Shelby

Shelby was slowly finding solace in the new life she was building, like maybe this move far, far away from anything and everything she'd ever known was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Being out of her comfort zone and away from a lifestyle she had become accustomed to, maybe even depended on, pushed her into doing things she thought a twenty-something year old woman should be doing. Going on dates and having fun, putting one foot in front of the other, making it in the world on the merit of her own hard work and life skills. Not hanging on the arm of a man nearly 20 years her senior, playing the trophy girlfriend while trying not to notice the glares of the women that were married to his colleagues. The days may be droll and monotonous and the nights low-key now, but at least they were her own, and not dedicated to whatever event Lucas had committed them to-symphony or ballet or some Executive Retreat at the Keys. The golf tournaments were the worst. Boring game.

And, instead of wandering a huge, empty, mausoleum of a house, watching the help clean and cook and do the same damn thing they did the day before, in the same way, at the same time, Shelby was humming to music on the radio, organizing books in the bookcase in the study, and digging around in the dirt behind the house. In the distance, the chimes of her cell phone rang out over the soft jazz playing over the speakers on the patio. Shelby checked her watch and her stomach lurched. It could actually be JC calling!

‘Walk, don't run. If you miss his call, you can call him back.'

Shelby found her phone on a patio table next to the very chair she'd sat in a few nights before, staring up at the sky, wondering when her life would fall into place. What a difference a day made.

"Hi," she chirped into the phone, hoping she sounded breezy and casual and not overly eager.

"Hey. Uh... can I speak to Shelby?" His voice was muffled by background noise, like wind. Or like he was in his car.

"Oh, I'm hurt. You didn't recognize my voice."

"Actually, I did," he answered. He sounded amused. "I was being polite, in case you had a sister or mom or something that sounded like you."

"Oh. Well I don't. It's just me."

"Well. Hi, then." He laughed, which made her laugh, and then there was that awful, awkward silence and pregnant pause that said, ‘now what?' "So, how are you?"

"I'm really good. You? How was your uhm... workday? Is that what you call it when you work till noon and get off early?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Actually, I ended up not... really working. It is a workday though."

Shelby sat in the nearest patio chair, stretching her feet out in front of her, basking in the sun. It was a beautiful day, calm and relaxing, and about to be a beautiful night.

"So what did you do, if you didn't work?"

"Uh, I hung out. Took care of some stuff. Ran some errands, and uhm... I thought I would give you a call and see what was up."

"Nothing's up, here. Just, enjoying the day." ‘Putting it out there, in 3...2...1...'"I'm excited about maybe meeting up with you. Hoping the maybe turns into a definitely."

She almost heard him smile across the line. "It can, if you're up for it. Maybe we could run into each other at Antigua. Do you know where that is? Downtown?"

"I'll find it. What time should I run into you, down there?"

"Let's say... 8 o' clock? I'll try to grab a table in the back. Look for me."

"Okay. I'll uhm... look for you around 8, at Antigua."

"Sounds great. I'll uh... look for you, too." 

More awkward silences full of smiles, on both ends it seemed, and then the call ended and Shelby could finally take a full deep breath. And try not to freak out.

Something in the tone of his voice caught her attention-a flirty, sexy, expectant tone, like he was already sure how the evening would pan out. She laughed to herself, plotting, not sure at all if she would fulfill his expectation or leave him wanting more.

JC

JC had been working nonstop since he got to town. If he wasn't in the studio, he was at the house, trying to sort through his old lives and start a new one. The long days and longer nights were starting to wear him, put him in a bad mood. A day off would do him good. It also gave him all day to wander his house and anticipate his date.

He went to sleep thinking of Shelby. Woke up thinking of Shelby. Thought of Shelby throughout most of the day, while he took care of errands he hadn't had time to finish during the week. Tried to play it casual, calling her while on the way back from the post office, instead of earlier when he was sitting on his couch, staring at the phone in one hand, the card with her name scribbled on the back in loopy print in the other, willing himself to pick it up and dial her number.

JC told himself-warned himself-to not expect anything, and not to get his hopes up. He'd get nowhere if he made her uncomfortable by feeling like he expected anything. And he didn't but if she was giving, he was taking. If he worked it right, he could have a nice, pretty little buddy. A friend. Or more than a friend. Whatever it was called, it meant he could have regular sex. He just had to play it cool.

Still, he picked up around the house. Showered and shaved, and washed his favorite jeans and spent too long picking out a shirt to wear, finally settling on a casual t-shirt with a short sleeve button down over it. Combed his hair without really looking at it. Slipped on a pair of shades and headed to the garage, whistling a little ditty he just made up in his head.

He ducked into the car and double checked himself. Wallet? Check. Aftershave? Do you stink, boy? Check-err, no. Confidence and a good attitude? Check. He stretched, popped his neck, exhaled a calming breath and turned the key in the ignition.

As he backed out of the driveway and watched the wide garage door close in front of him, a thought niggled at him. Something about Kim, namely that he hadn't thought of Kim all day. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't wake up wondering why he was awake, when he'd rather be asleep and dreaming of her. Last night had been the first night in a long time he'd gone to sleep without digging out his wallet, flipping it open to the photo of them at last year's Lover's Lane themed Maxim party and staring at it, wondering what went wrong, and where, and how he could have changed it. Maybe this Shelby girl was going to help him turn over a new leaf.

He hated to admit that Rod and his manager and his parents and friends were right. Coming back to Orlando was a good thing, for him. Even if he wasn't going to stay, getting away from LA, where the hope of seeing her kept his pain alive, was probably the best thing he could have done for himself. He was happy with his decision, finally. Maybe not so happy with the job, but happy to be back home.

Church Street in downtown Orlando was pretty much Bar Row. No matter what you were in the mood for, you could probably find it along this stretch of city street-pubs, jazz clubs, microbreweries, and dive bars all shared pretty much the same mile of real estate. It made picking a party spot pretty easy, and if one place was packed, there were always several others to choose from.

Antigua, of course, was run by a friend of his, a buddy from way back in the day. Every time JC was in town, he stopped by, so he hadn't really paid for drinks since about 2001. The bartender wasn't in anyway impressive, but free was a good price, even if you were so rich you had no idea how much money you actually had.

JC was early on purpose. He wanted to scope the place out, grab the good table in the corner with the nice view of the stage but away from the speakers, so they could talk. Just before 8 o'clock, and just as the music that blared through the speakers mounted on the walls changed to a driving, hard rock beat, he saw her. Shelby was there, making her way to the back of the club, under the arch of the doorway, looking around. Looking for him.

She looked like she put a lot of effort into looking casual. Her hair looked the same as it had at 5am that day-long, dark straight down her back, framing her face. Just how he liked it. Her jeans made him twitch, the way they hugged her curves as she finally saw him, hanging half out of the booth, waving like a fool, and made her way over to him.  He only saw her shirt as she slid into the seat across from him. Tiger print....growl. She was wearing a black bra that was visible through the thin, silky v-neck shirt that he promised himself he wouldn't stare at, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep that promise.  Shelby was playing hardball.

"You made it. Good to see you," he managed to say, through his grin that was ridiculously wide. She looked good. Smelled good, from the light scent that drifted across the table. He felt like an idiot. He shouldn't be this excited. He met beautiful women every day.

"I told you I'd find it," she said with a smile, her eyes floating up and around at the décor. "So, this place is cool." He watched her check the place out, proud that she was impressed, pointing out his favorite areas-the sections that looked like porches from old southern colonial homes, the arched doorways, the high back leather seats, the general atmosphere. She listened and smiled and nodded and laughed and he agreed with himself that her smile was warm and bubbly but not annoying.

"Well, so," JC said, laying his hands out on the table. "We have so much to talk about. Like... everything."

"I know! It's so exciting meeting someone new. But it's so weird because, you know. I know who you are and everything."

"Right, but you don't know me, know me. See, there's lots of things people don't know about me."

"Really." She paused and leaned in, tilting her head like she expected to hear a secret "Like?"

He leaned in as well, a slow smile crawling his face, a flirty dip of his eyes to her blouse. "Like, all of a sudden, I really like Tiger print."

Shelby laughed, her smile bright, her tongue curled behind her teeth, but didn't blush. Good girl. No need to be modest. Plus, then he didn't have to spend a lot of time working up her self esteem, complimenting her, convincing her that he found her attractive. He liked her confidence. A lot. She had to know that if he saw her, for real, that he'd like what he saw. She was right.

A few minutes of idle, nervous chitchat passed. JC cleared his throat and realized he was parched. Or really, he just needed a minute to collect himself.

"I was just heading up to the bar. Can I bring you anything to drink? A beer, or some wine or something?"

"Uhm..." Her eyes drifted to the bar and back to him. "Don't think I'm a drunk or anything, but I'm dying for a shot of Patron. I haven't had it in...awhile."

His head rocked back in shock. Patron to start? Shelby was his kind of woman. "I don't think that's weird at all. You want it mixed with anything?"

Shelby looked offended at the question. "It's Patron. The whole point is to not mix it with anything."

"I knew that," JC replied, laughing. "I was just asking. Being polite."

"Stop being polite. I'll take a beer to go with it, though," she added with a wink. "Whatever's cold, in a bottle."

JC headed to the bar, smiling to himself. Of course he hadn't met a girl who liked frilly, frozen, pink drinks. She shot tequila straight. God, he hoped this worked out.

Shelby

Shelby watched JC walk toward the bar, emptying her lungs slowly, steadily, and then breathing deeply. Be calm, stay cool. So far, so good.

She was proud of herself, being a little daring and a lot sexy. Lucas would have a fit if a hint of anything showed. Tonight, her entire back was on display in a blouse that was so sheer, she should have worn a camisole under it but opted not to. And with great results, since JC was practically drooling. She sat up straight, adjusted the shirt, made sure it hung just right. She felt a little like an attention whore, but only for a few minutes. It was fun.

Since he was gone, Shelby could actually look around the club, admiring the feel and the energy. The music was great, loud but not overpowering. The seating was ample, which was rare, in a club. Tables were often reserved for VIP patrons who ordered bottle service. At least, that was how it worked in the clubs in Miami. In Orlando, where much of the clientele had to be parents tired of wrangling kids back and forth to Disney all day and UCF students just looking to get drunk and do it cheaply, the rules could be different.

The air was electric, Prince's Kiss soaring out of the speakers and everyone in the place bobbing their heads and shaking their hips and singing along. She missed it, a lot. Being back among the crowd, the people, the atmosphere made her reconsider getting some mousy library job, or taking classes. She could go back to bartending, what she was doing when she met Lucas.

It was funny-not laugh, funny but peculiar, funny-how back then, tending bar was just a means to an end. It was fun, but more than that, it paid the bills. Renee and Bob paid for tuition and books and fees at Miami University. They refused to pay room and board for her to live in the same city when she could live at home, for free, so she would have to cover that on her own. They bought her a car but didn't cover the insurance. And of course, any entertainment was her expense. She worked small time jobs, biding her time until she was legal. At 21 yrs and one day, she walked into a bar, put in an application and started waitressing, and when she had enough money, she moved into a small apartment just off campus. Soon she was helping out in the bar, learning from some of the best barkeeps in the city, and when the Bartender took a leave of absence, took over for him.

It was love at first pour. Shelby felt like the area behind the bar was her domain, her Kingdom, and she was the Queen. What she said went, and she ran her Kingdom with two fists-- one filled with a bottle of vodka, the other tequila. She loved when new people would come in, eyeing her with a skeptical glance, like she'd never heard of their amazingly complicated and specific drink. And then, the raised eyebrow as they tasted it, cynicism turning into admiration. A good drink equaled a good tip. Shelby had earned many a good tip.

Tending bar paid well. Paid the bills, and then some, but for some reason Shelby always felt like she was behind, robbing Peter to pay Paul to keep up a lifestyle she couldn't afford. She worked an upscale bar with sometimes well-known clientele. "The Look" was important, so as soon as money came in, it went to bills and clothes and shoes and hair-looking the part of the attractive, alluring bartender, singing the siren song of liquor. Time was always a crunch, and since she always had a paper due or a test to study for, a slow night was a double edged sword. It gave her time to catch up on schoolwork, but it took money out of her pocket. A packed bar, on the other hand, meant lots of money, but no time to catch up on homework. Falling behind meant she'd have to pay for school on her own. If she thought money was tight then, adding several thousand dollars, several times a year in tuition and fees and books increased the already tremendous weight on her shoulders.

Enter Lucas Samuels. He seemed like a knight in shining armor at the time. And in some ways, he was. He was nice man, an older man. A regular, depending on the season. Some nights he came in after some stuffy function, loosened his tie, slid onto a seat at the bar and sat there until closing. Talking to her, listening to her bitch about how difficult her life was. She saw now what she didn't see then. The trap.

Shelby blinked, bringing herself out of her trip down memory lane, nostalgia brought on by the scent of draft beer. ‘Time to live in the here, and the now.' Here and now, a man who was likely to try and get into her pants (at least she hoped, and he had a pretty good chance at succeeding) was on his way back to their table. Two shots with a slice of lime in one hand, two beers in the other. My, he was talented.

"Okay, here we go. Now, I don't normally do shots, but I hate the thought of you doing one alone, so I got one, too." The shots were lined up between them, the beers to the side for backup. JC slid into the booth across from her and, without even thinking, his tongue flicked out of his mouth and lapped up a few drops of tequila from the palm of his hand. A twinge twisted her insides like a vise.

"We should uhm, toast to something," Shelby suggested, lifting her glass. "What do you want to toast to?"

"Mmm. Good question." JC rubbed his hands together and rolled his eyes up, making a big show out of thinking. "So, you're new here, right? And I'm back in town after a long time away. How about something lame, like new beginnings?"

If only he knew how meaningful that would be. "That's not lame at all. It's appropriate, actually. New beginnings, fresh starts, new lives. Drink up."

The shot glasses made a thick clinking sound as they connected, and then together they licked the salt from the rims, tipped their heads back and let the liquor slide down their throats, then followed with a wedge of lime, sucking down the sweetness, filtering the bite of alcohol and helping to quell the burn.

"Holy shit." JC blinked, taking a long drag off of a dark amber bottle of beer. "It's been awhile. Whew." His face was slightly pink but he was grinning.

Shelby was, too. "Mmmhmm. The Inaugural shot is always good.  Yeah it's been a long time. That was good. May need another one, soon."

JC winced, licking his lips, taking another sip off of his bottle. "About how long? You're not like, sober or anything and I'm helping you be an alcoholic again, are you?"

"Me? Sober?" Shelby tried to make her eyebrows lower but they seemed to be stuck in surprise."Hell, no. It's been... hmmmm...." Shelby thought back to the last time she had a drink. A real drink.

It had to have been the night the settlement was approved. That was a good night. She'd gone out that night, knowing that the next day would bring bitchy, demanding, and therefore unanswered phone calls from Lucas' children. She figured she'd better celebrate the small, hollow victory while she had the chance. That was the last thing, until tonight that she had celebrated.

"It's been about a year, I guess," Shelby finally answered, feeling his stare.

"Wow. I feel kind of like a drunk, then. It's been about a month, for me."

"Time for us both to catch up, then." She picked up her bottle of beer and tapped it against his, then took a long sip. Then sat back, and heaved a sigh, and smiled across the table.

JC

He hoped that smile meant something good, like he hadn't offended her by asking about her drinking. He hadn't meant anything by it.

‘Don't screw this up. She's giving off so many ‘fuck me' vibes. Just do not screw this up!'

In an attempt to change the subject, he asked, "So, what do you do?" but the look he got back from her was weird. Her eyes dropped to the table and the corners of her mouth pulled down, and when she looked back up she was sucking on that great bottom lip of hers.

"Right now...well, right now is truly a new start. I left Miami in kind of a hurry. I've been in Orlando, literally, for four days. I don't really do anything, yet. And I don't know what I really want to do. But in a previous life, I was a Bartender. This place kind of makes me want to be one, again."

"The Patron lecture. I get it, now." Shelby laughed, picking salt off of the rim of her glass with a finger, then poking it into her mouth and licking it off. He couldn't take his eyes off of that finger.

 "Forgive me, I'm a little bit of a know-it-all. Can't help it, I was trained by one."

"Hey, I didn't say you didn't know your stuff. So, maybe you'll go back to tending bar? One of my buddies runs this place-I could introduce you. If you're interested."

She stared blankly, speechless for a moment, then stuttered out a few words of gratitude.

‘Easy. Don't overwhelm her.'

"I understand where you're coming from, though. You know, the... not knowing what you really want to do. I've been back here for four days. Trying to do something different. I don't know how this is going to work out."

"You don't like what you do? You seem pretty good at it."

"Yeah, I mean...I like it. I wouldn't do it, otherwise. I just have been doing it so long. Sometimes, I feel like I need something more. Something to push me and make me do things I don't think I can actually do. So that's why I'm back, here. To fail at something, I guess. If that makes any sense."

She nodded. "Working with Rod. He seems like a piece of work."

"Uhm, I guess he can be." JC hated to talk badly about people-it had a way of getting around-but she had a point, and Rod made it hard to argue with her.

"You just have to know him, though, really. He's a good guy, deep down. He just has to play the game, you know. And I get it; I was in his place, once. You're young, you've more money than God, and certainly more than you've ever had in your life. There are... needs and wants and it's fun to satisfy them." JC glanced up at Shelby, finding her paying rapt attention. He winked, and reached for the empty shot glass, mindlessly picking the salt off of it while he kept talking. "The record label says, you know, go spend your money. Cause some trouble; get your name in the paper. But not too much, don't drag our rep down. And if you don't want there to be, there's no one around, really, to tell you no."

"Yeah..." Shelby nodded, her eyes downcast, again. Something in her tone told him she understood all too well what he meant. "It gets old, though."

"Eventually." He sat back against the leather seat, and tossed his arm up on the back of the booth. "Eventually the money isn't entertaining enough. I mean, after you buy all the shit you never could buy, before, what else is there to waste money on but booze and chicks. It's no wonder people get caught up in drugs and sex and all that. And right now, Rod is running the race. Trying to suck all the fun out of it before it gets old, and showing up to an event is work and not a good time. Like right now, we have an album we're writing, we're redoing some of his old stuff, and we have a tour we're putting together. When I see you at 5 in the morning, I'm just leaving the studio. That's work, not play. That's why you have to love what you do."

"I see that."

JC rambled and Shelby sat there, staring while he rambled, but not wide eyed. There was understanding and a little bit of commiseration, there. Still, he felt bad about dominating the conversation and talking so much. It was a habit that he had never been able to break. Soon, his mind would start to move faster than his tongue and he would begin to stutter.

 "Sorry," he said, "for going on and on. I tend to do that. Ask me about the weather, and I'll probably answer with something like, ‘You know what I read about clouds...' and I won't shut up for awhile." He blushed and sucked down a long swallow of his beer. Stalling for time so he didn't keep talking.

Shelby laughed. "I heard that about you. I don't mind at all. Talk away."

"Well, you talk some, now. I don't want to be all ‘listen to me' all night."

"Okay," said Shelby, playing with her empty bottle, rolling it around the table, back and forth, in an arc."What do you want to know?"

"Well, you said this morning that you don't sleep well. Any reason? Or is that a dumb question, because if you knew, you'd be able to sleep?"

There it was, again. That look, the downturn and the hiding her eyes. ‘Stop doing that,' he screamed at himself, even though he had no idea what he was ‘doing'. He was just asking questions.

"Okay, you know what?" She sat forward, her arms resting on the table, her hands reaching across and long, thin fingers playing with his. "I'm enjoying myself. So, let's make a pact. We can talk, but no pasts, no futures. There are reasons I don't sleep. I'm thinking about them a lot, tonight and I don't want to. I really want to concentrate on this, right now. And for sure, you don't want to talk about who you used to be. And what you're running from. Right?"

"Right."

He was mesmerized by her, by her take-charge attitude, and that she didn't seem shy at all, and now there was added mystery.  

"So we have a deal?"

"Deal," he said, looping one of his fingers around one of hers and leaving it there. "So can I ask about your family? Or does that count as past?"

"No, you can ask. What do you want to know?"

"Do they live here?"

She shook her head, tipping the bottle to her lips with her free hand. She didn't seem to want him to let go of the other one, so he didn't. "Miami," she said after a swallow. "Retired. I'm an only child, born to my parents kind of late in life. They weren't supposed to be able to have me. Then, one day my mom was sick as a dog and went to the doctor. ‘Oh,' he says. ‘You're pregnant, Renee.'Shock of her life, she says."

"Like, how old were they?"

"Mom was..." Her eyes rolled up, in thought. "She was almost 40, I think. Dad was near 50. I mean, it was a shock. But to me, I never knew any different. I thought everyone's dad had grey hair and took Geritol."

He laughed, long and hard. She was the best kind of funny, without really trying to be.

"Your family lives here, in Orlando, right?"

"They do," he answered with a nod. "Real close, so that's another nice thing about being back here. My mom kind of straddles Florida and Chicago, back and forth. My dad works kind of everywhere, but he's here a lot. My sister's been here since... forever. And uh, my brother just moved back, after he finished Law School out west. So, I'm the last kid to return to the roost, I guess. Even if it's only temporary."

Shelby drew her lips in, pressed them together and nodded. "So... you will be going back to LA, eventually."

"Uhm... future," he answered, pointing at her with the neck of his bottle. She dipped her head and giggled.

Truthfully, at that very moment, he wasn't at all sure that he'd be going back to LA. Who knew how Orlando would grow on him after a year. Not only was his family in Orlando, but his real, true, knew-him-before-he-was-a-big-shot friends were there. And Chris and Joey had stayed there and were thriving. LA was great when you could keep up with the lifestyle, but he was in his 30's, and already more mature than the general population of Los Angeles. It was it's own corner of the Universe, it's own ecosystem and style and mode of living. He didn't think he had the energy for it, anymore. The slow pace of Orlando, the even slower pace of quaint Winter Park, the lack of press and the feeling of more privacy in the last four days than he'd had in the last ten years was nice. He could get used to it. And it wasn't like LA wasn't a five hour flight away, if needed to get there in a hurry.

And then there was this sexy little thing sitting in front of him. She had potential, if he decided to stay.

JC thought it might be hard to come up with things to talk about, since they couldn't talk about the past or the future, but Shelby made keeping things in the here and now fun. They talked about everything and nothing, from favorite foods (she loved Mexican), to the name of their most cherished pet (she had a parakeet named Tweetie), to favorite color (she was partial to green, but liked red and of course black). She liked jazz and art and independent films and sci-fi, like him. She preferred a sunrise to a sunset, though she'd rather sleep through both, if she could. Her middle name was Jean. The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

A bold statement about unusual athletic ability led to a Dart Tournament in which Shelby beat him by a mile. He kind of let her win-he wasn't much into darts, but if he wanted to win, he could have. He really just wanted an excuse to stand behind her, checking out the see-through back of that Tiger print shirt she wore, imagining his hands up under it. Watching her hair swing and the line of her body as she threw dart after dart. And of course that perfect, perfect round ass. After three games, unfortunately, she was tired. They returned the dart set to the Bartender and made their way to the door.

JC had a problem. A quandary. He wasn't quite ready for the evening to end. But he also wasn't ready to ask if she wanted to keep the party going at his house. It was warm and the streets were busy, crawling with people going in and out of bars and clubs and shops and stores. They stood around the entrance for a few minutes making a little small talk, doing a lot of flirting. She didn't seem to want the date to be over, either.

No reason it should, he decided. "Are you hungry?" Girls always liked to eat. Especially if he was paying.

To his surprise, she shrugged. "I had a little to eat at home, before I came out. I could go for dessert, though."  For a second, he thought she was hinting and maybe he was ready to ask her back to his place. It took a minute before he realized she meant actual dessert.  Damn.

"Oh, just a warning, I can be a pig when it comes to dessert. Let me think what's around here..." Again, he cursed the fact that he wasn't in LA. Sweet Love Hangover was the best post-date diner in Los Angeles.  Unfortunately, they were in Orlando. A familiar sign jutted out of a building, a few blocks away.

"Well, Dessert Lady is down the street a ways. Her chocolate cake kicks ass. I think you said you liked that, right?"

Shelby's eyes brightened and she smiled a smile that, he couldn't help it, made his heart happy. "I did. Good memory." She reached for him, running her fingers down his arm, her nails dragging along his bare skin until they reached his palm, and then tucked her fingers between his. They stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds before she looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Lead the way," she said. God, her voice. She was a little hoarse after having to yell over music for awhile. It gave her a perfect tone-smoky and sultry, not high and chirpy. JC swallowed, winding his fingers around hers and walking with her down the street, mindless conversation coming out of his mouth. Filthy thoughts running through his head.

‘Please let tonight happen. This girl is awesome, and I think she wants it and I really, really, really want it, too. Everywhere. Soon. How likely is it that her boobs are real? ‘Cause those look real. My face wants to be between them. Shit, I'm so hard. I hope she doesn't want a hug, later. Wait, what am I talking about? I do hope she wants a hug, later. I hope she wants to hug my dick with her mouth. I wonder how loud she is. Fuck it; I don't care if she screams like a banshee, if this happens tonight she can be as loud as she wants.'

Shelby

Somewhere between the second shot and him letting her win at darts, Shelby decided that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. It seemed like it was going that way-if he didn't want to ask her to go home with him, he wouldn't have asked if she was hungry. That sneak was trying to drag out the date!  She didn't blame him. She wasn't ready to go home yet, either.

‘Besides, he looks like he could tear me in two. I could use some of that, right now.'

The Dessert Lady was a cute little store front with striped awnings over the windows and tables for two set up around the small space. At the front of the store, a glass case was lined with rows and rows of cakes and pies from cherry to strawberry pie, from pound cake to chocolate cake to coffeecake. Shelby's eyes lit up at the selection. JC was momentarily forgotten-she was lusting after the chocolate torte, sitting in the middle of the case.

"Have you had any of these, before?"

"Honey, I have had all of these before. They are all excellent. You're a big fan of chocolate, right?  The torte is excellent..."

"I was looking at that..."

"Or the 6 Layer Cake is really good, too... or the Oreo Cheesecake. I'm partial to the Peanut Butter Pie, myself."

After a few minutes of slowly crawling the dessert case and drooling over each selection, Shelby made her decision, nodding at the decadent layers of chocolate in the middle of the case. "That torte is calling my name."

JC ordered for the both of them, and then, despite being alone in the store, pulled her toward a table near the window, behind an oversized fringe curtain. The table was small, so small their knees bumped under it.

"So, you've been in Orlando all of four days. What do you think of it?"

Shelby gulped at the glass of water set in front of her. Three beers and two shots made for a very tipsy girl. She wanted all of her wits about her, later on. "I like it. It's nice. I mean, a little frustrating at 4am, but at least it's quiet. I feel like I don't get a moment's peace in Miami. The city never sleeps. That gets tiring after awhile. So, yeah, it's nice. I'm in Winter Park, actually. Real small town-ish."

JC perked, sitting up straight, head tilted a little. "Wait. You live in Winter Park?"

Shelby nodded, smiling. She had no idea where he lived exactly, just that he was rumored to have a home there. Winter Park wasn't that big... he had to be close.

"What part?"

"Off of Park, near Rollins College, I think it is?"

 "Yeah, I'm not too far from there at all. Lake Virginia. How weird that we live so close to each other."

"Well, if you think about it, not really. We met at the neighborhood grocery store. It's not like I drove from Melbourne to shop at the Winter Park Publix."

JC smirked, narrowing his eyes, mouthing a playful ‘smartass' across the table. He was delightful. So funny and laid back. And cute. And so sexy. Every time he smiled at her, her stomach lurched and she felt warm inside.

‘God, I am fucking throbbing. I'm so fucking horny, ask me already! I don't want to go home tonight. How many more clues do I need to send??!'

"Here we are," said the server, a short woman dressed in white, complete with tall white Baker's hat. "Peanut butter pie and chocolate torte. Enjoy." She slid two plates and two forks onto the table and left a stack of napkins.

"That looks so good," she said, eyeing his plate, stacked high with a peanut butter-chocolate concoction.

"It is. Haven't had it in a long time, actually."  He sliced off a chunk and slid it into his mouth, his eyes closing as he chewed, a few light moans coming from his throat.

Shelby laughed at his dramatics. "Is it really, really good, JC? You look like you're about to come."

He laughed, almost shooting peanut butter and chocolate out of his mouth. "Not yet," he said, wiggling a brow at her while shoving another forkful in his mouth. "It is good though. Want to try some?"

"I'd love a taste."

JC picked up his fork again, but she stopped him with a touch of her hand, shaking her head slowly, a hint of a smile on her lips, praying he would catch her hint. "Not from there."

He caught it, loud and clear, but seemed like he wasn't sure what to do. He blinked, swallowed, and then, springing into action, reached under the table to grab a rung of her chair and slide her around so she was sitting next to him.  Wasting no time at all, he laid an arm over the back of her chair and leaned in, tilting his head toward her. She met him halfway, mouth open, eyes closed, heart racing.

Warm. And sweet, and soft and gentle, and oh my God. He was kissing her. And he was awesome at it.

His tongue rasped across hers, over and under and around, swirling, spreading the taste of peanut butter and chocolate with it. His lips were soft, brushing against hers over and over, light as air. Shelby fought herself every second, trying not to push the table back and climb onto his lap, sort of grateful he hadn't touched more than her lips. She was already on the edge, and just about over the point of no return.

He pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded, but his expression gentle. "How was it?" he mumbled, his face still so close to hers.

"Delicious," she answered, grinning, licking residual peanut butter taste off of her lips. Trying not to pant.

"Thank you. I enjoyed that myself."

"Good. It's uhm... rich. The Peanut Butter Pie."

"Yeah, it is. That's why I like it. Lots of flavor." He stared at her, blinking every few seconds. She stared back, bold. Refusing to look away and pretend she was shy, despite how... intense his stare was.  

"So, uhm, not asking about the past, but I know you don't sleep well. Are you... are you tired, or..."

"Not at all."  

He cleared his throat, and swallowed again. "Well, I was thinking maybe we could go someplace a little more private. Do some real talking."

"Really. Where would this place be?"

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. He reached for his water glass and sucked down half of it. Shelby's eyes never left his face. He laughed, finally, looking at her again.  "Why are you making this so hard on me?"

She giggled, caught in the act. "Because you already know the answer."

"I do?"

"You wanted me to suggest I go home with you? How many times am I gonna hear JC Chasez ask me to go home with him?"

The smile faded, slowly. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her again, this time more forceful and passionate, deep breaths through his nose, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, fighting with hers. He grabbed the back of her head and held her against him, against his mouth while he kissed her. It was so fucking hot... the hottest kiss she'd ever had. Ever.

He pulled back, ending the kiss in a smack, and before his eyes even opened, said, "Come home with me. Please."

"Yes," she said, her voice no higher than a whisper. "We should maybe get our dessert to go. I'll want to eat this torte, later."

"And I'll want to taste it." He leaned in to her, his lips almost touching her ear. "Maybe I could lick it off of some places, too."

Shelby stood so fast, she nearly knocked the chair over. She was shaking, she was so excited, and had to calm herself down before they left the store, to- go boxes in hand. JC seemed to be in a hurry, pulling her down Church Street, then crossing the street and walking toward a dark blue Mercedes. The lights flashed and the door lock clicked with a mechanical sound.

"Well, shouldn't I just follow you in my car?"

"Nah, just hop in. I'll bring you back to your car." He all but pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door as soon as she was inside, then walked around the front of the car and got in on the driver's side.

"Okay, JC?" Shelby laid a hand on his arm. She understood his pain... really, she did. But this rush job wasn't very sexy and was ruining the mood. "Relax. It's gonna happen. I'm not a tease. You don't have to rush. Take your time."

JC exhaled, blowing out a long, slow breath. He laid a hand over hers and squeezed. "Sorry. I'm not rushing. I'm just.... I like you. I'm...ready. And I want to do this. Like, yesterday."

"I know. I want that, too. Just slow down, a little. Be gentle. For now."  She teased him, scraping a fingernail lightly down his arm. He groaned and squirmed in the seat, shoving the key into the ignition and turning it roughly.

"Lady..."  JC heaved a sigh, looked toward the heavens and mentally thanked every higher power that existed, whether he believed in them or not.

"You've been killing me, all night long. I cannot wait to get you home." JC grabbed her hand and shoved it between his legs, wrapping her fingers around the hard mass curled up in the front of his jeans. "Don't you dare move that. Don't even think about it."