“Yeah, there’s a town coming up,” James’ muffled voice calls from the driver’s seat and I yawn a little, looking out the window and watching the trees roll by.

 

“Tired?” Justin asks and I glance over to find him looking at me somewhat concernedly and I give an almost imperceptible shake of my head; the you’re-doing-it-again nod. He looks down.

 

“I’m fine,” I say, stretching a little and watching as we take an off ramp, curling down towards a small town, lights glittering in the dark night.

 

“Oooo IHOP!” Justin exclaims, placing his hands on the glass of the window and bouncing a little.

 

“IHOP!” Joey exclaims and cranes his neck to see out the window. “Score!”

 

“You think we should get Lance?” Chris asks as we pull into the deserted parking lot and JC shakes his head.

 

“Nah, let him sleep,” he says, glancing back towards the bunks and Joey shakes his head.

 

“He’ll be pissed if we get pancakes without him,” Joey says standing up, “LANCE!” he yells as he makes his way back into the bunks and I jump slightly. “We’re getting pancakes get up.”

 

“You comin’?” Justin asks as he slides out of the booth and my stomach growls in response. He laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says holding his hand out to me.

 

I step out of the booth without his assistance, but my hip bumps his affectionately as we file off the bus, JC and Chris already well ahead of us, Joey tugging a very sleepy Lance behind us.

 

Tiny and another large, hulking member of the security team, Eric, are already waiting by the door of the restaurant. Tiny’s eyes meet mine briefly as I pass him but I look away quickly. He hasn’t said much to me since the museum but I have felt his quiet disapproval every time he’s near. This has been happening for a month and a half now, Justin and I together. Well, not together but we’ve been doing this for a month and a half…fucking. I wince at the thought as we enter the near empty restaurant.

 

“How many of us are there?” Chris says turning around and squinting as he counts, “eight… Curly get over here and help me move these tables,” he adds and Justin brushes past me moving to help Chris pull two tables together.

 

“Miss McKibbons,” Joey says, sidling up to me and offering me his elbow, grinning at me cheekily.

 

“Mr. Fatone,” I respond, hooking my arm through his and we walk to the table, him pulling out the chair at the head of the table for me and bowing as he guides me around the seat. “Why, thank you,” I giggle as I sit and he falls into the chair next to me, grinning lasciviously.

 

JC plops down on the other side of me, grabbing a menu and opening it. The table is filling up, Lance falling sleepily into the chair next to JC, Tiny sitting next to Joey, Chris sitting next to Lance and Justin is standing at the head of the table, looking down the length at me, slightly annoyed.

 

“Come on, Curly. Sit down,” Chris says, motioning across the table from him.

 

“You can handle not sitting next to Skylar just this once,” Eric teases, taking his seat at the head of the table as Justin sits down next to Tiny.

 

“Fuck you, man,” Justin says, snatching a menu and discretely eyeing me down the length of the table.

 

The waitress comes and brings us water, introducing herself nervously. She’s young, maybe my age and her eyes are flitting to Justin nervously. He smiles at her encouragingly as she sets his glass in front of him and she stutters a little when he thanks her. So it seems I’m not the only pervert in this world.

 

“So Sky,” Joey says, his eyes flitting across the table to JC who does his best to suppress a grin and I don’t know what’s coming but I try to prepare myself as best I can. “What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

 

My eyes widen slightly and even though I know I shouldn’t my eyes flick to Justin who is leaning over the table, eyes locked on me. I glance around and find that all eyes are, in fact, on me. I swallow hard. The truth is… Justin is the best sex I’ve ever had. I hadn’t really thought about it but now, when the question is posed, my stomach turns. A seventeen year old boy is the best sex I’ve ever had. I’m pathetic… or Justin really is the stud he portrays himself to be. I giggle a little to myself at the thought.

 

“Well Joe,” I say, leaning towards him and grinning at him flirtatiously. “What’s the best sex you have ever had.”

 

“No, no, no Skylar,” Joey admonishes, chuckling a little. “I asked you first.”

 

I look around and find the rest of the men at the table smirking at me. Justin is looking into his lap and trying not to fidget. I can feel my cheeks redden. I can’t believe I’m about to say this.

 

“It was in the shower,” I say quickly and Justin’s head snaps up but no one notices because they are all too busy whooping and hollering and watching me blush.

 

“In the shower!” JC exclaims and I duck my head, my face searing hot.

 

“Nice and slick, back pressed against the tiles,” Joey teases and I regain some composure lifting my head and grinning as I say:

 

“Actually, he bent me over.”

 

I laugh as the table erupts again but it quells quickly because Justin has just spit out the sip of water he’d just taken.

 

“Damn Justin… popped a little quick there,” Chris says as Justin sputters and wipes his mouth, glaring at the older man.

 

“It happens, man,” Eric says, clapping Justin on the back. “Especially if it’s your first time.” The rest of the table sniggers. I look at my lap.

 

“Shut the fuck up. I am not a virgin,” Justin grumbles, his hand going to flatten his curls in that nervous way that he does.

 

“Oh really?” Joey asks, craning his neck to see Justin. “Tell us about it then.”

 

“Hey,” I say, smacking Joey’s arm. “I told you mine. You tell me yours. Best sex you’ve ever had.”

 

“Oh, homegirl saved your ass, man,” Eric says, nudging Justin with his elbow and the younger man scowls.

 

“She did not. I’ve done shit you assholes have only dreamed of,” Justin mutters, scowling down at his menu and a chorus of “oooo’s” follows his statement.

 

“Oh really?” Chris says, his eyebrows raising in contest and I can feel a rush of panic run through me.

 

“Come on Joe,” I poke him again and he looks at me. “Tell me.”

 

“You’re certainly interested,” he says grinning and I wiggle my eyebrows at him which causes the rest of the men to laugh. “Alright since you’re just dying to know, it was with this groupie-”

 

“This is how most of his stories start incase you haven’t noticed,” JC interrupts and Joey purses his lips, flipping his friend off and receiving a laugh before turning back to me.

 

“There was this groupie, I think it was in…” he squints looking at JC, “Munich? Was it Munich that I was late for that radio interview?”

 

JC shakes his head. “No, that was Hannover.”

 

“Oh yeah!” Joey grins. “Munich was the chicks in the hot tub. Hannover was the jello.”

 

My eyes widen. “Jello?”

 

“Just let your mind wander,” Joey grins and then he laughs at the astonished look on my face.

 

“Are…” I pause shaking my head. “Are all you’re groupies like… like that?”

 

“Like what?” JC asks grinning, sharing a look with Joey.

 

“Well…you know,” I say shifting uncomfortably. “It just… just happens like that?”

 

“Yep!” Joey laughs loudly. “In hotel rooms.”

 

“Dressing rooms,” JC adds.

 

“The bus,” Chris chimes in.

 

“Everywhere,” Joey grins, wiggling his brows and I shake my head at his antics.

 

“That shit doesn’t happen to me,” Justin says and I can see his eyes flitting to me, speaking to me in silence. I look away.

 

“Yeah it never has…” Chris says and then grinning widely. “ever.”

 

“Yes it does!” Justin exclaims and then his eyes flit to me again. “I mean it… it doesn’t, but it could. I just…I don’t do that stuff. I’m not like that. Not to say that I couldn’t be like that…I’m just not… because I don’t… I mean…” he trails looking at his lap, his face contorting in confusion.

 

“See what happens when you lie, Justin,” Eric teases and Justin scowls at him. “You’re a virgin,” he says shrugging and then laying a hand on his shoulder in mock sympathy, “and that’s okay.”

 

The rest of the table sniggers. Their chatter stops for a moment when the waitress comes back and takes everyone’s order, smiling shyly at all the guys but stuttering to the point of idiocy when talking to Justin. He smiles sympathetically at her and she scurries away, Eric claps Justin on the back.

 

“You could have had her right, J?” Eric teases. “You’re just not like that.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, man. I got stories,” Justin says pouting and I tense again.

 

“Dude… Joey’s jello story was good but Chris has the best one,” JC says, leaning over to look down the table at Chris who laughs.

 

“No, dude, your group shower trumps my naked twister,” Chris says pointing down the table at JC.

 

My head is spinning slightly, looking back and forth between all the members of the group watching them laugh and reminisce. Talk of strip or dare, sex dice, strip poker, these guys have done it all, in every position, all over the world. I’m more than slightly shocked. I’m dumbfounded. Never in my life would I have thought that from these guys. I mean I saw the girls, the women, throwing themselves at them every night but I never dreamed…

 

“Look at Sky,” Joey says after a particularly scandalous confession. “Acting all innocent. Girl, I know you’re a freak in those sheets.”

 

I can feel my face flush and my eyes involuntarily flit to Justin who is chuckling to himself. “Oh I am not,” I say, blushing furiously.

 

“Don’t lie, Skylar,” JC says, poking me with his finger and grinning.

“Yeah, we’ve seen that Girls Gone Wild shit,” Joey grins and I laugh.

 

“Okay, all college girls are not like that,” I snort and Joey looks at me appalled.

 

“Hey…hey stop ruining my fantasy!” he exclaims and I laugh as the waitress comes with our food.

 

All talk turns to food for the moment, the passing of butter and scrapping over different syrups taking over the conversation. As we settle in to eat I look around the table, watching them all. They are exhausted, every single one but they are vibrant and caring and just normal guys. This fame thing, it’s just a fluke. It doesn’t change them. Sure it gives them the opportunity to have cars and women and anything else they want, but it doesn’t change the fact that Joey is a huge flirt, that JC is quiet until he knows you and then watch out, that Chris…well you should just watch out from the start with him, that Lance is shy and good natured, that Justin is… Well, Justin… my brain jams as my eyes fall on him, watching him shove pancakes into his mouth, his jaw working slowly, barely swallowing before cramming more in. He’s just this sweet kid who got thrown into this crazy life. He’s just a sweet kid…

 

“OH!” Joey exclaims, breaking me from my thoughts and all eyes turn to him and he slaps the table. “Justin!”

 

Justin looks over at him bewildered, struggling to swallow his mouthful of food before responding, “What?”

 

“Guess…” Joey says, allowing his eyes to flit around the table giddily, “who is opening for us next week.”

 

The rest of the group sniggers and Justin looks around slightly confused and then a look of realization dawns on his face and then something else that I can’t place.

 

“No…” he says, laughing slightly as he looks around, his eyes falling on me and then looking around again and saying a little more panicked this time. “No!”

 

“Oh… oh yeah… she is,” Joey grins, nodding. “You gonna get that pussy, J?”

 

Justin shifts uncomfortably and I struggle to understand what is happening, watching him, just like everyone else at the table.

 

“I-I dunno,” he says, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.

 

“Come on, man!” Chris exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “You’ve talked about this girl non-stop since I fuckin’ met you.”

 

I struggle at not letting the shock register on my face. Justin never told me about another girl. He certainly never talked about one non-stop. Then again, if we weren’t studying we weren’t usually talking.

 

“They’re talking about Britney.” It’s JC that says it and my head whips to him and he smiles at me softly. “She was on this TV show with Justin and I. She’s gonna be our opening act for next week.”

 

And suddenly I remember sitting outside at the Getty museum on wooden benches, eating ice cream, Justin telling me about a girl he was once with. The way his eyes had saddened a little when he talked of their parting of ways. A pang of something ignites in me and I frown, not quite being able to place it, just knowing that it’s an unpleasant sensation.

 

“I do not talk about her non-stop!” Justin insists, looking at me and I don’t meet his eyes.

 

“Well, maybe not so much anymore but for the longest time you did,” Chris says, forking more pancakes into his mouth.

 

“You gonna hit her one more time, Curly,” Joey teases, and Justin rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that how the song goes.”

 

“Come on, you guys,” he says and I watch the blush creep up his neck. “She’s a nice girl.”

 

“A nice girl,” Joey sniggers, “with a nice rack,” he chuckles and pointing at Justin he adds, “and her ass ain’t bad either.”

 

“Guys, stop,” Justin says, his face serious and the table quiets, conceding to Justin’s stern admonishment.

 

I watch as he pushes the remainder of his food around on his place, ignoring the conversations around him. I can’t see his eyes so I don’t know what he’s thinking, but the dynamic has changed. The guys have stopped teasing him and he’s quiet now. I don’t know who this girl is but I know she means something to him and I’m shocked to realize that I actually care and I realize that that unpleasant sensation I’d felt earlier was nothing less than jealousy.

 

***

 

“You got it?” I ask suppressing a yawn and he nods, yawning himself, his eyelids drooping.

 

After getting back on the bus, Justin had asked if we could go over some more art pieces and after picking my jaw up off the floor I had agreed. He has been incredibly focused, listening and not once joining in on the conversations around him. We worked as, one by one, the other members of the group went to bed and now at five-thirty in the morning we are both slow and groggy, unable to focus our eyes.

 

He’s looking at me bleary eyed from where he sits next to me on one of the lounges in the front of the bus. It’s quiet, the only sound being the tires on the road and the soft hum of the engine. He sighs, fumbling with books and papers, setting them aside before scooting closer to me and resting his head on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist. I let my eyes close as he sighs, his breath rushing against my neck. My arms wrap instinctively around his shoulders, savoring the warmth of his body.

 

“What the guys were saying earlier was just bullshitting,” he mutters and my eyes snap open.

 

“What?” I ask, my sleep deprived brain jamming a little.

 

“About Britney,” he says, nuzzling against me.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” I say quickly, pulling away from him and he whines slightly and I give him a look.

 

“Sky, really-” he says and I shake my head at him, silencing him instantly.

 

“I said it’s not a big deal. You know, it’s probably better you start finding a girl your own age anyway,” I say and the words are bitter in my mouth.

 

His brows knit. “I don’t want a girl my own age.” And then quietly he adds, “I want you.”

 

He’s looking at me with such sincerity that I have to look away. I fidget nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. This thing between he and I is purely physical. This is what I keep telling myself. This is what is true. He just has to realize it.

 

“What I want is for you to do well on your next test,” I say, smiling brightly at him and he nods in concession, then he grins slyly.

 

“What’s in it for me?” he asks, his tongue sneaking out to wet his bottom lip.

 

“I’m serious, Justin,” I say sighing. “Your grade is low right now.”

 

“How low?” he asks, his brow knitting and I sigh.

 

“Low.”

 

“How low?” he asks more sternly this time and I sigh again.

 

“You’re at a 72 right now,” I say and his eyebrows disappear into his hair line.

 

“I have a C!” he exclaims, his face panicked and he shakes his head. “How the fuck did that happen?”

 

“How do you think it happened, Justin?” I ask and he looks away.

 

Everyone has commented on how much work Justin has been putting into his studies. They think he really enjoys it. That he’s really getting in to this art thing. They tease him about leaving the group and becoming a painter. He plays the part well. This is only because we’ve been “studying” a lot lately. If by studying you mean tearing each other’s clothes off and ravaging each other then this would be an accurate depiction.

 

 “No… no that can’t be right. I don’t get C’s.”

 

“It’s right, Justin,” I say and I jump when he growls back at me.

 

“No! I don’t get C’s. I get A’s.”

 

The look on his face is so much more than a pout. It’s anger and I’m surprised by it because Justin doesn’t get angry like this and especially not at me. I watch his eyes close and he runs his hands over his face, leaning forward and sighing, holding his head in his hands. And then I realize he’s not mad at me. He’s mad at himself. I reach out, rubbing my hand in slow circles over his back, his muscles tense. I know what he’s feeling because I’ve felt it to. Disappointment in yourself is something I’m extremely familiar with. I always think I could have worked harder, done more, pushed just a little bit farther.

 

“Justin,” I say softly and I feel him heave a deep sigh before sitting up again and looking at me. “Your midterm is coming up. If you can swing an A on it that should pull your grade into a high B,” I say and he scowls at me but it softens when I continue on, “and that will set you up to raise it up to an A over the next couple sections.”

 

“What’s on the midterm?”

 

“It’s cumulative. Everything we’ve done so far.”

 

“Skylar!” he whines, hiding his face in his hands and I grip his wrists and pull till I can see his face again. He gives me a weary look. “I can’t remember all that shit.”

 

“Justin, if you get an A on your next test…” I trail, eyeing him as he sighs. “I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

 

“Whatever I want?” he questions, laughing slightly and I nod.

 

“Whatever you want,” I say slowly and I watch his eyes widen.

 

“Oh…” he says swallowing hard.

 

“Yeah,” I nod, trying my best to suppress my grin and he shivers, grinning sleepily back at me. “Okay, now go to bed. I’m tired.” I add because really I am.

 

He moans a little, his eyes sliding shut and he reaches for me again. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whines and I pull back.

 

“Go to bed, Justin,” I say softly and his eyes open, nodding as he stands.

 

“Can I get a kiss first?” he whispers, grinning uncertainly down at me and I look around the bus, afraid that someone is watching even though the only person around besides the two of us that is awake is driving and out of sight.

 

“No,” I say softly, shaking my head and he pouts.

 

“Please?” he says, cocking his head to the side and tugging his plush bottom lip between his teeth and I close my eyes.

 

“Justin,” I whine, running a hand over my face and I can feel him lean over me.

 

I open my eyes and his face is centimeters from mine, his hands bracing himself on the back of the couch on either side of my body. His breath fans my face and a smile is tugging at his lips, his blue eyes dancing as he presses his mouth to mine. I let my eyes close slowly, watching him kiss me for a split second before giving in to the taste of him. I push at his chest when he starts to deepen it, knowing this is dangerous, far more dangerous than our usual trysts because we aren’t behind closed doors.

 

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly, one of his large hands cupping my face as he presses his mouth to mine one last time before straightening and staggering back to the bunks.

 

I watch him climb in and swish the curtain to his bunk closed before finally settling back against the couch. There is a blanket and a pillow folded up at the end for me as there always is when I spend the night on their bus but I just don’t have the energy to reach for it. The couch is warm from Justin’s body and I hate it when I feel a pang of longing for him. I don’t want this residual warmth I want his skin and his mouth and his…just all of him.

 

I call quietly to James to hit the lights and I’m suddenly shrouded in darkness, the only light coming mutedly through the blinds as cars pass. I let my eyes close, fighting the images of every sexual encounter we’ve ever had as they race tantalizingly through my brain. I can feel my body begin to succumb to sleep, barely registering the thud of feet on the floor. I know this sound. It’s the sound of one of the guys jumping down from the top bunks. I try to ignore it. I try to just fall asleep but I can already feel my body start to heat up and I wait, anticipation coiling in my belly.

 

“Skylar?” the voice is soft and questioning and I feel a hand on my shoulder. An unfamiliar hand.

 

My eyes fly open and I jolt a little as I take in JC’s face hovering over mine. He jumps back a little, ripping his hand from my shoulder and grinning sheepishly down at me. He scratches at the back of his neck embarrassed.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says softly. “I was just trying to see if you were awake.”

 

“Well, I am now,” I say, laughing a little, struggling to sit up and he chuckles, falling onto the couch across from me.

 

“I just… I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says, his blue eyes shining eerily through the darkness. Something about his stare unnerves me. I look away.

 

“What about?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously.

 

He sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at the floor. I regard him curiously, watching as he rubs his hands together and I know he’s thinking about what he wants to say. This can’t be good. My heart begins to race as he looks at me, his eyes boring into my soul and I know right then and there…

 

“You and Justin have gotten pretty close, huh?”

 

He knows.

 

“Well, you know…” I say, trying to seem casual but my heart is threatening to burst from my chest. “we spend a lot of time together. He’s a good kid. Really smart. A little unfocused, but really smart.”

 

“Oh, he’s focused,” JC says chuckling to himself and I fight the urge to widen my eyes, “just not on school.”

 

This is bad. This is really, really bad. The way he’s looking at me, his eyes penetrating me, it’s like he’s looking into my soul. My soul that’s screaming guilty! chanting it over and over again. He blinks slowly, sighing before giving me a small smile, leaning back against the couch

 

“I mean, you’ve seen him onstage.”

 

I try not to shiver. “Yeah,” I say swallowing hard, “he’s talented.”

 

“He’s beyond talented,” JC says nodding. “Justin has what it takes to be…” he trails, looking out the window and sighing. “He has what it takes.”

 

We’re silent for a moment, JC gazing at me intently, me avoiding that gaze. He clears his throat and scoots towards the end of the couch, leaning close to me again.

 

“Look, I’m just saying… I know Justin. We’ve known each other… shit for like… almost five years now,” JC says, gesturing with his hands and falling back against the couch once more.

 

He looks at me and I look at the floor. He leans forward again, taking a deep breath, rubbing his hands together nervously.

 

“I see the way he looks at you,” JC says softly and I try to keep my face stoic and unaffected while my insides twist and twist until I feel like I’m going to explode. “I’m not accusing you of anything, but I’m just saying… he looks at you like…”

 

He trails and I meet his eyes and I know, I know, he knows. My heart is threatening to burst from my ribcage and it takes all my willpower to keep my breathing even. I contort my face into a look of what I hope is perplexity and amusement.

 

“He looks at me a certain way?” I chuckle but it dies in my throat when I see the look on his face.

 

“He’s young,” JC says, shrugging but his gaze is still intense. “He’s got a crush.”

 

“Yeah,” I say, returning his look and we’re just staring now, speaking in undertones, weaving a web of white lies and omissions. “He’s a sweet kid.”

 

“Just go easy on him,” JC says, his eyes boring into mine. “Just be careful.”

 

I stare steadily back at him. “You have nothing to worry about JC.”

 

“Okay,” he says sighing.

 

“Okay.”

 

He leans back and I do the same, each of us just staring at the other, eyes saying things that he won’t flat out acknowledge and I refuse to admit. He gives me a quiet nod of his head, as he pulls himself from the couch, placing a hand on my shoulder before trudging back to the bunks.

 

I sigh, falling back against the couch cushions, curling up into myself. The sun is beginning to peek through the blinds, the inside of the bus lightening and there’s no telling when we’re going to stop. I could ask but my eye lids are heavy like my heart is heavy. How long is this going to continue? How many people are going to warn me before I give him up? What is it going to take?

 

What is it going to take?

“How am I doing?”

 

“Justin…” I say, for the umpteenth time, looking up from his test paper. “Shhh!”

 

He sighs, fidgeting with anticipation, pacing the room as I sit at the table in his hotel room grading his midterm. He hasn’t missed one yet, his dates perfect, his descriptions impeccable. I try to suppress my smile, my body tingling in anticipation. Shit, I want to give him this A just as much as he wants it, my mind roving over all the things he plans to do to me when he gets it.

 

We have been discussing nothing else for the past three days. Going through notes and flash cards, discussing his ideas for when he gets his A. Not if, he says, when he gets his A. He has big plans, plans that made me moan or shiver or simply giggle as he whispered them hotly against my ear. We’ve discussed it and mulled it over and just talked about it so much that the anticipation is killing me. I almost want it more than he does.

 

My face falls as I flip the page over. It almost hurts to bring my pen down, checking off all the elements of the Doric and Ionic columns that he missed. Shit.

 

“What?” he asks, standing over me, “what did I miss? Shit, it was those fucking columns, wasn’t it?”

 

“Hang on,” I say, grabbing for my calculator, silently praying for a ninety, but I already know. “89.” I sigh and he stands there staring down at me dumbly before exploding.

 

“God dammit!” he exclaims, hitting the door frame of the bathroom with his open palm.

 

I look up at him, watching him scowl at the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, a small tent forming in the front of his pants. He was so close! I could just bump…but no. I shake my head at myself. I’m not bumping up his grades because of what’s going on between us.

 

“I’m sorry, Justin,” I say sighing, placing my pen on the table, and I really am sorry. I glance at the bulge he’s adjusting in his pants. I’m really fucking sorry.

 

“It’s an 89, Sky,” he sighs looking at me pleadingly.

 

“Justin,” I say warningly and he shuts his mouth immediately. He knows where I stand on this. But god he looks so good today, just a t-shirt and jeans but damn him if he didn’t look fucking amazing in them. “Why don’t we study a little?”

 

He glares at me, plopping down on the couch, heel of his hand rubbing his crotch a little before groaning.

 

“I don’t really feel like studying right now,” he spats, glancing down at his lap and I smile, an idea blooming in my mind.

 

“You need to learn this, Justin.” I say, getting up from the table and standing over him. “and you can learn this. You just need a little mnemonic device.”

 

His eyes narrow at me as I kneel in front of him and then his face breaks into a smile as I undo the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper. He lifts his hips eagerly, shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs and I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm.

 

I reach my hand up and cup his balls gently, rolling them a little between my fingers and he hums his approval and I swear I can see him lengthen a little against his thigh. He’s watching me, his plush bottom lip tugged between his teeth as I take him in my hand, bringing my mouth just over the head.

 

“Now think of this as a column,” I say, my breath fanning across his sensitive flesh and he pants a little. “Justin,” I say and his eyes focus on mine. “Think of this as a Doric column.”

 

“O-okay,” he stutters slightly, his eyes slightly unfocused as he watches my hand hold him upright.

 

“And what’s this?” I ask, flicking my tongue out against the tip and he jumps, groaning deep. “Come on, Justin, it’s an easy one.”

 

“C-capital?” he stutters and I shake my head.

 

“Nope, that’s this,” I say, taking the entire head into my mouth and he moans low. “I just wanna know about this part.” I flick the tip again.

 

“Um…” he pants, as I flick my tongue against him again. “Echinus?” he questions and I shake my head, sliding my tongue around the ridge of the head.

 

“That’s this part,” I say after a moment and then flick the tip again. “What’s this part?”

 

“Fuck Sky, I don’t know,” he moans, his hand delving into my hair, his head falling back and I grip him tighter.

 

“Hey now,” I say softly and he looks back at me again, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t give up on me Jus. I’d hate to leave you like this.”

 

His eyes widen and he sits up a little more, looking down at me seriously. I smile a little biting my bottom lip. He grins, his hand moving from my hair to stroke my cheek.

 

“Let’s start from the top,” he says, settling his hips more against the couch

 

I grin back at him, turning my attention to his cock in my hand, flicking my tongue against the head again enjoying the shiver that runs through him.

 

“Um…” he lets his head fall back, thinking. “Ab…” he stutters and I flick my tongue against him again, eliciting a hiss. “Abacus?”

 

“Very good,” I whisper, placing a kiss on the head and he grins lazily, my tongue slicking around the ridge again. “And this.”

 

“Echinus,” he says confidently and I slip my tongue down under the ridge on the underside of his shaft, laving the little bead of skin there. His back arches, a soft “oh” falling from his lips.

 

“And this?” I ask, blowing coolly against it.

 

“Do it again,” he pants and I oblige, listening to him hiss and groan, eyes shut tight. “Um…”

 

“From the Middle English word nekke,” I whisper, flicking at the spot torturously.

 

“Necking!” he exclaims and I smile, pressing a kiss to the spot, sucking the skin lightly and he jumps in my hand.

 

I keep my eyes on him as I drag my tongue along the bottom of his length, following the vein, feeling it throb under my ministrations.

 

“And the length?” I ask throatily. “This is an easy one. Think,” I pause turning my head to side, sliding my lips up and down the side of his dick.

 

“I – oh – I can’t fucking think when you do that,” he groans, hips thrusting upward and I smile against him, causing him to growl deep in his chest.

 

“Think literally, Justin,” I say and he looks down at me.

 

“Cock?” he asks and I laugh, resting my head on his thigh. “What?” he chuckles.

 

“Think less vulgar, and more romance novel.”

 

“Um,” he says, his face screwing up in thought, covering his eyes with his hand. Then his head snaps up looking down at me. “Shaft?”

 

“Mmm,” I hum nodding, pressing small kisses up and down the side of his length and he sighs. “And here?” I question, nuzzling the base of his shaft with my nose and he shifts.

 

“Base,” he says and I shake my head at him. “It is too!” he exclaims.

“Not in Doric,” I say slowly and he scowls.

 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he pouts, crossing his arms over is chest.

 

“Come on, baby,” I whisper, tonguing around the very base of him, watching him try not to shudder. “Greek work for columns…”

 

“Ah,” he growls, letting his head fall back. “Stylos,” he says, the word pulled from the back of this throat. His head snaps up. “Stylobate!”

 

“And these?” I ask my fingers cupping his balls, kneading them slowly and his face screws up in pleasure. “Justin.”

 

“Um…” He’s panting and I rub slower, torturing him a little. “What’s it start with?”

 

“An S,” I say, nails tickling him a little and he jerks in my hand again.

 

“Something bate,” he moans, hips rolling a little. “Shit…I know this.”

 

“You should…music?” I hint and his eyes fly open.

“Stereobate!”

 

“Very good, Jus,” I praise sitting up over him again. “Shall we go over it one more time?” He pants, nodding slowly.

 

I wrap my lips around the entire head and he moans. “Capital.” I flick my tongue against the tip. “Abacus.” I run my tongue along the ridge. “Neck…er no! Echinus!” My tongue moves to lave the little bump just under the head. “Necking,” he hisses and it turns into a groan as I run my lips down the length. “Shaft,” he chuckles a little and I smile, tongue bathing the skin just above his balls. “Stylobate,” he breathes and gasps when I tongue his balls. “St-st-stereobate.”

 

“You did well, Justin,” I say pulling up a little. “Now Ionic.”

 

“Nooooooo,” he moans, his hand wrapping in my hair, trying to tug my mouth to him gently. “Now you suck on it.”

 

“No…” I say a little firmly and he pouts down at me and I almost cave, the head of his shaft now a deep purple, pre cum leaking from the tip. “There are only two differences between Ionic and Doric that I told you, you needed to know.”

 

“One has to do with the…” I trail, wrapping my lips around the head, feeling it throb, tasting salt.

 

“Capital,” he moans low and I smile pulling my mouth from him. “Its um…it’s a scroll right?” he asks rubbing his forehead frustrated.

 

“And the scroll is called…?”

 

“A valet,” he says and I giggle a little.

 

“A volute,” I correct. “Close enough,” I add when he looks at me pleadingly. “And these?” I ask cupping his balls with both my hands, allowing his dick to lay against his stomach.

 

“Base,” he sighs and I smile at him.

 

“Okay, now from the top,” I say and he grins at me, fingers tightening in my hair as I take him into my mouth, listening to him breathe the terminology as my lips and tongue hit the designated spots on his cock.

 

“Oh shit, Sky,” he moans, his other hand going to my head, guiding me up and down his length. “Fuck that feels so good.”

 

I can tell he’s close, all my teasing heightening his senses and I know its pride that has him holding out. I remove my mouth from him and he whines, his face screwing up, head falling back.

 

“Are you gonna come for me, J?” I ask him and he sighs a little, hips twitching upwards at my words.

 

“Please,” he whispers softly, his head rolling to look at me again, blue eyes nearly black with want.

 

I smile at him and oblige, taking him into my mouth again, sucking hard on him, enjoying his hisses and moans, the way his nails scrape at my scalp, fingers pressing me harder down onto him.

 

“I’m gonna…” but he doesn’t get the last word out, spilling warm into my mouth, catching me only slightly off guard, so some of him dribbles down my chin, the rest sliding down my throat.

 

I hold him in my mouth until he goes soft, then I climb up his body, wiping my mouth as I straddle his waist, pressing my ear over his racing heart. His arms wrap around me, hugging me close, his panting breath stirring my hair.

 

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he moans, his arms squeezing me and I giggle a little against his chest, listening to his heart slow.

 

I hum in response, rubbing my cheek against his chest, feeling his hands wander down my back, cupping my ass and pressing me harder into his lap. I gasp when I feel him hardening against me already and I look up to find him licking his lips.

 

“So the deal was…” he says, grinding against me lightly and I pant a little, that warm tingle spreading from my stomach down between my legs, “that I would get whatever I wanted if I got an A.”

 

I swallow hard. “Y-yeah, that was the deal.”

 

“Well,” he says grinning, his nose nuzzling against mine, “I guess since I got a B… that means you get to do whatever you want.”

 

My jaw drops and he grins at me somewhat shyly but that predatory lust is darkening his blue eyes and I can feel him now fully hard against my center. I moan a little, pressing harder into him and his eyelids flutter.

 

“Feel free to ravage me,” he grins, chuckling slightly and I lick my lips.

 

“Oh I plan to baby…” I mutter, my lips brushing his as I speak. “I plan to.”

PART 14

 

I can’t fucking take it anymore. If I hear her giggle one more time I swear to god I’m going to rip my ears off and eat them. Four hours. Four fucking hours on a bus with this airheaded tramp and I’m losing my mind. I thought riding with the guys was bad, but fart jokes and racy innuendo are nothing compared to the asinine chatter of the wardrobe girls and her.

 

Britney Spears, pop princess, or so was the title that has been given to her by the tabloids and teen magazines. She’s America’s sweetheart… or so she was until three days ago when the latest issue of Rolling Stone came out. Her phone rings off the hook, calls from her publicists and her agent and her manager, all with tales of record stores in the south pulling her CDs from the shelves, politicians crying indecency, and preachers giving sermons on purity and chastity. She responds with coy giggles and widened eyes, feigning innocence and ignorance. It is enough to make me want to kill myself.

 

Stepping off of that bus and breathing the sooty Detroit air was like stepping onto the beach after a winter in the arctic. You just thank god that it’s over and you don’t have to endure it anymore. My eyes fall on the bus that is behind us, unconsciously searching the group of people crowded next to it for that tale tell curly head. I find him laughing with JC, backpack slung casually over his shoulder and I fight the urge to go to him. And then a blonde figure flounces past me.

 

“Heeeeeeey J,” she says, bouncing up next to him and he smiles down at her affectionately.

 

This is a good thing, I keep telling myself. He’s finally finding someone his own age. Why it had to be her I’ll never know but he’s finally looking at another girl, talking to another girl. I should be happy, but all I really am is pissed off. She’s nothing like me! She’s vapid and shallow and utterly clueless. She’s short and thin and tan and I can’t believe that I’m jealous. No, no I am not jealous. I am simply… making an observation of our differences, no different than comparing two pieces of art.

 

I start making my way toward the sliding glass doors of the hotel, and I catch his eye, his gaze following me as I pass him. My movement seems to spark the mass migration of all the people standing in front of the buses. Or maybe it’s him following me that sparks the move. I smile to myself but it dies away as I see her walking at his side, chatting with him easily. I can feel his eyes flit between me and her as they fall in behind me, coming close enough for me to catch snippets of their conversation

 

“You are perverted, Justin Timberlake!” Britney squeals, her southern drawl sugary sweet and nauseating as we step through the sliding glass doors of the hotel and I hear him laugh throatily.

 

“Oh, if you think that is perverted, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he laughs and I let a shiver quake through me at the suggestion in his voice.

 

He’s flirting with her. I know this because he does this with me. Not so much anymore because we don’t do a lot of talking when we’re alone now but he used to. He used to. A strange tightness enters my chest but I push it down. This is a good thing. Maybe he’ll stop coming to me. Maybe he’ll start going to her. This doesn’t comfort me the way that I know it should. It leaves me hollow and empty. I push it down.

 

“Skylar!”

 

My name echoes through the large lobby and I look around for the source. My eyes fall on a tall man with wavy blond hair and my breath catches in my throat. He’s smiling widely at me, his hands in his pockets, enjoying what I am sure is the dumbfounded look on my face.

 

“Khefren?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I see Justin’s head whip and his smile fades, his face becoming a mask but I see anger smoldering in his blue eyes.

 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” he spats but I’m not really paying attention.

 

Khefren is walking towards me and I’m so shocked I can’t even think straight. I had been so distraught when he had left. It had felt like I lost part of myself and now here he is right in front of me and I don’t know what to do. My heart is fluttering like it always did with him, all those emotions washing over me and I’m dazed and dizzied, trying to remember where all this went. He left and I was broken and sad and then… and then Justin…

 

“I’ve rendered her speechless!” Khefren laughs and he opens his arms to me.

 

I pause for a moment before stepping into the embrace and the familiar scent of dried spice envelops me, emotions flooding through me. My hands clutch at his back and I smile into his shoulder, a quiet happiness settling over me. This is familiar. This is good. I remember this. This guiltless, easy courtship. He pulls back and smiles down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners and I gaze up at him still slightly dazed.

 

“What… what are you doing here?” I ask, smiling as I step back. I can see Justin from the corner of my eye, standing at the counter, waiting for his room key, eyes flitting to us every once and awhile.

 

“Well, I knew you guys would be in Michigan and I live in Michigan if you remember correctly,” he grins at me and I can’t help beaming back at him, butterflies tickling my stomach.

 

“Oh, that’s right!” I say, wondering how I could have forgotten. That all seems so long ago when, really, only two months have passed since his departure.

 

“I was thinking,” he says, looking around us before leaning in closer to me, his voice soft. “Maybe I could take you to dinner? Catch up?”

 

His hazel eyes are gazing into mine intently and I’m momentarily at a loss. Emotions are flooding through me, confusing and strong. It’s Khefren and he’s here right now, and he’s asking me to go to dinner with him. Two months ago I would have been shaking like one of Justin’s fans. Justin…

 

“Yes,” I say abruptly, smiling at him as I swallow hard and the smile that lights up his handsome face is enough to set the butterflies loose in my stomach again.

 

“Okay…” he says, taking my hands in his and his palms are warm and slightly damp. He’s nervous. I grin back at him. “Pick you up at seven?”

 

“Sounds great,” I say and I jump back as I feel a large hand smooth across my lower back.

 

“Khefren! Good to see you,” Justin says, his voice holding a fake cheeriness that makes me cringe.

 

“Justin! How you doin, kid?” Khefren says, giving Justin a playful punch on the arm and Justin smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Good, and I’m not a kid,” Justin responds, his fingers massaging slow circles on my lower back and I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms over my chest, elbowing him in the ribs in the process. He huffs gently.

 

“Of course not,” Khefren grins, sharing a look with me and I can’t help but smile back. Justin scowls.

 

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” Justin asks, his hand trying to snake its way around my waist to pull me closer but my elbow under his ribcage prevents him from doing so.

 

“Just taking this lovely lady to dinner,” Khefren replies, his eyes softening as he looks at me and my head spins a little, a blush creeping into my cheeks and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning giddily.

 

Justin’s hand snatches back as if he’s been burned. I look up at him just in time to see the astonished and hurt look on his face before he situates it into a look of feigned interest. My chest tightens a little and I want to touch him, to just place a hand on his arm and let him know its okay. But I can’t do that because I’m not sure it is.

 

“She’s working tonight,” Justin says flatly, his voice conveying neither malice nor warmth.

 

“We don’t have much to cover,” I say, brushing off his statement, hoping that he gets the hint. He can’t make a big deal about this.

 

“Yeah, but isn’t that why you’re here?” Justin asks, his eyes hard as he looks at me. “You’re here to teach me?”

 

“Yes,” I say, looking at him, my eyes boring into his. He has to chill out and not blow everything because he’s jealous. “But we should be done by seven.”

 

“Good,” Khefren says, eyeing Justin strangely before sharing a look with me and grinning. I smile back weakly. “I’ll be here in the lobby at seven.”

 

He leans in to kiss me on the cheek sweetly, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back and smiling down at me. He gives Justin a nod as he brushes past us and out the hotel doors. I turn and watch him leave, my hand going up to touch my cheek, skin still tingling from his lips.

 

“You’re grinning like an idiot.”

 

It’s Justin’s voice, flat and harsh and I’m brought back to the moment, looking up into his dark blue eyes clouded in anger and hurt. I purse my lips glaring up at him. He’s glaring at me petulantly, his arms crossed over his chest and I hate it when he does this, pouts like a child. I open my mouth to retort but Britney bounds up next to us.

 

“Hey, J! Wanna work out together? They have a gym here,” she says, bouncing a little, thumbs hooked in the straps of her book bag.

 

“Yeah,” Justin says, eyes locked on mine. “I’ll work you out.”

 

My mouth falls open and so does Britney’s as she giggles and punches him on the shoulder.

 

“Justin! God, you’re such a perv,” she squeals and he finally rips his gaze from me and smiles brilliantly down at her. My insides boil.

 

“You know it, girl,” he grins, his eyes flitting to me. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

He throws an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him as they walk toward the elevators together. All I can do is watch, slightly shocked as she looks up at him and he drops a kiss on her forehead. She giggles as they step into the elevator and turn leaning against the railing. He stares at me defiantly and I have just enough time to see him grin cockily before the doors close.

 

***

 

I’m a ball of emotion as I try and work feebily on my thesis, waiting for Justin to get done with his work out. Khefren is here... and we’re going to dinner. We’re going on a date. A real one, not like the little mini dates we went on after shows when we were first together. I’m happy and nervous and…where the hell is Justin?

 

I glance at the clock and find that it’s nearly a quarter to six. I’ll need to start getting ready soon. What the hell is taking him so long? No one works out for three hours. We’ve worked out for three hours before. My chest tightens again and it’s almost suffocating.

 

“This is a good thing,” I mutter to myself as I climb off my bed and pace the room a bit. “He should date her. She’s a nice girl. A bit stupid… and vain and she dresses like a slut…and oh my god I’m talking to myself.”

 

I shake my head, trying to clear it and sighing, I walk to the door and down the hall. I take the elevator down to the lobby, going back through a hallway towards the gym. Tiny is standing by the door and he gives me a dubious glare before cocking his head at the door, allowing me entry.

 

What I see when I step inside makes me gasp. Britney flat on her back, one of her legs pulled to her chest while the other lies flat and Justin... Justin is laying between them, his arms locked and he’s pressing his body into hers. The fact that they are fully clothed doesn’t make this any less awkward, doesn’t make the fact that my heart is caught in my throat any less painful.

 

“Ow, Justin that hurts!” she whines, as he presses his shoulder harder against the leg he’s pinning to her chest.

 

“Take it all, bitch,” he chuckles and she brings an arm around his neck to slap the back of his head, causing his nose to bump into hers.

 

“Ow!” they both exclaim in unison before bursting into giggles and I turn to leave, fully prepared to go back to my room and…

 

But I bump into the door frame on my way out, smashing my shoulder back and I yelp, squeezing my eyes shut as I spin away from the offending architecture. I grip my bicep, trying to numb the pain that shoots down to my finger tips and up my neck. It will bruise in the morning.

 

I open my eyes to see Justin and Britney both looking up at me, bodies still in the same position. Justin’s eyes widen as he scrambles to his feet, wiping his hands on his basketball shorts. Britney pushes herself to her elbows and simply stares up at him before looking back at me and then back at him.

 

“We were just stretching,” he says quickly and I can only blink at him, the guilty look on his face saying so much more than his voice can.

 

“Oh come on J,” Britney says, grinning up at him. “Sky’s cool. She won’t tell your momma you were touching me in naughty places.”

 

She giggles as she nudges his shin with her foot and he steps away from her. I grit my teeth, fighting the dizziness as my stomach drops and he looks at me, giving his head an almost imperceptible shake. That’s not how it is, he says with his eyes but I look away.

 

“Sorry to interrupt. I just have to start getting ready soon so if you could come up and we could knock this lesson out that would be great.”

 

My voice sounds foreign even to me and he tilts his head to the side regarding me curiously, before narrowing his eyes. He thinks I’ve said this to hurt him. Maybe I did, on some subconscious level.

 

“Yeah, just lemme go into the locker room and get my bag,” Justin says and I almost protest but he’s disappeared down the hall before I even get a chance to open my mouth.

 

Now I’m alone in the room… with Britney. She pulls herself up off the floor and walks over to one of the many mirrors on the wall and adjusts her sports bra before turning her face this way and that, examining her skin. She’s a very pretty girl. She and Justin look very cute together. He smiles a lot when she’s around. My chest is tight again. I rub it, hoping to alleviate the pressure.

 

“You and Justin seem close,” Britney says, adjusting her high pony tail and I snap out of my daze, looking at her through the mirror.

 

“Um… yeah,” I say and add what I always do when someone makes this statement. “He’s a sweet kid. Very smart.”

 

“Is he…” she trails, pulling her plush bottom lip between her teeth and eyeing me through the mirror. She turns to face me. “Is he seeing anyone?”

 

It takes all of my willpower for my jaw not to hit the floor. She’s shifting from foot to foot, eyeing me hopefully. She likes him. From the look on her face she likes him a lot. She’s a nice girl. She’s a little self-centered but so is Justin. Maybe she would draw that out of him. Maybe she would be good for him…better than me…

 

“I mean, like I said, you two seem kinda close,” she says, smiling at me embarrassed. “That’s the only reason I ask. He seems like he tells you stuff.”

 

“I-” I begin to speak but Justin jogs back into the room, back pack slung over his shoulder.

 

“Sorry,” he says to the room and his eyes fall on Britney. “Thanks for working out with me.”  He smiles in a friendly way.

 

“Thanks for working me out,” she giggles back and he blushes which I would find adorable if rage wasn’t boiling so close to the surface. I push it down.

 

“You ready?” he asks me softly, his hand reaching to touch my elbow. I pull back quickly.

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

“Brit, you gonna hang down here?” Justin asks, and the young girl nods, sitting back down on the floor.

 

“Yeah…gotta do about two hundred more crunches,” she breathes, squaring her shoulders before tucking her hands behind her head.

 

“Okay, have fun.”

 

She merely nods, beginning her crunches and he turns to me. His hand reaches for my wrist but I step away, turning my back to him, anger and some other emotion that I refuse to call jealously boiling under my skin. I stride ahead of him and he struggles to catch up, his hand wrapping around my bicep finally as we reach the elevator. I shake him loose giving him a warning glance, looking around to see if anyone witnessed this.

 

“Skylar,” he says, his voice soft as we step into the elevator. “We were just working out.”

 

“It’s fine, Justin,” I say, rolling my eyes at him and then I paint a smile on my face. “It’s good! She’ll be good for you.”

 

I hear him sigh as I watch the numbers ascend. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

 

Something inside of me swells as he says this and the logical part of me beats it down, scolding it, breaking it into pieces until it subsides. I heave a perturbed sigh.

 

“She’s good for you, Justin.” I say as the elevator doors open to my floor. “You could have a real relationship with her.”

 

“I’m having a relationship,” he replies petulantly as we walk to my door, “with you.”

 

“This is not,” I pause looking around to make sure no one is listening as I slip my key into the lock, “a relationship.” I stand aside to allow him entry.

 

“Yes,” he says walking in and turning towards me, “It is.”

 

“I’m not arguing with you about this right now,” I say, closing the door behind me and dropping my key on the table. I glance at the clock. “Dammit, it’s twenty after six. I don’t have time for a shower.” I sigh.

“You’re really going to dinner with him,” Justin scowls, falling onto the bed and pulling out his book.

 

“Yes,” I say, stepping into the bathroom and looking into the mirror. My hair will have to go up…dammit.

 

“Why?” he asks, annoyance obvious in his voice and I sigh as I leave the bathroom and rummage through my suitcase.

 

‘Because I want to,” I say, pulling out my little black dress and it’s the truth. I shake the fabric, trying to alleviate some of the wrinkles from the soft cotton, hoping it will alleviate my guilt as well.

 

“You’re wearing that?” Justin asks, eyeing the dress as I consider it.

 

“Yes,” I say finally, reaching into my luggage for a pair of black panties.

 

“What, so you’re gonna fuck him now?” Justin asks, his voice raised and I look back at him, my face blank.

 

He’s scowling at me, eyeing the underwear in my hand and I can’t help but preen a little under his territorial stare. Part of me really seems to enjoy the fact that he gets so jealous. Just the other day one of the local crew had helped me step down from the stage and Justin was at my side within seconds, taking my other hand to guide me, eyeing the other man moodily. The other part of me, the logical part of me, the part of me that I’ve locked in the basement of my mind for the past two months screams that I’m being selfish. Now, it says, now is the perfect opportunity to end this, to atone for my egregious error of starting this thing with him in the first place. He likes Britney. Britney likes him. If I just let him go… if I just let him go… I could make this right.

 

“Why do you care?” I respond, the words bitter in my mouth as I turn to go back into the bathroom.

 

I hang my dress over the shower door, tossing my underwear on the counter and I am about to shut the bathroom door behind me when his hand stops the wood abruptly, and he charges me. I gasp as he backs me into the glass door of the shower, gripping my wrists and pinning them against my shoulders. I look up into his eyes, dark with rage (and hurt?) as his fingers dig into the delicate flesh of my inner wrists.

 

“No one fucks you but me,” he says harshly and my stomach drops to my feet, my insides coiling at his words. I swallow hard, painting my face into a look of annoyance.

 

“Justin, let me go,” I chide, pushing him back with trembling hands and turning away, praying that he doesn’t notice. I can’t do this right now. I have to get ready for my date with Khefren.

 

I’m going on a date with Khefren. I’m dating. I’m not sneaking around with my underage student. I’m going on a date. Like a normal person. And I like Khefren. I like him a lot. I wait for the butterflies to tickle my stomach but they don’t come.

 

I jump when I feel Justin’s hands smooth down my arms, my stomach tying in knots as he breathes against my ear, panting that no one can give it to me like he can. And here come the butterflies…dammit. I shrug him off, stepping up to the vanity and trying to ignore him.

 

He glowers at me through the mirror, watching as I pull my hair back, twisting it up and securing it with a clip. I brush the long strands of my bangs away from my face and survey it in the mirror. I wrinkle my nose and repeat the process. Justin stands silently behind me, his eyes never leaving me, silent anger emanating off of him.

 

I start to freshen my make up, throwing out random art questions which he answers dutifully, jaw tight, voice flat and emotionless. I finish my make up, puckering my lips in the mirror, and surveying my face. My eyes flit to him through the reflection and he’s still sulking, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes roving over me through the mirror. I sigh.

 

“I need to change,” I say to him, turning to face him and he leans against the shower door, snaking his tongue out to wet his full bottom lip.

 

“So change,” he says, nodding his head at me and I roll my eyes.

 

“Come on, Justin,” I say pointing to the door but he doesn’t move, just stands there and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

 

I sigh, turning away from him as I tug my shirt over my head, but the mirror does little to hide my nakedness. I avoid his gaze as I unbutton my jeans and push them down my hips, hooking my big toe in the elastic of my socks as I kick the denim off my legs, taking my socks with it.

 

My eyes meet his in the mirror and he’s watching me intently, his eyes roving over my scantily clad form, his tongue sliding against the inside of his lip. I sigh as I turn to face him again, fisting my hands on my hips and nodding towards the door.

 

“Seriously, Jus, come on,” I sigh.

 

“What?” he asks, his voice hard. “You act like it’s some shit I’ve never seen before.”

 

He grins at me cockily and I scowl, turning to the mirror again, reaching behind me to undo my bra. Fine, he wants it this way. It can be this way. I hear him gasp as I let the material fall from my shoulders and toss it aside. I hesitate as I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties but I shake the insecurity away. He’s right. He has seen it all before.

 

I shove them down and grab the black lacey pair I have chosen for this evening, pulling them up my legs. I gasp when I feel him slide up behind me, pressing into my back, his large hands coming around me to cover my breasts. Why was I excited to go on this date again? Khefren who?

 

His long fingers pluck at my nipples and my eye lids flutter before I come back to myself and push him back. He can’t keep doing this. Seducing me and winning me over just to get his way. He needs to let me go. I need to let him go.

 

“Excuse me,” I say, reaching past him to grab my dress from over the shower door and he doesn’t move, making me brush my breasts against the bare skin of his arm in the process.

 

I turn back to the mirror and bring the dress over my head, raising my arms to let the soft cotton fall down my body. I adjust the fabric over my frame, situating the empire waist just under my breasts, tugging on the material until the low neckline is straight and showing just enough of my breast bone to entice. I bring my arm back and grip the zipper, doing my best to tug it up. My arm cramps and I struggle… if I could just get it up a little more I could come from the other end and…

 

Justin sighs, stepping forward and I feel his fingers graze my skin as he grabs the zipper and pulls up, his knuckles smoothing up my spine as he zips me up. He pauses, and I can see him in the mirror, his eyes locked on the back of my neck. He purses his lips before heaving a sigh that rushes against my skin, causing goose bumps to prickle before placing a soft kiss at the nape of my neck. I shiver hard, my eyes lids fluttering as I watch him look at the floor sadly, his hand going up to flatten his curls against his head.

 

I turn cupping his face in my hand, stroking his cheek with my thumb and I have no words. I can’t say what he wants to hear. I won’t say what he wants to hear. This is good for us. He’ll have Britney and I’ll have Khefren and we’ll be happy… normal. This is the way it should be. He and I… apart.

 

I turn away from him, going back into the bedroom and, glancing at the clock, I see that it’s five till seven. I should go downstairs. I root in my suitcase and find my small black handbag and shove a few things inside it. The silence in the room is deafening.

 

“Don’t go,” his voice is soft and it breaks in the middle, jumping an octave and I close my eyes, trying to force down the wave of emotion that threatens to swallow me whole.

 

“Justin,” I say warningly, grabbing my jewelry bag and rummaging through it to find my silver dangly earrings.

 

“You don’t have to go,” he says quietly, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes wide and imploring. “I can go down and say you’re sick, or you have to work on your thesis… or that you’re my girlfriend.”

The last part is so quiet I barely hear it but the effect that it has on me is unfathomable even to me. Panic, adrenaline hot as lava shoots through my veins and I charge toward him, terror making me nervous and hot.

 

“Don’t…” I say my voice low, and I swallow hard, my tongue like cotton in my mouth. “Don’t ever say anything like that again.”

 

He looks down and away, the way he does when his mother tells him he’s getting a little too big for his breeches, or when the vocal coach scolds him for doing too many runs in a song. My chest is heaving, my body trembling slightly.

 

“But I could… I would,” he says softly. “We don’t have to keep it a secret. People will understand. We are in-”

 

“People will not understand, Justin!” I exclaim, cutting him off, my mind fighting to wrap my head around what he’s saying. He can’t be serious. “You’re seventeen years old. I’m your teacher. Do you understand that I could go to jail for what we’ve done?”

 

“My mom wouldn’t press charges,” Justin starts but I snort disbelievingly and he scowls down at me. One thing Justin hates more than anything is being interrupted. “She wouldn’t!”

 

“Yeah,” I say condescendingly. “She was so understanding when she caught you having sex before. She practically threw a parade.”

 

“Don’t talk about my mother,” he growls and I silence instantly, knowing I’ve hit a serious nerve and while I’m looking to deter him, I don’t really want to hurt him.

 

“You promised me,” I say lowly. “You promised me that if we started this thing you would keep your mouth shut. That was the only thing I asked of you. To keep your mouth shut.”

 

“But-”

 

“No buts!” I exclaim and I take a deep breath, stealing myself for what I have to say next. “I’m not your girlfriend, Justin. We’re not in a relationship and…” I pause, gritting my teeth, “I have no emotional attachment to you whatsoever. It’s just sex.”

 

His eyes are hard and unblinking and his hands are fisted at his sides, jaw clenched. His chest is heaving and I can tell that it’s taking everything in him not to fly into a rage. The fact that he’s even trying to hold it in is a testament to how much he’s grown since I’ve known him.

 

“You don’t mean that,” he says finally after a moment, shaking his head and jutting his chin out defiantly.

 

I swallow hard, praying that my voice stays steady. “I do.”

 

“No,” he says shaking his head and laughing slightly. “No… you don’t,” he says and then he repeats it emphatically. “No, you don’t!”

 

“Justin,” I say stepping forward and reaching to touch his face but I stop myself, letting my hand fall to my side. “You’re sweet,” I sigh. “You’re a sweet boy and you deserve a nice girl that can give you what you want.”

 

“Boy?” he asks and I wince. I chose the word knowingly, deliberately, but that doesn’t make his reaction to it any less brutal. “Since when do you call me a boy? Last time I checked, my dick got hard like a man and I fucked you like a man.”

 

“Justin,” I sigh but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

 

“No, I don’t need a nice girl to give me what I want. I have you. You give me what I want. You’re a nice girl…well, right now you’re being a bitch but usually you’re a nice girl.”

 

I give him a condescending look and roll my eyes, pulling my black heels from my suitcase and slipping them on before grabbing my purse off the bed. I see his eyes climbing up my legs. He loves it when I wear heels. 

 

“Don’t go tonight, Skylar,” Justin says, his voice low and threatening and I laugh in his face, the action almost hurting me as I push the sound out.

 

“Yeah,” I say, moving past him to open the door, “I’ll do that.”

 

And with that I step out of the door and leave him, my chest tightening with every step.

 

***

 

I have never laughed so hard in my life. My ribs are aching as I stumble back to the car, Khefren’s arm warm around my waist. Tonight… tonight has easily been one of the best nights of my life. He was the first thing I saw when I stepped off the elevator, waiting next to a table adorned with a vase of fresh flowers. His face lit up in a grin when he saw me and I was pulled forward by the warmth of his smile. He plucked a Gerber daisy from the flower display and presented it to me, which I took with a giggle, a blush warming my face.

 

The ride to the restaurant was filled with pleasant banter and careful innuendo and for the life of me I didn’t see how I’d gone two months without him. The way he would look at me from the corner of his eye as he drove, or when he would turn to face me, eyes wide in shock when I’d said something particularly scandalous.

 

“Skylar!” he had exclaimed, chuckling disbelievingly. “What on earth has gotten into you since I left? You’re downright sassy!”

 

I had laughed out loud at his choice of words, but he was right. I have become more bold since I’ve seen him last. Having steady sex always seems to do that to me. Justin… I had nearly gasped as his boyish face planted itself in my minds eye, smirking and licking his lips seductively. I had shaken my head, trying to rid myself of the image and I did…but only for a little while.

 

Dinner was intimate, Khefren having taken me to a small Italian restaurant that, if he hadn’t known where it was, I would have walked right past it. Inside it was quiet, the lights low and the tables were small enough to lean over and kiss, as many of the patrons were wont to do.

 

I found myself staring at him as he perused his menu, taking in the smooth curve of his jaw, the pinkness of his lips. The way his tongue was running along the inside of his mouth as he weighed his decision between the manicotti and the salmon, much the same way Justin’s tongue did when he was surveying me, trying to make a decision as whether to grab me right then or wait just a little bit longer. Justin… I had cleared my throat and abruptly asked him what he’d been up to, banishing Justin’s face from my brain but he was still there. He was always there.

 

Khefren had told me he had taken some time off, traveled a little. When I had asked where he blushed and my stomach somersaulted. Maybe I had missed him after all. Maybe… maybe Justin was a compensation for him. Justin…

 

I’d snapped back into the moment when he mentioned he’d gone to Egypt and I was enraptured, hanging on his every word as he told me of the pyramids and the culture and the art.

 

“You went to museums?” I had asked, the shock evident in my voice. “I thought you told me you hated museums?”

 

“I wanted something to be able to talk with you about,” he had said, grinning at me bashfully and I was more than shocked. But then he looked up at me, his face solemn and serious, the flecks of gold in his eyes shining in the candle light as he said. “I’ve missed you, Skylar.”

 

It took my breath away. That he had missed me all this time. That he had longed for me in some way, shape, or form. That he had gone all the way to Egypt because it made him feel close to me. He told me these things, his voice hushed, his hand reaching the small distance across the table to take mine. I was completely lost in him.

 

He told me about how he’s been working on a few theatrical productions in his home town, just waiting for the fall tours to start. He told me bashfully how he’d spent the five hour drive here rehearsing what he was going to say when he saw me again. He told me he’d never stopped thinking about me, that I was always in the back of his mind. That the drive was nothing if it meant he’d get to see me again.

 

And now… now as we’re giggling our way back to the car, I’m looking at him differently. Or more likely, the same as before…before Justin. I shove his face away. This is not about Justin tonight. This is about me. This is about me doing the right thing. For once.

 

He opens my car door for me and I slide inside, my body tingling, tingling the way it does with… I push it down. I watch Khefren hurry around the front of the car and slide in the driver’s seat, watching him for a moment before the light goes out and he’s a mere silhouette against the night. He turns to me and all I can see are his eyes, shining through the darkness.

 

He’s staring at me intently, teeth working his bottom lip and I can feel my heart quickening. He leans over the center console and I hesitate for a moment. I hesitate and a thousand things are running through my mind. How this has been the best date I’ve ever had. Accept for that date at the museum. That was not a date! How Khefren looks at me, how his eyes soften and hold mine with an uneasy confidence. Justin’s gaze is smoldering, deep blue eyes adoring and needy. This is NOT about Justin.

 

I take a deep breath and lean in, my lips finding Khefren’s in the dark. He’s slightly taken aback by my forwardness but returns my kiss earnestly, his hand going up to cup my face gently. My hand moves to fist in the soft cotton of his polo, tugging him closer and his arm that was supporting him on the console slips down and he struggles to retain his balance, his hand falling onto my thigh and gripping as he catches himself. I gasp into his mouth and he starts to pull back but I keep a firm grip on his shirt, pressing my lips harder into his and he stays where he is, hand pressing warmly on my upper thigh.

 

This is what I need, I think. This, with him, this frantic scrambling for each other, this passion for someone… someone other than… I pull back gasping, my chest heaving as a deep burning pain lodges itself between my ribs. How can I do this to him? Justin adores me, he cares for me, more deeply than I do. The pain stabs me again and I gasp. Khefren’s hand is caressing my cheek and I try to concentrate on it. I try to think of only him, but deep blue eyes are all I see. I push it down.

 

“Skylar?” It’s Khefren’s voice, low and deep, slightly breathless and I grip his face in my hands tugging him into a passionate kiss that sets my skin on fire.

 

I definitely need this. His hand is snaking down to my knee, searching for the hem of my dress, searching for my skin. He finds it, soft fingers caressing my inner knee, softer than Justin’s guitar-calloused fingertips. My arm moves to wrap around Khefren’s neck, pressing my heaving chest to his as his free hand moves to grab at my waist, trying to tug me closer. The hand on my thigh is inching higher and my stomach is quivering in anticipation (or is it dread?), my tongue sliding hotly against his.

 

“Skylar,” he heaves, pulling back from me panting and I’m panting too, swallowing hard, hands grabbing at his chest, just touching, enjoying the feel of the unfamiliar. “Do… do you wanna go back to…” he swallows hard, “my hotel room?”

 

My heart practically stops beating at his request. He’s panting, his eyes pleading and maybe this is exactly what I need. Justin has Britney now, and I have Khefren and we can finally stop this thing. We can let each other go. This is good for us. This is the right thing to do. Whether Justin will think so or not, it’s the right thing to do.

 

“Yes,” I pant, my hand moving up to smooth down his face. “Yes, let’s go.”

My heart is racing as I walk down the hallway towards his room. I have to see him. My entire body is propelling itself towards him, my mind frantic, that indescribable emotion that has been plaguing me all night settling itself in the pit of my stomach.

 

Guilt, bitter and unrelenting, bites at my heart. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I need to get to Justin. For some reason I feel like I need to explain. Which I don’t… I mean we’re just… we’re just…fucking. I don’t… owe him anything. But I feel like I do. And maybe I do owe him an apology, for earlier, for the yelling. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I reach his door and knock, slightly breathless, waiting for him to answer.

 

All night this has been in the back of my mind, sitting there and festering, tainting what would have been a perfect evening. A perfect date with a perfect man, but the only thing I could think of was getting back to him. Why, I’ll never know but that’s the way it is sometimes, I guess. Your body wants what it wants. And my body… always wants Justin.

 

The door swings open and I nearly moan when I see him standing there in nothing but a pair of Carolina blue basketball shorts, the white band of his boxers peeking out of the top. His face registers shock and I speak before he can say anything.

 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me. I get that but-”

 

My sentence is cut off when a girlish voice calls from inside. “Who is it, J?”

 

His eyes slide closed and he winces and my heart stops, my mouth falling open and rage explodes in my chest as I see her walk up behind him, clad in tiny pajama shorts and a tank top that exposes so much skin she might as well not even be wearing one. She places a hand on Justin’s shoulder and leans on him, looking up at him adoringly and then looks at me.

 

“Oh, it’s your teacher?” Britney says, cocking her head to the side so that it rests against his bicep. “You guys don’t study this late, do you?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin says, his eyes holding mine as he turns his head to her, “we do.”

 

“Really?” Britney asks, her voice high as she looks at him and I fight the urge to rip her face off. What is wrong with me?

 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling down at her. “You should call it a night anyway. Big day tomorrow.”

 

“Oh yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Lots of interviews.”

 

She grabs onto his shoulder and bounces up to her tip toes, puckering her lips and Justin turns his head away just in time to allow her to catch the corner of his mouth and he smiles down at her, and I watch him. His eyes don’t dance the way they do when he smiles at me but I can see happiness there. He likes her. Which should be a good thing…right? I’ve said it before that it’s better for him to date someone his own age.

 

She gives me a tight lipped smile as she brushes past me saying, “Nice dress.”

 

I look down at myself and find that I am indeed still wearing my little black dress and reply with a slightly bewildered, “Thanks.” and watch as she swishes down the hall. I turn in time to see Justin watching her, his eyes roving up her tan legs and scantily clad ass. I gasp slightly, feeling as if something sharp has broken loose inside me. What is going on with me?

 

“I should go,” I say, feeling strange and light headed.

 

I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to think that he would…that he would be with her the way that he is with me. But all evidence points to that fact. I mean, why else would she be in his room at this hour, dressed the way she was. And then it makes me wonder if what Justin and I do is completely obvious to everyone on the planet.

 

“Why?” he asks coldly. “Got someone waiting for you?”

 

“No,” I spat, crossing my arms over my chest. “But maybe I should have taken him up on it, seeing as you’ve already had your fun for the night.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting in anger.

 

“It means exactly what I said,” I shoot back and he snorts.

 

“What, are you saying you think I fucked her?” he asks, mimicking my stance, accentuating his chest and I try to ignore it.

 

“Well, it certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?” I respond hotly and he lets his head fall back laughing.

 

“Oh yeah, Sky. You just think that shit,” he says rolling his eyes and turning to walk back into the room.

 

I follow him, cold fury propelling me forward. “Well what the fuck am I supposed to think, Justin?” I yell and he glares at me.

 

“Shut the damn door if you’re going to yell,” he replies and I grab the edge of the door and push hard, relishing in the booming sound, the reverberation of the wall. He winces. “That’s mature.”

“You’re trying to tell me nothing happened with her?” I ask, stepping into the room and narrowing my eyes. “You’re telling me that you guys were in here just… talking?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding and raising his eyebrows at me, looking at me as if I was stupid for even asking. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

 

“Well, I don’t fucking believe you,” I spat and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me, Justin. You’re in here, alone, with a girl who practically bends over in front of you every time you’re in the room-”

 

“She does not!” he exclaims, anger smoldering in his blue eyes. “She’s a good person!”

 

“Oh yeah, I bet she’s good,” I scoff and he rolls his eyes again.

 

“You actually think I fucked her?” he asks me, his eyes searching mine and some of the fury dies down, replaced by fear and a sickness in my stomach that scares me more than anything else.

 

“Well, did you?” I ask, my voice weak despite my efforts against it and his face softens and I hate myself.

 

“No,” he says, stepping forward, reaching for me. “No, I…” he trails his face registering astonishment and I look at him confused.

 

He leans in and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he breathes in though his nose and I look at him quizzically as he steps back from me quickly, his eyes hard and cold.

 

“You wanna tell me why you smell like a fucking dude right now?” he asks and just the way he says it makes me laugh. The rage that blossoms on his face tells me that this is an improper response.

 

“Justin-” I say, the laughter dying in my voice but he cuts me off.

 

“No, I think I should be asking you what happened tonight,” he says, his voice accusing and I can feel my defenses prickle, guilt and shame washing over me.

 

“N-n-nothing happened,” I reply, tightening my arms over my chest and he forces out a laugh that is completely devoid of humor.

 

“No…no… you see Britney…” he says, pointing at the door, his blue eyes hard as ice. “practically fuckin douses herself in perfume,” he steps closer to me, his body centimeters from mine and I fight the urge to latch onto him. He’s looking down at me, the suppressed fury evident on his face. “tell me Skylar… do I smell like her?”

 

I gasp slightly and in doing so I breathe in and all I can smell is him, his skin clean and warm and it’s him. It’s all him. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to hold him and kiss him and…and… be with him. Right now. But I know, I know by the look on his face that can’t happen right now.

 

“Justin-” I say again, reaching my arm out to him and he jerks away, hurt and fear painting across his handsome face.

 

“Did you fuck him, Sky?” he asks, his voice shaking and I can’t tell if it’s from rage or tears but I feel something inside me break a little. I don’t want to see him like this.

 

“No,” I say after a moment, my voice weak. “No, of course not.”

 

“Of course not,” he repeats, nodding his head, his tongue running over his teeth as he settles his hands on his hips, looking at the ground. He peers up at me through narrowed eyes. “You sure about that?”

 

“Yes, Justin, I’m sure,” I reply annoyed, giving him a condescending look.

 

“Then why…” he trails biting his lip hard and turning his head to the side, his shoulders tense. “why do you smell like him?”

 

“Jus-”

 

“WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE HIM!” he screams and I jump back, startled by his outburst.

 

“Because he kissed me!” I exclaim before I even have a chance to think.

 

His eyebrows practically disappear into his hair line. “You… you kissed him?” he exclaims looking at me astonished and hurt.

 

“Yes, I did,” I say and he balls his fists at his sides, glaring at me angrily, his chest heaving. “I kissed him.”

 

There, I said it. We kissed. I don’t tell him that we drove back to his hotel room. I don’t tell him that we had gotten all the way to his room and he had opened the door for me and I hesitated. I hesitated and I couldn’t go in there. My mind was screaming at me, just do it. Do it and get it over with, get over him. Khefren is a nice guy, he’ll be good to you. Just do it. But every fiber of my being was pulling back, pulling away, propelling itself in the opposite direction, back towards the man that’s standing in front of me…or the boy, I guess I should say. And once again I hate myself. I hate myself more than I could ever begin to imagine was possible. I hate that I can’t give him up. I hate that I had to ask Khefren to bring me back here. I hate that I led him on, I hate that I broke his heart. I hate that I’m breaking Justin’s heart. I hate it. I hate it all.

 

“So what, just fuck me then? Fuck Justin, is that it?” he asks and I roll my eyes, gritting my teeth..

 

“When are you going to get it,” I say harshly, my panic and anger and confusion welling inside me. “We are not dating. We don’t belong to each other. I’m not your fucking girlfriend!”

 

I watch his face contort and his breathing hitches as if I’ve just punched him in the gut. He blinks a few times before falling onto the end of the bed, sitting there stoic and quiet, his hands fisted on his knees. He swallows hard, staring at the floor and I feel myself break even more. I don’t want to see him like this. I don’t want to do this to him anymore. All I’m doing is hurting him. This really needs to stop. I have to stop this right now.

 

I close my eyes and I sigh, walking over to him. I place a hand on his shoulder and he jerks away from me, his watery blue eyes shooting daggers at me, his jaw clenched. I sink to my knees in front of him, taking his hands in mine and he looks away.

 

“Justin,” I say softly, watching his jaw clench tighter. “Justin, look at me.”

 

I take one of my hands from his and bring it to his cheek, turning his face so that he is forced to look at me and I almost wish that I hadn’t done it. His eyes are deep and clear and he looks so wounded and hurt and I know that it was me that did it to him… and I hate myself for it. I have to end this. I have to tell him it’s over and that this is going to stop right now, right here, tonight. I have to do it. I have to…

 

“It didn’t mean anything,” I say with a sigh and he snorts, trying to turn away again but my hand holds steady on his cheek. “Justin, it didn’t mean anything.”

 

“Then why did you do it?” he asks, his voice shaking and sad and I can feel myself breaking still.

 

“I…I don’t know,” I sigh and he scoffs.

 

“You don’t know?” he asks bitterly.

 

“I just… god Justin… I don’t know,” I say standing and looking around the room. I hate myself. I hate that I can’t do it. That I can’t end this. That I have to explain this shit to him. That I can’t just tell him to shut the fuck up and do me because this is more to him than that. I hate that this is more to him than that. “He was there… he was… he was easy.” I hate that this between he and I isn’t easy.

 

“I’m sure he was,” Justin spats, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Not like that, you moron,” I reply condescendingly, my frustration flaring. “I mean he wasn’t complicated. You’re complicated, Justin. You and I together is complicated. I wanted to know what uncomplicated felt like.”

 

And that is the truth. I had been mulling it over in the back of my mind since it happened and that is the only explanation I have. I kissed Khefren because I wanted it to be easy. I wanted to be in a relationship that was normal and simple and real. I wanted to know what it could be like to fall in love with someone good and kind and not off limits. The only thing I got from it was the lesson that you can’t kiss someone to find out if you can love them.

 

“It didn’t mean anything?” he asks skeptically, his eyes searching mine hopefully and I sigh, shaking my head.

 

“No,” I say, crouching in front of him again, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “It didn’t mean anything.”

 

He sighs, his eyes closing and I take the opportunity to press my lips softly to his. I can’t stop myself. I can never stop myself. I have to come to terms with that I guess. This is never going to stop. He jumps a little at the contact but reciprocates slowly, one large hand coming up to cup my cheek while the other pulls me onto his lap.

His mouth is practically devouring mine, nibbling at my lips, tongue swiping and dipping in, making me dizzy. I moan as he kisses his way across my cheek and then down my neck, licking and sucking the skin gently, careful not to leave a mark. My hips are rocking against him impatiently, feeling him growing against my center, wanting him more and more by the second. There’s no way I can quit him. I need him. I need this. He just feels too fucking good.

 

I feel one large hand slide up my back, fingers gripping the zipper of my dress and tugging down, the fabric loosening around my chest. He pushes the material from my shoulders, his lips moving to suck on my throat and then down as my breasts are revealed to him. I clutch his shoulders, leaning back so he can drag his lips down the valley between my breasts, his hands spread wide across my back, supporting me so I don’t fall.

 

We’re both panting now, as I slide from his lap, standing to allow my dress to puddle at my feet, standing before him in nothing but a black pair of panties. He gazes up at me, a look of awe and adoration covering his face as he reaches out to rest his hand on my hip, his thumb sliding over the ink of my tattoo that’s peeking out of the waistband of my panties.

 

Something’s different here and I can’t place it. He’s looked at me this way before. He’s certainly touched me this way before. But something about this is different. It quickens my heart and sets butterflies loose in my stomach. I feel a tight nervousness in my chest and it’s almost too much, his fingers on my skin, his eyes boring into mine.

 

He stands, looking down at me from his height, hands running up and down my arms and I just stare up at him for a moment before I come back to myself, pushing his shorts and boxers to the floor. His mouth captures mine again, and an overwhelming sense of closeness washes over me, the way his mouth is pressed against mine, so much more than physical need, so much more than just a kiss. I push it down as he pulls me close, gripping my ass in his hands before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my panties and pushing down. He holds me steady as I step out of them and I run my hand along his chest as I walk around him. He grins at me, eyes following me as I sit on the end of the bed, crawling backwards. I crook my finger at him and his smile widens as he climbs onto the bed, settling on his knees and he doesn’t move, sitting there watching me.

 

“Come’ere, girl,” he says, cocking his head backwards, beckoning me to him and a wave of heat surges through me as I scramble up onto my knees and crawl towards him.

 

I want to ravage him. I want him inside me and I want him to fuck me until I can’t move. I need that from him. It’s gone beyond want. At this point my body needs it. I need to do this. I need to do this with him.

 

I straddle his thighs, trapping his length between our bellies, ready to rise and slide onto him. I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready. But I hesitate as he guides my arms back around his shoulders before his hands skim up and down my back, his nose nuzzling against mine. It’s too much. We’re too close. I swallow hard as his lips bump mine, his hands warm and wide against my skin. It’s too much. I let my arms loosen, preparing to let my body fall backwards but his mouth presses to mine and I’m lost in the battle of our tongues, his hands moving to my hips, raising me so that he’s pressing against my entrance. He lets me slide down and my mouth opens over his, breathing in his sigh in a gasp of my own.

 

He’s pressing into me so deep, my clit nestled sweetly against his hipbone and my entire body is trembling. It’s too much. I can’t take it. We’re too close. My forehead rests against his and we’re breathing each other’s breaths, lips brushing slightly. His hands slide smoothly up my back, coming up to pull the clip from my hair, letting the strands tumble down across my shoulders. His fingers delve in, massaging my scalp slowly as his mouth slants over mine, kissing me deeply and I can’t breathe. It’s too much. But I can’t move. I can’t think. I can just feel, feel him all around me and inside me, touching me everywhere.

 

I moan as he shifts to settle more, feeling him press against that spot inside me that makes me shake. His hands slide around my back, holding me close, crushing our chests together as he presses his mouth to mine again and again and again until I’m dizzy with pleasure, my hips rolling of their own volition and it’s too much. My arms clutch him tighter, fingers gripping at his skin, the closeness overwhelming me but the thought of pulling back panics me. He feels too good and I’m close already, my body shaking and shuddering.

 

I gasp, letting my head fall back, nails clawing at his back and he’s watching me, his eyes trained on my face as I whimper and whine, flexing my thighs, moving just enough to get a little bit of friction, to grind my clit hard against him.

 

“Oh…oh Justin,” I pant, my eyes squeezing shut as my body tenses, my orgasm so close to the surface.

 

He moans in response, his head falling forward to rest on my shoulder and I can hear him pant as his hips work upward, pressing himself deeper into me and I clutch at him, my mouth opening in a gasp as my muscles clench around him hard. I call out to him, begging him, my nails scratching hard across his back and I know there will be welts there. I whimper his name as another wave hits me, harder than the first and I press my cheek to his neck, his skin searing hot against mine.

 

I’m barely breathing, my body trembling hard, my eyes watering as he tips me back and I’m falling. My eyes squeeze shut but his hand is behind my head, cushioning it even from the softness of the pillows. When he pulls out I whine at the loss, so used to the closeness of before, but I groan low when he slides back in, enjoying the strangled moan he emits and his breath panting against my collarbone.

 

He presses his hands into the mattress, raising himself on his arms and I whimper, clutching at his back because he’s too far away. Before he was too close and it was too much. Now he can’t be close enough and it’s still too much, but I’m desperate now. I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, but I just want him pressed against me, as close as possible.

 

He falls to his elbows as I tug him down, his nose bumping my mouth and he winces but moans when I shift my hips, wrapping my legs around him and locking my ankles at his lower back, holding him firmly in place. He struggles for a moment, situating himself between my legs before rocking his hips into mine and I hiss, pressing my face into his neck.

 

His hands are resting on either side of my head, laying open palmed, clenching every now and then when I moan or press my lips to that spot underneath his ear that makes him hum. His hips are rocking harder against mine and I run my hands up and down his back, relishing in the way his muscles expand and contract as he moves inside of me.

 

He feels good. Really good, but I’m nowhere near close. I’m enjoying the little sparks of pleasure that are shooting through me but I’m not chasing another orgasm. I’m just listening to him, taking pleasure in his breathy moans and short pants as he works his way to the edge.

 

I hear him gasp and then moan, trying to pull himself up on his hands again but I don’t let him, clutching my arms tightly around his back because I can’t even fathom letting him go right now. He whines, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to rock harder, force himself deeper. He growls in frustration, pulling back just enough to shove his arms under my shoulder blades and our chests are pressed together, his face buried in my neck as he moans and whimpers and I can feel his heart thudding against my skin.

 

“Oh god,” he groans pressing his face hard into my neck and he makes a soft humming sound, his hips smacking into mine. “Oh…Sk-Skylar.”

 

And then his hips still, pressing hard into mine as he comes violently, his breath stopping and then a gasp and then he holds it again as wave after wave washes over him. I hold him close, one hand delving into the curls at the base of his skull the other clutching at the skin over his shoulder blade, my legs holding tight around his waist. I can hear him gritting his teeth, small whimpers tearing from his throat as he feels every last ounce of pleasure drain from him.

 

Finally all his muscles relax and he lets his weight rest on top of me but I don’t mind. He’s warm and smooth and there’s a part of me that never wants him to let me go. My brain jams at the thought, a slight panic tremoring through me because now that it’s over, what we’ve just done settles in me. He’s too close. He feels like he’s too close but part of me feels like it will die if he moves. I’m overwhelmed by this strange convexity of emotions and I close my eyes and just try to breathe. Try not to think about it, try…

 

“I love you.”

 

It’s heaved breathlessly into my neck, his voice trembling unstably as he speaks the words. My world stops. All thoughts stop. All emotions stop. I think even my heart has stopped beating.

 

No.

 

No. He can’t. He can’t love me. He’s too young. He doesn’t know what love is. How can he possibly love me? And besides, this is not about love. This has never been about love. It’s been about sex. It is purely physical what is going on between he and I. My brain screams this over and over and over but something inside me quietly contests. I push that voice down. I beat it and maim it until I only hear its echo…but still its there.

 

It’s the only way I can justify it, as screwed up as that sounds. It’s the only way I have been able to justify it to myself, telling myself that this is just a fling. That there is never any prospect of a relationship for us because he is so off limits. It’s just good sex. That’s all. There was never to be any emotion involved. There is no emotion involved…at least not from me…but something inside me quietly…

 

“Sky,” he says, his voice soft as he pulls back from me, rising on his elbows to look down into my face. “Did you hear me? I said I-”

 

“Yes, I heard you,” I say quickly, my stomach clenching at the thought of him saying it again. He can’t say it again.

 

His face shows uncertainty and he shifts as he blinks down at me. “So…”

 

I don’t respond. I look away. This is not about love. This is not about love. This is purely physical. It is not about love. I do not love him. I cannot love him. I don’t. I don’t.

 

“Skylar, I said I lo-”

 

“And I said I heard you,” I spat, panic spreading through me and he looks down at me confused and slightly hurt and I feel a suffocating tightness in my chest as I look away from him.

 

“I love you, Sky,” he whispers softly and I close my eyes, shaking my head at him.

 

“Don’t… don’t say that to me, Justin,” I say as softly and as gently as possible, hating myself, hating the fact that I let it get this far.

 

“But I-”

 

“No, Justin,” I say again, my hand smoothing against his back and I feel him sigh, his forehead falling against my collarbone.

 

“Okay, he says softly, his concession quiet and broken in the silence of the room.

 

And I wonder how long this can go on. How much longer can I do this to him? How much longer can I hurt him? How much more can I hate myself? Because at this moment I don’t think it can get much worse.

“The San Vitale church in Ravenna, Italy is one of the most important examples of Byzantine art in Western Europe,” I say, tapping my pen against the notebook in my lap. “What kind of church was it?”

 

I glance up and find Justin staring at me glassily, his cheek resting on his hand, his mouth hanging open slightly. He snaps out of it when I look at him, licking his lips as he looks back down at his book. I shift in my seat. This is awkward.

 

It’s been a week since he told me… since he said… that. We haven’t seen much of each other, mostly because I’ve been avoiding him. I know, I know very mature of me but what am I supposed to do? You’re supposed to end it. You’re supposed to let him go. I silently tell my conscience to fuck off. Seriously, I don’t need this right now.

 

“erm…” he pauses, scanning the page for information.

 

“Did you do the reading?” I sigh, rubbing my temples and he shifts in his chair.

 

“We’ve been really busy-”

 

“Justin!” I exclaim annoyed, tossing my pen on the vanity.

 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, sighing and he looks at me somewhat longingly as he says. “It’s hard to concentrate. We haven’t studied together in awhile.”

 

I eye him for a moment, struggling to read through the undertones. Does he mean we haven’t studied for awhile so he’s unfamiliar with the material? Or we haven’t studied in a while as in he hasn’t bent me in half recently. I shake my head forcing the thought from my mind, a flash of heat traveling through my body and settling in my belly. His hand reaches across the table to touch mine but I pull back, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously.

 

I’ve let this get too far. It was never supposed to happen like this. He was never supposed to…

 

“I’ve missed you, Skylar,” he says softly and his hand reaches out to brush his fingers against my cheek. My eyes close and I can’t stop myself from pressing against his hand.

 

If I dug deep down and was honest with myself, I would admit that I’ve missed him. That I’ve lain awake at night and thought about him, laying in his bed down the hall, maybe thinking of me, too. But I’m not honest with myself, so I cover that up with thoughts of his body and his hands and his lips. I cheapen it and make it dirty. I think of him on top of me and inside me and I don’t think of how it makes me feel whole and complete, but about the mind numbing bone crushing pleasure he gives me.

 

“Justin, stop,” I say suddenly, scooting my chair further away from him. “Stop.”

 

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I love you, Skylar.”

 

“The most substantial part of San Vitale is its mosaics, which are typical of this art period,” I say quickly rolling over his words and rolling over his emotions.

 

He sighs, looking back down at his books dutifully, following along. It’s not his fault. But I’m taking it out on him… like I always do. I’ve taken the past week to really reevaluate my life, try and figure out where I went wrong. Maybe it was when I took that sophomore to the prom my senior year of high school. Maybe it was that undergrad I went out on a date with last quarter. Maybe you didn’t go wrong. Maybe you’re scared that you love him, too.

 

I shake my head hard, pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead. This is ridiculous. I can’t even teach a simple lesson anymore. My thesis is in shambles. My fucking life is in shambles. I can’t do this. I can’t.

 

“Are you okay?” his voice is concerned, his hands coming to wrap around my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face but I don’t let him because I can feel it coming.

 

Tears hot and unrelenting prick my eyes and I do my best to force it back, pulling my legs to my chest. Wasn’t this how it all started? Crying in the library over my dickhead professor, and, Justin, he…

 

He’s pulling my hands away from my face, despite my best efforts against it and I can feel the wetness begin to course its way down my face. He’s on his knees in front of my chair in an instant, pulling my legs down and then off the chair and my body falls into his lap, holding me against his chest as I straddle his thighs. I press my cheek against his shoulder, my arms circling him under his arms. My hands smooth up, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt at his shoulder blades and I let him rock me and shush me and tell me that it will be okay. I listen to him tell me he loves me. I cringe with each utterance, holding him close, willing him to shut up and never stop talking all at the same time.

 

“Skylar,” he whispers, fingers combing through my hair and I just want to bury my face in his neck and forget.

 

I want to forget that he’s seventeen years old. I want to forget that I’m his teacher. I want to love him. I want to love him. This realization causes such horror in me that I stop crying instantly. I pull back to look him in the face and his eyes show worry but he smiles at me. He smiles because he knows that it makes me smile. I sniff, the corners of my mouth turning up despite the war of emotions roaring in my head and he wipes my face.

 

“How ‘bout them mosaics?” he asks, and he’s pushing it away. He’s giving me what I need before I even register that I need it. He’s pulling us into neutral territory.

 

I take a deep breath, pulling myself from his lap and sitting back in my chair. He clamors up into his own seat and waits for me to speak, the vision of an apt pupil. It’s as if none of this has ever happened. It’s like he and I don’t exist together. This causes my chest to tighten until I fear I’ll suffocate, but I look down at my notes and try to press on. We have to keep moving. I take a deep breath.

 

“The curve of the great triumphal arch is decorated with fifteen mosaic medallions, depicting Jesus Christ, the twelve Apostles and Saint Gervasius and Saint Protasius, the sons of Saint Vitale.” I pause looking up at him, and he nods, encouraging me to continue as if enraptured, glancing down at his book to follow along.

 

I smile slightly, just like old times. The art takes me over and I’m warm and filled and it doesn’t matter anymore. This is what art does to me. It makes every problem I have fall away. I let the beauty and the culture take me over and nothing else matters. Not me, not Justin, not our entire fucked up existence. Just the art.

 

“At the foot of the apse side walls are two famous mosaic panels, executed in 548, depicting the Emperor Justinian, clad in purple with-”

 

“Wait…what?” he asks, his head snapping up and looking at me slightly astonished, a slow grin creeping up his face. Here we go… I should have known he would jump all over this.

 

I continue on, suppressing a grin, “The Emperor Justinian, clad in purple with a golden halo, standing next to -”

 

“Wait, I was an emperor!” he exclaims, bouncing giddily in his chair and I bite my lip to hold back my giddy smile at his enthusiasm.

 

“No,” I say, trying to mask my amusement. “There was an Emperor of the Roman empire named Justinian who was-”

 

“I was powerful,” he says, reading along in his book, his eyes scanning rapidly across the page, “Fuck, I was awesome!” he exclaims bouncing in his seat.

 

“You were illiterate, too,” I add, just to jab him a little and he looks up at me frowning. I smile cheekily as I add, “Good to know that even morons can grow to greatness…gives you some hope, doesn’t it?”

 

He narrows his eyes at me before breaking into a smile that steals my breath. “Fuck that!” he exclaims and then grins at me charmingly. “Who’s your emperor?”

 

And with that he reaches out and wiggles his fingers against my ribs. I burst into giggles writhing and gasping, trying to pull away. It’s like nothing ever happened. It’s just he and I…carefree and in- I crush the thought before it fully forms. Not now. Part of me screams not ever. I silently beg both of them to be quiet and just let me enjoy this carefree moment.

 

He’s laughing too as he stands from his chair leaning over me and tickling me, not letting up and I can’t breathe I’m laughing so hard. I’m squirming and wiggling, turned almost completely around in my chair, trying to get away from him but he’s surrounding me, his arms circling my body, his chest pressed against my back.

 

I gasp, he’s too close. I can’t take this convexity of emotions! It’s ripping me apart inside, tearing me to shreds. An overwhelming need to pull away engulfs me and I curl tighter into myself. But more overwhelming is the part of me that wants his arms to wrap around me to hold me, not to tickle me. Part of me wants to thread my fingers through his and let him kiss my neck and sway me to the music that is constantly playing in his head. What the hell am I saying?

 

“Justin, STOP,” I say forcefully enough for him to stop laughing abruptly and pull back slightly.

 

My chest is heaving as I uncurl myself from my chair. His hands are still resting on my ribs lightly, holding me, asking silently if I’m okay. He thinks he’s hurt me In some ways he has. I shove it down, just like I shove his hands away and pat my clothing, trying to wipe away his touch but it never really goes away.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his hand heavy on my shoulder and he’s trying to turn me to face him but I refuse to do so. “Skylar…”

 

I curl into myself again, reaching down to grab my notes that I’ve dropped on the floor. I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously, refusing to meet his gaze. He reaches for me, his hands covering mine as they clutch my notes. All I can see right now is the papers in my hands, information that I know, that I’ve known for as long as I can remember. And my hands gripping it, holding on to this little piece of knowledge that I am confident in, feeling comfort in holding it in my hands and in my head. And his hands over mine, steadying me, keeping me from shaking myself apart.

 

“I don’t understand,” he says weakly and I close my eyes because he’s confused. Fuck, I’m confused. “I don’t understand why you won’t just-”

 

There’s a knock at the door and Justin is back in his seat in an instant, hollering a distracted “yeah.” I turn to face the door as it opens and it’s Tiny, his face weary as he holds – my eyes widen – the biggest bouquet of flowers I have ever seen.

 

“Flowers,” he grumbles gruffly, glaring past me at Justin, “for Skylar.”

 

My mouth falls open as he shoves the vase into my hands and glares past me again before walking out, shutting the door behind him. I just sit there, dumbly staring down at the beautiful arrangement in my hands. French tulips stand out among pink oriental lilies that almost overpower me with their heady scent. Star of Bethlehem and Bells of Ireland dot the arrangement and Eucalyptus leaves hang low among the overflowing flora.

I turn to look at Justin who is grinning like a fool, but he immediately bites his lip to suppress it. He does a poor job. I don’t know what to say. No one has ever bought me flowers before. Wait… I’ve had this conversation. Recently too… with Jillian as she was braiding Chris’ hair. My eyes narrow at him and he gives me a sheepish smile.

 

“Justin,” I sigh, fully prepared to give him the lecture on how he cannot, under any circumstances, do this but he cuts me off.

 

“Read the card,” he says, bouncing slightly.

 

I cut my eyes at him, setting the vase on the vanity and searching for the card among the blooms. After a few moments of searching I finally pluck the small white envelope from amidst the fragrant flowers. My fingers tremble as I open it and pull out the tiny card with only one line written on it in his untidy scrawl.

 

I know I’m not supposed to… but I do anyway. Love, Justin

 

My heart drops to my toes and I look up at him. He’s smiling shyly, looking from me to his hands and I’m at a loss for words. The ease with which he’s giving himself to me, after all I have done to him and said to him and the way that I’ve treated him. I’m a terrible person and I hate myself. Then again, what else is new?

 

But one of us has to be the adult in this, and because he can’t or won’t, it’s going to have to be me. So I’ll do what I always do. I’ll break his heart.

 

“Justin,” I say softly, sitting in my chair across from him. I scoot closer to take his hands and he beams at me, ready to be praised for a job well done. I swallow hard. “They’re beautiful…really-”

 

“I knew you liked lilies because of those flowers that Jillian’s boyfriend sent and I knew you liked the tulips because I heard you telling JC about your mom growing them in your garden when you were little,” he rattles off, grinning and it hurts to see him this happy over something he did for me.

 

“Yes, Justin, they’re…” I pause looking over at them and I’m overwhelmed once again. “They’re beautiful.”

 

“I wanted to be the first to send you flowers,” he grins bashfully and I tear my gaze away to watch him bite his lip and chuckle slightly. “I wanted to be your first.”

 

I shake my head. He can’t charm me. He can’t. I have to do the right thing. Even if it hurts him. Even if it kills me I have to tell him the truth. I have to be the responsible one because he won’t be.

 

“Justin, sweetheart-”

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” he sighs, his face falling finally as he gives in. “We can’t be together.” He sighs. “I can’t love you.”

 

I nod, taking his hands in mine and he rubs his thumbs in slow circles over the backs of my hands. He watches his thumbs stroke my skin and I watch his face, watching his mask crack and then eventually break.

 

“Why?” he asks suddenly, blue eyes crashing into mine and I gasp at the intensity of his gaze. “Why can’t I love you? I do love you!”

 

“Justin,” I say gently, hoping the softness of my voice will get him to lower his. “You don’t mean that-”

 

“I do mean that!” he whispers heatedly. “I love you, Skylar. God, from the top of my head to the bottom of my fucking feet and everywhere in between, I love you!”

 

He exclaims with such force and sincerity that it steals my breath and every thought except…

 

“And I know you love me, too,” he says eagerly. I shake my head at him but he nods his at me. “Yes you do. You love me, Skylar. You can say you don’t all you want but I see it in your eyes,” he pauses, bringing a hand up to brush his thumb over the delicate skin beneath my eye, “and I can feel it when you touch me.”

 

“Justin, I can’t,” I plead, my stomach twisting itself in knots and he shakes his head at me.

 

“Yes, you can,” he says softly and surely and he’s never been more of a man than he is at this moment. Then he sighs, his hand falling from my face, “you just won’t.”

 

The sadness in his eyes when he says it is enough to make me choke on my breath. I hate myself. IhatemyselfIhatemyselfIhatemyself. Then he does something that astounds me. He leans back and plasters a huge grin on his face.

 

“But that’s fine,” he says, his smile sure and true. “You don’t have to say it. I’ll say it enough for the both of us.”

 

“Justin-” I warn, but he shakes his head, silencing me.

 

“I’m not going to stop saying it,” he says, his voice soft but stern. “You don’t have to respond but I’m not going to stop. You love me, Skylar. And one of these days you’re going to admit it.”

 

He looks back down at his book, a pleasant expression on his face as he reads to himself and I can do nothing but regard him with awe and adoration. He’s so resilient and trusting. The way he can look at me so hurt and defeated one moment and the next he can be bright eyed and hopeful. That he can just believe in me.

I watch him for several moments more before picking up my notebook and resuming the lesson.

“Justin!” I exclaim with a giggle as he drags me onto the elevator. I look around cautiously but the only thing I see is Tiny’s disapproving gaze before he turns and makes his way back into the kitchens.

 

Justin is on me the second the doors close, his mouth devouring mine and I’m dazed instantly, my arms wrapping around his shoulders as he presses me into the wall of the elevator. He chuckles as he kisses me, his lips sliding wetly over mine, his hands everywhere. He’s excited. He has another surprise for me and I can’t help but feel excited right along with him.

 

After his strong declaration during our study session several weeks ago I can’t help but see him differently. The way he stands tall to the guys’ criticism now. The way he conducts himself in interviews. Even in the simple way he grabs me and kisses the shit out of me. So undeterred and unafraid. He loves me. He trusts that I love him. Even though I refuse to admit it.

 

He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t stop saying it. Whether it was whispered softly against my skin after he’d fucked me so good I couldn’t see straight or hollered absently after me as I leave the room, he says it… and often. He’s content with whatever I give him in return, be it a withered look or a small, guilty smile because no matter what it is, he always receives a response. Sometimes it’s a touch, sometimes it’s a cringe but he always gets me. I can’t just not acknowledge it. I don’t have that in me. I used to. But I don’t any more.

 

“Justin, where are we going?” I giggle as he nibbles at the crook of my neck.

 

He pulls back slightly, grinning like it’s Christmas morning as he presses the P button on the floor panel and I look at him confused. Why is he taking me to the penthouse floor? But I don’t have much time to think on it because his lips are on mine again, his hands settling on my hips and I love it when he kisses me like this. Slow and steady like he’s got his entire life to do it, tongue dipping in to taste me lazily. My fingers grab handfuls of his shirt tugging him close to me as he tilts his head and nips at my bottom lip, pulling back every time I try to capture his lips again, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

 

The elevator doors open and he’s away from me in a flash, my body shivering from the loss of his warmth. He’s walking off into the small hallway, eyeing the two doors opposite each other. He looks to one and then the other before stepping to the left in front of the door marked P1. He looks back at me and grins.

 

“Justin, wha-”

 

“Gimme your key,” he says, holding his hand out to me and I eye him suspiciously.

 

“My key?” I reach into my pocket and pull out the small plastic card the front desk had given me moments before. “But I just-”

 

He shushes me as he snatches the card from me and shoves it in the lock. Much to my surprise the light turns green and he’s pushing the door open, his face threatening to split from the smile on his face as he holds the door open for me and gestures me inside.

 

My mouth is hanging open slightly as I step into the lavish suite. I look around at the living area, furnished with overstuffed couches and glass tables, a dining area by the windows which over look – I gasp – the lake which is winking back at me in the afternoon sun. French doors open into the bedroom, the king size bed large and inviting and I think about all the things we could do in that bed.

 

I jump slightly as I feel his arms slip around my waist, hugging me back against his chest and I let my eyes slide closed, my head lolling to the side as he nuzzles his nose against my pulse point. His lips kiss me softly and my hands go to his forearms, wanting to hold him and not wanting to move all at the same time. I’m drowning in him right now and I don’t even try to stop myself. It’s too hard. I just let him hold me, let him love me.

 

“You like it?” he asks, kissing my earlobe and I smile.

 

“Yes,” I grin and he gives me a squeeze before releasing me and I walk to the windows, surveying the view. “Justin, you didn’t have to do this. It’s too much. It’s great but it’s too much.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he steps up next to me, glancing at me and smiling softly before surveying the view.

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“We got a payday,” he says, his eyes cutting to me. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

I silence at this, turning it over and over in my mind. I don’t know a lot about the financial aspects of what Justin does. I know he and the group are well taken care of, but they aren’t rolling in it like one would assume they would be. He doesn’t like to talk about money, especially in regards to his career. I lean in and peck him on the cheek which he blushes at. We both giggle. I can’t get enough of him.

 

“What exactly did you have planned for me tonight, sir,” I say, tilting my head to the side as I turn to him and he smirks, arms reaching to embrace me.

 

“Oh, you know,” he drawls, his fingers threading at my lower back and he bites his lip in that way that drives me crazy, “Little dinner, little dancing.”

 

I shiver. “No dessert?” I ask coyly and his eyes darken, a seductive grin pulling at his lips. My heart skips a beat. When did he learn to smile like that?

 

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he replies his voice deep and I can feel it vibrate against my chest. I need to kiss him, but he pulls back from me suddenly. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

 

He pulls away from me and shuffles into the bedroom returning a moment later with a pink box, handing it to me sheepishly. I regard him suspiciously, setting the box on the table. I pull the lid off and unfold the delicate tissue. My eyes widen slightly as I reach in to touch the sheer, light blue fabric before pulling it out and watching it unfold. It’s gauzy and feminine and unlike anything else I have ever owned or worn before, the thin straps, the low neckline, the lacing up the back. A matching pair of panties, lacy and low cut, lay underneath it and I look over at him, finding him grinning like a fool.

 

“You want me to wear this?” I ask him, giggling a little and he nods enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips and I sigh, shaking my head at him, laughing a little as I set it back into the box. “You don’t like it?” he asks, his brows knitting in concern.

 

“No! No, I do like it,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm and he looks down, his fingers reaching to play with the hem that is hanging out of the box and I can’t help but smile. “You want me to put it on now, don’t you?”

 

He shuffles his feet and glances up at me from under long lashes before quietly saying, “Yeah.”

 

And I can’t help but giggle at him. He’s too cute sometimes. I love him when he’s like this…when he’s… wait… did I just…? I take a step back, swallowing hard. I love him. The words echo in my brain and much to my surprise the walls don’t cave in, the sky doesn’t explode, the police don’t bust down the door. Nothing happens. It’s just he and I, in this beautiful room that he probably spent two thirds of his paycheck getting for us and holding a nighty that probably took up the last third and he’s asking me to put it on and I love him. I love him.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asks and I look up at him, his blue eyes showing concern and I smile at him, shaking my head.

 

“Everything is fine,” I say brightly, grabbing the box and walking toward the bedroom. “I’m just gonna slip this on.”

 

“Yes!” he whispers softly, shimmying his shoulders in victory and I punch him in the arm as I pass. He grins at me, rubbing his bicep. “I’m gonna order food, okay? I’m starving.”

 

I pause. “You want me to eat dinner in this?” I ask chuckling at him and watching him tuck the phone under his ear as he dials.

 

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking up at me. “Is that weird?”

 

“A little,” I say, giving him a smile that says I don’t really mind, because I don’t. Because I love him.

 

I close the French doors to the bedroom and peel off my clothes, tossing them next to my suitcase which I find tucked into a corner of the room. I briefly wonder how he’s done all this. But I guess it doesn’t matter really. I pull on the underwear, adjusting them on my hips so that he gets a little peek of my tattoo that he loves so much and I shake my head at the thought of me actually having a tattoo. I’ve changed so much since coming on this tour. I’m less inhibited and more adventurous. I’m having fun again instead of having my nose always stuck in a book. I guess Justin brings out the kid in me, which is hilarious and horrifying all at the same time.

 

I pull the babydoll nighty over my head, careful not to untie the lacing in the back. I struggle a little but eventually get it on. I adjust it over my body, listening to him order dinner, his voice a muffled hum behind the doors. I step into the lavish bathroom and am once again awestruck, taking in the large whirlpool tub and then the cavernous shower with six shower heads, three on each side. I catch a glimpse of my reflection and gasp at the sight of my body in such revealing clothes. The fabric hugs my curves in a luscious way, the sheerness showing a hint of my panties underneath and becoming more solid as it goes up to my chest, my breasts looking full and round under the stretchy fabric. I can scarcely believe that it is me looking through the mirror.

 

“Dinner will be here in a few minutes,” Justin calls, his voice muffled to almost incoherence by the two rooms between us. “Did you put it on?”

 

His voice is uncertain and its jumps in the middle like it does when he’s really excited. I grin, and the smile that lights up my face is brilliant. I’ve never seen myself like this. I’ve never seen myself this…happy. I bite my lip, a blush warming my cheeks. I love him.

 

I shake my head at myself and stride back into the bedroom, tugging a little on the hem of the nighty before opening the doors, holding onto the edges and jutting a hip out. Justin is digging through the candy jar on the table by the couch, reaching into the recesses for a caramel filled bon bon. He looks up and his mouth falls open, the top of the jar tumbling from his fingers and bouncing onto the lush carpet, thankfully not breaking.

 

“Shit,” he mutters, bending over to pick it up, his ears reddening as he holds the top of the jar dumbly in his hands, just staring at me from across the room.

 

“See something you like?” I question, swaying a little and giggling at my coyness. This isn’t me, but I like playing the sexy vixen with him. He’s a good audience.

 

He chuckles dumbly, eyes licking up and down my body as he nods. “Yeah… I knew you’d look good in that.”

 

He sets the lid of the candy jar down and steps up to me, hands smoothing around my waist, his eyes glued to my body, leaving enough space between us to not impede his view. I grin watching his face as he licks his lips, just staring. He makes me feel so beautiful. I wonder if he even knows. No one has ever made me feel more like a woman than him. The way he stares at me, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing me, every time. It’s overwhelming and amazing and I love him for it. I love him.

 

I bring my hands up to cup his face, his skin soft against my palms and his eyes finally meet mine. He chews his bottom lip sheepishly and I nuzzle my nose against his gently before kissing him sweetly, my hands sliding back to scoop up into his hair, his curls trapping my fingers against his scalp. His palms flatten against my lower back, pulling me flush against him and I moan into his mouth when his hands slide down to grip my ass.

 

He’s walking me backwards, his legs tangling in mine and we stumble, falling against the end of the bed, sinking into the plush comforter. We laugh together, he struggling to toe off his sneakers before sliding one of his knees between my legs. He braces himself on locked arms, staring down at me for a moment before swooping down and kissing me hard. I lose myself in it, my hands finding their way under his shirt, smoothing up the soft, warm, skin of his back.

 

He kisses me like this for what seems like days, his lips sliding over mine, his tongue slipping in to taste me over and over. My hip is pressing into his crotch and he presses back hard, pushing himself against me, his thigh snugly between my legs and it feels good and it teases and I love him.

 

There’s a knock at the door and he groans, giving a small push with his hips, burying his face in my neck and sighing before pulling himself away from me. I start to follow but he holds up a hand to me and smiles, his eyes looking me up and down and I remember I’m in my underwear. I giggle a little, bouncing on the end of the bed as he walks from my view, going to answer the door. I hear male voices in the other room and my eyes widen as slowly a food cart with covered trays comes into view being pushed by a man in a chef’s uniform.

 

“No, really, I can do it,” Justin’s protesting following him, looking perturbed.

 

“It’s part of the service, sir,” the waiter says mildly and busies himself with getting the cart situated next to the table.

 

I’m frozen in place, my brain battling between running to the bathroom, which could potentially cause the waiter to glance up and see me, or from sitting here quietly, hoping to remain unnoticed. Justin glares moodily at him as the waiter sets the table and as he does so he catches a glimpse of me through the doorway. The waiter’s eyes widen slightly and I look away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and biting my lip nervously. I shouldn’t be seen here like this with Justin. But then again who’s the waiter going to tell.

 

Everyone, Skylar. I’m sure the press would love to know America’s golden boy is fucking his tutor.

 

“I’ll take it from here,” Justin spats, holding a few bills out to the waiter who peels his eyes from me and takes the money in a daze.

 

He moves to pull back but Justin grabs his wrist, pulling him in closer and talking lowly into the man’s ear so that only he can hear. The man’s eyes widen and I see more money exchange hands. The man nods at Justin, glancing at me one last time before making his way out. I guess that’s that.

 

Justin glares after him and I giggle slightly at his possessiveness, which draws his attention. A slow grin pulls at his lips and he asks: “What are you laughin’ at?”

 

“Nothin,” I say, standing up and stretching a little, exposing my panties to him and he licks his lips in appreciation. “What’s for dinner?” I ask, walking to the table, leaning against him to peer over the cart.

 

“Steak for me,” he grins, placing one hand on my hip and uncovering his plate, “And smoked salmon for the lady,” he mumbles against my neck as he uncovers my plate at I can’t help but grin at him. He’s too cute sometimes.

 

“No chicken fingers tonight?” I ask, invoking the little joke he and I have about his choice of entrée at practically every restaurant we go to. He narrows his eyes playfully at me, ignoring my jibe and walking around the table, pulling my chair out for me.

 

I bite my lip to suppress my grin as I sit and he pushes the chair underneath me, always the perfect gentleman. He places his hands on my shoulders, his palms warm and soft against my bare skin and he leans down to drop a kiss just next to my ear before rounding the table and sitting across from me.

 

We tuck into our food, talking easily and without awkwardness. I’m comfortable with him. He knows me and I know him and I feel warm and happy. He makes me happy. I love him.

 

He tells me about Memphis, his hometown and two stops away, one of the last dates of the tour. He wants to show me around. He wants to introduce me to his grandparents. He wants me to meet his best friend. He has all these grand plans and in the back of my mind I know that we can’t really do any of these things. But he’s gone to so much trouble tonight. So maybe…maybe just for now…just here in this hotel room, our sanctuary, I can pretend with him. I can believe that I can sit next to him at the General Store and let him buy me a cheeseburger, which he swears are the best in the world. I can believe that I can go fishing with him and his grandfather. I can believe that we can be normal. Just for now. Just in this moment, I let myself believe it.

 

My toe nudges his underneath the table and he smirks at me, his socked foot caressing my ankle slowly and I lick my lips at him, watching his eyes darken slightly. I bite my lip as my toes climb up his denim clad calf, rubbing up to his thigh and pressing gently between his legs. His eyelids flutter, mouth falling open slightly and I can feel him hardening already. I am just about to suggest we take this to the bedroom when there’s a short knock at the door. Justin groans lightly, pulling himself from his chair and trudging to the door.

 

“Who’s that?” I ask slightly nervous and he doesn’t respond, swinging the door open.

 

Another man in a chef’s uniform tries to push the cart in but Justin doesn’t let him pass, just hands him his money and bids him to move on, which he does. Justin sighs as he pushes the cart towards the table. I crane my neck, trying to see inside the large metal tub sitting on the cart. I stand as he approaches the table and gasp as I see bowls of ice cream buried in the ice, chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, along with fresh strawberries and bananas, whipped crème, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles.

 

“Ice cream bar,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and I smile dipping my finger into the mound of chocolate ice cream. I bring it to my lips, watching him from the corner of my eye as I suck it clean.

 

“Mmm,” I moan softly, my eyes falling to him and his jaw is slightly slack, eyes trained on my mouth.

 

I grin at him and snatch a strawberry from the cart, offering it to him. He eyes it for a moment then looks at me as he tentatively bites into it, his lips brushing my fingers, juice dribbling over my hand. He juts his chin out, his top teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking, trying to keep the juices from dripping down his chin but to no avail. He brings his hand up, wiping the liquid that is sliding down his jaw, chuckling slightly.

 

I lean in to kiss him, his lips sweeter than usual from the berry, and his hands grip my upper arms, losing himself in the kiss, his mouth ravaging mine. My hands go to his waist, hands fisting in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. I smile as his lips trail down my jaw, sucking lightly on my neck, his hands pulling my hips against his and I can feel him, half hard under the fabric of his jeans. He’s slipping the thin strap of my nighty from my shoulder, replacing it with a warm dry kiss, tugging at the fabric impatiently and I can’t help but tease him a little.

 

“Come on Jus, I want some ice cream,” I whine, pushing down a grin and he growls, scooping me off my feet and throwing me over his shoulder.

 

I yelp, closing my eyes as he sways, my stomach tightening but he regains his balance charging forward into the bedroom. I lose myself in laughter as he bumps into the door frame, asking him what the hell he’s doing and he silences me with a swift smack to my ass before dropping me on the bed and pouncing on top of me, mouth ravaging my neck.

 

I wiggle beneath him, pulling our bodies more firmly up onto the bed and he’s pressing his thigh against me again and I can’t help the moan that bubbles from my throat. I feel him fully hard, trapped beneath the denim of his jeans and I want him. I need to feel him, any part of him. My hands smooth under his t-shirt, his back wide and warm beneath my palms. I’m panting as I push his shirt up under his arms, pushing him back just enough to kiss his chest and I can feel his moan vibrate against my lips as he throws his head back, my tongue laving his nipple gently.

 

He whimpers slightly when I switch, my hands sliding down his sides, thumb rubbing the soft skin just beneath his belly button. He pulls back, ripping his shirt over his head, settling back on his knees looking down at me. He licks his lips, his warm hands smoothing up my bare thighs, pushing the hem of my nightie up, growling as he exposes my panties, brushing his thumb along the ink of my tattoo.

 

I gasp when he bends down to kiss it, fingers peeling back the elastic of my underwear, his lips smudging my skin lightly before covering me again, his hands moving to push the material of my nighty higher and higher. He bids me to sit up and I do, feeling his hands slide around my ribs before letting the fabric fall and I watch as he takes one long, slender finger and traces it along the low neckline, causing goose bumps to break out over my chest. He leans down, placing kisses on the tops of my breasts and I sigh, letting my head fall back, one arm locking behind me to support my weight the other hand delving into his mass of curls. His lips move over the thin fabric of the nightie and he licks at my nipple, puckered beneath the fabric. It takes a moment to feel the wetness from his mouth seep through the material, but when it does I groan low in my chest as my belly coils with want.

 

His hands slip around my back, reaching for the laces of my nighty and tugging until I feel the fabric loosen and his hand is warm against my now bare skin. His fingers walk up my spine, palms pressing flat against my shoulder blades as he parts the fabric more, the thin straps falling from my shoulders. He pulls back slightly, panting as my breasts are exposed to him and he immediately presses his lips to my breast bone, dragging his lips down the valley between my breasts and I let my body fall backwards in pleasure as his hands push the fabric down over my hips, thumbs hooking in my panties as he goes.

 

He sits back, tugging the material from my legs and tossing it aside, leaving me completely exposed to his hungry gaze. He takes my thighs in his hands and opens my legs wide, and I feel a prick of bashfulness as he licks his lips slowly. A slow smirk pulls at his mouth.

 

“I have an idea,” he says, and slides off the bed.

 

“Where are you going?” I ask, slightly alarmed, as he bounces out the French doors.

 

“Don’t move,” he calls over his shoulder and I sigh, falling back against the pillows, closing my legs. “Hey, I said don’t move.”

 

I look up and find him standing in the doorway, one of the huge bowls of ice cream in his hand, chocolate to be exact, and a spoon in the other. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he grins mischievously at me. He dips the spoon into the ice cream and brings it to his lips, sucking the spoon into his mouth before letting it slide out slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Suddenly my breathing has gone shallow and all I can possibly think about is him, standing in the doorway, jeans low on his slim hips, bare chest glowing in the dim light, sucking on that spoon like… well… damn is it hot in here?

 

“You said you wanted ice cream, baby,” he says lowly, smirking at me in a giddy way and I bite my lip to contain my smile. His voice is soft, but chiding as he says. “Now, I told you not to move.”

 

I bite my lip, spreading my legs wantonly and I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. He can’t either judging by the look on his face. He grins like it’s Christmas morning as he approaches the bed, digging the spoon into the bowl and tugging it back out again, a giant mound of ice cream clinging to the end.

 

“Justin Timberlake don’t you dare!” I exclaim, trying to scramble backwards as he crawls onto the end of the bed.

 

“What?” he asks innocently. “I was just gonna feed it to you.”

 

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously and he grins at me in that charming way that he has, biting his lip as he leans over me, bringing the spoon to my lips but he’s not quick enough, a drop of chocolate splashing against my chest, causing me to jump and yelp as the coldness slips over the mound of my breast. Justin watches it for a moment, his wide eyes meeting mine before breaking out into a grin and dipping his head and snaking his tongue out against my breast, lapping up the sticky liquid. He licks his lips as he pulls back, his gaze smoldering before he crushes his mouth to mine.

 

I’m so lost in the kiss that it’s a huge shock when he drags the spoon down the valley between my breasts and down my stomach to my belly button. I whine at the cold, my nipples hardening almost painfully and he grins at me as he sets the bowl next to us on the bed before he dips his head. I gasp as his mouth drags down my body, tongue licking at the sweet stickiness on my skin. My mouth falls open as I watch him flatten his tongue just above my belly button and he watches me as he licks all the way up, not stopping until he reaches the center of my chest where he places a soft kiss.

 

“You were right,” he whispers, licking his lips. “This stuff is good.”

 

He leans in to kiss me slowly before leaning back on his knees, brandishing his spoon, rivers of chocolate snaking down his hand and forearm. He smirks at me again as he brings the spoon down, coating my nipple and it’s so cold I cry out, whimpering and squirming as he does the same to the other.

 

“Justin, that’s cooooold,” I whine, as he drops the spoon in the bowl, rubbing his thumbs over my hardened peaks, slick and sticky with the creamy chocolate.

 

He doesn’t respond, just bends down to suck one into his mouth, his tongue flicking it relentlessly and my back arches, pressing my body up against him as pleasure shoots down to my center. I moan his name, fingers digging into his hair as he switches, cupping both my breasts in his hands as he sucks at my nipples, pressing his hips to mine, the denim of his jeans teasing me.

 

He pulls back from me and I’m panting, tossing my head about and rolling my hips up into him the best I can. The only thing I can concentrate on is the pleasure he gives and the ache in my belly, the need for him. When he doesn’t touch me again I open my eyes to find him digging another large scoop of ice cream from the bowl.

 

“Justin, what are you-” but it’s cut off by a sharp yelp as he lets the scoop fall onto my stomach, drops of creamy liquid sliding down my sides, melting instantly against my flushed skin.

 

“Makin’ a sundae,” he smirks, leaning over me and licking at the scoop and my stomach quivers, my hips twitching restlessly.

 

He situates his body between my legs, his chest pressing against my center as he laps at the ice cream, flicking his cold tongue against my hip bone every now and then causing me to hiss. And what he does next nearly sends me over the edge. He takes a bite of ice cream, swallows and then disappears between my legs, his cold tongue flicking against my searing flesh and I cry out and writhe in pleasure, begging him for more.

 

And he is more than happy to oblige, his hands, sticky and covered in chocolate, holding my thighs as he laves me gently with his tongue, poking and prodding and driving me insane. I whine as he pulls back up, licking more ice cream from my stomach and then going down again, licking and sucking until I’m so dizzy with pleasure I can barely breathe.

 

“Justin,” I pant, my hands pawing weakly at his shoulders, “please.”

 

He smirks up at me, bringing one hand away from my thigh and bringing it between my legs, flattening it against my pussy and rubbing slowly. My eyes roll back in my head and I’m so close, my hips grinding against his hand. He pulls back and I whimper but it melts into a low moan as he slips two long fingers into me, my body clutching at them and I need it. I need it right now. I beg him, my hand sliding down my sticky stomach to nestle in my folds, framing my clit. I nearly hit the ceiling when his lips wrap around that sensitive ball of nerves, sucking sweetly, his fingers curving inside me and I cry out, my body convulsing around him, pleasure curling in my belly and I lick my lips as I come down, panting.

 

He’s kissing my lower belly, tongue slipping out to lap at the melted ice cream still swiped across my skin. I’m a mess, covered in creamy rivers of brown chocolate, all over my chest, stomach and thighs. I giggle, looking down at him and his attention returns to my face, grinning as he clamors back up, hovering over me on braced arms.

 

He’s so gorgeous right now, hair tousled, curls sticking out wildly in every direction, blue eyes practically black with lust, lips swollen and full from…I shiver... and a bit of chocolate smudged on the side of his mouth

 

“You have chocolate on…” I trail as he looks down at me in that adoring way he does and I smile softly. I love him.

 

I pull my head up and his eyes slide shut, fully ready for me to kiss him but I pause, watching him for a moment, his beautiful face peaceful and waiting. I smile as I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, sucking his skin lightly, tasting the sweetness of the ice cream with the sweetness of his mouth. I feel him smile as and my tongue flicks out to taste his flesh and he turns his head, kissing me deeply.

I hook my leg around his waist and roll him so that he’s on his back. He arches his body because he’s rolled onto the bowl of ice cream and I giggle as he pulls it from under his back, setting it on the table. His hands are covered in the creamy chocolate and I grab his wrist, bringing his hand to my mouth, sucking his fingers in. I can feel his dick underneath me, twitching inside his pants as he moans softly, watching my every move.

 

I smirk down at him before slipping off of him and sauntering out into the living area

 

“Where are you going?!” he calls after me, alarm evident in his voice and I don’t even look back as I respond.

 

“Take your pants off, babe. I’ll be back in a sec.”

 

I can hear the rustling of denim and his grunts of frustration as he rids himself of the rest of his clothes and I can’t help but grin in anticipation. I snatch my item of choice from the dessert tray and sway back into the bedroom, finding him struggling to kick his boxers and jeans from his ankles.

 

His eyes meet mine and widen when he sees the bottle of chocolate syrup in my hand, all his movement stopping. He swallows hard, his eyes licking up and down my naked body as I saunter in and crawl over him to straddle his stomach. His eyes don’t leave me, watching my every move and I can’t help but smirk down at him.

 

“What’s the chocolate syrup for?” he asks, his voice thick and I grin at him.

 

“Makin’ a sundae,” I reply and he moans softly, watching as I undo the cap and turn the bottle upside down over his chest.

 

He gasps and his back arches as the cool chocolate dribbles across his heated skin. It melts into a moan as I bring my lips down, kissing and sucking the sweetness from his body, the chocolate rich and his skin soft beneath my tongue. He’s panting as I pull back and I bite my lip as I survey him, his body laid out beneath me. I love him.

 

I grin at him, sliding back a little and he steels himself as I hover over his aching shaft. He whines when I move back farther, sitting over his thighs but I shush him gently holding the bottle over him and he jumps as I drizzle chocolate over his chest, being careful to coat his nipples, all down his abdomen, and finally over his dick which twitches hard when the liquid dribbles over it. His head falls back against the pillows, a low groan bubbling from his chest and a tremor shakes through me as I toss the bottle aside, fully prepared to ravage him.

 

I lean down and lick at the chocolate on his chest, my tongue flicking over his nipple and he arches against me, moaning my name as I suck him clean before moving to the other and he’s trying so hard to brush his dick against me but I’m just out of reach and he’s too weak with pleasure to try and force me lower.

 

I lick down his stomach, enjoying the feeling of his muscles quivering under my lips and tongue and the sound of his moans and whines as he begs me to touch him where he wants me. But I take my time, licking up every trace of chocolate from his skin, tongue dipping into his belly button torturously.

 

“Skylar…please,” he practically sobs as I sit between his legs, his hips rolling up into the air, precum mixing with the chocolate on the head of his cock.

 

“What do you want, baby?” I ask, eyeing him and licking my lips slowly and his eyes roll back in his head.

 

“Please,” he whimpers softly, looking at me through heavy lids, chest heaving, stomach quivering. “Touch me.”

 

My breath catches in my throat at the need in his voice and who am I to deny him? I’ve never been able to before so why start now? He lets out a choked sob as I wrap both of my hands around his hard dick and stroke him up and down slow, the chocolate making him slick and sticky and he’s writhing beneath me, moaning things incoherently. He arches almost completely off the bed when I take the tip into my mouth, sucking sweetly before laving it with my tongue, licking it clean.

 

I work him into a state of pleasurable delirium, licking up and down his shaft, enjoying the taste of his flesh mixed with the chocolate. His fingers delve into my hair, the strands sticking to his fingers but I don’t care because I just want to taste him, to drive him crazy like he had just done to me. I take my time, licking and sucking every drop of chocolate from his flesh my pussy throbbing with each of his moans.

 

“Skylar,” he groans, his hands fisting in my hair, trying to tug me back. “Sky, fuck, please. I need you. I need to be inside you. Please.”

 

And then it’s as if something inside me snaps and I have to have him right now. I climb up over him, pressing my palm to his chest to steady myself as I position him at my entrance. He hisses as I slide the silken head of his dick against my entrance and I can’t help the moan that tears from my throat, when I slide him higher, rubbing him against my clit, torturing us both.

 

His hands reach out to grip my hips, his skin practically adhering to mine from the stickiness of the ice cream and he tugs me forward a little, causing his dick to align with my entrance. He pulls me down and I throw my head back, a guttural groan tearing from my throat as he pierces me and guides me all the way down his shaft, pushing and stretching my body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. He mumbles something that I can’t quite decipher.

 

But it doesn’t matter when he flicks his wrists and moves me up his shaft before relaxing and letting me fall back down flush against him, my clit bumping his hip bone. I gasp my head hanging forward, fingers digging into his chest. I bite my lip, settling against his lap, feeling him deep inside of me. I’m dizzy from it, from the pleasure and the closeness and I look down at him, watching him watch me. He peels his hands from my hips, reaching up to cup my face and pull me down, tugging my face to his so he can kiss me, his tongue slipping past my lips.

 

I pull back panting, leaning back and feeling him slide deeper and we both groan at the sensation. I peel my hand from over his heart and a chocolate hand print is left in its place. I giggle slightly and Justin grins up at me, eyelids fluttering as I rub my hands up and down his chest and stomach, my hips rocking against him slowly.

 

“Come on, Sky,” he pants, tucking his chin against his chest and watching my hips roll. “Give it to me, girl.”

 

I moan in response, spreading my fingers wide over his ribs as I pick my hips up and drop back down onto him, setting a steady pace, his strong hands guiding me. I throw my head back, pleasure buzzing in my veins, whining and moaning, enjoying the feel of his sticky hands traveling up and down my stomach and sides, gripping my breasts. I slam down harder as his fingers roll my nipples and I can feel myself heating up, my mind set on nothing else but the pleasure he’s giving me.

 

My nails claw at his chest as I struggle to make my hips roll faster, to get me there because I’m close and he feels so good inside me, just stretching and pressing and filling me so completely, but I just can’t seem to get in the right position. I struggle and whine, hips gyrating, trying to find that spot inside me that he seems to hit so effortlessly.

 

I hang my head back in frustration, my hips rising and dropping quickly, chasing it, chasingchasingchasing.

 

And then he growls and I’m being rolled under him swiftly, our sticky torsos suctioning together as he presses his hips hard against mine, raising himself on his hands. He pulls out and rushes back in roughly and I throw my head back, moaning loudly because there it is. He never misses.

 

And he knows it because he’s smirking down at me, panting as he rolls his hips into me over and over again and I raise my legs, feeling him hit me deep and hard. I’m writhing beneath him, saying incoherent things and moaning, hands clawing at his back while he works me so good.

He stops for a second and I whine as he pulls back to sit on his knees, but I growl when he grips my hips, pulling me into his lap, my head sliding off the pillow, my weight resting on my shoulder blades as he rises on his knees and starts to pound into me with such force I think our hips may break.

 

The groan that forces from his throat sends a shiver down my spine as his hips crash into mine over and over and over again. I love the little sounds me makes, quiet whimpers, quick grunts, breathy moans, every fucking sound he makes brings me closer and closer to the edge.

 

“Oh god, Justin,” I whimper, my hands reaching up to paw at his chest, feeling my body beginning to quake, my pussy on fire.

 

He growls as he pulls out and he grabs my ankle, pulling my leg out and up and I hiss because I don’t bend that way, but when he slides back into me the pleasure that rips through me is enough to make me scream. Each thrust is so deliciously bittersweet because I seriously don’t bend this way but I can’t even tell him to stop. I would never tell him to stop. He can rip my fucking leg off as long as he doesn’t stop.

 

And when it hits me I scream, my throat threatening to rip open from the rawness of it, my body convulsing over and over and over and I can’t stop, my head thrashing, wave after wave crashing over me. As their intensity wanes I whine, bringing a hand up to my flushed face. But when he lets go of my leg and falls over me again, his hips rolling hard into mine, it comes back full force and I shout out again, nails clawing down his back as he groans into my hair, his orgasm shaking through him and he’s whining and moaning, hips pressing hard and deep into me as I finally come down, my body laying limp under him.

 

He lets out one last loud groan as his body relaxes, lowering himself over me to lay flush against me. My legs splay on either side of his slim hips, my arms sliding slowly from around his back until my biceps rest against the mattress, my hands running up and down his sides.

 

He nestles his face in my neck, lips kissing me softly, coming down from his high as I come down from mine, shivering as I feel him go soft inside me. My eyes tear up and this overwhelming wave of emotion hits me. IlovehimIlovehimIlovehim. I wonder if I should tell him…

 

He giggles slightly, peeling his body away from mine and it stings a little, the chocolate adhering us together. His nose bumps mine as he kisses me deeply, his tongue surging past my lips as he tries to untangle his legs from mine to lay beside me.

 

“Oh my god, look at this mess!” I say laughing as I take in our sticky, chocolate covered bodies and the stained white sheets. It looks like someone dropped us in a mud puddle.

 

“We can call housekeeping,” Justin says, leaning over the side of the bed to reach for the phone.

 

I watch him as he lays on his stomach, phone nestled under his ear, asking the front desk for housekeeping and I lick my lips. I take in the little bump of his ass as it curves into his waist, the tanned expanse of his back, his freckled shoulders. I bite my lip as I crawl over him, laying so that my breasts are flat against his ass, pressing my lips to his lower back. I feel him shiver, his voice stalling for a moment before ordering more sheets to Penthouse One. I press kisses up his spine and I’ve reached the middle of his back by the time he hangs up the phone.

 

“Woman, what are you doin’ back there?” he chuckles and I smile against his skin, my arms wrapping around him, pressing my cheek to his back, feeling him breathe, listening to his heart thud steadily under his ribs. I love him.

 

“Nothin’,” I sigh and he shivers as my breath fans his skin lightly.

 

“What do you say we take a shower?” he asks, his voice vibrating his skin and I grin as I rub my cheek against him.

 

“We are very dirty,” I giggle and his laugh reverberates through his back.

 

“That we are,” he grins, pushing himself up and I slide off him, rolling onto my side, bounding after him as he crawls out of bed.

 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press myself against his back, not being able to stand to be away from him for even the second it takes to walk from one room to the next. Because I love him.

 

He turns in my arms, his hands smoothing up my back and kissing me slowly and deeply in that way that I love, his tongue slipping past my lips lazily, tasting me, enjoying it. My hands cup his neck, my thumbs pressing just under his sideburns, sucking his bottom lip softly and he moans against me pulling back to survey my face.

 

His eyes bore into me and I’ve read in books about how you can get lost in someone’s gaze and I always thought it was stupid and cheesy until this moment. Because right now I’m literally I’m drowning in him, swimming through his sapphire gaze, lost in this sea of emotion that has me reeling and turned upside down but I’m not scared. Because I feel safe with him. I feel safe with him because…

 

“I love you,” he says softly, his hands brushing my hair back from my face and it steals my breath because I’m ready. I’m ready to tell him.

 

“I-”

 

I’m cut off by a sharp knock on the door. I sigh in frustration and Justin pulls back from me and he’s so far away.

 

“Housekeeping,” he mutters, grinning, nuzzling his nose against mine and I sigh.

 

“I’ll get it,” I say, pecking a kiss on his lips. I’ll tell him later. I’m sure he’ll say it again. He always does.

 

“You sure?” he asks as I reach for one of the fluffy robes hanging by the bathroom door.

 

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging it on and tying it in the front. “You turn on the shower. I’ll be back in a sec.”

 

I give him a small smile before turning to walk back into the bedroom and out into the living area. I’m giddy and flushed and sticky and this has been one of the best nights I’ve ever had.  Here with him, in our sanctuary. Nothing can get us here. Nothing.

 

I swing the door open, fully expecting to see a short woman in a maid’s uniform with a big pile of sheets and blankets. What I actually see nearly causes me to scream.

 

“Hello, Skylar.”

 

“P-p-professor Isbel?” I somehow manage to tremor out, my eyes wide as saucers as I take in his rugged appearance.

 

“What, we’re apart for a couple months and its Professor Isbel again?” he grins at me and I’m still shocked and spun and completely unable to think.

 

“I’m sorry… Andrew,” I say, laughing nervously.

 

Andrew Isbel, my professor, my mentor, the man who brought art to life for me in college. The man who has molded me and guided me through my undergraduate and graduate studies. The same man who tried to feel me up in his office four months ago, who got me this job. The man who is supposed to be in Greece until September is here at my door.

 

“Look, Sky,” he says, his blue eyes soft and contrite. “I’m sorry about your thesis. I was.. I was just tired and we were having trouble with the government. I would have told you that but the phones went down on the site and,” he shakes his head sighing, “it was all just a mess.”

 

“Oh…um…yeah,” I say, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and I notice the chocolate syrup that is still covering my palm. I immediately cross my arms behind my back. I’ve got to find a way to get rid of him.

 

But I’m nervous, and I do what I always do when I get nervous; I ramble. I start to tell him about teaching, and the tour, and the music and I can’t stop myself. My brain is working furiously, trying to think of anything to say that will get him to leave.

 

His eyes are not on my face anymore, as I try and stutter out some form of coherent conversation. I watch as his eyes travel down my neck and the v of my robe, exposing entirely too much of my breast bone which is most likely covered in chocolate.

 

“…it’s been an interesting summer,” I conclude, finally ending my ramble and his eyes meet mine again.

 

“Well, it seems they’ve paid you well,” he grins, looking back into the room and I smile weakly at him. I have to get rid of him. 

 

“Hey Sky!”

 

My eyes nearly explode out of my skull as I hear Justin’s voice waft from the other room, his tone excited and I pray to God that he just stays in there. Please, please, please God if you’re up there do not, under any circumstances let him…

 

“Babe, have you SEEN the shower! It’s huge! It took me forever to figure out how to turn it on... uh oh”

 

Justin’s voice cuts off abruptly and I turn to find him – oh my God – wrapped in just a towel, his eyes as wide as mine and, much to my chagrin, my chocolate hand print still prominent on his chest.

 

I can’t even look at my professor. I can’t look at Justin. I can only look at the floor and silently pray that it swallows me whole.

 

We’re so royally fucked.

I knew this would happen. Well maybe not this. Definitely not my professor showing up. Andrew was supposed to be in Greece for the remainder of the summer, up until start of term. I was supposed to have two more weeks with Justin. I mean, two more weeks on tour. But I knew this would happen. I knew we would get caught. This entire affair had been leading up to that moment. When everything fell apart.

 

My brain is so twisted and turned around that I just can’t think straight anymore which is not where I need to be right now. I need to get my head on straight so I can explain this. I need to shove my emotions down and find a rational way to explain my irrational behavior. And under no circumstances can I let on that I love him.

 

This and about a thousand other things are racing through my mind as I make my way down the hallway toward Andrew’s room. Once we’d gotten past the initial shock of the situation, an awkward introduction was initiated by Justin, whose hand stuck to Andrew’s when they shook and Justin had given a sheepish grin, muttering “ice cream” which made me want to bang my fucking head into the wall.

 

Andrew had given me a look like none other I’d ever seen. It was a mixture of anger, disbelief, and disappointment that left me unable to look him in the face. He had told me to get cleaned up and to meet him in his room; that we needed to talk. God only knows what it was we would say but he told me to come so it’s what I have to do.

 

The second the door closed on him, the silence in the room was deafening. Justin reached out to touch me and I jerked back as if I’d been burned. This is my life. That was my mentor, the man who decides if I get my masters degree, decides if I get into the PH.D program after that, and he had just caught me, covered in chocolate in a hotel room with my underage student.

 

 I was silent and staring, trying my damndest not to break down and cry or freak out and scream. I staggered back into the bedroom as if in a daze. I needed a shower. I had to come up with an explanation, something to tell Andrew, to salvage what was left of my academic career, to make him not be disappointed in me anymore. Justin had followed me silently, his face uncertain and concerned. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. The selfish, irrational part of me was convinced he’d done enough.

 

The shower was running, steam billowing out into the bedroom and I’d walked into the bathroom, letting my robe fall and just stepped right into the shower without a word. The water burned and stung but I didn’t turn it down. I should get used to the heat; this would be a nice precursor to hell. He had waited by the entrance to the shower, hesitating. I didn’t look at him, everything in me silently begging him to just go. I didn’t have it in me to yell at him anymore, whether it was because of the way I feel about him now or just because I couldn’t handle that right then.  But I had snapped at him when he slid in behind me, turning to the other set of shower heads.

 

“I’m just showering,” he had said, his voice soft and careful and I silently cursed myself for being a bitch. Of course he is. He can’t very well go back down to his room covered in chocolate.

 

We stood under the water, silent, our backs to each other, watching as rivers of brown water swirled down the drain eventually turning clear. He had stepped out before me, telling me to call him when I came back, pausing for a moment but I didn’t respond and then he was gone. I had slid down curling into myself and sobbed like a child, letting the water pound into me, hating him and then hating myself for blaming this on him when the only person I could possibly blame was myself.

 

I knew what I was getting into when I started this mess with him. I knew what was at stake and the consequences. I knew better. Sure, he wasn’t any help, being so damn persistent and adorable and loving but I’m the adult. I should have told him no. I shouldn’t have given in. I should have been stronger. I was always the one that held us together anyway; the one that made sure he didn’t go too far or give away too much. Why couldn’t I have just been a little stronger and told him no?

 

So after pulling myself together and agonizing over what to wear – something that didn’t scream I just fucked my underage student – I made my way down to Andrew’s room on the fourth floor. I briefly wonder if Justin is on this floor but I push the thought from my mind. I can’t think about him during what I’m about to do.

 

And as I stand here in front of room 438, the number Andrew gave me, I force myself not to think of Justin. I force myself to remain neutral. I rehearse my story over and over and over again in my mind. We had sex. It was purely physical. No, I didn’t just happen once. Yes, I knew it was wrong. No, I do not love him.

 

My chest is tight as I bring my hand up and let my knuckles fall softly against the door. It opens and Andrew stands there for a moment, regarding me coolly before stepping aside and allowing me entry. I hang my head, very much the contrite child, his disapproval weighing on me like a ton of bricks as I step past him and into his small suite.

 

“Sit down,” he says, his voice somewhat strained and I do as I’m told, sitting at the small table, my eyes on the floor, flitting to him every now and then.

 

Andrew Isbel is not a tall man but he isn’t exactly short either. He’s stocky and tan in all the places that see sun on a regular basis. He has a tendency to dress like the guy that hosts Survivor, button down safari style shirts and cargo shorts, always wearing flip flops. He has a warm smile and is quick with a joke, but he doesn’t play around when it comes to art and his grading reflects that. He likes me because I’m focused and dedicated to my work, or so I thought until he tried to feel me up in his office three months ago. But I’m still convinced he sees something in me. Something like potential, or perhaps even greatness, something that proves that I can be successful. Something that makes me worthy.

 

He’s pacing now, like he does when I’ve missed the mark on an assignment and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me so. He pauses and looks at me and my eyes fall to the floor, guilty and ashamed.

 

“Skylar,” he says his voice soft and with a hint of a laugh, as he rubs his hand over his face, “what…on EARTH…were you THINKING?”

 

“I-”

 

“Were you thinking at all?” he asks, his tone becoming harsh and I cringe slightly, curling my shoulders in, ready to take the brunt of his disappointment. “I mean for god sake Skylar he’s seventeen years old. Do you know what this can do to your reputation…to my reputation?”

 

“Andrew, I-”

 

“Just DON’T!” he yells and I curl into myself more, silencing instantly. “Just don’t say anything right now.”

 

He sighs, running his hand over his face again. He looks at me, his eyes angry and confused and I have look down at my sandals because I can’t stand the disappointment in his eyes. The only thing I’ve longed for since the moment I met him was his approval. I can’t stand that I’ve failed him.

 

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and sitting across from me. I swallow hard. “Explain this to me.”

 

“Well, I-”

 

“Was this a one time thing?” he asks, his blue eyes slightly hard, his hands flat on the table top.

 

“Um,” I pause, picking at my fingernails, waiting for him to interrupt again, somewhat hoping he does. “Not…not exactly.”

 

“Not exactly,” he says, nodding slowly. “and exactly how many times? Twice, three times? Too many times to count?”

 

I blush. “It’s…it’s kind of hard to explain…”

 

“It doesn’t seem that hard to me,” he spats, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been sleeping with him, obviously for a long time because you’re starting to get a little on the kinky side am I right?”

 

I stare back at him bewildered and my face heats up. “Well, he and I we…um… it started… um…about two and a half months ago.”

 

“Where?” he asks flatly.

 

“Um…Columbus, Ohio…I think,” I pause trying to remember the place over the way Justin slammed me up against the door.

 

“No,” he grinds out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where do you usually…do it?”

 

I look at him confused. “W-what does that matter?” I ask shifting uncomfortably.

 

“It doesn’t,” he responds coldly and I swallow hard, “But I’m asking you anyway.”

 

“Um, usually in our hotel rooms,” I say, shifting uncomfortably in my chair, tucking a strand if hair behind my ear.

 

“Skylar, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair, looking at me sadly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. In his eyes there’s something else that I can’t quite place. “I mean obviously his mother needs to be informed, his manager…”

 

My heart stops. “What? No!” I exclaim.

 

“You haven’t left me much of a choice Skylar,” he sighs, shaking his head. “What you’ve done-”

 

“What good would it do to tell them?” I ask frantically, thinking of anyway to spare Justin, to spare myself. “We’ll stop…I’ll…” I grit my teeth. “I’ll go…I’ll quit.”

 

“Like that would make it better?” Andrew asks, narrowing his eyes. “No, I think they need to know exactly what you’ve done. What you both have done.”

 

There’s a vindictive edge in his voice that I don’t quite understand. I understand his anger, his disappointment but this spiteful rage isn’t something I was expecting. There’s an antagonistic lilt in his voice that I don’t understand but what he says next makes everything crystal clear.

 

“You know, maybe there’s something we can work out.”

 

He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the backs of my knuckles and I pull back from him, my brows knitting in confusion, my stomach turning. He’s looking at me in such a way, the way that Justin looks at me and I feel as if I could be sick.

 

“Andrew, stop,” I say shaking my head at him and his brow furrows in anger.

 

“You know maybe the press would like to know about this little tryst? I’m sure America would love to know that it’s Virgin Prince was fucking his art tutor.”

 

My breath catches in my throat and a paralyzing fear grips me, stronger than the one before when it was just me in trouble. Now we’re talking about Justin. And his career and the careers of his four bandmates. It’s so hard to believe that this is Andrew, that this is the same Andrew that taught me Survey One, the same class I’m teaching Justin, that I looked up to, that I still look up to. I guess he doesn’t see anything in me after all…

 

“Andrew, you can’t do that,” I practically sob, my throat tight with anguish. “You can’t do that to him.”

 

Andrew sighs, his face a mask of pity and concern as he slides from his chair and comes to kneel in front of me. I feel revulsion and grief as he places his hands on my denim clad thighs, the heat of his skin searing me through my clothes.

 

“Something needs to be done, Skylar,” he says, his hand reaching to cup my chin and I swallow hard as I let him do it.

 

Maybe this is the price you pay for the horrible things you do. Maybe this is the price you pay to protect someone you love. You do things you would never do. You sacrifice a little of yourself so someone else won’t have to.

 

“I mean sex with a minor? With a student?” Andrew says, his thumb smudging over my bottom lip, “that’s a pretty serious offense.”

 

My brain jams and anger flairs inside me. His mouth is inching closer to mine and I jerk my head to the side, breaking his hold on me. He pulls back slightly, bewildered by the anger in my eyes.

 

“You’re one to talk, Professor,” I spat and he narrows his eyes at me.

 

“This is an entirely different matter,” he blusters, clearing his throat and I laugh in his face.

 

“Really? Because last time I checked I was still on your roster.” He opens his mouth to speak but I don’t let him.

 

All the anger at him over my thesis, over him coming on to me…at the knowledge that I am nothing more to him than a conquest to be won. All the anger at myself for not being strong enough…all the hatred and self loathing. Everything just boils over into this one moment and the only thing I can think of is protecting him, forget myself. I won’t let anything hurt him. Not now. Not ever.

 

“You breathe one word of this to anyone and I swear to you that I will use every fiber of my being to find every single girl you ever did this to. I’m not the first right? The way you came onto me in your office before…so smooth, so practiced…the way you did it just now, cupping my face all tenderly, backing me into a corner and making me think it was my only option… there’s no way I’m the first one.”

 

“Skylar,” he chuckles nervously, but I stand and he nearly topples backward from my sudden movement, but regains his composure standing so that we are face to face.

 

“I’ll find them and I will have them tell their story to the dean, to the college board, and to every single company and organization that has sponsored your digs.” His face blanches and he swallows hard. I grit my teeth. “And I will ruin you.”

 

My chest is heaving and he is stares at me dumbfounded. This man, he’s my mentor. He’s like a father to me, often times I’ve thought he was more of a father than my own. I hate him. I hate him for not being someone I can trust and confide in. Just another man trying to get in my pants. Just another man who has let me down.

 

“I’m surprised at you Skylar,” he says, his voice chiding but strained and I know I’ve won.

 

“What?” I ask, the hurt making me bitter. “You didn’t think I’d have it in me to tell you no? Well, guess again.”

 

“And what do you propose I do about you and the boy?” he grits out, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes hard and I know everything has changed. I’m no longer his prized student, his crown jewel. I’m just another girl in one of his classes. Even though it shouldn’t, it stings to know this.

 

“Keep your mouth shut if you want to save your career,” I spat back and he narrows his eyes at me.

 

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to abuse-”

 

“ABUSE!” I screech, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. “I would never hurt Justin!”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s hurting him,” Andrew replies, smiling condescendingly and I clench my fists at my sides. “You must know this can’t go on, Skylar.”

 

I release a shaky breath and look away, my insides clenching and knotting. No, this can’t go on. Because the next time this happens I may not have a way of keeping the other person from going to the press. It can’t go on. This is what I’ve said from the beginning, isn’t it? It’s what I have known in my heart to be true and now it seems I will finally have to put it into motion.

 

“If you leave…” Andrew says softly, his eyes boring into mine and I swallow hard, “…immediately – as in first thing in the morning – I won’t tell a soul.” He smirks. “It will be our little secret.”

 

One of many

 

“Tomorrow morning?” I ask, glancing at the clock and find it to already be eleven o’clock. Its too soon. “Wh-what about Justin’s lessons?”

 

What about Justin? How can I explain all this to him? He won’t understand. He’ll beg me to stay. He’ll give me a million scenarios in which we could be together. He’ll yell and stomp around and pout. What do I say to him then? What do I say to ease the pain of him knowing there’s nothing he can say to make me stay. What do I do without him?

 

“He shouldn’t be your concern right now Skylar!” Andrew scolds and I look down contritely. “In fact I think it best you have no further contact with him.”

 

“What?” I ask, looking up at him astonished. “I…I can’t even say goodbye?”

 

As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize how absurd they sound. Andrew does me a favor by merely smirking and not laughing directly in my face.

 

“I’d think it best you didn’t. I’ll take over from where you left off in the lessons. You should be moving into the Pre-Renaissance period correct?”

 

“Um,” I say swallowing hard, my mind spinning. “We’re a little behind…”

 

“I’m sure you are,” he smirks and I close my eyes, clenching my jaw, willing the tears to go away.

 

“It’s so…so sudden,” I say, my breath coming in short gasps, “shouldn’t I-”

 

“First thing tomorrow morning,” he says sternly and my mouth shuts, giving him a silent nod of concession.

 

“You did this to yourself, Sky,” Andrew says softly, almost gently and my chest constricts as tears threaten to spill over my lids.

 

“Is there anything else, Professor?” I ask sniffing and clenching my jaw, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

 

“No, Miss McKibbons,” he says, “that will be all.”

 

And with that I walk to the door and rip it open, throwing myself out of the room before the tears begin streaming down my cheeks. Six years of school where that man was my mentor, my yoda, my fucking father and I slam the door and it shatters. Everything just fucking shatters. I tear down the hallway, staggering blindly as sobs wrack my body and as I reach the door to the stairwell I push through, my knees give way. I stumble a little, falling against the cold cement wall and sliding down, hugging my knees to my chest, just trying to hold myself together.

 

Tomorrow. I’ll leave tomorrow. Where will I go? What will I do? I can’t leave. I can’t leave him. And yet I knew it would come to this. What do I say? How can I tell him I’m leaving? I can’t…I can’t tell him because I can’t leave. I can’t leave him.

 

“Sky?”

 

A gruff yet familiar voice echoes my name in the stairwell and I look up to find Tiny making his way down the stairs. I wipe at my face, whimpering slightly and then sighing in what must be a truly pitiful way because Tiny is crouching down next to me, a look of genuine concern painting his features.

 

“Justin told me about what happened,” he says softly and I’m somewhat shocked at the gentleness of his voice.

 

I’m a blubbering mess in my response. “I-I-I have t-t-to leave t-t-tomorrow…f-f-first thing,” I cough. “I can’t even s-s-say g-g-good-bye.”

 

And with that I dissolve into heavy sobs again, my heart wrenching and pulling in my chest and I can’t bear it. I fear I may die right here in this stairwell, Tiny’s meaty hand heavy on my shoulder.

 

“What?” Tiny asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “No…no you can’t not tell him what’s going on.”

 

“I-I-I have t-t-to,” I sniff, swallowing the snot that’s running down my throat. “My p-p-professor s-s-said.”

 

“Fuck him,” Tiny says indignantly and I laugh because I almost did, which sends a wave of revulsion through my stomach and a new wave of tears down my face. “You can’t just leave him, Skylar. He loves you.”

 

“YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW THAT!” I scream, wiping at my face angrily. “You think that this is easy for me? Fuck LOOK at me, Tiny! Does it look like I’m having a good fucking time here?!”

 

“I think you’re feeling damn sorry for yourself is what I think!” Tiny spits and look up at him hurt. “You did this to yourself, Skylar. I warned you. JC fucking warned you. Yes, he knows,” he adds when my eyes widen. “He wasn’t sure but after the mess with Khefren and Britney in Detroit it was pretty fucking obvious. You had every opportunity to end this-”

 

“How Tiny?!” I exclaim, opening my palms to him. “How the fuck was I supposed to quit him? You tell me that,” I choke on a sob. “You fucking tell me!”

 

Tiny heaves a sigh, eyeing me sadly. “You fell for him didn’t you?”

 

I laugh but it turns into a sobbing cough as it passes my lips. “No.”

 

I need to get used to saying no to this. I need to push this fact down and away because there’s no way I can leave him if I love him like I do right now. I need to tell myself that I don’t, that I can’t. I need to not love him anymore. It’s the only way that I will survive this.

 

“Uh huh,” Tiny says eying me and he doesn’t believe me. “So you’re just gonna leave? Break the boy’s heart and go?”

 

I glare at him. “I was gonna leave a note,” I lie and as the words pass my lips they become truth. I’ll leave him a note.

 

“A note?” Tiny scoffs and shakes his head. “Three months boiled down to a piece of paper? This is what you’re gonna do to him?”

 

“Tiny, what the fuck do you want me to do?!?!?” I ask throwing my hands in the air.

 

“I want you to step the fuck up and take responsibility for what you’ve done!” Tiny bellows and I cower under the gruffness of his voice and the sheer size of him. Tiny really has found his calling in security. “He loves you, Skylar. He loves you. This kid is like my little brother…” Tiny purses his lips and turns his head to the side. His voice is soft as he continues. “He deserves better than a note, Sky.”

 

“I know that,” I heave shakily. “But I can’t do it any other way.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Tiny nods slowly and tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as my lids close.

 

“No,” I whimper, shaking my head. “No, I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

 

And it’s true. I’m not. I wish I was but I’m just not. I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no and I’m not strong enough to tell him goodbye. This is who I am as a person. And I hate myself.

 

“You owe him this, Skylar,” Tiny says softly, struggling to stand and I look up at him sniffling feebly. “He deserves better.”

 

And with that he trudges up the stairs and out of sight, leaving me a crumpled mess in the stairwell.

Dear Justin,

 

I have been staring at these words for the past two hours and have yet to come up with anything more to add. Well, that’s technically not true. It took some time to schedule my flight, departing at seven-forty-five a.m. out of Houston Intercontinental Airport. When the woman asked my destination I was silent. Where was I going to go? What was I going to do? I felt so lost, just sitting there on the couch in my beautiful suite that Justin got for us, our sanctuary. I fought tears as I told her Morgantown, West Virginia. When you don’t know where to go, you go home, right? Isn’t this what normal people do?

 

I had sat there for awhile, just staring off into space and trying to get my head on straight, trying to resist the urge to run downstairs and throw myself into his arms and ask him to make it go away. I can’t think like that now. I’d spent the past three months forcing myself not to think like that and I’d be damned if I stopped now.

 

So I shut down. I closed my heart and I walked into the bedroom, fully prepared to sit down at the desk and write this note. But standing in the doorway, seeing the bed where we’d – I shook my head – now neatly made with crisp white sheets as if nothing had ever happened, I felt my resolve crack. But it couldn’t crack. I could not break. Not anymore. I’d done enough of that over the past three months.

 

I had sat down at the little writing desk, tucked neatly in the corner overlooking the bed, and picked up a pen, fully prepared to begin, but I kept getting distracted, looking around the room and musing, remembering.

 

The first time I saw him, all sullen faced and petulant, but cute and boyish as he always is no matter what. The way he would vie for my attention, how he’d sing or crack jokes, trying to impress me, his smile wide and beaming when I would praise him. The way he would sit close to me, touching me every chance he got, innocently brushing his hand against mine, shoulder bumping against me seemingly by accident. And that was before we even started this thing. After that first time – I swallow hard – it was like someone switched on the light. Like you know how you can be concentrating on something and it slowly starts to get dark and you don’t realize it really until someone comes in and asks why the hell you’re sitting in the dark and they flip the light on? That’s what Justin was for me. And I hate that I’m just now realizing this.

 

I stood up and walked around, looking at things and putting off the inevitable. I had checked my bags, making sure I had everything even though I’d never unpacked. I changed into my pajamas and sat on the end of the bed but couldn’t do that for long, be on that bed where we had ­– I cringe – and it was enough to get me to sit down at the desk and begin to write.

 

Dear Justin,

 

This is as far as I’ve gotten. I glance at the clock for the umpteenth time and it’s six hours until my flight. Six hours until I’m gone and out of his life forever. This is good, I try and tell myself as the only words on the page blur over. This is the push I’ve been looking for all summer long. Something is finally forcing me to let him go. I blink and two tear drops splash onto the paper, leaving two wet dots on the page and I curse, crumpling it up and starting afresh. Maybe I was being too formal initially. Maybe that’s the problem.

 

Jus,

 

Three letters. Come on, Skylar, get it together. I take a deep breath and steel myself, bringing the pen down and writing.

 

I’m sorry

 

 Because, really I am. I’m sorry for this entire situation. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted all this time. I’m sorry for not thanking God for every moment I had with him. I’m sorry for pushing him away and hurting his feelings. I’m sorry that we’ll never be more than a summer fling in tousled sheets in little hotel rooms all over the country. I’m sorry that all I can do is write him a fucking letter. He deserves better. I owe him more. But if there is any way in hell I’m going to be able to get on that plane in six hours this is what I have to do.

 

I stare hard at the paper, every moment with him running through my mind. The stolen glances, the secret smiles, and yes and the sex but more so the quiet moment afterward when he was dozing off and his breathing had just slowed down and his head was on my shoulder or my cheek was resting against his chest. Those are the moments I’m going to remember for the rest of my life. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the door open and then slam shut, shaking the walls with the force of it.

 

“SKYLAR!”

 

I’m frozen in my seat, wide eyed because in all the time that I’ve known Justin I have never heard his voice sound the way it just did when he bellowed my name from the next room. So much more than anger, so much more than hurt, it’s raw and gruff and when he tears into the room the look on his face cannot even be described.

 

“What, so you were just gonna fuckin up and leave without telling me?” he asks, his eyes hard and unforgiving, rage emanating off of him like an aura.

 

I blink at him, shocked. “Who told you I was leaving?”

 

“Who do you fucking think?” he replies condescendingly and I let my head fall back.

 

“Tiny,” I mutter to myself. “Of fucking course.”

 

I can’t talk with him about this. This isn’t something we can discuss and that he can talk me out of. It’s something that has to be done. I can’t let him charm me. I can’t let him smile and bite his lip and pull me into bed. This is how it has to be. I don’t have a choice. But he’ll beg and plead anyway, and I’ll get to be the bitch one last time. It’s a fitting end for us really.

 

“How’d you get in here?” I ask, rising from my chair, putting off the inevitable fight for just a few more moments.

 

“I asked you a fucking question, Skylar,” he says, stepping into the room and it fills with his rage and the effect is suffocating.

 

He looks as if he could kill, as if he could break everything in the room with his bare hands as he strides up to me and I’m glad to have the desk between us. My entire body is tense and I fight the urge back away. I deserve this. He has a right to be angry. But I can’t do this right now. It’s selfish and I know that, but if I’m going to leave, I can’t see him right now. I can’t be near him. He needs to go.

 

“You don’t have a key-”

 

He rolls his eyes. “I told the girl at the front desk to give me one.”

 

“And she just gave it to you?”

 

He snorts. “I charmed you outta your panties I’m pretty sure I can charm the desk girl into giving me a fucking room key.”

 

My nails bite into my palms but I don’t retort, just glare at him and we stare at each other for a moment. His chest is heaving underneath his thin tank top, fire in his blue eyes, his jaw locked. His hands are fisted at his sides, causing his biceps to bulge and the veins in his forearms to stand out. He looks like an angel that’s fighting his way out of heaven but I can’t think that way anymore. No, I have to push all this down. If it hurts him, if it kills me, this has to end tonight.

 

“This is how it is, Sky?” he asks, his eyes softening, his voice weak. “You just up and leave. Fuck Justin, that’s how it goes?”

 

“No,” I say, my voice pleading, my heart cracking. But I can’t crack. Not again. “I…I was gonna leave a note.”

 

He scoffs, his face breaking into a mocking smile. “A note? A note?!?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

 

He looks down at the desk and snatches the paper I’d been writing on. I dart around the desk, trying to reach for it but he’s too quick, backing away from me a bit and dodging my hands as the grope for the page. I shift my feet, crossing my arms over my chest as his eyes scan the page, his tongue moving over his teeth inside his mouth. He stares at it for a moment before shaking it at me, the rustle of the paper deafening in the silent room.

 

“‘I’m sorry?’” he mocks and I tuck a strand of hair nervously behind my ear, looking away. “That’s all you got for me is ‘I’m sorry?’”

 

“It’s not finished,” I reply weakly and a derisive sound pulls from his throat as he crumples it up and tosses it so that it hits me in the chest and bounces to the floor.

 

“Fuck you,” he spats, flipping me off as he turns towards the French doors.

 

“Justin, I’m sorry!” I exclaim my voice breaking and he stops but doesn’t turn. “This is all my fault. I never should have let it get this far. I should have been more responsible,” I swallow hard, “and I never should have led you on.”

 

He turns slowly. “Led me on?” he asks, his eyes narrowing and I look down under his penetrating gaze. “We’re still gonna play that fucking game?”

 

“It’s not a game,” I sigh, letting my arms fall to my sides.

 

“That’s all it’s ever been, Skylar,” he growls. “You, playing your little fucked up mind game with yourself, convincing yourself you don’t feel shit for me but we both know it’s not fucking true.”

 

“Justin, we can’t do this,” I say shaking my head at him, my throat constricting.

 

“It’s not fucking TRUE!” he yells, his voice breaking and his mouth opens slightly as he looks down, working his jaw from side to side, his eyes becoming glassy and I have to look away.

 

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to be the strong one again, one last time. “This is your life, Justin. This is my life. We can’t throw away everything we’ve worked for…my masters…your career…”

 

“We don’t have to!” he exclaims, his eyes pleading, “We can keep it a secret. We’ve done it this long!”

 

I sigh, shaking my head at him. “Justin, I have to leave first thing in the morning or my professor is going to tell your mother and your manager-”

 

“Fuck him,” Justin spats, stepping to me and I know I should take a step back but I hesitate. I always hesitate, “and fuck them. Skylar, I don’t care.” His voice is soft and broken as he brings his hand up to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “I just wanna be with you.”

 

His eyes are large and pleading as I swallow hard, my entire body trembling. My tongue is thick as cotton in my mouth and he’s begging me to stay. With every fiber of his being he’s begging me to stay and my heart aches. He’s so close to me, I can feel the heat from his skin, feel his breath fanning across my face. I can’t do this. I can’t. He has to go. I take a step back.

 

“Justin, my flight leaves at a quarter to eight tomorrow,” I say as evenly as possible, brushing his words away and his hand falls to his side, his face wounded and sad. “I have… I have things to do. It’s…it’s late.” I swallow hard. “You…you should go.”

 

“I love you, Sky,” he replies softly and it’s like a punch in the gut. “You’re just gonna leave me? I love you. More than anything,” his voice breaks and he looks down, biting his bottom lip hard. “You’re…you’re just gonna leave?”

 

My heart is breaking, cracking and shattering and I’m falling apart inside. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. He’s looking at me, his lip practically trembling and he looks as lost as I feel right now.

 

“I don’t have a choice, Justin,” I say softly, fighting the urge to touch his face, fighting the urge to throw my arms around him and seek the comfort he would unwittingly give.

 

“Yes, you do!” he exclaims weakly and his eyes are wet and I can’t do this. “You stay. You say ‘fuck you’ to your professor, and my parents, and my manager and you tell me you love me and you stay.” He reaches for me again but I pull back. He scowls. “You stay, Skylar,” he says his face determined, his eyes hard and bright. “You stay with me.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” I plead, my chest tightening and I sigh, shaking my head at him. “You’re so young-”

 

“What does that have to do with anything!” he laughs humorlessly, shaking his head in a baffled way. “I don’t care if you’re twenty-three or eighty-” I snort and he glares at me. I look down, chastised. “I don’t care. You’re always gonna be that much older than me forever. And that’s how long I’m gonna love you so you need to get the fuck over it.”

 

“Justin-”

 

“You can’t tell me you don’t love me,” he says, his eyes determined, barely holding his tears at bay. “I know you love me. Why won’t you just say it?”

 

“I can’t do that,” I say shaking my head and swallowing hard. “You know I can’t say that to you.”

 

I can’t. If I say it I’ll never leave. He has to know that. My entire body is trembling, every ounce of will power being used not to cry and he’s shaking too as he lets his head fall back with a defeated sigh, biting his bottom lip hard. He brings his head forward again, his eyes boring into mine and when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice isn’t his own. It’s a defeated whimper of sound as he begs me.

 

“Please, Skylar.”

 

I shake my head, my eyes closing because I can’t see him so broken. I can’t see the impact my leaving has on him. He has to go. He has to leave so I can leave. I can’t do this. My eyes are shut tight so it’s a shock when he’s against me in an instant, his hands curling around my jaw, holding me almost painfully. I open my eyes and his face is wet, tears streaming from his blue eyes and a sob works its way from my throat to see him so distraught, to know that I’m the one that’s hurting him so deeply. His breath is coming in hisses between his clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh behind my ears, his hands shaking hard as he grips my face.

 

“If you’re gonna leave me, tell me you love me,” he whimpers, his voice uneven and weak and it’s all I can do to keep my tears at bay.

 

“Jus…” I breathe hard, sucking in air the best I can because fuck this hurts like hell, seeing him this way, knowing it’s me that’s causing it. “Justin, I can’t.”

 

“FUCKING TELL ME!” he screams, his hands sliding down to cup my neck and he forces my forehead against his, grinding our skulls together and I can’t hold it back anymore.

 

“I c-c-can’t,” I sob, my entire body convulsing with it. I shake my head, my nose bumping against his as I grip his wrists tight in my hands. “I w-w-won’t…god Justin I can’t.”

 

“TELL ME DAMMIT!” he yells, shaking me a little, his breaths coming in wet gasps, his face screwed up in anguish as tears drip from his nose and jaw. I choke on a sob, my nails digging into the delicate skin of his inner wrists and his grip loosens, bringing his hands up to cup my face tenderly. Calloused finger tips brush my hair back from my face and his voice a broken whisper as he says, “Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

 

I let my eyes slide shut, tears falling down my cheeks and he wipes at them with his thumbs, still taking care of me even when I’m breaking his heart. The silence in the room is deafening, nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths and suppressed sobs. My heart is breaking and I can’t take it. I can’t do this to him. I can’t bear it. I love him too much and I know what I’m about to do will kill us both, but I can’t do this anymore.

 

“I love you…”

 

It’s no more than a shaky whisper, barely audible even in the silence but it’s as if the room explodes when I say it, a guttural sob pulling from his throat as his mouth crushes to mine. Stars explode behind my eyes, as our tears mix on our faces, breathing into each other’s mouths because between our sobs we can’t breathe but we can’t not kiss either; I need his lips like I need air. He holds me hard against him and my arms circle around his shoulders, trying to press myself as close to him as possible because I can’t let go. Not now. Not ever. His arms slide around my waist, his hands wide and warm against my lower back before he wraps his arms fully around me and bends his knees just enough to get the leverage to lift me up and my feet dangle a few inches off the floor.

 

I gasp into his mouth as he staggers the few inches to the bed, laying me back and crawling over me, his lips only leaving mine for a split second. My hands delve into his mass of curls, my legs splaying on either side of his hips, allowing him to press intimately against me, pushing my body up into his as his lips smudge across my jaw and down my neck.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs softly against my skin as his hands smooth my shirt up my body.

 

I’m completely spun as he touches me gently, reverently, my brain fuzzy and clouded. But that’s how it always is when I’m with him. So I do the only thing I can, something I’ve never done when I’m with him. I turn my brain off, and I let my heart take over.

 

“I love you, too,” I whisper back and his hands stop as he pulls back to look me in the face, his eyes uncertain as if he can’t trust his own ears.

 

I smile softly at him, cupping his face in my hands, running my thumbs along the soft skin under his eyes and they close, his lashes tickling the tips of my fingers. I place one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching up to fluff the curls off his forehead and I just let my fingers trace his features. My finger tips brush his forehead, my forefinger trailing down the bridge of his nose and across his cheek. They skate over his jaw line before I cup his chin, my thumb brushing across his full bottom lip which he licks in response.

 

I bring my lips to his softly and my stomach quivers, a well of emotion washing over me. His lips slant over mine and his tongue slides past my lips, tasting me slowly and sweetly. My heart is thundering in my chest as he pulls back slightly, his hands smoothing my t-shirt up over my breasts and I raise my shoulders off the bed to allow him to tug it off.

 

There is no gawking or staring like before, he just tosses it aside and crosses his arms over his body to pull his tank top over his head and I watch him somewhat mesmerized. He allows his body to fall back over mine, his chest pressing against me, skin on skin, and it’s enough to make me sigh contentedly, my arms wrapping around his back. I press my cheek against his shoulder, his skin warm and soft against mine and his hand slips under my head, cradling it gently as his other arm slips between my back and the mattress holding me against him.

 

My eyes well as that wave of emotion hits me again, my chest tightening with it, causing me to press my face harder into him, my palms flattening against his back before I dig my nails in just slightly. He kisses the side of my head, his nose nuzzling in my hair before his lips smudge along my cheek bone, then down my face. I loll my head to the side, giving him full access to the long column of my neck and he smiles before he dips his head, kissing my pulse point and then dragging his lips down to nibble at the crook of my shoulder.

 

He pulls back and looks down at me, a look of awe and adoration and love as fierce and unrelenting as an out-of-control blaze washing his features, and it scares me, but it’s al1 right because he’s with me. He reaches up, his fingers hovering tentatively at my hair line before he drags his fingertips down, and I close my eyes as they brush across my eyelids, down the bridge of my nose and cheeks and stopping briefly at my lips, reading my smile like brail. I open my eyes and he’s still gazing lovingly at me, causing me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth, shy under his penetrating stare and he tugs it free with his thumb before leaning in to kiss me deeply.

 

His hands skim down my body, his touch light and gentle, memorizing me by touch and it hits me that this could be the last time we ever do this. Panic seizes me and tears pool in my eyes, my hands clutching at his skin desperately. He pulls his face from my neck just in time to see a tear slide from the corner of my eye to my hair line and his brow knits, his hand cupping my face. I shake my head as I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay but he kisses me before I have the chance to speak.

 

It’s slow and deep and in a moment all I can think of is the way he’s pressing into me, the way his skin is so warm against mine. My hands smooth down his sides, thumbs hooking in the waistband of his basketball shorts and he pulls back, resting his forehead against my own as I shimmy them and his boxer-briefs over his slim hips. He kicks them off his legs before sitting back slightly and staring down at me, his hands skimming down my body. His fingers stop at the barrier of my sleep shorts, tracing the skin softly before peeling them and my underwear from my body.

 

When he lies over me, he’s touching me everywhere, his hips against my thighs, his belly against mine, the insides of his arms nestled against the outsides of mine and I’ve never felt this close to a person before. His hands move slowly down my body, his hand reaching down to cup one of my knees before smoothing up the outside of my thigh and then underneath, his fingers curling so that his nails scratch me gently before he smoothes the backs of his fingers down to my knee again. His eyes search mine and I gaze back up at him uncertainly, butterflies setting loose in my stomach, my hands rubbing against his sides tentatively.

 

We’ve done this dozens of times but for some reason, right now, him touching me feels like the first time. It almost feels like I’ve never done this before and I feel somewhat lost and kind of ridiculous because it’s sex and, of course, I’ve done this before, but I can’t shake this nagging feeling that I haven’t done this before. It doesn’t make sense even to me, but somehow I sense that he understands. It’s in the way he’s looking down at me, his eyes soft and reassuring as his hands come up to cup my face gently.

 

He smiles down at me and licks his lips before kissing me over and over again and I whimper against his mouth as my heart flutters like a spooked bird in my ribcage, but he holds me steady, his hands cradling my face gently My hands are clutching his sides, palms flat against the dip of his waist, holding him somewhat uncertainly, as if I don’t know what to do with my hands, but I know I want to be touching him. He pulls back just slightly and nuzzles his nose against mine, shifting his hips, and I tremble when I feel him press against me intimately.

 

My eyes are wide as I look up at him, my heart hammering inside my chest and I’m sure he can feel it. My breath is coming in short pants against his lips, my eyes flitting from his to his cheek, his gaze so intense and intimate that I can’t look at him for too long.

 

“Skylar,” he says my name softly, reverently, like a prayer and my eyes lock on his as his hand skims down my thigh again. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine and he smiles. “I’m scared, too.”

 

My breathing hitches and my hand comes up to fist in the curls at the base of his skull as I press my cheek to his hard, my breath coming in short pants against his ear. He’s shushing me softly as his hand slides beneath my lower back, lifting my hips just slightly so that he’s poised at my entrance. My nails scratch lightly against his scalp as my other hand clutches at his back, my entire body shaking and I can’t believe I’m being like this. It’s just Justin. It’s just sex. But something tells me that those two things together will never be “just” anything anymore.

 

“You ready, baby?” he whispers into my hair before pulling back and cupping my face gently.

 

He’s looking down at me lovingly, his eyes blue and deep and I let myself fall into them in that way I’ve only ever been able to do with him. I take a deep breath and nod slightly, nuzzling my face against his, letting my eyes close as I tighten my arms around him and try to relax.

 

“Look at me, Skylar,” he whispers softly as the backs of his fingers brush my cheek tenderly and I open my eyes just in time to see him smile.

 

He pierces me and I cry out, my heart exploding as my back arches, pushing my body against his, needing to be close to him because right now being away from him scares me more than anything. He shushes me gently as I whimper and writhe, clutching at his body as if he were going to pull away at any second. His hand wraps around my jaw gently, holding me steady as he presses and presses and presses until he’s buried deep inside and we’re both trembling.

 

“God, Sky,” he whimpers, his head dropping to my shoulder and I clutch at his back, holding onto him for dear life.

 

He swallows hard, settling his body flush against mine, our bellies pressing softly together as he supports himself on his elbows. His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips as a smile tugs at his mouth and his eyes never leave mine as he touches my face tenderly. We’re both panting as he brings his lips to mine, hovering just slightly, not wanting to break our gaze and when he presses his lips to mine, he’s still watching me, even up until my eyes slide shut in pleasure. His tongue dips in and I shiver hard because he’s touching me everywhere. Outside and inside he’s all I can feel and this overwhelming sense of closeness envelops me and I don’t just feel full. I feel whole. Complete.

 

I pull back, pressing my forehead hard to his as a small whimper pulls from my throat. He’s so close and he’s all over me and it’s the most amazing thing I have ever felt. To not feel empty and alone, to be completely connected to someone, to him. And to have him look at me like I’m perfect and have him touch me like I’m the only thing he could ever need. To finally feel wanted and loved and good enough. His mouth presses to mine again and again and again, his body buried deep inside me and I’m dizzy from it all, from his mouth, from his hands, and from this feeling that is completely overtaking me.

 

When he slides back just slightly, I gasp at the loss but it melts into a low moan when his back arches and he dips back in slowly, his body deep inside mine once more. My hands grip and clutch at his sides, holding him as close to me as possible, feeling his heart thud against my breast. He moans low in his chest as his lips brush mine and it’s hard to imagine that I could ever possibly need anything more than this. When his nose nuzzles mine and he whispers that he loves me, my breath catches in my throat at the sincerity in his voice, and I do the only thing I can. I say it back.

 

He smiles widely at me, his body settling over mine before he begins to roll his hips, setting a slow and steady pace that has me breathless. I lift my legs, my thighs gripping his hips as he tugs back and pushes in again and again and I’m whimpering with every roll of his hips, the closeness overwhelming and it’s almost too much but he’s right here with me. He’s here and he’s not going anywhere… at least not for now.

 

His forehead is pressed to mine and he’s staring down at me through heavy lids, his lips bumping against mine as we breathe each others breaths and if I didn’t know better I’d say our hearts were beating in time with each other’s. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? That only happens in romance novels. I breathe deep, concentrating on the feeling of his heart thudding against my skin and the roar of my own in my ears and it’s impossible. They can’t be…

 

He groans deep before his mouth captures mine and I shiver as he kisses me slow over and over again until I’m dizzy and I can’t think or care about anything else but him here with me. My hands are curling and uncurling against his back, gripping him tightly as he slips in and out of me slowly, my hips rocking to meet him thrust for thrust. His pace is languid and easy, his hip bone bumping my clit pleasurably as he moves and I’m panting hard, pleasure coursing through me.

 

His mouth is on mine, kissing me sweetly over and over again, his hands curling around my shoulders before sliding down my arms and one hooks under my thigh, tugging my leg around his hip and I mimic the motion with my other, crossing my ankles at his lower back allowing him to slide deeper into me and I cry out against him, my cheek pressing into his shoulder because it’s too much. I hold onto him and he’s got me. I know he has me. He wouldn’t let me go. I know this. I know it.

 

His hand grips my jaw again, turning my face to him and I whimper softly but his lips coax me gently, kissing me softly and bringing me back to him, holding me and keeping me here in this moment with him and he has me and I am safe. Our breathing is ragged our bodies rocking against each other, holding onto each other for dear life because in this moment we are all we have. We are all we need.

 

“Oh…god…Sk-” it melts into a moan before it can fully leave his lips and he buries his face in my neck, his breath fanning my damp skin. “I love you.”

 

I choke back a sob, tears welling in my eyes as my arms tighten around him and when he pulls back and kisses me they slip down my cheeks.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing away my tears and I’m waiting to wake up because this has to be a dream. It feels too good and he’s too perfect.

 

“I love you, too,” I somehow manage to breathe and the smile that breaks out over his face dazzles me

 

He presses his mouth to mine, his pace quickening and the pleasure that rips through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, his body filling me completely and I whimper as my stomach begins to tighten because I don’t want it to be over. My hands paw at his back and I’m trying to push it down and away because I don’t want it to end but he’s pressing into that spot inside me and my entire body trembles and I need it.

 

“Justin,” I whimper, my nails clawing at his skin, my heels digging into his lower back and I’m so close. “Justin…oh god…”

 

He’s panting hard, his hips rocking against mine gently and he bites his lip before opening his eyes and staring down at me and he’s vulnerable and powerful all at the same time and I can’t look away. He nuzzles his nose with mine before kissing me slowly and my entire body convulses, my legs locking around him, nails scraping down his sides as I cry out his name, sobbing from the pleasure and the closeness, holding onto him for dear life.

 

He crushes his forehead to mine, his mouth opening, breath panting against my lips as his eyes squeeze shut. I curl my arms between us, reaching up to hold his face in my hands and he’s whimpering and whining as he pushes into me over and over again. I curl my hand around the back of his head, my other arm wrapping under his to grip his back as I pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply and his hips jerk hard one last time. His mouth opens against mine in a gasp as he coats me deep inside, his body trembling and quaking and I hold him close to me, hoping to give him some of the comfort he gives me.

 

His body relaxes against mine and I hold him close because it’s all I can do. I have to hold onto him now because in a less than four hours the only thing I’m going to be able to hold onto is this memory. It’s not enough, but it’s all I’m going to have.

 

He lifts up on his arms and kisses me slowly, his lips warm and soft, his tongue slick and strong as it surges into my mouth and in minutes we’re groping and rocking against each other again and we can’t stop. We both know this is the end and we want to spend every last second we can together. Declarations of love whispered against bare flesh until they don’t even sound like words, his mouth on my body, my lips wrapped around his, this is what we have and what we’re trying to keep from forgetting. He moves inside me, propped up on locked arms and I call to him over and over and when he’s so exhausted that his arms can’t hold him up anymore I grip his hips with my knees and roll him, watching him grin tiredly up at me.

 

But neither of us will tell the other to stop. Neither of us wants it to end. I rock against him, our hands everywhere, dipping down to taste his skin, sure its burned in my memory but one more kiss just to make sure, nails scraping against flesh, finger tips digging into hips, pleasure coursing through our veins over and over until finally neither of us can move and we lay there in the quiet, watching daylight creep up the walls.

 

The clock on the bedside table reads a quarter after six and I should be getting up. I should be showering and getting ready for my flight. Instead I just close my eyes and listen to his heart beat, pressing my body harder against his and the arm around my shoulders tightens. I should be dozing, bleary eyed and exhausted but I’m wide awake, paralyzed by fear.

 

Fear of leaving, fear of losing. I’ve spent the entire summer pushing him away, telling him no, wishing he would just not be here and now when I’m hours away from having him not be there I’m wishing I could have all those moments back. Every time I told him no, every time I told him stop, I wish I could go back and tell him yes, tell him don’t ever stop. All those times he told me he loved me and I just looked away I wish I could go back and throw my arms around him and tell him I loved him, too over and over and over again until he was sick of hearing it. I wish I could take it all back and start all over. I wish I was better. I wish I was stronger. I wish I was someone who deserved to be loved unconditionally by him.

 

That’s the hardest part, I think, my palm opening to press against his chest and then curling in a fist as the tears come, the regret. The regret that I had all this time and I wasted it playing stupid games and trying to pretend he wasn’t exactly what I needed. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and hold onto him forever. Why is it always too late when you realize that the one thing you need you’ve had all along? Why does it take losing something to realize how much it means to you?

 

Tears leak out of my eyes and slide down onto his chest and he shifts beneath me, his hand coming to grip my fist that’s pushing against his chest. The arm that’s around my shoulder shifts so that he can skim his palm up and down my bicep, trying to comfort me but he can’t. Nothing can comfort me because I can’t take back what I’ve done. I can’t go back and treat him the way I should have, love him the way he deserved and in an hour I’ll never see him again. Well, I’ll see him; on television and in magazines. I don’t know what’s worse; the thought of never seeing him again or seeing him everywhere, a constant reminder that he isn’t with me.

 

It seems so impossible, to be laying here with him now and think I won’t be with him tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. He’s so much a part of me. I can’t fathom leaving him. I can’t fathom waking up without him. Every time I try this pain lodges itself in my chest and it’s unbearable and I can’t fucking take it. My body begins to shake as the tears come harder and harder and he squeezes me tight, begging me silently to stop.

 

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” he whispers, his voice weak and tired and I can’t stand it. I can’t do it.

 

“I can’t leave you,” I sob and I feel his body tense beneath me as he tries to sit up a little but with the way my body is laying over him he can only lift his head.

 

“Skylar, it’s okay, honey,” he whispers soothingly, his hand smoothing over my hair but I’m inconsolable.

 

“NO!” I yell the best I can after I’ve screamed all night long, my voice nothing more than a hard rasp. “I can’t! I won’t.”

 

I’m clawing at his chest, my body heaving with sobs as I cough and sputter. He’s struggling to sit up, lifting my body and his as he scoots so that his back is against the headboard. He tucks my face into his neck and I wrap my arms tightly around his waist, sobbing that I won’t leave but it comes out more as incoherent mumbles.

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says steadily and I shake my head against him, writhing and clutching at him.

 

“No! No! I w-w-won’t d-d-do it. Fuck this! Fuck my m-m-masters, fuck my p-p-professor. I’m not g-g-going! I won’t d-d-do it! I can’t d-d-do it!”

 

“Sky-”

 

“NO!” I screech again, pulling back to look him in the face, wiping angrily at my cheeks, forcing my voice steady. “No, I love you,” I pant and his eyes close, bringing his hand up to smooth over my hair. “I love you and I want you. You’re mine! I don’t care what they say. I’m NOT going.” I bury my face in his chest as the sobs take me over again. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

 

He shushes me quietly as my entire body convulses with sobs and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad and I’m not leaving. Whatever the consequences are, I’m not going. I’m going to stay here with him in this bed and we can work this out. Everything will be okay as long as he’s with me.

 

“Skylar,” he breathes shakily and he swallows hard. “Sky, we can’t.”

 

My brain jams. “What?” I ask, my breath coming in short gasps.

 

His face is set in anguish, his brows knit, his strong jaw clenched. He brings a hand to my face and I pull away from him, my eyes demanding an explanation. This is all he ever wanted, me to say ‘fuck it all’ and for us to be together. I don’t understand. I told him I loved him. I told him I wasn’t leaving. This is what he wanted. I don’t understand.

 

“You were always the strong one,” He smiles softly at me, tucking a strand of hair behind me ear, “You were always the one who kept me in check. ‘Justin not here.’ ‘Justin we can’t do this now.’” My heart constricts.

 

“I know I was a bitch, Justin,” I cough, my breath hitching. “I know that. I’m sorry. I-”

 

He presses one long finger to my lips silencing me instantly. “You took care of me. You made sure nothing bad happened to us. You were the responsible one.” I snort at this and he smiles. “You were the responsible one and I was this reckless little boy who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

 

He sighs, one hand smoothing over my hair as the other cups my chin, running his thumb along my bottom lip. I nuzzle my face into his hand, tears still zigzagging down my face every now and then. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

 

“Let…let me be the strong one this time,” he whispers softly and I close my eyes shaking my head at him. He shushes me again softly, his hands holding my face, smoothing my hair down softly. “Let me be a man for once, Sky.”

 

My heart shatters as I fall against him, my hands clutching at his shoulders as sobs wrack my body because the way he says it... I know he’s right. He’s always right. He was right when he told me I should just give in and he’s right now when he says I have to let go. He holds me tight against him and I let him cradle me and shush me. I let all of my pain and anguish out against his chest, coughing and sputtering and begging him to reconsider. He doesn’t and I feel helpless and defeated. I decide that not being the strong one isn’t as easy as one would assume it to be.

 

By the time my tears finally subside I’m stoic and trembling, the reality of what this all means finally weighing down on me. His voice is soft as he tells me it’s time to get up.

The clock reads seven a.m. I shut my eyes and pray for it to go away. I pray for time to stop. I pray that I can just sit here and pretend that we can stay this way forever. But he won’t let me, pulling me back from him, peeling my weak fingers away easily as I try to grip him.

 

He slides out of bed, wobbling as he searches for his clothes and I watch him, wrapping myself in the blankets that smell like him but they’ll never be warm like him. I’ll never be warm like that again. I’ll never feel safe like that again. My heart trembles like I’m going to cry again but the tears don’t come, my body too weak to even cry any more.

 

My limbs don’t feel like my own as he tugs me out of bed and helps me dress, speaking softly to me, promising me I’ll be okay and as I sit on the end of the bed and watch him kneel in front of me to slip my sandals on my feet, it really hits me. This is the last time I’m ever going to be with him.

 

My hand reaches out to touch his face and he smiles weakly up at me, his blue eyes so far beyond fatigued. He pulls himself up weakly and presses his lips to mine and I grip the back of his head, hands delving into his unruly curls as his tongue slips past my lips for a quick taste. He pulls back and I try to dart forward to recapture his lips but my brain is tired and slow and I’m not quick enough.

 

“Come on,” he whispers softly, pulling himself to his feet and holding a hand out to me.

 

I take it, gripping his fingers tightly and I can’t leave him. I can’t do it. He steps forward to grab for my suitcase and I step close behind him, my hip pressing to his, my free hand wrapping around his forearm. He looks at me over his shoulder, smiling softly before turning back and he picks up my bag. I press close to him as we walk into the living area, moving slowly so our legs don’t get tangled and we make our way towards the door. My entire being is begging me to tug him back into the bedroom and curl up against his chest and sleep until it’s dark again, to kiss him and love him and never leave. But I’m too weak to protest, to broken to hear him tell me no.

 

He opens the door and I stop, not crossing the threshold. He looks back at me questioningly and my eyes plead with him, my fingers squeezing around his hand and his arm. He gives me a sad, longing look that is quickly replaced by a blank mask and then a small smile as he tugs his head back, beckoning me to follow him. I heave a pitiful sigh and step forward, my stomach dropping and I feel I could be sick. This is really it. It’s really over.

 

He tugs me along behind him and presses the button for the elevator and we wait in silence, staring at the floor indicator. I tremble slightly, forcing the bile from my throat as I curl my arm around his, pressing my face to his shoulder and he rests his cheek against the top of my head, his sigh rustling my hair softly.

 

The doors open and we both stare at it wide eyed, neither of us moving. I’m paralyzed by fear. I can’t go. I can’t. I can’t. He moves first, picking up my suitcase and setting it inside the elevator. All that’s left now is for me to get inside.

 

I look up at him and he smiles reassuringly at me, tugging his hand from mine and settling it on my lower back, giving me a gentle nudge and my feet step forward and I’m in the elevator and it feels so big and empty and I’m all alone. I look back at him and his jaw is tight, staring at me blankly, his fists clenched at his sides.

 

“NO!” I scream as the doors start to close and they jump back as I throw myself through the opening and into his arms.

 

His arms receive me, closing around me tightly as he buries his face in my shoulder, his back trembling as silent tears slide down my collarbone. My hand clutches the back of his head my other arm tight around his shoulders, holding him close, every muscle in my body tensed from the pain. I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him.

 

The doors start to close again and he sniffs, pulling his face back and reaching out quickly to hit the button again, keeping them open. I don’t let him go, pulling back just enough to cup his face, wiping his tears away with my thumbs like he always did for me and I kiss him. I kiss him and it’s deep and it’s good and I don’t ever want to stop.

 

He wrenches his mouth from mine, pulling back breathless and his eyes tell me he can’t do this. His eyes say he’s barely hanging on. He needs me to get in this elevator. He needs me to help him let me go. I press my forehead hard to his one last time, tears coursing down my cheeks as I unwrap my arms from around his body and I take a step back.

 

And another.

 

And another.

 

And I’m standing in the elevator again, looking back at him and he’s taking his breaths in heavy gulps, his entire body trembling and I fight the urge to reach for him again because I know he can’t take it. I’m sure it’s taking everything he has just to stay upright because I know that’s how it is for me right now. My hand reaches out and it’s a miracle I can even hit the button for the lobby I’m shaking so hard. My eyes fall on him one last time, memorizing him.

 

He’s tall, taller than me with blond curls sticking out in every direction. Tears course from his blue eyes down his handsome face which I used to call boyish but the expression he holds right now is only one that a man can have. My eyes fall on his broad, sunkissed shoulders and slide down to his slim waist and then to his scrawny-ass legs. I smile at him softly and his eyelids flutter as he smiles back.

His lips mouth the words “I love you” and I mouth them back just before the doors close. And that’s the last time I see him, smiling and telling me he loves me.

 

 

The End??? 

Butterflies tickle my stomach as I make my way into the Grace Rainey Rogers Auditorium. We’ve got a pretty good turn out considering it’s a bright and sunny Thursday afternoon, the seven hundred seat venue a little more than half full. I’m still slightly awestruck over the fact that they have all shown up and paid to hear me babble about Byzantine art for a couple of hours.

Five years at the museum and I still can’t believe this is my job. Associate Curator for the Greek and Roman department of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and with my boss retiring at the end of the summer the “associate” in my title will drop and I’ll be the youngest curator on staff. This was my dream and I’m living it. It took a lot of hard work but I’m here and that’s what matters.

 

I stand next to the stage, looking nervously through my notes. I know this stuff backwards and forwards but still it’s my first lecture in the auditorium, most of my previous experience having been in gallery talks or in the smaller lecture hall. My eyes flit across the page, but they catch on “emperor Justinian” and my throat tightens like it always does when his memory catches me off guard.

 

Justin’s smiling face rushes through my brain like a tidal wave and I smile softly, watching him laugh and carry on in my minds eye. It’s been a little over ten years since I left him in that hotel in Houston, but there’s still a little place in my heart that I keep reserved especially for him and the love that we shared.

 

Is it sad to admit that still think about him? Still miss him every now and then when I lay awake at night unable to sleep for some reason or another. I go through these phases where I have to know where he is and what he’s doing and thanks to America’s voyeuristic obsession it’s not that hard. I’ve watched him grow as a man and as a musician, watched him date and get his heart broken. I almost called him when Justified came out and all the hoopla about his break up with Britney was all over the news. I wanted to tell him how proud I was. I wanted to ask him if he was okay. But I decided against it at the last minute. We’d moved on and he didn’t need me to come sweeping in and getting his head all mixed up right when he was starting a new chapter in his career and in his life.

 

Other times I can’t stand to even hear his name and avoid even the mere mention of him, which was particularly difficult when the man sold out four shows at Madison Square Garden twice and the second time around the entire city was abuzz about his HBO special. I’d avoided the first leg of the tour, but I couldn’t stay far away for too long and I watched him from the upper level, which I thought was a fairly safe distance from the stage. But when he came down the ramp during “Summer Love” I thought we’d locked eyes for a moment but he was gone in a flash and I’m sure it was just wishful thinking on my part.

 

“You ready, Sky?”

 

I look up and find Connie smiling widely at me, standing at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the stage. I grin back. She and I have been best friends since starting at the museum, she interning in the public affairs department while I was the newly hired as a lowly departmental assistant. We bonded over cream cheese bagels and a heated discussion on Greek bronzes and their Roman marble replicas. We’ve been best friends ever since.

 

I nod and she turns, making her way up to the podium. A hush comes over the crowd and my nerves kick in but I push them down. They are here to listen to me speak. They are here for me. I can do this.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen…" Connie announces and the room silences completely, "Our lecture today on Byzantine Art will be conducted by the Mets’ own Dr. Skylar McKibbons. Dr. McKibbons received her bachelor of fine arts degree from Pratt Institute in Greek and Macedonian Studies before moving on to Northwestern University to get her Master of fine arts and PH.D in that subject along with a Master of the Arts and Doctorate in Byzantine Art and Archetecture. She received a Master of the Arts degree from Columbia University in museum anthropology and her book Myceneans: Life in Bronze Age Greece, has been called “an indispensable starting point for the study of the Greek Bronze Age” by USA Today. Please help me welcome, Dr. Skylar McKibbons.”

 

Connie steps back from the podium, clapping and smiling at me as I make my way up onto the stage.

 

“Nice intro,” I whisper with a giggle. “Think you could have made me sound any more like an overeducated ass?”

 

“You’re lucky I didn’t mention your tutoring gig,” she whispers with a wry smile, pinching my elbow and I roll my eyes as she walks past to trot down the stairs

 

It didn’t take me long to figure out Connie was a big fan of Justin’s. One of the first things we did together outside of work was have a Grammy party at her apartment. It was one of those times when I was avoiding everything about him so I didn’t even know he was nominated much less that he was going to be there. When I saw him on the red carpet my eyes nearly bulged out of my head and I was so swept up I barely heard Connie bouncing and clapping on the couch. I downed three glasses of wine by the time the red carpet show was over. When they announced that he had won, Connie was cheering I was holding back tears. That was his dream. He had talked about it some nights when we were laying in bed. How bad he had wanted the respect, how he knew he had the talent to get one of those little gold statues, he just needed the right production and songs.

 

Connie had looked back and asked me why I was crying and luckily I was sober enough to simply choke out that I used to be his art tutor, that we used to be friends, that I was just proud of him. She completely whigged out and still teases me about it to this day.

 

“Thank you, Connie,” I say, smiling at her as she takes her seat and she nods her head at me grinning encouragingly.

 

I look out over the crowd and it’s pretty evenly dispersed over the entire room, mostly a middle aged crowd in suits and skirts; your typical art lecture scene. There are a few younger kids too, college students maybe here on assignment. There’s a guy in the fourth row with a really bad toupee. On the left, a kid in a sweatshirt with the hood up is leaning sideways in his chair, leg jittering. There’s a man in a leather jacket and a ball cap sitting toward the middle of the room. My eyes hold on him for a moment, a tingle of familiarity hitting me but I brush it away.

 

“Today I will be speaking on Byzantine Art. I’d like to get started by asking what exactly is classified as Byzantine Art? Byzantine art is the term commonly used to describe the artistic products of the Byzantine Empire from about the 4th century until the fall of Constantinople in 1453.The term can also be used for the art of Eastern Orthodox states which were contemporary with the Byzantine Empire…”

 

This is going well. I yammer on, giving a basic overview, looking from my notes to the crowd. Toupee is taking notes. Hoodie’s leg is still jittering and my eyes catch the man in the leather jacket again. His face is partially obscured by the bald man in front of him. He’s leaning against the arm rest, chin propped on his hand. I can’t shake the feeling I know him.

 

I go on into the Early Byzantine periods, talking about the Edict of Milan and the dedication of Constantinople. I suppress my smile as I move into the Age of Justinian and Toupee’s pen is still flying across the page. Hoodie’s leg has stopped jittering and he sits up straighter in his chair. The guy in the leather jacket shifts in his seat and now I can’t see his face at all. Why is this bothering me so much?

 

I press on through the Seventh-Century Crisis and Iconoclasm and then spend a little too much time on Macedonian art because I stray from my notes somewhat, getting caught up in the Greek heritage. Toupee is searching through his bag for more paper. Hoodie is leaning to the side again, hand pressed to his mouth. The guy in the leather jacket has shifted again but his face is still half obscured by the bald man in front of him. There’s something about the way he’s sitting….

 

I shake my head continuing on through the Comnenian Age and the Palaeologan Age and begin to wrap up, talking about the legacy of the era. Toupee’s pen seems to have run out of ink so he’s just sitting back and listening. Hoodie’s leg is out in the aisle and jittering again and the guy in the leather jacket hasn’t moved for the past twenty minutes. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out where I may know him from…

 

“Byzantine traditions in icon-painting and other small-scale arts survived, especially in the Venetian-ruled Crete and Rhodes, where a "post-Byzantine" style under increasing Western influence survived for a further two centuries, producing El Greco and other significant artists. I would like to thank you all for your time and consideration. That ends our lecture today.”

 

I give a nod to the crowd as they applaud, smiling a little to myself because I killed it. Well, as much as one really can in an art lecture. Toupee is standing up and applauding enthusiastically. Hoodie is standing up from his seat and stretching but still applauding. The guy in the leather jacket is still slouched low in his seat, clapping easily.

 

I step down from the stage, trying to keep my eye on him but Connie is up to me in a second telling me how awesome I did. He’s gotten up and is swallowed in the crowd but I can still see him just slightly, maybe if I hurry I can catch him. I tell Connie that I’ll see her in a bit and make my way up the side aisle and out into the large marble lobby. He’s making his way to the doors. I begin after him.

 

“Dr. McKibbons!”

 

My name echoes slightly in the large lobby and I turn around to see the kid in the hoodie jogging towards me. I look over my shoulder just in time to see the man in the leather jacket slip out the door. I sigh frowning slightly as I turn and my breath catches in my throat.

 

He’s striding closer and I notice he’s tall, taller than me, with brown hair, more wavy than curly, smoothed down a little on his forehead, barely visible for the hood that’s pulled low around his handsome face. His blue eyes shine at me even from ten feet away and his smile…god his smile lights up the fucking room.

 

He stops about three feet from me and neither of us speak, and we just stare, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest because he’s here, in front of me, right now. I can’t breathe. I don’t need to breathe because he’s here.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

“Hey,” I reply with a voice that’s not my own and I can’t stop grinning. I’m smiling so hard it hurts my face.

 

An awkward silence descends on us and he looks down at the floor, watching his pristine sneakers scuff against the marble and I can’t believe he’s here standing in front of me. I could just stare at him for days. Stubbled jaw, slight frame, and his eyes…god when they meet mine he just sees me and I’m twenty-three years old again and it’s summer and I’m in some random city and he’s with me. He’s with me.

 

“Some lecture,” he says after a moment, nodding his head and sighing and I grin at him.

 

“Liked that, did ya?” I ask and he beams at me.

 

“Well worth the twenty-three bucks,” he chuckles and I smirk at him.

 

“You actually bought a ticket?” I ask, giggling slightly and I’m sure my face is going to break from smiling so hard.

 

“Well, yeah,” he chuckles nodding his head. “What’d you think I’d do? Sneak in?”

 

“Well, the Justin I remember had a way of charming people into giving him things.”

 

I think my heart may burst when he ducks his head and his cheeks pinken, biting his lip as he peers back up at me. He grins charmingly as he shrugs his shoulders, an easy confidence washing over him.

 

“Nah, I don’t do that anymore,” he sighs. “I don’t even need the charm, really, they just give me things.”

 

I laugh and he does too, beaming back at me. He always loved it when I laughed at his jokes. Our laugher dies away and we just stare at each other again, trying to memorize each others features. It’s been so long…

 

“It’s been a long time,” he says quietly, tilting his head to the side and I nod, smiling softly. “You wanna…um…go get a coffee or something…catch up?”

 

He shifts slightly, trying to pull his features into an unaffected and easy expression, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I grin at him widely.

 

“I would love that,” I say and his smile dazzles me.

 

He offers me his elbow and I hesitate for a moment before looping my arm through his. He pulls me closer to him, tugging my body flush against his side and his scent surrounds me, not the dark woodsy scent from when I knew him but a deep flowery scent that was uniquely masculine. I fight the urge to let my head drop to his shoulder, my heart fluttering at the warmth from his body.

 

Justin looks over his shoulder, giving a slight nod. I lean forward a little and see Tiny emerge from the crowd, hulking and glaring like always. I smile at him and he gives an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement before sidling in front of us and we follow him out of the museum.

 

“There’s a little place just down the street,” I say and Justin gives me a tight lipped smile and a nod, keeping his head bowed as we trot slowly down the steps.

 

The sun shines on us brightly and it’s fairly warm for early March so the streets are a little more crowded than usual. Justin’s arm is looped easily through mine and when I chance a glance at him, his eyes are looking ahead, surveying his surroundings easily. He ducks his head a little when Tiny pulls back to let us lead and I steer us in the direction of the coffee house where Connie and I usually get our midmorning fix everyday.

 

His arm slips from mine as we approach the door, his hand brushing mine as he lets go and I shiver. He opens the door for me, smiling as he gestures me inside. I step in and the familiar scent of coffee beans fills my senses and I can feel him right behind me, no more than a breath away and I still can’t believe he’s here. After all these years he’s here with me again. My mind flutters, briefly wondering why he’s here. Why he picked now after all these years but I push it away. He’s here. That’s all that matters.

 

“You wanna sit by the window?” I ask, gesturing to my usual table that looks out over the street.

 

He hesitates for a moment, eyeing it warily before smiling a little uneasily and nods his head. “Sure.”

 

I study him for a moment, perplexed at his hesitance and then as Tiny squeezes through the door I remember who he is. What a strange life he must lead now. Always having to be conscious of where he is and what he does. I missed that part of his life. I missed the progression into this. I can’t even imagine what it’s like. I look down.

 

“Oh…um…how about a booth in the back,” I say and he smiles, looking slightly relieved nodding at me.

 

He follows me through the small cafe and we slide into a booth that’s right next to the kitchen, everyone else closer to the front of the house, ensuring us, mainly him, some privacy. Tiny sits a few tables away, spreading a newspaper out in front of him, his eyes flitting around the cafe every now and then. Justin sits across from me and looks around before pushing the hood from his head, adjusting his curls nervously. I smile. Some things never change.

 

“So,” he sighs, folding his hands on the table and grinning easily at me. “How’s life?”

 

I chuckle. “Not bad.”

 

“Obviously,” he replies, his eyes dancing mischievously. “Never thought you'd be the one filling auditoriums, huh?”

 

I laugh. “Well, it’s not Madison Square Garden, but it'll do.”

 

He looks down and grins just as the waitress makes her way over. She’s a older lady, probably in her mid-forties and I thank god it’s not my usual waitress who’s nineteen and giggly.

 

“Good afternoon, what’ll you have?” she asks, barely looking at either of us.

 

“Um,” Justin says, looking at me uncertainly before a slow smile creeps over his face. “Hot chocolate?”

 

I bow my head, fighting the giggle that’s forcing its way from my throat and nod at him. He grins at me.

 

“Two please,” he says, holding up two fingers and looking up at the waitress.

 

She’s staring at him as if awestruck, her mouth slightly agape. I raise an eyebrow and look at him. He smiles at her encouragingly and her mouth snaps shut before stuttering something about being back in a second and scurries away. Justin turns to me completely unaffected.

 

“Just like old times, huh?” he grins and I can’t help but smile back before asking him the question that’s been floating around my brain since I saw him.

 

“How’d you find me?”

 

He looks down picking at his fingernails somewhat bashfully. “I read your book review in the paper.” I blink at him, shocked. “They said you worked at the Met so I figured I’d drop by and check it out.”

 

“And I just happened to be giving a lecture?” I ask and his blush deepens.

 

“I may have done a little research before just showing up,” he concedes and then smiles at me. “You’re a pretty successful woman, Sky.”

 

My breath catches in my throat when he says my name and a flood of emotion hits me. Isn’t it funny how you close yourself off from feeling things? I had done everything in my power to bury those emotions. One word from him and it all just comes rushing back.

 

“You haven’t done so bad for yourself either, Justin,” I smirk back and his eyelids flutter slightly before he licks his lips and smiles, holding my gaze evenly and we don’t speak, just stare.

 

I jump when the waitress comes back, setting our mugs of hot chocolate in front of us, smiling in a flustered way as she sets down napkins and spoons for us. She takes a deep breath, holding her notepad in shaking hands.

 

“Justin, I…um…my daughter just loves you,” she says breathlessly and there is no way this woman is this torn up because her daughter loves him. “If you could just…”

 

She can’t even finish, just holds out her notepad and pen in shaking hands. Justin smiles easily, taking it from her and signing it before handing it back to her. She stares down at it in awe and it takes everything in me not to giggle. She thanks him breathlessly and backs away. He sighs turning back to me.

 

“What?” he asks, chuckling slightly.

 

“You even have soccer moms in love with you,” I chuckle and he smirks at me.

 

“Yeah, well…you know how that goes,” he replies candidly and the bastard actually has the nerve to wiggle his eyebrows at me.

 

“Justin!” I exclaim at his daring and he throws his head back laughing, putting a hand to his chest and sighing as it subsides.

 

“Come on, Sky…we’re both adults…now,” he smirks and I narrow my eyes pursing my lips at him. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to,” he pushes, staring at me intently.

 

“Not much,” I sigh. “Working mostly.”

 

“I know how that goes,” he says smiling. “You switched schools, I heard,” he says bringing his cup to his lips and pauses when I give him a searching look, “from the intro to your lecture. You moved to Northwestern for your doctorate.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t exactly stay,” I say and it comes out more bitter than I intended. He snorts.

 

“Yeah, your professor was a dick,” he spats, setting his mug down again. “You know that motherfucker had me retake almost EVERY test you gave me.”

 

“Figures,” I mutter, sipping my hot chocolate and it burns my lips. I hiss, pulling back abruptly, whipped cream dotting my chin.

 

“Here,” he says, his large hand reaching out, smudging across my jaw and I’m twenty-three years old in the courtyard of the Getty museum, the memory so strong it steals my breath.

 

His fingers caress my cheek slowly, our eyes locked, and I don’t dare move. My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest. He swallows hard, shaking his head a little as he pulls his hand back, sucking his thumb into his mouth and then grinning at me innocently. Ten years and he still turns me on with the simplest of gestures.

 

“Tell me about yourself, Sky,” he says softly, his eyes pleading with me and I still know him well enough to know that he needs this. He wants to feel close to me again.

 

I tell him that after I left I had gone home and spent the remaining weeks before school started scrambling to transfer to Northwestern, how I had to threaten Andrew again for a letter of recommendation. He hadn’t know about the first time so the string of obscenities he let fly was particularly amusing to me, seeing him still so protective of me after all these years. I tell him about the year and a half I spent living in Greece, Romania, Turkey…anywhere with an excavation going on and a place to sleep. I tell him about moving to New York and about my first apartment in the city. He laughs openly when I tell him about Connie.

 

“So,” he says after a moment, running his finger around the rim of his mug, “are you dating anybody?”

 

I nearly spit out my hot chocolate. “What’s it to you?”

 

“Just wondering,” he grins unaffected by my playful response. I try to throw him off by not responding right away, but he is undaunted and smiling.

 

“No,” I say finally and his eye brows rise, nodding slowly. “I have, I mean you know in the past but…I dunno…nothing stuck.”

 

“Yeah,” he replies sighing, his eyes holding mine. “Me either.”

 

The silence is thick between us now as I stare at him, trying to read him but his expression is pleasant and gives away nothing. He couldn’t possibly…there’s no way he came all the way here just…just to see me. He can’t possibly want to…I mean it would be difficult to fathom him…still wanting me…after all this time. I mean seeing me again is one thing…but we didn’t just run into each other. He sought me out. He said himself he did research.

 

“Oh, come on,” I say, brushing away the thought. “you’re trying to tell me you don’t have any girls you’re seeing right now?”

 

He shrugs. “Not really. I had a girl for a bit.” He shrugs again. “Fizzled out. She wasn’t the right girl for me.” His eyes hold mine again.

 

I nod and I’m trying to read him, trying so damn hard to see him and I used to be able to do this so well! Then again, he used to be a lot worse at hiding his emotions. His face is unreadable. I don’t know what he wants.

 

Maybe the person I should be questioning is myself. Do I want him? My response comes instantly. Of course I do. Yes, but will it be good for me. Oh you know it will be good for you. A rush of heat flushes through me and I have to look away, lest he see right through me. Would that really be so bad? Letting him know that I still want him? The aftermath could be devastating…but what if there was no aftermath…what if it was just me and him…together again.

 

“So what are you doing in town?” I ask in what I hope is a jovial way, bringing my mug to my lips, “besides stalking me.”

 

He laughs. “Oh, I’m inducting Madonna into the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame,” he replies, waving his hand, disinterestedly.

 

I blink at him. “Oh, is that all,” I reply and he grins sheepishly.

 

“Yeah,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders. “And seeing you. Highlight of my trip, right here,” he adds, tapping the table with his fingers.

 

I bite my lip, trying to contain my smile. Even after all these years, he still makes me feel like I’m the most important thing to him. No one has ever made me feel as worthwhile and special as he did. He was the first person who showed me that I didn’t have to fight to be perfect. That he thought I was perfect just the way I was. And I loved him for that. I still do.

 

“And where does your mother think you are?” I tease gently and he gives me condescending look, pursing his lips before smiling.

 

“She knows I went to a lecture at the Met,” he says and grins, bringing his mug to his lips. “Your lecture.”

 

My face blanches. “She…you told her about us?”

 

He nearly chokes on his hot chocolate. “No,” he chuckles. “There a few things she doesn’t know about.” He grins. “You are one of them.”

 

I smirk at him and he smirks back. He tilts his head to the side and bites his lip, his eyes roving over me. His eyes are deep and blue and even though it s been ten years I still fall into them. I’m falling. Hard and fast, I’m falling into him like I always did.

 

I shake my head. “I saw your show,” I say abruptly, and his face shows shock because I guess it was kind of random, “At the Garden…the second leg. I think it was the third show. It was really great.”

 

He smiles, his eyes narrowing at me a little before biting his lip, “Were you by the ramp? On the left?”

 

My jaw falls to the floor and I cannot speak. He’s smiling at me a little unsure and I shake my head trying to clear it.

 

“Yeah…in the seats,” I stutter slightly and he beams.

 

“I thought I saw you…or someone that looked like you. I figured it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

 

And there it is again. Another clue. Does he want me? Does he just want to sleep with me? He’s eyeing me from over the rim of his mug, his blue eyes deep and penetrating and oh yeah, he wants me. What do I want? He licks his lips slowly, smiling at me and my stomach quivers. Well, obviously I want him, but what would that mean? And why is he here now. Why after all this time?

 

“You’ve…you’ve done well for yourself,” I stutter, forcing a smile and he blinks at me

 

“Pretty good for a sparkly dance boy?” he questions playfully and I blush, regret tasting bitter in my mouth.

 

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice catching in my throat on words that I’ve wanted to say for ten years. “I…I never…treated you the way I should have. You deserved more than-”

 

“Stop,” he says, his voice soft and deep and I look up to see his eyes gazing at me seriously. “You were only trying to protect me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I see now, of course, now that I’m,” he chuckles, “older, that it couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t-”

 

“Stop,” I say and he smiles at me, bowing his head to me in concession.

 

We’re quiet again and I marvel at how he’s grown. He’s still Justin. He still has that playfulness to him but there’s a quiet confidence in him. He sits in this booth in the back of some coffee shop in New York City and he exudes this aura like he owns it. Not in a cocky way, just in that subtle way that shows he knows who he is. He’s a man in every sense now. I’ve never been more proud of him than I am now. I’ll never love him more than I do right now.

 

“I’ve missed you, Skylar,” he says softly, his eyes on his hands that are wrapped around his mug. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

 

My heart is thundering in my chest. I can’t see his eyes. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I can’t read him any more. I don’t know what to do.

 

“You’ve missed me?” I laugh, trying to defuse his statement.

 

“I still think about you.”

 

I swallow hard. “Really? Written any songs about me?”

 

“Yes,” he replies quietly and my heart stops, “on the first album…and before…with the guys.”

 

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. “I thought those were about Britney.”

 

“’Gone’ wasn’t.” his eyes meet mine and his voice is hard. “‘Still On My Brain’” wasn’t.”

 

I’m not breathing as he swallows hard and taps the mug on the table. I don’t know what to say. I mean, I know what to say but I’ve seemed to have lost my voice. It’s all so much, so fast. Ten years is a long time and he’s…I watch him bite at his bottom lip nervously… he’s right here. It would be so easy to just… but would it be right?

 

“You know…” he says softly, avoiding my gaze by staring down into his empty mug, “all this time I've been cultivating my career, garnering this respect, making records. I've been at the top of the charts and I've sold out arenas. I've been with women...lots of women,” he pauses to grin at me sheepishly but doesn’t meet my eyes. “but...I'm just...” he sighs, finally letting go of his mug and flopping back against the booth. He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it and then flattening his hand over it to tame it again. “I'm just not happy. I haven’t been for awhile,” he swallows hard, “since…since…”

 

He pauses and since you left hangs in the air between us like a noose. He clears his throat pressing on.

 

“I thought maybe I was working to hard,” he chuckles, “So I took that break after my first tour thinking maybe…you know maybe I just needed some time, but then I was even more miserable because I wasn’t making music so…” he sighs, “I went back into the studio and back on tour and did movies and now I’m producing and I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” He sighs, his face pensive as he lets his head loll to the side, his eyes watching his fingers trace the rim of his mug. “I’m still not happy.” And then he looks up at me, blue eyes piercing me down to my soul. “Are you happy Sky?"

 

He’s staring at me intently, steadily and while I can see a hint of nervousness in his eyes he’s not scared. He never was when he laid his heart out to me. I was always the one that was scared. I think about what he’s asked me. Am I happy? I have two Ph.Ds, I’ve lived all over the world. I’m working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I’m about to become the youngest department curator on staff. I have a nice rent controlled apartment on the Upper East Side. I make good money. My life is exactly what I wanted it to be.

 

“No, Justin,” I say swallowing hard, my eyes not leaving his as I make a confession that I’ve never even made to myself. “I haven't been happy since I got on that elevator ten years ago.”

 

His eyes close and he heaves a sigh of relief as he reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. He runs his thumbs over my knuckles and his palms are warm and smooth and I can feel goose bumps break out over my skin. His eyes are on mine and I see a quiet lust burning in them and it sets my body on fire. How can he still do this to me? After all these years, how can he still make me want him with just a look?

 

“You wanna go back to the hotel?”

 

 

“You wanna go back to the hotel?”

 

He’s dead serious when he says it, his eyes searching mine a little apprehensively, as if I would ever deny him anything. And after a confession like the one he just gave me…shit. I nod and a slow grin creeps up over his face and seriously I could come right then, anticipation coiling in my belly. The things this man does to me…

 

And we sit there…staring at each other, neither of us moving, as if motion could break the spell that’s holding us together. He chuckles, a deep sound low in his chest that tugs at my lower stomach, making me shiver, and pulls himself out of the booth. I do the same, my legs trembling slightly. This is really going to happen. He’s here and he wants me and we’re going back to his hotel. Just like old times.

 

I look up at him and he seems to tower over me. He’s no taller than he was and I am no shorter but something about him seems bigger, stronger. He licks his lips just looking down at me and I feel his hand slip into mine, large and warm, a little damp and I smile. He’s just as nervous as I am.

 

He turns and Tiny appears from out of nowhere, leading us out of the café and out into the street once again. Justin is tense as he pulls his hood back up, glancing around every now and then and I’m not sure if it’s nerves over what we’re about to do or over the fact that there could be cameras around. I keep my head down just in case. We don’t need this broadcasted all over the internet tomorrow.

 

The walk back to the Met parking lot seems like a million miles, his hand holding mine tightly, not in an uncomfortable way, just in a way that says he’s not letting go. He won’t let go again. We walk up to a large black SUV and Justin dips his hand into the pocket of his jeans and tugs out a set of keys. He hits the lock before telling Tiny he’s driving and tosses him the keys. He looks at me with a grin, opening the door to the backseat and nodding for me to enter before him. I giggle a little, remembering back to a night in a club, me drunk off my ass and him so fucking eager. I guess I’m the eager one now. I’ve always been eager, I was just better at hiding it back then.

 

I climb in and he’s right behind me, folding his lanky frame onto the seat next to me. He closes the door and turns to me, his arm resting on the seat behind me. I turn my body to his and we just hesitate, looking at each other, trying to contain our grins. He leans in, his nose nuzzling against mine, his breath warmly tickling my lips. I nuzzle back, bringing our lips closer together and I just want to kiss him. I want to taste him. God, it’s been so long…

 

He nuzzles me again and I sigh, finally giving in, pressing my mouth to his and fire explodes through me and I’m twenty-three years old and I just need him. It takes all of my willpower not to crawl into his lap right now and take him right fucking here in the backseat. But he slows me down, his hands gripping my biceps, holding me steady. He moves slowly, savoring it, tongue flicking out to lazily swipe across my bottom lip and I have to fight the moan bubbling from my throat.

 

I open my mouth to him, tongue reaching out to touch his and he jumps a little, a shiver running through him. His hands move to cup my face, mouth pressing harder against mine as he shifts impatiently in his seat. My hands go to his chest, fisting in his sweatshirt as I pull his body closer, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric, the hard muscle…shit, I want him so bad.

 

His hands are sliding down my neck, smoothing over my shoulders and down my arms, pulling me closer still, my arms sliding around his neck to press our chests together. I feel his heart racing against my breast as his arms hug me tight, fingers threading together at my lower back while he nibbles on my bottom lip. This time I do moan, a low, soft sound that causes him to smile into my mouth and deepen our kiss if that’s even possible.

 

I pull back when I feel the car slow to a stop and he whines a little, leaning in to try and capture my mouth again. I lean back, giggling at him, and he looks around bewildered, shocked to see that we’ve reached our destination. I giggle at him, pushing on his shoulder and he shakes his head at himself, crawling out of the car before holding his hand out to aid me. My feet find the ground and he doesn’t step back, forcing my body flush against his and I’m looking up at him again, the fire smoldering in his blue eyes enough to set my body aflame. He grins down at me, waiting a beat before stepping aside and gesturing for me to follow Tiny who is waiting by the back door, glowering at us.

 

I stride forward, feeling Justin’s eyes on me and I give my hips a little extra sway just because I know he’s watching. He always made me feel like such a vixen, even though I never really was. He was just always so eager, always had to be touching me. I feel his hand slide across my lower back, resting there as he strides up next to me. I always wanted it so bad.

 

We make our way through the kitchens, the hustle and bustle of chefs yelling and people running around not even phasing me, my mind concentrating on the heat of his hand pressed against my back, just above my ass, fingertips rubbing every now and then absently. It’s been so fucking long.

 

We stop in front of the service elevator, Tiny pressing the button and giving us the same weary look he gave us ten years ago. Some things never change. I glance at Justin, eyeing him as he watches the numbers descend, jittering impatiently. Yes, some things never change. The doors open and he walks in, turning to face me as he leans against the back wall of the elevator, gazing at me through heavy lidded eyes, licking his lips sensually. Then again…

 

I step inside, leaning against the side wall, surveying him, watching what he does when I don’t come to him immediately. He smirks at me, leaning forward and I gasp as he grips the railing right next to my hip, his other hand reaching deep into the front pocket of his jeans and he looks at me for a moment, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. He smirks as he pulls out a key and slips it into the hole next to P3 on the floor panel.

 

He bites his lip, pulling back as the elevator starts its ascent, leaning against the wall directly across from me. He’s standing there, arms locked on either side of him, hands resting on the railing, feet crossed at the ankles, a look of complete lust painting his handsome face. I mimic his pose, biting my lip and letting it slide slowly from between my teeth and I swear I can see his pupils dilate, but he stays where he is, just watching me. I turn my eyes to the floor indicator, my breathing a little labored, feeling his eyes caress their way up and down my body. This is the longest elevator ride in the history of elevator rides. I just wanna tear his fucking clothes off and-

 

*DING*

 

The elevator doors open and he steps out into the small hallway, producing his key again, slipping it into the lock and I follow him, butterflies tickling my stomach as he opens the door and allows me entry ahead of him.

 

I step inside and revel in the lavishness of his suite, the overstuffed chairs and couches, the large television, so much of it similar to the room we shared together. My eyes flit to the double doors across the room from me and my stomach flips. The bedroom.

 

I turn to face him and his mouth is on mine again before I even have time to think, tongue slipping in and exploring my mouth thoroughly, hands roaming my body. He’s familiar, yet completely different at the same time. His hands never moved like this, he never touched me with so much confidence before, but he tastes the same…god the way he tastes.

 

I gasp into his mouth when my feet leave the floor and he holds me against his chest as he walks us back towards those double doors. My hands smooth across his cheeks, slipping the hood from his head as my arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he fumbles with the door knob, finally opening the room to us. I’m amazed at his equilibrium as he balances us with one foot while his other reaches behind us to close the doors. I giggle a little and he lets me slide down his body, allowing my feet to touch the floor.

 

He smiles as his head dips to suck on the side of my neck, his fingers coming between us to unbutton my suit jacket, reaching inside, hands smoothing around my stomach to hug me close. I just allow my head to hang to the side, fisting his curls in my hand as his tongue licks lazy patterns across my skin. He pulls back slightly, slipping my jacket off my shoulders, leaving me in my skirt and thin camisole. His mouth slides across my shoulder, nibbling at the crook of my neck and he slips the thin strap of my camisole off my shoulder, replacing it with a warm, dry kiss.

 

My hands begin to wander as the heat in my belly grows, wetness slicking my thighs from his ministrations. My fingers massage down his shoulders and he hums against my skin, his hands smoothing up my camisole, bunching it up under my arms. I pull back and allow him to slip it over my head. My mouth claims his again and all his movement stops as he cups my face, holding me in place so he can ravage my mouth.

 

Meanwhile my fingers are still roaming, slipping up under his sweatshirt and t-shirt and holy god the body on this man… I moan as my nails skitter over the bumps and grooves of his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle underneath his silken skin quiver from my touch. Fuck, I want this so bad.

 

I tear my mouth from his so I can rip his hoodie and t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. His fingers tremble as he reaches behind me. I gasp when one flick of his forefinger and thumb has my bra falling down my arms. He smirks at me and I swat at his chest playfully, enjoying the low chuckle he emits.

 

He’s sucking on my collar bone as his fingers work the button on my skirt, sliding the zipper down and before I know it the fabric is puddled at my feet and his thumbs are hooking in the waistband of my panties. It’s all happening so fast. I really just wanna savor this, savor being this close to him again. Then, as if he senses this, he stops, thumbs still hooked in my underwear. He kisses me softly, thumb stroking my hip bone and I fight with myself, wanting nothing more than for him to rip my underwear off and bend me over the end of the bed, pounding into me with all he has, but also wanting him to lay against me, holding me, pressing into me slowly and languidly.

 

“You know,” he says lowly as he smudges his lips along my jaw, his hands moving to slide around my waist to hold me against him, our chests pressed together skin on skin. “Sometimes…” he trails, breathing against my ear, “I still get hard looking at Doric columns”

 

My moan melts into a giggle and he grins at me bashfully. I smirk as I spin us so that his back is to the bed and give his shoulder a little push, him falling back with a plop. I kneel between his knees and he pants as he leans back on his elbows.

 

“Let’s see what you can remember,” I say, smiling at him and he grins widely at me, eyelids fluttering as I rub the heel of my hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

 

He’s watching me diligently as I undo his jeans, lifting his hips when I bring the zipper down, pushing at them and his boxers impatiently and I giggle, aiding him. I just look at him for a moment, sprawled out in front of me, naked and ready. His body is so much more defined now, having fleshed out and while he is still skinny, he’s more rounded and less scrawny, muscles sloping and curving over his bones.

 

I take him in my hand and he sighs, eyelids fluttering, as I lean in, my breath teasing the tip of his cock. “Okay, Jus,” I whisper lowly, flicking my tongue out against the head, “what’s this?”

 

 “Abacus,” he says confidently and I smile, taking the entire head into my mouth and he sighs, “Capital.”

 

My tongue runs around the ridge and he breathes, “Echinus.”

 

I dip my tongue down the underside of his shaft, sucking on the little bead of skin there. He hums and makes a non committal noise.

 

“Come on, babe,” I whisper, flicking it with my tongue and then blowing.

 

He shivers, sighing. “Um”

 

I suck him into my mouth, pressing my tongue against it and he groans, head hanging back, hips twitching a little.

 

“Shit…uuuuuum…” he trails and I pull back, looking at him skeptically.

 

“You know, don’t you?” I ask, a disbelieving smile in my voice.

 

He grins down at me. “Yeah…I just like it when you do that.”

 

“Justin Timberlake, you little brat!” I exclaim, laughing as I swat his hipbone and he laughs, hanging his head back.

 

“Hey now,” he grins, looking down at me. “Focus, we’re reviewing…”

 

His charming grin dazzles me and I just stare back at him for a moment. He wiggles his hips a little, bringing me back to the task at hand. I dip my head, flicking my tongue up the bottom of his length from the base to just under the head and he sighs.

 

“Hey,” he breathes and I look at him. “I didn’t get the last part.”

 

I roll my eyes at him, grinning inwardly as I flick the sensitive bead of skin again and the groan he emits sends a shiver down my spine.

 

“Necking,” he breathes, and I slide my lips down the side of his length, tongue dotting the skin every now and then. He allows me to slide up and down a few times before he moans, “shaft.”

 

I nuzzle my nose against him, licking around the base of his cock and he sighs, hips twitching slightly as he sighs “Stylobate,” and then I tilt my head, flicking my tongue out against his balls, enjoying the surprised hiss that comes from him as I suck one into my mouth.

 

“Holy god, Sky…” he moans, as my hand starts to stroke him a little, my mouth moving to take both of his balls in my mouth and he thrusts a little, a whine tugging from his throat.

 

I pull back, slowing my strokes to a stop, and look at him expectantly. His eyes snap open and look at me pleadingly. I quirk an eyebrow at him and a look of realization comes over his face.

 

“Oh…um…stereobate,” he grins and I smile giddily back at him. Fuck, when he grins at me like that…

 

I feel his hand reach around the back of my neck, his fingers pulling the clip from my hair and it falls around my face. He delves his hand in, looking at me with his head lolled a little to the side and his expression is contemplative, wanting. I take him into my mouth and the sound that comes from his throat makes me tremble. He falls back against the bed, his other hand delving into my hair, guiding me gently up and down his length.

 

He tastes so good, so familiar. But it’s still different. The way his fingers massage my scalp instead of just press down. They way his hips twitch a little but he’s not thrusting into my mouth. He’s more controlled, less about getting off, more about just savoring it.

 

He’s moaning softly now, fingers tugging gently at my hair as I work my mouth up and down his length, tongue swiveling. I glance up and see his eyes shut, mouth slightly agape as he pants, the muscles in his stomach quivering. I smile around him and his breathing hitches, a deep groan pulled from his chest when I graze him gently with my teeth.

 

His hand tightens in my hair and he’s pulling me off him, his dick sliding from my mouth to lay against his stomach and I pout up at him, not wanting to stop just yet. I just want to devour him. He grips my shoulders, pulling me up his body and we’re nose to nose, his heavy breathing fanning my face and I kiss him. His fingers tighten around my arms, kissing me hard, hips wiggling restlessly under me. God it’s been so long! I need him.

 

I squeal when he flips us and I’m back against the mattress, his body pressing against mine, his teeth nibbling at my collarbone for a second before sliding down, his tongue leaving a glistening trail down my body. He palms my breasts, his mouth sucking just above my belly button and I let my head fall back, just feeling him, letting him touch me. My hips press into his chest as he plucks at my nipple, his mouth moving back up to flick one bud with his tongue while his fingers play with the other. When he switches, I moan loudly, pressing my hips harder into him, needing the friction.

 

He starts to make his journey down my body again and my breathing is hitching as he runs his tongue along the skin just above the waistband of my panties, his fingers sliding over the ink of my tattoo and I bite my lip. He stares at it, smirking at me and I giggle slightly as he presses his lips to it softly.  He looks up at me as he hooks his fingers in the waistband and tugs down, grinning cockily up at me when I lift my hips eagerly to aid him. I don’t even care. This isn’t about pride. This is about want. I just fucking want him.

 

He tosses the scrap of fabric aside and his large hands hold my thighs, pulling them apart, opening me to him. He runs a finger down my slit and I jump at the sensation of him touching me again after all these years. He grins at me, thumb rubbing slowly down my clit, pressing gently and I writhe beneath him. As he dips his head I slide my hand down my body, making a V of my middle and forefinger, framing my clit for him.

 

He chuckles a little, pulling my hand away and saying, “I don’t need the training wheels anymore, babe.”

 

My giggle turns into a moan as he presses the tip of his tongue against my clit, finding it instantly. His hands cup my ass, pulling me closer to him as he licks slowly, languidly up and down my slit, tongue probing my entrance, just enough to make me squirm.

 

I sigh his name as he slips in two fingers, thrusting steadily, his tongue laving my clit, alternating between long slow licks and swift pokes with the tip of his tongue. My hands grip his shoulders when he curves his fingers inside of me, shocks of pleasure zooming up and down my spine, causing my toes to tingle.

 

“Justin,” I beg, feeling myself build. “Justin, stop…”

 

He obliges, fingers slowing to a stop and placing a kiss on my clit that makes me moan and grip his arms, pulling him up to me, and rolling us so I’m on top again. We giggle as we scoot so that his head is resting back against the pillows and he sighs as he settles back into the mattress.

 

I hover over him, looking down at him as he grips my hips and I’m twenty-three years old again, wanting him so fucking bad I can taste it. He licks his lips, his eyes drinking in my body. He shakes his head a little after a moment and he struggles, long arm reaching for the nightstand drawer.

 

“Condom,” he grunts under his breath as he stretches a little more, tugging the drawer open the best he can.

 

“I’m on the pill,” I say wryly, and he looks up at me smiling, and I know he remembers. His arm pulls back slowly and I add, “I mean we can still use one…”

 

He grins up at me, his hands smoothing up my arms to cup my neck and tug me down to him, our lips meeting, tongues sliding against one another. He pulls back panting and nuzzles his nose with mine.

 

“I wanna feel you,” he whispers and I shudder hard, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip as he reaches down to grip my hips again.

 

I lean back, looking down at him, anticipation coiling in my belly as I reach between us to grip him, positioning him at my entrance. His eyes slide shut and he settles back, waiting. We both moan as I begin to sink down, taking him in slow, inch by inch, letting him fill me up.

 

I’m trembling hard, eyes squeezed shut, as I finally rest flush against him, my clit nestled against his hipbone and this is too much. I can barely breathe he feels so fucking good, stretching me just enough, touching all those places inside that haven’t been touched since the last time I was with him. I need this. I fucking need it.

 

And he knows this, because he needs it to. I open my eyes and he’s watching me, panting hard, eyes locked on the place where our bodies meet, fingers caressing my hips gently. I brace my hands on his chest and his breathing hitches as I pull up, nearly all the way off of him and slide back down again, shaking hard, his low groan ringing in my ears and I’m close already. Shit, all the man has to do is breathe and I’m fucking close.

 

“Sky,” he sighs, his eyes sliding shut as he settles himself more, wiggling his hips underneath me. “Please.”

 

And who am I to deny him? I raise my hips again, rolling and grinding against him, listening to him pant and sigh, moan and growl. I lean forward a little, pressing my clit harder into his hip and I’m chasing that feeling, so close to just getting there. It’s so fast, but I’m so hot and he feels so fucking good inside me, his hands pressing me hard onto him.

 

“Oh fuck, Justin,” I moan, my hips rolling faster and I hang my head forward, feeling my insides beginning to clamp down on him and my release steals my breath as I slam down hard on to him, his moan of approval fueling my lust.

 

I’m so caught up in the pleasure that is still pulsing through my veins I don’t even notice that he’s flipped us until his mouth is pressed against mine, tongue slipping in and out in the rhythm that his dick is massaging in and out of my pussy. I’m so weak from my orgasm that it’s all I can do to simply clutch at his back and take it.

 

His thrusts slow to a stop, holding steady inside of me and I swear to god I can feel him throb. He’s nuzzling my neck, his lips pressing against my pulse point, letting me breathe, letting me come down a little.

 

“Justin…baby….god,” I practically sob, my hand sliding up to run through his hair limply.

 

“You want another one, baby?” he breathes against my ear. “You want me to fuck you so good you can’t stop coming.”

 

“Oh god,” I moan, my pussy clamping down at his words and he hisses against me. “Justin…”

 

“Tell me you want it, Sky,” he whispers, pulling back so his face hovers over mine, his lips brushing mine as he says, “Tell me you want me.” And he leans down again, burying his face in my neck, his hips beginning to move impatiently as he whispers, “God, tell me you still want me…”

 

“Fuck, Justin,” I practically sob, clutching at him. “I want you…please.” I pant and I can’t stop myself as I say, “God, I still love you.”

 

I gasp and I feel his entire body go rigid and I know I’ve wrecked it. All this talk of missing me, missing him was one thing, but love? That was something completely different. He pulls back slowly and I shut my eyes, my face red, too embarrassed to even look at him. I’m just waiting, waiting for him to laugh in my face, make up some excuse to get me the hell out of his room, this crazy girl that never got over a summer fling…but it wasn’t a summer fling. As much as I have tried to convince myself, it was the farthest thing from a summer fling than anything could ever get.

 

“Hey…” he says softly, and I feel the backs of his fingers brushing my cheek. “Skylar…hey…look at me.”

 

I open my eyes and he’s looking down at me, a small half smile tugging at his lips. He nuzzles his nose against mine and I press my lips to his, because if this is over right now I want one more kiss…I want to taste him one last time.

 

“Sky,” he says, wrenching his mouth from mine. “I fucking love you…please…fuck I still love you, too.”

 

I gasp a little, thinking my heart is going to explode from it all and he takes the opportunity to kiss me again, his tongue massaging slowly against mine, tasting me thoroughly. Then he buries his face in my neck, his arms sliding under my shoulders to hold me tight against him as he slides out a little and pushes back in, groaning deep. My fingers fist in his hair, my other hand clutching at his back as I wrap my legs around his slim waist, tipping my hips up to meet his thrusts.

 

He’s slow and steady, dipping in and out of me languidly, his breath panting against my neck. My cheek is pressed against his ear, feeling the flushed heat of his skin and I turn my head a little to lave the shell with my tongue. He groans, his hips stuttering a little as his rhythm speeds up and he’s nudging that spot inside me that has me moaning his name over and over again. He pulls back a little, resting his forehead against mine as he looks down between us, watching as he enters and leaves my body.

 

He’s panting hard now, and his eyes squeeze shut, mouth opening in a silent groan before gritting his teeth. He’s close…

 

I slide my hands down his back, feeling the taut muscles working and moving his body, tensing and releasing with every twitch of his hips. God, he’s so fucking strong. I clutch at his waist, holding his hips in my hands, feeling them roll into me. God he’s working me so fucking good and he’s so close. The mere thought of that causes the tingle to rise in my belly like a tide. I want to feel him come.

 

“Justin,” I groan and he hums at me in acknowledgement. “Justin…baby…please.”

 

“Please…please what?” he pants, his voice raw with lust…he wants it so bad.

 

“Please…come for me,” I say, my words causing my own body to tingle and I give his hips a squeeze for emphasis.

 

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips speeding, arms tugging me closer against him restlessly. “Fuck, Sky…are you close?”

 

I hum in response, nuzzling his nose with mine and he whines a little, slamming hard into me and I swear I think my entire body is going to explode, the build in my stomach so strong and fuck I’m so close.

 

“Jus…god…I’m so close,” I whisper and my head falls back into the pillows, trying to breathe, trying to get there.

 

I feel his hand slide up my neck smoothly, gripping my jaw in his hand and pulling my head forward. My breathing is hitching so hard it’s almost like I’m sobbing, and he looks down at me, his blue eyes nearly black with lust. He nips at my bottom lip and my body sucks at him, stealing his breath a little and I’m so fucking close.

 

And then he does it. He presses his mouth to mine, the tip of his tongue touching mine and for a second I think I’ve passed out because my vision goes black and everything is still. Then my entire body goes rigid, every muscle contracting as I clamp hard around him, my mouth opening to scream but no sound comes out, every ounce of energy being used to squeeze at his dick.

 

The groan that comes from his chest is so guttural it is almost as if he’s in pain, hips pounding into mine, one, two, three more times before “oh my fucking god…Skylar…” and I feel him coat my insides, his hips pressing hard into mine, trying to get as deep as possible.

 

He collapses on top of me, mewing softly into my neck as the aftershocks of my orgasm milk his overly sensitive flesh. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, never wanting to let him go. He lifts himself on wobbly arms and I whine a little, trying to hold him against me longer. He smiles and presses a soft kiss on my lips, his fingers brushing away the wetness on my cheeks, which I didn’t even realize was there until just now.

 

He sighs pressing, soft, dry kisses along my jaw line, down my neck and across my collarbone, tongue dotting out every now and then to taste the salt of my skin and I feel him go soft inside me. I grip him tighter, not wanting him to leave. His lips claim mine again and I’m so lost in it I don’t even realize he’s rolling us so that I’m laying against his chest. I pull back with a sigh and allow him to tuck my head into his neck, pressing my nose to his racing pulse point. I cuddle into his side, throwing a leg over his, hand sliding across his stomach, fingers lining with his ribs before pressing my palm flat over his heart.

 

“I missed you, Sky,” he says softly after a moment, his breathing still slightly labored and I can feel his heart, beating steadily under my hand, quicken a little as he continues. “I’ve missed you more than you can ever know.”

 

“Justin,” I sigh, not really needing to say anything, just enjoying the feel of his name on my tongue after so many years of not even allowing myself to think it much less speak it.

 

“Skylar.”

 

He says my name, a whisper so low he almost mouths it, reverently, like an offering and I nearly sob from how much I’ve missed hearing him say it.

 

“I meant what I said,” He swallows hard, his heart slamming against my hand. “I…I still love you.”

 

I shut my eyes, my hand fisting over his heart, praying to god this isn’t some kind of dream. I heave a shaky breath and open my eyes and yes I’m still here, laying against him, his heart pounding under my fist.

 

“I’ve always loved you, Justin.” I say, pressing my face harder into his chest, flattening my hand over his heart again. “I never stopped…shit, I don’t think I ever will.”

 

I hear him breathe out shakily, a low chuckle of relief vibrating in his chest and I giggle a little too. This is so surreal. He sighs, his arm tightening around me, his free hand covering my hand that’s over his heart before threading his fingers through mine.

 

“You know…” he says and I can hear the grin in his voice.

 

“What?” I ask, looking up at him, grinning giddily.

 

“My mother is gonna wonder what the hell is going on.”

 

I laugh out loud, dropping my forehead to his chest. I look back up at him and he’s still smiling at me, his eyes sparkling happily at me. I bring my mouth up to his, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and watch through heavy lidded eyes as he waits a beat before letting his own eyes slide shut, fingers coming up to brush my cheek.

 

Our kiss deepens and I moan a little into his mouth, my body still tingling a little from my previous orgasms. I sigh into his mouth and he brushes my hair away from my face, pulling back to look at me.

 

He grins as he asks, “Wanna go again?”

 

I giggle at him, his face lighting up the same way it always had when he asked me this question. God, some things just never fucking change.