Shelby

"Did he say anything to you? Besides the ‘hi' and ‘sorry' and whatever else?"

"What was he supposed to say? ‘Hey chick, you look like shit. Wanna go get some breakfast?' No, he didn't say anything else to me."

"Aww. Damn. Well. Next time."

Next time? Shelby sometimes worried about her mother. Like, maybe she didn't live in reality, sometimes. Or maybe her brain didn't work like anyone else's. Or maybe her ears didn't work right, because Shelby had relayed the entire embarrassing story, and all Renee could think or talk about was if JC had said anything to her and what would happen ‘next time'. It was almost guaranteed that there would be no next time.

"Whatever," she replied, brushing past the subject. She thought it would be fun to share the experience with her mom, but not if she wasn't going to act right. "What's dad up to?"

"You know. His usual. Building things out in the garage. He sends his love." Shelby's father Bob was obsessed with models-trains, planes, cars-if a model of it existed, he built them. Thankfully, he didn't keep many of them. He ended up selling or donating most of them. It had kept him busy since he retired. It also kept him out of Renee's hair.

"Send him some love back for me."

"I will. So, you've moved to Orlando. All unpacked and everything. Now what? Are you going to find a job? Go to school? Lay on your couch for the next fifty years? What's next?"

That was the million dollar question. Shelby had no idea what she was going to do. There wasn't really a plan, past this point. Lucas made sure she was taken care of for the forseeable future. Beyond that, the settlement from the accident made it so she didn't have to work if she didn't want to. She thought she'd enjoy something part time, maybe at a bookstore or a library, something to keep her stimulated and busy.

Maybe she'd drive out to UCF and see if she could pick up something out there. Full time employees could take classes at a discounted rate. Not that she needed discounted rate, but it would be another reason to take classes. She definitely had options, but first she had to be able to sleep at night and function during the day.

Shelby sank onto the chair that matched the couch and loveseat in the den, pulling at a lock of hair caught in the ponytail holder. She still hadn't done anything to her hair. No sense in worrying about it, now. There was little chance she was going to run into a handsome pop star between the den and the bathroom. She twisted sideways and kicked her feet up so she was laying across the chair, her feet dangling over one arm, her head over the other.

"Now... well, I guess I figure out how to live. Figure out how to become this new person I want to be. Live the life I want to live. Try to deal with all of this... yuck going on inside of me."

"Well, one day at a time, sweetie. That's the only way it's going to come."

"I know. I just..." Tears began to well, her voice becoming unsteady, her breath quickening. Her chest tightened, matching the swell of emotion. "I still feel so guilty. I know you're tired of still hearing about this-"

"I'm never tired of hearing you talk this out, honey."

"-but I just keep feeling like it didn't have to be Lucas. He was a good person, despite everything going on with us, then. It didn't have to happen. He didn't have to go."

"But you know it wasn't something you could have chosen, because you would have chosen differently. So that means it was beyond your control. Right?" That was logic, and logic didn't apply, here. Guilt knew no logic or sense. She could use sound reasoning all day, but still wail all night long.

"If I hadn't have insisted that we go back to the house, it never would have happened, and Lucas would be here, and--" Shelby swallowed, stopping abruptly.

Renee prodded. "And?"

Memories of that day came pouring into her mind. For a long time, she blocked them out-too painful to keep reliving. Surviving was not remembering. Over the span of time since the accident, they flooded her mind without warning, relentlessly. She remembered, more often than she wanted to, the last time she'd seen Lucas.

They fought. They were in the car, on the way to look at a wedding venue, one of many he had picked out that were too big, too gaudy, too much show. She longed for a small, private ceremony, maybe one the press wouldn't pick up and paint her as the ‘woman marrying a man twice her age'. He hated the implication that she was ashamed to be with him. It wasn't that way at all.  Lucas made a comment-something snide that she couldn't even remember now. Angry, Shelby whipped the car around, because she was going to pack. And leave. Forever.

If it wasn't for that pissy fit, they'd have never been on that road. If she hadn't insisted on returning to the house, right then and there, eyes and tongue full of fury, her tire wouldn't have blown. The tragic sequence of events that followed would have never been set in motion. Lucas would still be alive. Maybe not withher, but he'd be there, with everyone, with his friends and family and all the people who now hated her. They had good reason. It was her fault.

Shelby sobbed quietly into the receiver, giving in to the wave of sadness as it washed over and nearly drowned her. When it subsided, she sniffled and managed to sit up, wiping at her face with the palm of her hand.

"Just my luck, I'd run into that guy like, right now, when I look even worse." She managed a short ‘ha', trying to lighten the mood. Renee giggled on the other side of the line, feeling the effort, applauding it.

"That's sort of how luck works, isn't it? Well, honey. It's nearing dinnertime here. I better get something on the stove for your dad, but you take care of yourself. Okay? I mean, you know. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Get out of the house. Call me if you need me. I love you."

"Love you too, mom," she croaked, and hung up before the tears could start again. She hated the goodbyes.

JC

Another long day, at the studio. It was a good thing he loved this stuff, because otherwise he'd just throw everything down and walk out. Between half of the band showing late for rehearsal and the other half bickering with Rod, the 9pm dinner break could not have come at a better time.

Head pounding and nerves shot, JC opted to take his break in the car, cool air blowing on his face, smooth jazz station playing on the radio. This was nothing like he was used to-‘Nsync was never a fairy tale, but at the end of the day, the guys all loved each other. They'd spend all day in the studio, and then hang out all night playing video games, eating and laughing and talking. These guys hated each other, it seemed. Everyone was looking to break out and stand in front and soak up the spotlight, thinking they were going to be discovered and stolen away, maybe to play ‘legit rock' - what they called working for a band like the Stones or one of the Beatles, or any of the rock bands on the charts. Duke especially made no secret that he thought he was underpaid, underappreciated, and stuck working in a candy ass genre- Pop.

The truth, JC thought at least, was that pop covered so many different genres-every kind of music crossed over Pop... country, rock, blues, alternative, hip hop-if it was popular, it was pop. Sometimes Metallica was Pop. Madonna was Pop. And yes, as much as he wanted to create a new sound and a new image and come out with new music, Rod Phillips was Pop. He wished some musicians wouldn't view it as such a death sentence, but embrace it. Pop was limitless. You could do whatever you wanted to do and never be ousted from your genre. No one accused a pop artist of being a sellout or trying to appeal to another audience. It was all Pop.

The automatic sprinklers embedded in the sprawling lawn rose from their holes in the ground and began their nightly timed rituals. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, creating a beat off of the rhythm of the spraaaaay-chigchigchigchigchig sounds in the background of Wynton Marsalis blowing that sweet horn in his ears.

The hour passed quickly. JC climbed out of the car and made his way back into the studio, determined to establish some kind of order and camaraderie among the band-otherwise they not only weren't going to get the new album written and the older songs reworked, but they weren't going to be recording anything and they definitely wouldn't make it to the tour. The plans he had for this band called for them to work together, not pull apart.

"Okay, guys," he said, barreling into the rehearsal room and stepping onto the makeshift stage, which was nothing more than a platform at the head of the room. He added a take-charge edge to his voice, leveling a serious stare at each of them scattered around the room.

"This bitching lately has to stop. We have a job to do and that is to sound good. That job is to make music, to make waves, to make people sit up, and turn it up. I'm here to do that. Scratch that, I'm here to orchestrate that. If you didn't need me, I wouldn't be here, so if you're not here to work with me, and if you're not here to do that job, pick up your instrument and get out. Those that choose to stay are here to record an album and plan a tour that will knock fans on their asses."

He should get mad more often-all six of them, the band and Rod, stared straight at him, watching him, wide eyed like children in trouble. But none of them moved. JC nodded, hands on his hips, satisfied he'd made his point.

"Rod." He pointed, and then snapped his fingers to the platform. "Get up here. Bring your guitar. Let's go through verse two of Evil Side of Me, with the changes." Rod obeyed, slipping the guitar strap around his neck, poised to play, watching JC for the cue.

"Duke."  Reluctantly, he stood. JC was amazed he didn't check out, but was happy he stayed. Duke was a talented guitarist and JC had plans for him. "You're too loud and you're coming in too soon, you're riding all over Rod and competing for sound. Pull it back. You have a part, and that is to accent the lead. Play your part right and people will hear you, don't worry about that. Just have a good time. Alright?" Duke nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Contrite, but grudgingly so. "Alright, get up here."

One by one, JC placed the band members on the platform, as he'd had them arranged in his mind. Rod was front and center. Cole, the drummer, was back and center. Sam was on Rod's right, JC on keyboards and Duke on guitar was to Rod's left. He stepped back, rubbing his chin, chewing his bottom lip, finally making his way back to the platform and stepping behind the multiple sets of keyboards.

"Okay, guys. This is our formation. I don't have you here because I'm on an ego trip and I want to be the focus. We all know that's Rod."  A murmur of laughter crossed the room. JC relaxed and fell into his new role as the man in charge.

"I have you here because I can hear everyone. Everyone can hear me. Everyone can hear each other and you each have a piece of the stage. Everybody shines." Each man nodded as his eyes traveled the room. There was no tension, only eager anticipation to start playing. "So since everybody shines, that means everybody has to be good, which means we have to rehearse. From the top."

Cole counted off the song with four loud clacks of wooden sticks. A gritty tenor filled the room as Rod broke into the verse, his fingers working the guitar as if it were an extension of him, a part of his body. JC backed him, his voice almost echoing Rod's in a sweet harmony. Duke and Sam dropped in perfectly on cue.

Finally, finally, finally. A cohesive sound from the band, where everyone complemented one another and no one was riding over someone else, and everyone worked together. JC's fingers slid over the keys and he couldn't hide his grin. He felt like he could cry, if that was a manly thing to do.

‘This is what it's supposed to sound like.'

They played into their usual 10 second fadeout and then the room was silent, everyone watching JC for his reaction. He stood at the keyboard, nodding his head.

"That was good, guys. Real good. Now we're getting somewhere." Not excited, so they wouldn't get to comfortable with making him happy. "We'll go over that one again tomorrow, but I think it's ready to record. Let's move on to Can't Get Enough.  Why don't you guys come around the keyboards and we'll go over the changes."

~ ~ ~

JC hoped these 4am rehearsal endings weren't going to become a habit. His body was starting to adjust to the new time zone and 4am actually felt like 4am, not 1am as it had felt the night before. He fell into his car, dreading the long, sleepy drive across Orlando, to Winter Park, to home. He was hungry, though and tired. Home called him, harder than it had ever called before.

Forty five minutes later, he was nearing his neighborhood. He passed the Publix, half a smile crossing his lips, remembering the woman he'd seen there yesterday, wondering if he'd ever see her again. She seemed nice, kind of cute. He was always up for meeting someone new. Maybe she could distract him from the hole in his heart in the shape of Kim.

He was pretty sure he remembered the car she drove-slick, shiny black Mercedes coupe, tinted windshield, some kind of charm or necklace hanging from the rearview mirror. Without even thinking about how creepy it was, he decided he'd just keep an eye out for her. Maybe run into her again, accidentally on purpose.

Shelby

‘I am so fucking crazy. Crazy!'

It was 4:30 am. Shelby was awake and headed to the store. She needed...milk? Milk. Right. At 4:30 in the morning. Hair done, washed and blow dried and shiny, cascading over her shoulders, casually dressed in tight jeans and a form fitting t-shirt and flip flops, to show off her freshly painted toes. A light dusting of powder, mascara, some lip gloss, her new designer shades and a spritz of body spray.  

‘Oh my God," she ranted to herself, the bright blue and green Publix sign coming into view just ahead. Her heartbeat sped up, almost double time. ‘I look crazy. I'm not gonna see him two days in a row. I shouldn't even get my hopes up. I don't even know why I'm going. I totally look like I got dolled up to go to the fucking grocery store. For milk! And if he's in there, it's totally going to look like I'm trying to make up for looking like ass yesterday.'

Shelby pulled into a spot near the entrance, turned off the car, and stepped inside the brightly lit store, a list in one hand, cute little designer purse in the other.

"Ugh, I can't even stand myself right now. Why am I here? I'm so ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" Shelby whipped around, startled by a voice, not realizing anyone would be around to hear her. One of the janitors was behind her, dust mop in hand, dark brown eyes quizzically staring at her.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head, dumping her purse into a cart and pushing it forward. "Just... sorry. Nothing."

Shelby quickly marked items off of her list-things she didn't really need, but thought maybe it would be nice to have. Things she just had to come and pick up at 4am, with her hair done and makeup on and her best jeans and that shirt she loved that hit her waist just right. She was not, absolutely not, subconsciously looking for him. He wasn't crazy like her, frequenting grocery stores before sunrise, while no one else in the world was awake.

She didn't see him. She didn't expect to, but was still disappointed to not run into him. Despondent, she unloaded the items from her cart and stood in the checkout line, watched the clerk bag them and set the bags in the cart, paid for her groceries and slowly wheeled the cart to her car.

Maybe somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, she thought she might see him again. And maybe she was hoping to make up for the day before, when she looked so terrible, and maybe show him what she really looked like when she put some effort into it.  Shelby sighed, popping the trunk.

And then maybe he'd ask her out, and they'd have a great time and keep dating and live happily ever after. Or maybe (and more realistically) they'd just hook up and have some mind-blowing sex. Blow off some steam. It had been a long, long time since she'd even felt like having sex. She barely remembered what it was like to enjoy it. He simply oozed it. She could use some of that, right about now.

Of course it wouldn't be just the sex, that she'd be interested in. She'd never met a celebrity before. Not a real one, anyway. Lucas knew a lot of high powered people and she'd met them all, but no one that anyone would recognize if they walked down the street. Or ran into her with their grocery cart. None of them had that smile or those eyes or that voice. None of them seemed amazingly down to earth and normal. Any celebrity that did his own shopping at 4am was nowhere near spoiled-he was just trying to survive like everyone else.

Shelby began transferring bags from the cart to her car, mentally berating herself.  ‘I can't even believe I was actually putting effort into it. Like, really trying to meet him again, after bawling my eyes out over Lucas earlier-"

"Hey, there. Thought you looked familiar."   Shelby froze, her hands hanging in mid air, tan plastic grocery bag dangling from two fingers.

That voice. It was him. ‘Holy. Fuck. It's. Him.  What do I do?!'

Her body wouldn't move, no matter how hard she tried to casually turn around and flip her hair back and give him a bright smile. The most she could do was turn her head, slowly, and look at his feet, clad  in red and black sneakers, and let her eyes travel up his body-over jeans that pooled at the ankles and were loose all the way up the leg and hung low on his hips. She tried hard to skip over the bulge at the junction of his jeans but... she couldn't. Her gaze lingered there longer than she'd planned. God. She wondered if the rumors about him and his...assets... were true.

Shelby resisted licking her lips, tore her eyes away from his groin and forced them up. Up over the Ed Hardy hoodie he wore with the grey t-shirt underneath and what appeared to be a ring of dried sweat around the collar. She wondered what he'd been doing, that he was sweating so hard. And why he was out at 4am again. Was he with someone? And then came to talk to her? Asshole.

A pang shot through her. Felt like envy. She hated herself for feeling it.

Her eyes finally made it to a long, thin face, with more than a 5 o'clock shadow growing, a nose that should really detract from his looks but oddly enhanced them, and two gorgeous pools of sparkling blue that were narrowed and hooded as he stared at her, a wrinkle of concern spreading across his forehead.

"Uhm. Are you okay? Do you need-well, here, let me help you with that."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and let him reach around her for the rest of the bags in her cart and watched him gingerly place them in the trunk. He stepped back and smiled. She stared, speechless.

"Oh, this too? Let me...uh..." JC stepped forward again, took the bag that was hanging from her fingers and placed it among the others. "That's it? Anything else going in here? Better grab your purse."

Shelby just about smacked herself, trying to bring her mind into focus, grabbing her purse and sliding it onto her arm. "Thank you. I appreciate your help." She smiled up at him, hoping she didn't look like a lovesick teenager. It was just that he was so... so close and so much better looking in person than on TV and in pictures, and she looked better, she thought, this time around andohmyGodpleasetalktome.

"Uh, do you wanna-- I was gonna close this..." JC had one hand on the top of the trunk and was moving to close it, asking for permission with a raised eyebrow. Shelby nodded and stepped back.  The trunk closed with a soft thunk, after which he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and shrugged his shoulders. An uncomfortable smile drifted between them, as if each one expected the other to say something.  

"So, uhm. I guess you like to shop this early, too."  Shelby inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. Lame.

"Sometimes," he answered, glancing up at the neon green Publix sign outside of the store. "Sometimes it's just somewhere to go. And it's open, and cool. It can be almost 70 degrees at 6am, so..." JC shrugged again, bobbing his head from one side to the other. Shelby thought that was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

"Yeah, I totally get that. Not a lot of places are open this early. Or... late. Miami is a 24 hour city. I'm surprised at how this place slows down at night."

"Mmhmm," he said, nodding. "Yeah, I uh... have spent some time down in Miami. It is like that, yeah. LA, too. I'm starting to miss that. I mean, there's places open, just..."

"When you get used to being able to get whatever you want at 3am, you just can't settle for waffles at Sheri's." He nodded, looking relieved that she commiserated. Honestly, she was relieved that he understood. "I don't sleep well," she confessed. "There's usually no one here this time of morning. It's peaceful. A safe place to walk around, at least."

His eyes sparkled, giving her a warning that a joke was coming. "Until some jackass runs into your cart and ruins the whole experience."

She laughed, just starting to relax, enjoying this encounter much more than the previous one. "Right. Or some jackass is in the way of your cart." 

He laughed, much to her delight. She made him laugh! It was a great sound, so genuine, and deep and chesty and chuckle inducing itself. She wanted to hear it, again. And again and again. JC pulled his hands from his pockets and then didn't seem to know what to do with them. If she was feeling brave, Shelby would have reached out, toward one of his hands and held it. Or at least shook it.

He gestured toward the automatic doors, opening and closing as people were walking in and out. The city was waking up. "Well, uh...I better head in and pick up my stuff. My day starts around noon. Gotta get home and get some rest. But uhm. It was nice seeing you, again."

Shelby could not imagine why they couldn't just stand around smiling at each other and laughing at lame jokes until sunrise. "Yeah, you too. Maybe we'll do it again... sometime." ‘So help me God, if I have to come to this store every day, I will.'

JC turned before walking inside, the greatest grin on his face. "That would be nice. That would be really nice. Take care, honey." He gave her a nod, just a tip of his head and wiggled a few fingers at her in a wave, then turned and walked inside. Sauntered inside. Goddamn, that man was sexy.

Shelby unlocked her car door and poured herself inside, then slumped forward onto the steering wheel, trying not to scream. That would just be ridiculous, and so immature. But.... Honey. He called her honey.

JC

‘That was slick. Real slick.'  

JC smiled to himself, wandering the store, pretty proud. Feeling good about that encounter. He would just walk around for a few minutes, give her a chance to pull out and be on her way before going back out to his car. He didn't need anything from the store, but as he was passing the lot, he saw her pull in and park and couldn't help it. He pulled in behind her and watched her get out of the car, mumbling to herself.

She'd made up for the day before-that she tried to was completely obvious. He appreciated the effort, and thought that was cute. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful even, but that was no surprise. He was impressed, as he knew he would be, at what she looked like when she tried. Truth be told, he liked her just fine in yoga pants and messy hair. It gave him an insight into what she'd look like after sex. Not bad.

He tried to decide how long he would wait for her to come back out, since he was starting to feel really creepy. Being stalked, knowing someone saw you go into a store and would be waiting for you to come to launch their assault was unnerving. Yet here he was, doing the same thing to her. He now understood the appeal. After about 20 minutes he'd convinced himself that he was rude asshole and that it was dumb to sit out there.

Besides, he was tired, and rehearsal was starting early-noon instead of 4, because the band had a function to attend later that night. He reached toward the ignition, but out of the corner of his eye spotted the doors opening.

It was her! Walking out, the corners of her mouth in a slight downturn. He wondered why she seemed so sad and subdued. He watched her, slowly rolling the cart to her car and unloading the few bags into the trunk. And then, because he was suddenly brave, he decided to get out of the car, and talk to her.

Despite getting all pretty, she must have really not expected to see him. She was dumbstruck for a few minutes, just staring at him, her brown (he knew they were brown) eyes wide. He kept talking, trying to get her to relax. It worked, and she flashed a pretty smile at him, even laughed a couple of times. He liked the sound of it. The sound of her voice. That dimple in her cheek.

She seemed nice. Not crazy. Thank God. A little hung up, but maybe that would fade... well maybe, if he'd actually asked her out like he thought of doing. Or even... he groaned, inwardly, mentally smacking his forehead. He didn't even get her name!

‘You have no game at all, son. No game. She must think you're an idiot! Maybe...'

Hoping against hope, harder than he'd hoped for anything in a long time, he rushed back outside of the automatic doors. She was one slow chick. She hadn't even pulled out of her spot yet.

Shelby

The short drive home turned into a long one. Shelby was so distracted, her thoughts bouncing from one to another to another like a ping pong ball that she missed her turn for her subdivision. Twice. Her mind was fuzzy, like a thick fog on a cool autumn morning... except her thoughts were nowhere near cool. No, they were blazing hot.

Giddy. Yes, she was giddy. She felt stupid for being so giddy. She was too old to be so excited over meeting him. He was just a man. A nice man. A nice, handsome, famous, sexy, rich man.

Not that the rich part mattered. Thanks to Lucas, she was used to living at a certain level. Since his death, she'd had to adjust her lifestyle, ratcheting things down only slightly. She was never so spoiled that she'd turn her nose up at simple things like an evening eating takeout and watching movies, so the adjustment was barely noticeable, and at least now she could spend her money on things and events she would actually enjoy. Aside from moving to Orlando and buying a home and a car, she hadn't actually spent much of the money sitting in her accounts. Mostly because she felt guilty about it being there, but still, the finer things in life cost money. She liked to enjoy them and was thankful she had the resources to do so.

But yes, that nice, handsome, famous, sexy man had come tearing out of Publix just as she had composed herself and was getting ready to pull out. Marched right up to her window and rapped a knuckle on the glass. Shelby tried hard not to pinch herself as she pressed the lever to slide the window down and he practically shoved his head into the car.

"You doin' okay?"

She nodded, hoping her shaking hands and fingers weren't obvious. "I'm fine. Was just getting ready to pull out. Thanks."

"Just checking. Uh. So, hi." He smiled, chuckling a little. More like a giggle. He was nervous!

"Hi."

"So, I know you know my name, but I don't know yours. Can I? Know your name?"

"Shelby. Morris." She stuck a hand out toward him. He reached through the window and shook it, giving her a squeeze before he let go. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too. So, I was thinkin'... " He hesitated, blinking rapidly, licking his lips. "Maybe you'd want to do a little shopping, later?"

"Shopping?"

He laughed, straightening and stepping away from the car and then moving back, propping his elbow in the window.  "It was a joke. About how we keep seeing each other at the grocery store. Sorry."

"Oh. Because honestly? I just bought a ton of shit I don't need." 

He smiled, laughing a short burst of ‘ha'. "Honestly, I was about to do the same. So..." JC stared, like he was expecting an answer. He hadn't asked a question.

"So...I'm sorry. Were you serious about shopping? I'm confused."

"Oh. Oh, no. Sorry. I just wondered if you were free, later on. If not, maybe we could meet up another time, or..."

‘Oh, no you don't!' "Oh, no, I'm free."  

"Cool. Uh. I don't exactly know what time I'll be done today. I may not get any free time at all, sometimes things pop up and I get caught up in writing, or organizing, since I have paper everywhere and like 4 different notebooks that I keep for music and things like that, but uhm..." He trailed off, like he forgot what he was saying. "Well, anyway. How can I reach you?"

Shelby smirked. "They have these things called cell phones. They're pretty handy. You can call me, on mine. From yours."

He laughed, thank God. Kind of hard, with his eyes closed. "Clever. I guess I deserved that. Could I get that number from you?"

She dug into her purse for a pen and a piece of paper, scribbled her name and number onto the back of the moving company's business card and handed it to him. He stared at it for a few seconds and then slid it into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Great. Thanks. So. I'll give you a call, either way. We could meet up sometime around 8, maybe."

"Sounds good. Looking forward to it."

"Me too. So. Uh... okay. I'll let ya go."

JC stepped back, and shoved his hands in his pockets again, moving to the sidewalk just outside the store entrance. Shelby pulled out of the spot, waiving as she drove past him. He waved back. And in her rearview mirror, as she turned onto the side street that ran alongside the store, he was still standing in the same spot, watching her tail lights retreat.

‘What should I wear? I wonder where we'll go. What should I wear? I wonder what time he'll call. What should I wear?!'

Damn. It was going to be a long day.

JC

‘Dude. You have a date with a girl you met at a grocery store. Do you even know where you're taking her?'

The answer was no, of course. But he wasn't worried about it. He'd come up with something.

What he was worried about was making it through the day, and making enough headway that he'd be able to take off early and not feel guilty about it. What he worried about was sitting across from her somewhere... or next to her, somewhere... and not being able to concentrate on being with her. He needed this date. He needed this time away, to be somewhere other than home, or holed up in a windowless studio with five other guys. He needed the company and pleasure and sight and sound of a woman. A pretty woman. There was something about her, this Shelby, that intrigued him. Something in her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor. When she finally relaxed, he relaxed. He wanted to get to know her.

‘Well,' he thought to himself, ‘let's be honest, now.'

He wanted to fuck her.

JC wanted to have hot, steamy sex with this Shelby girl, this hot little thing he met at the grocery store, who seemed to want it, too if he read her right. He could use some sex, it had been a while. Six weeks, almost exactly. In fact, the day that Rod called him about taking this job, when he woke up next to that bony, passed out chick in Covina was the last sex he'd had. It had been even longer since he'd had meaningful sex, with a girl he actually liked and wouldn't mind seeing outside of the bedroom. Or off of the kitchen counter. Or even if she wasn't up against a wall, moaning his name and screaming dirty, nasty things into the air, he'd be okay with it. He had a feeling that this girl, Shelby, was going to be one of those girls.

But first he wanted to get to know her, to decide if the need to fuck her came from the fact that he was missing Kim like he'd miss an arm, or because she was an engaging, beautiful, sexy little thing. He hoped it was the latter.

By the time he finally made it home, bands of sunlight threatened over the horizon and peeked through the blinds in the living room. JC pulled the car into the garage and headed straight through the kitchen and up the steps. Yawning, he peeled his clothes off, down to his underwear, and scratched his belly as he rolled into the bed. He laid on his stomach and pointed a remote at the TV that hung in the corner of the room.

It didn't matter what was on-he wasn't watching it, anyway. It was just noise to drown out the thoughts that kept coming and kept coming and kept coming.  After a few minutes, he snapped the TV off again and flipped to his back, staring at the ceiling, watching the fan make endless revolutions. Around and around, it turned, providing a light breeze that cut through early morning mugginess, when the cool of the night was giving way to the heat of the day. It needed to be dusted.

Finally he gave in, tucking one hand behind his head, the other under the band of his boxers.

He closed his eyes, filling his mind with her face, from the dimple in her cheek to her long, elegant neck, to that dip at the bottom of her throat. His breathing sped up, matching the rate of his heart beat and the speed of his palm along the rigid length. Pulling and twisting and groaning and breathing deeply, his mind raced with images--the curve of her breasts and the telltale twin signs of arousal poking out of the t-shirt she wore. He pictured her walk, that great ass and the way it moved in those pants she wore yesterday. He heard her voice in his head, loved how it was sort of husky and sexy, and how it dug right under his skin and danced across his nerve endings and... uuummmnnnggghhhh...

His head rocked back in sweet relief as he panted, catching his breath. The fan, coupled with the sheen of sweat over his skin cooled him, though his blood boiled redhot.  His eyes grew heavy, but his mind was still alive with the thought that he would see her again. Soon.

Shit. It was going to be a long day.