He ran his finger down the list and found it: Suite 10 - Room 220/222 - J. Bass/J. Timberlake. The second story was reserved for upperclassman, McCoy Hall specifically for seniors. J. Bass had better not be another Justin. He didn't like people who had his name, as a rule. He had a thing about names; they defined people to him in some ambiguous way. Couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the dogma lurked in his psyche nonetheless, like all his half-grown, odd superstitions that maybe weren't superstitions so much as idiosyncrasies. It's okay to bite fingernails as long as they're not bitten lopsided. Pour milk into cereal, never the other way around. Try to hold out from scratching an itch as long as possible as a test of endurance. Personality quirks, not phobias. Because it wasn't as though he believed something bad would happen if he didn't do things that way, he just felt that…things should be done that way. His mind was wandering and so was he. Room 230. He'd passed his stop. Backtracked four doors and there it was, Room 222. Home for the next…ten months, nearly. His things should already be there, unpacked. His luggage had been shipped three days ago so that it would all be waiting for him when he arrived. He wondered absently if the maids were female as he opened the door and stepped into the room.

It was small and simple. A single bed with a nightstand beside it, a desk, a bureau, a bookshelf with a television in it, a closet with a lock on it, a sink with a mirror above it, and another locked door that must, he supposed, lead to the bathroom. One window: screenless, which didn't surprise him. It'd probably been pushed out so the last occupant of this room could smoke out of the window. The comforter on the bed was turned down, perhaps in an attempt to make him feel welcomed, but it didn't work, because his bed at home was twice as big, and this comforter was new and foreign. The turned down sheets just made it seem even more untouched, like a showroom in a catalog. He sat on the bed anyway, leaned back on the carefully arranged pillows. He looked over at the bookshelf, at least that was somewhat of a comfort, but his favorite books were standing in obedient rows when they should be stacked haphazardly on his desk, scattered on the floor by his bed. This was wrong; too sterile.

He heard voices outside and went to the window, looked down to see identical Bentleys dropping off more boys. Three emerged from the first car, only one from the other. They were all blond. He ran a hand over his own curls as he stepped away from the window, smiling disdainfully and thinking thoughts of schools for Ken dolls.

The key for the closet lay on top of the bureau, and inside he found the space divided in halves- one for his regular clothing and one for his uniforms. Uniforms. God, this was some kind of sick joke, some hilarious dream, and he'd wake up any minute now and not own knitted sweater vests. Lots of sweater vests. Folded neatly and stacked in color-coded piles in the bureau drawers. He closed and locked his closet, then sat on his bed and worked the closet key onto the chain that held his room key. He heard a knock and looked at the door for a confused second before realizing it was coming at his bathroom door. He went and opened it, confronting a boy shorter but stockier than himself, with hair too blond to be natural and yellow-green eyes that matched his shirt. "Hey," The boy had an angular smile; lips thin and pulled taut, good-looking and yet unattractive.

Not my type, he thought, before noticing the proffered hand and taking it in his own, "Hey."

"J. Timberlake, I presume?" Deep voice, too manly for a boy so…girlish. Not girlish, really, with that Adam's apple and that build. Something peculiar though, about that body juxtaposing that voice. But what did it matter, this boy seemed nice enough, obviously trying to make friends.

"J. Timberlake, yhea," He agreed. "Justin. And you're…" Not Justin, too.

"James Lance Bass, friends call me Lance." Smile so wide and steady it seemed both atrociously artificial and irreproachably sincere. Was this guy putting him on, or what?

"So, I guess I'll call you James," Justin dead-panned, deciding not to fall for anything.

Low, rolling laughter caught him off-guard; he'd expected offense to be taken. "Yhea, okay, man. So, where you from? I'm from Jackson, Mississippi. You know it?"

"Heard of it." He laid back on his bed, crossing his arms to pillow his head and closing his eyes, like maybe he'd go to sleep in the middle of the conversation. "I'm from Memphis."

"Tennessee? We got a junior from Bartlett. That's near Memphis, right?" The voice was closer, and then the mattress shifted, and this Lance guy was sitting down, no invitation needed.

"It's real close." Justin opened his eyes, and there were yellow eyes looking right back at him. Church bells sounded in the distance.

"Dinner's on," Lance said, getting up. "I'll wait while you change."

"Change?" Justin looked down at his clothes, he was still dressed in what his mother had picked out for him that morning: a collared polo and a pair of khakis.

"Well, you don't have to dress up for dinner or anything…I figured you'd want to put on some jeans or something, so…" Lance trailed off, but Justin knew what he meant. So the other guys wouldn't think he was a dork who dressed up all the time.

"I'll just change my shirt," Justin pulled the collared shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, not wanting to seem too worried about impressing the other guys, but knowing that first impressions meant a lot, and he wasn't about to lose face. It was all about image, and his image balanced somewhere between coming off right and coming off like he didn't care how he came off. He took a t-shirt from his bureau and yanked it on, roughed a hand over his hair. "Let's go."

"You got your keys?" Lance called over his shoulder as he went into his room to fetch his own. "Not everyone's here yet, since classes don't start till Thursday. Most of them are gonna show up tomorrow, all the returning upperclassmen. Tonight it'll mainly be underclassmen and new kids."

"You're returning," Justin assumed. "Why are you here early?"

"Just got back from summering in Paris last Wednesday, my parents let me stick around the house for almost a whole week before they shipped me off here. That's a record for them, I think. They love me and all, but I'm kind of persona non gratis back home…a distraction from their busy and fulfilling cycle of separating, filing for divorce, and then reconciling and whisking off to some spa or resort for yet another 'second honeymoon'. They do it at least once a year. As for raising me and my sister, they see their parental duties ending at hiring the nannies and paying for boarding schools." Lance led Justin down the hall and through the dorm lobby, out the doors and across a wide expanse of lawn.

Around them other boys were walking, most alone, towards Kent Hall. Kent Hall was the long, one-story building that housed the theatre class's miniature auditorium classroom with its small, sunken lobby, another larger lobby that centered the dining hall, on-campus restaurant, and school store, and the registration office next door to the infirmary. A covered breezeway connected Kent Hall to Benedict Hall, the actual school building, which was two stories tall and currently abandoned. Justin had toured Benedict Hall briefly, but there hadn't been much to see. Everything was locked and dark, there was nothing but closed classroom doors and rows of lockers.

Inside Kent Hall, Justin was disappointed to find the school restaurant closed. "It's only open for lunch during the weekdays." Lance told him, pointing inside the unlit room, "Pay for a crappy meal and get to watch TV during lunch. Not really worth it, unless you're a Springer addict."

"I hate daytime talk shows," Justin made a face. "Trashy." Which was maybe snobby, but true. He wouldn't attend a taping of one of those shows if he were paid.

They stood in line for trays, got glasses of soda, and went to find a place to sit. The dining hall was full of tables that sat five or six people apiece, and Justin was heading for an empty one when he heard Lance's name called. He turned to see Lance making his way towards a full table, and hesitated. Should he just go sit by himself? He bit his lip in annoyance. If there was one thing Justin couldn't stand, it was feeling unsure of what to do. Or more, of feeling unsure of what to do in public. But then Lance turned and looked at him like Come on. and Justin played it off as though he'd just stopped to check out the room, giving it a quick scan before following Lance to the table. He got there just in time to hear the tail end of Lance's introduction of him, and then Lance had his hands out like Tada, like he'd just pulled the table out a top hat. "Justin, this is…" Names, but Justin wasn't really listening. Two sophomores and one freshman, someone's younger brother. Justin tipped his chin in greeting at each of them, shook their hands.

"So, Justin, you play any sports?" A blond, was this entire school blond? The kid was cute, but just a kid. He was the younger brother whose senior-year brother would be arriving tomorrow.

"Yhea, mainly swimming and basketball." Which seemed to be the right answer, 'cause the kid's smile grew.

"My brother plays ball."

"That so?" What kind of meat was this, anyway? Didn't taste like chicken…was it duck?

"Best player West's got," Pride in his voice, this kid obviously thought big bro shat fudge and pissed lemonade.

"Hmm." Because it's better to be underestimated and impress people than brag and just live up to an expectation. In his head though, totally grinning and laughing and thinking, Just wait!

"You gonna go out for the team?" One of the blond sophomores. Justin glanced at him and didn't look twice, shrugged. "Try-outs are Thursday after school. But Coach pretty much knows who he's putting on the team. All his favorites: surprise, surprise."

"It's like that with everything," The other blond sophomore complained. "Sports, drama. Coach always plays favorites when he's picking teams or casting the play. It pisses everyone off, but what can you do? I was in theatre last year, we did 'Voices of Vietnam', just parts of it, since we're all guys. Of course all the good parts went to his pets. I dropped the class this year. I mean, you know. I was like: the fuck am I putting up with this shit for? Art's easier anyway, you just slop some shit together and get an A, no memorizing and shit."

Justin's eyebrows raised at that. The school was small, so there weren't many options when it came to things like Fine Arts courses: there was Art and there was Theatre. Justin had chosen Theatre. He'd always been in band before, but they didn't offer band here, and he couldn't draw for shit…but now he was reconsidering his decision. He didn't want to be in Theatre if there was no way he'd get a good part in the school play. That just wouldn't do. Well, he'd wait and see. This Coach guy played favorites…so that meant all Justin had to do was become one of his pets. A few strategically flashed grins, Justin never had problems ingratiating himself to adults. Old people loved him.

Lance and the sophomores were returning students, and the little brother seemed to know all about the school through his older brother, so they talked about things still foreign to Justin, and he half-listened and half-contemplated whether the meat was indeed duck or just weird-tasting chicken.

---

After dinner Lance took Justin to the horse stables. All students were supposed to go to the chapel for evening mass, but when Lance started walking towards the stables Justin didn't hesitate to follow. They went to an old house of stalls that obviously wasn't used anymore and sat on a bench inside. Lance pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket and offered one to Justin. "Smoke?"

"Sure." Justin took a cigarette and waited for Lance to pass him the lighter. He inhaled sharply and held it in too long, making Lance look at him suspiciously. "What?"

"You don't smoke, do you?" Something smug lurked in Lance's face, and for a moment Justin contemplated punching him right across the jaw.

He shrugged instead, tried to seem nonchalant. "Sometimes I do."

"It's cool, man. I'm just…I could tell, is all." Lance waved his hand dismissively, "Never mind."

"Whatever, man." It was an old trick: when caught in a bad light, turn it around like the other guy's the one who should be embarrassed.

Lance seemed unfazed. "So tell me about yourself. What's your story?"

"My story?" Justin's head cocked to the side.

"Yhea, your story. You're going to a new school for your senior year. That's kind of unusual. What's the deal? You get kicked out of your old school?"

"Naw, nothing like that," Justin had an innate ability to avoid punishment. "My parents are divorced and I live with my dad, but my new stepbitch didn't want me in the house, so they shipped me off here. I tried to appeal to Mom, but she thinks it'll be a 'great learning experience'."

"Dude, that sucks." Lance shook his head sympathetically, "You must be pissed as shit."

"Yhea, kind of. I mean, I had to leave all my friends behind. Leave my team; I was supposed to be captain this year. Varsity basketball."

"Aw, fuck. That sucks. But, hey, if you were supposed to be captain, you must be pretty good. I bet you'll be able to get on the team here."

Justin shrugged, feigning uncertainty. "Maybe."

"So you left all your friends. You leave behind a girlfriend?" And then he added, like it was nothing: "Or boyfriend?" Justin looked at him sharply, and he was quick to say, "No offense. I mean, you know, I'm not, like, implying anything."

Justin studied him for a minute. "No, I didn't leave anyone like that behind." And left it there, letting Lance take that as he pleased.

"Cool," Lance nodded, and Justin kept his expression blank. "That's cool."

"What's cool?" They both jumped at the voice, and Lance quickly grabbed Justin's cigarette and threw it on the floor with his own, grinding them out with his shoe.

Justin sat tense, breathing only after Lance visibly relaxed as two figures drew closer in the darkness. "Shit, you scared the fuck out of me!" Lance admonished, reaching out to pull one figure closer by the arm. It was two guys, about their age, a little older. The one Lance pulled to sit next to him had facial hair, which was against the rules for students at West Academy. "Justin, this is Joey and JC. They're RA's at the dorm. Guys, this is Justin, my new suitemate."

"Hey, what's up." Joey offered a hand and Justin took it cautiously. RA's, Resident Assistants. Lowest on the totem pole of authority, just above student leaders. College kids that were paid, housed, and fed in exchange for keeping an eye on the students in the dorm, making sure they obtained study hour and kept their rooms clean. Most of them were former students who went to the nearby university. They offered advice and companionship to the students, but there were certain rules: Never take a student off-campus unless on official school business, report all misbehavior, and never partake in illegal activity with any students including drugs, sex, the whole spiel. Breaking those rules resulted in immediate dismissal of both student and RA and police involvement if the situation called for it. So of course Justin assumed that these RA's would now take them in for smoking on campus. Great, he'd be getting in trouble at school before it even started!

The other guy, JC, was cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with a large flashlight. He didn't look up from his work, and Justin strained to get a good look at him in the darkness. "There we go." JC announced triumphantly, clicking on the flashlight, and Justin's breath caught in his throat when his face was illuminated. Because JC was fine. Big crescent eyes, thick curved lips, sculpted cheekbones. An ingenuous air that made him seem…like he'd been plucked out of a storybook and dropped into the real world, and he was too innocent to know he didn't belong. Justin reminded himself that this guy might be a total asshole, and he shouldn't be too swayed by looks, but Justin was always a sucker for a pretty face.

"Whoo! Well, hello there!" Joey wiggled his eyebrows at Justin, flashing him a wide, cheesy grin. Lance elbowed Joey, who put an arm around Lance and said, "What? I can't even look?" Lance shook his head, but he was smiling. "I bet you model, huh?"

Justin was a bit disconcerted, but didn't want to show it. "I've done some modeling, but it wasn't my thing."

"I knew it." Joey pointed to JC, "I keep telling Jace he needs to get into that shit but he won't listen. He could do it, don'tcha think?"

Justin turned to JC and caught him staring. JC quickly looked down and it took Justin a moment to find his voice. "Uh, yhea. He could definitely, um, definitely model." JC looked up, and their eyes locked. Justin stiffened, a chill running up his back.

"See, man? I told you." Joey nudged JC with his foot. "You should go for it, make some mullah off that ugly mug."

"So," Justin cleared his throat, asked Joey, "You gonna turn us in for smoking?" Joey and Lance laughed like he'd just told a good joke. He half-smiled, "What?"

Joey grinned. "No, jackass, I'm not gonna turn you in for smoking. Lance would kill me."

"I really would." Lance gave a confirming nod. "Then I'd report him for taking advantage of my poor, innocent--ah!" Joey tackled him and they fell off the bench, Lance's laughter bellowing through the empty stalls. They settled with Lance under Joey, and Joey leaned down for a series of ever-lengthening kisses. Justin watched in shock before hastily averting his eyes. His gaze landed on JC's, and he whispered, "I thought that was, like…"

"Yhea, it is," JC said. "Don't tell."

"I won't," Justin meant it, he hated narks. "Have you ever…?"

"Dated a student? Not yet," JC blushed. "I mean, no."

Justin smiled at that, "Why? You scared? You don't look to old to date, like, a senior."

"I'm not scared, it's just. I don't know. I'm twenty-two in two days, actually."

"Oh yhea?"

"Yhea, the eighth. Joey's got something planned but he won't tell me what. My birthday's on a Thursday, and that night there's a party at our friend Tony's place, but Joey says he's got something planned for the weekend."

"Cool. My birthday's not till January. I'll be," Eighteen. "Nineteen." Why did he lie? What did he care if JC knew he wasn't legal yet? Legal for what? He pushed the thought away.

"Oh, really?" JC smiled at him, and Justin felt something inside twist. "Well, you lucked out on suitemates. Lance is a really cool guy."

"Yhea, he seems nice," Justin would agree with anything JC said. He could say Hitler was a really cool guy and Justin would agree. "You've known him long?"

JC nodded. "He was a freshman my first year as an RA. Joey was a senior. Actually, Joe's the one who got me to apply for this job. I met him at a party the summer after I graduated high school and he told me I should work here, so you know, I figured what the hell."

"What floor do the RA's live on?" The question was punctuated by ringing church bells. Evening mass was over.

"We better go," JC stood up, calling to Joey and Lance to, "Come on, we gotta go." He turned back to Justin as they headed towards the dorm. "RA's are scattered around the dorm, there's no specific hall. But since we've been here a couple years, we've got some pull. Me and Joe share a suite in McCoy."

"For real? Which rooms?" Justin felt warm at the idea of JC living, sleeping, showering just feet from him. Dorms suddenly seemed like a blessing.

"I'm in 223, Joe's in 221. Right across from Lance, not by coincidence." Which made JC across from Justin, very much by coincidence and Justin silently thanked Fate for small favors. "Which sucks for me, cause I'll be next door to god only knows what kind of atrocities."

Justin smiled, plucking up his nerve to offer, "Well, feel free to come hide out in my room anytime. Like, if they're bothering you. Or whenever." He hated this, because he was always so confident in every facet of his life except this one, except when it came to--he could barely even think the words-- hitting on someone. He always felt insecure and nervous and awkward and out of control and he hated it. And he loved it.

JC grinned at him. "I'll take you up on that."

After signing in at the dorm, Justin and Lance went upstairs and JC and Joey went to do room checks. Lance followed Justin into his room uninvited. "So, you like JC?"

Justin made a noise of surprised protest. "What? What makes you say that?"

Lance laughed. "Okay."

Justin scowled, "Whatever, man. I mean, I barely know JC." And it was thrilling in a way, just to say his name out loud.

Lance raised his eyebrows at him, and Justin returned the gaze steadily until Lance broke into a grin and said, "Look, do you want to come this weekend or not?"

Justin, though still on guard, didn't want to miss out. "Come where?"

"Joey's parents have a cabin about an hour away on Ink's Lake. It's just gonna be me, them, and the woods. JC's gone with Joey's family on their trips there before, he's crazy about the place, so Joey's surprising him with the weekend there for his birthday." Lance's eyebrows raised slyly. "I, uh, noticed the way you were looking at JC. I thought you might want to come along."

Might want to come along? Justin would cut off his left nut for the chance. "What way I was looking at JC?"

"Okay," Lance shrugged. "My mistake. Never mind."

"No!" A little too forcefully. "I mean, I want to come. Sounds like fun." He looked away. "Thanks."

Lance shook his head, amused. "You're a trip, you know that? Tell your parents you're coming home with me for the weekend. They'll have to fax up a permission slip."

Lying, going off campus with RA's, participating in what was sure to involve at least alcohol, if not worse. It didn't sound like the best way to stay out of trouble. Justin couldn't help but ask, "What if we get caught?"

Lance just smiled. "We won't."

---

A lot of students arrived Wednesday, but Justin didn't really give a fuck about that. He met the 'Best Player West's Got', the older brother of last night's freshman. He was Justin's height, but heavier and blonder. His name was Nick, and Justin might've thought he was decent-looking if he hadn't met JC. Comparatively, every guy he saw was Quasimodo. Justin played a game of one-on-one with Nick and held back so he could check out Nick's style. Nick was good, but he was better. He was sure the Coach would agree at try-outs tomorrow.

Justin spent all day on pins and needles hoping to run into JC. He never did. He searched the dining hall at dinner and didn't spot him. He was hoping to see him at the stables during evening mass, but instead he shared a joint with Lance alone. Which wasn't so bad, really. Lance was turning out to be pretty cool. They discussed Truman Capote novels and their mutual love of Stevie Wonder. Then, as all things come to good boys who wait, JC knocked on Justin's door that night.

Justin was lying on his bed watching TV when JC showed up. "Come in."

JC opened the door and peeked in. "Nice pjs," He smiled at Justin's Spongebob Squarepants boxers.

Justin forced himself to be funny. Think. "I bet yours have choo-choo trains on them."

JC grinned, opening the door completely so he could step into the room. He closed the door behind him as he said, "I sleep naked."

Ahh, okay. Thanks for that. Justin slid under his covers, pulling the blanket high on his bare chest. "So, what's up?"

"Not much," JC looked around the room casually, taking it in. "You said yesterday I could stop by whenever, so…"

"Yhea, you can," Justin moved his legs to one side so JC could sit down. "You like Seinfeld?"

"Love it," JC settled on the edge of the bed, but faced Justin instead of the TV. "So what do you think of West so far?"

"Eh, you know," Justin shrugged. "Sucks."

"Aww," JC made a mock-pity face. "Homesick?"

"Little bit," He admitted. "I miss my friends."

"It's only been two days," JC consoled, "You'll make new friends."

Justin nodded toward a basketball in the corner. "Miss my team."

Comforting pat on the leg, "Try-outs are tomorrow."

"And it's been a while since I got a laid."

"Well--" JC sat in shock for a moment, snapping out of it to join in Justin's laughter. "I'll have to see what I can do about that."

Justin, suddenly feeling brave, leaned close, "I'd like to see what you can do, myself."

JC chuckled nervously, color heightened as he got up from the bed. "It's, uh…late. I should probably…"

Justin, embarrassed, averted his eyes. "Yhea, okay."

When JC reached the door he hesitated, turned around. "Justin," In a tone that made him look up. Their eyes met, and the air crackled with electricity. It seemed for a second as if JC would step forward, but instead he said, "Goodnight." and left the room.

Fuck, Justin thought, reaching under the covers to hold himself. And also, I wonder if he was serious about sleeping naked?

---

Thursday was a busy blur. Teachers, classes, hallways, kids. Trying to memorize his new locker combination and gym locker combination and all his classroom numbers and teachers' names. But he'd expected that. Chris Kirkpatrick, on the other hand, he never saw coming.

Justin had walked into theatre class expecting, like everyone else, to find Coach Wright sitting there with a visor on his head and a whistle around his neck. Instead there sat a small, young man with what seemed like a hundred tiny braids sprouting out of the top of his head like a fern. He had braces and pimples. "Hey," He greeted the class, "I'm Chris."

"What the hell?' A confused junior blurted.

"My thoughts exactly," Chris agreed. "I'm new this year, like some of you. I was hired as the activities director, which basically means I'm in charge of the arcade room. I'm the man to see about ping-pong balls. With that job came the intense and thrilling pleasure of teaching Theatre Arts, because Coach Wright hates doing it and I think it'll be cool. I know I'm young, but I'm older than all of you, so get over it. You can call me Chris, because that's my name, but if you piss me off I'll make you call me Mr. Kirkpatrick. Possibly, Your Majesty. Any questions?"

The confused junior raised his hand. "So, does this mean people besides Coach's pets will finally get into the plays?"

"No. I'm going to cast the people he favors blindly regardless of who has actual talent." Confused junior didn't get it. Chris rolled his eyes. "That was a joke."

"Oh."

"Now let's play one of those stupid Getting To Know You games, because I'm the teacher and I say so." He rubbed his hands together like a power-crazed madman. "Hmm, I like the sound of that!"

---

Coach Wright, thankfully, was exactly as Justin had hoped. Rough but kind, and instantly sucked in by the Timberlake Charm. The fact that Justin sunk five shots in a row at half-court might've had a role in it, too. The try-outs went beyond great, and Justin knew he'd make Varsity. Of course, that wasn't good enough.

He approached Coach after the gym had cleared out. Coach nodded at him approvingly. "You impressed me out there, Timberlake. Looking forward to having you on my team."

"Thanks, Coach." Justin wiped his face off on his towel before continuing. "The thing is, I thought you should know…I was supposed to be Varsity Captain this year at my other school."

"That so?" Coach was looking at the clipboard he was holding. Justin wanted to shake him and say, Hey, listen up. This is important.

"Yhea," He waited until Coach looked up at him. "I put in my time on teams, Coach. I give one hundred and ten percent every time I step onto the court. I know how to play, and I know I know how to captain."

"That so?" An amused twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," Justin spoke with just the right mixture of earnestness and confidence. "I just don't want to not make Captain because I'm new. I didn't chose to leave, Coach. I was looking forward like all hell to being Captain of my old team. I loved that team. But if you give me the chance, I'll love this team, too."

Coach chuckled, slapping him on the back. "Timberlake, I admire your spirit. But I don't think I feel comfortable making a new kid Captain. I just don't know you well enough."

Justin broke out his widest toothy grin. "Coach, you'll get to know me. Your team deserves to have me as its Captain. It deserves the best."

Coach, obviously taken in, grinned back. "I'll take that into consideration, Timberlake. Now get, or you'll miss dinner."

"Thanks, Coach." Justin trotted off, waving over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." In the bag, he thought, and couldn't stop smiling for the life of him.

---

Lance wandered into Justin's room before dinner, sat on the bed and watched Justin rub his hair dry from the shower. "How were try-outs?"

Justin shrugged, "Not too bad."

Lance snorted. "Fake modesty rears its ugly head. You're full of it, Timberlake. Everyone's talking about how you blew Nick Carter off the court."

Justin kept his expression neutral. "Well, you know."

"Well, you know," Lance mimicked. "Too bad there's no way Nick won't make Captain."

All he said was, "You never know."

---

Friday was the longest day of Justin's life. School dragged like a snail in slow motion. When the last bell finally rang he leapt from his chair and ran for the gym. His English teacher caught him in the hallway and told him to slow down, so he had to fast-walk the rest of the way out of the building and by the time he got to the gym there was already a crowd. He pushed his way through to get closer to the papers posted on the gym doors. The first list was for the Junior Varsity Team. He didn't even bother looking. Someone was planted right in front of the Varsity Team roster and didn't show any signs of leaving. Justin had no patience. "Move it."

The guy looked at him with daggers in his eyes. It was Nick Carter, ready to kill. Justin thought he was going to say something, but he just turned away and stomped through the crowd, shoving people out of his path roughly. Justin, encouraged by Nick's anger, pounced on the list. There it was, right at the top: Co-Captains: Nick Carter, Justin Timberlake.

Justin was both elated and annoyed. He didn't like the idea of co-captains, but it was better than nothing. And he was sure that in no time the team and everyone else would realize he was the Real Captain. Let Nick share the title, who cared? Justin alone would own the team. He tried not to strut as he made his way to his dorm, but it was hard. All the guys were looking at him with that awe he thrived off. He loved excelling and the way it made people look at and think of and treat him. Such a rush.

He was in his room for about two seconds before Lance came in. "You pimp."

Justin just smiled.

"You actually pulled it off, you fucking pimp. You realize you're the only first-year student to make captain in fucking years, right? I think some guy did it in the 80's. And there haven't been co-captains since '91. It's a rare occurrence. Nick Carter is fucking pissed."

Justin was unconcerned. "Carter can eat my shit."

"Dude, I worship you," Lance was joking, of course, but Justin still felt a bit giddy hearing that. "Get packed quick. We're leaving in five minutes."

"How are we getting there?" Justin felt an even higher peak of excitement. The weekend with JC. This day could not get any better.

"Taking my car, it's in the student parking lot. Hurry the fuck up." Lance left with that.

Justin had packed last night, so all he had to do was throw his bathroom stuff into his duffel bag and he was ready to go. He changed out of his school uniform and into a t-shirt and jeans, hefted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and flicked off the lights on his way out.

---

It was twenty past three by the time they were signed out of the dorm and on the road in Lance's silver 4-Runner. Justin couldn't stop checking himself out in the mirror of the sun visor. Every little thing about him seemed wrong, especially his nose. My ugly nose.

"Dude," Lance's voice cut through his thoughts. "You look fine." Justin startled. Was he that transparent, or was Lance a mind reader? "Don't be nervous. If you want, I can talk to JC about you, find out if he's interested."

Justin didn't respond.

"Am I embarrassing you? You can tell me to shut up if I am."

"No," Justin looked out the window. "I'm just. I hate being nervous. It's so stupid."

"Yhea, it is," Lance agreed. "It's just JC, man. He's a fucking space cadet. I don't understand how someone like him can make someone like you nervous. I didn't think guys like you got nervous."

And Justin didn't bother saying, Guys like me? Because for once he wasn't interested in compliments. He just said, "Yhea, well. We do."

---

The drive was less than an hour, even though they stopped for groceries, because Lance sped. Justin didn't mind at all, he was eager to get there. The cabin didn't disappoint, a sprawling one-story on the lake under the shade of tall trees. They rumbled over a gravel driveway to reach it.

"Let's get the ice cream in the freezer before it melts." Lance beeped his horn a few times as he turned off the engine.

Joey emerged from the house seconds later to help carry in the bags. "Excellent timing. As we speak, JC's making a batch of White Russians."

"Seems like forever since I had a drink," Lance looked pitiful. "Not since Tuesday."

"Poor baby." Joey led them into the kitchen. They dropped their bags on the floor and tended to the groceries.

JC turned away from his work to smile in welcome. "You made it."

Justin smiled back; a bit light-headed at the sight of JC wearing just a pair of swim trunks.

"Lemme show you a room so you can put your stuff up." Joey clapped a hand onto Justin's shoulder. "We're gonna go sit on the dock and have some drinks. Swim a little. You brought trunks, right?"

"If not, you can share my speed-o," Lance offered graciously, "We could take turns."

Justin scrunched his nose at that and laughed. "I brought trunks. I figured we'd be in the lake at some point."

"No time like the present." Joey took Justin into a hallway and opened the second door on the right. He flipped the light switch and the lamp beside the bed came on. It was still rather dark, but there was a halogen floor lamp in the corner if more light was desired. "You can take this room."

"Thanks," Justin dumped his duffel bag on the bed. "Nice place you got here."

"Yhea, I like it," Joey looked the room over fondly. "Been coming here since I was a kid. Over the years my family's moved to different houses, but this place always stayed the same. It kind of feels like my one real home, you know?"

"Yhea, that's cool," Justin opened his bag. "Must be nice."

"Hmm," Joey grabbed Lance by the waist. "Get changed and meet back in the kitchen, all right? I'm gonna go help Lance undress." Lance rolled his eyes but let Joey haul him out of the room.

---

Justin changed lightning-fast, wanting to get to the kitchen first so he'd have some time alone with JC. He found him perched on the countertop, sipping experimentally straight from the blender. "How'd it come out?"

"Not bad, if I do say so myself, " JC held out the blender so Justin could taste. "What do you think?"

"Mmm." Justin took a long drink. "Very good."

JC held the blender carefully as Justin took another sip. "I'm glad you came with us."

Justin smiled. "Me, too."

"Now I won't feel like a third wheel," JC took a drink himself and wiggled his shoulders a little. "This is making me cold. I wanna go sit in the sun."

Justin glanced down and noticed JC's nipples were hard. Suddenly, a dip in a cold lake seemed like the best idea he'd heard all day. "Why don't we go ahead? I'm sure they won't mind, as long as we leave them some drinks in the fridge."

"Fuck that," JC hopped off the counter still holding the blender. "They snooze, they lose. Grab some beer mugs."

Justin obeyed, and they made the short walk outside and through the yard to get to the dock. Joey had two jet skis and a motor boat tied and tarp-covered out there. They sat on the edge of the dock and filled their mugs. "Feels good," JC closed his eyes contentedly. "Hot sun on my back, cool water on my feet, cold drink in my hand. What more could I ask for?"

Justin splashed his feet around. "World peace?"

"Well, sure," JC kicked Justin's foot. "That and a Viper, but let's not get greedy."

"You're a better man than I," Justin drank slowly, fearful of brain freeze. "I wish we had some inner-tubes. We could float around with our drinks."

"There's some in the boat!" JC got up to fetch them. "Under the tarp." He brought back two big black rubber inner tubes with dangling ropes and handed one to Justin. "We'll tie them to the dock so we don't float away."

It took a few minutes to get situated and refill their drinks, but soon they were lazing in the water trading camping stories. They were still laughing about the time raccoons dragged JC's porn magazines out of his tent on a family trip while they were hiking (thank god he'd spotted them before anyone else saw! He was stupid for hiding porn in a bag with cookies, anyway) when Joey and Lance finally showed up.

Lance, who had, thank god, been joking about owning a speed-o, got to the end of the dock first and stood there for about thirty seconds before Joey tackled him into the water. They came up laughing, each trying to dunk the other. Joey grabbed Justin's ankle as Lance dunked him, pulling him out of his tube. "Shit!" Justin yelped, his drink ruined as he was submerged. As soon as he came up, he put his mug on the deck for safekeeping. He swam to JC, who was setting his mug on the deck, too. "Come on in, the water's fine."

"Might as well," JC looked at Joey and Lance warily. "Resistance would be futile, and I'd rather hop in than be dragged by one of them."

"What about one of me?" Justin tipped JC's tube over, dumping him into the lake.

JC swam at him, grabbed him so he couldn't move his arms. "Ah! I never saw it coming!"

"You must feel so betrayed." Justin tried to squirm free. "Et tu, Brute?"

"I should dunk you underwater and fart on your head," JC threatened.

"And, hey, as long as I'm down there…" Justin teased, licking his lips suggestively.

JC immediately released him, treaded water and looked out over the lake. "I bet I can beat you to that dock and back."

Justin followed JC's gaze, letting him change the subject, feeling like an ass. The neighbor's dock was a good distance away, but Justin was a strong swimmer. "Bet you can't."

"You're on," JC got out of the water. "We'll dive here, and loser is beer bitch the rest of the weekend."

Justin nodded, pulling himself onto the dock. "Sounds good."

"I feel I must warn you," JC said, "I won an Honorable Mention trophy with my swim team in fourth grade."

"Thank you for your kindness," Justin got into position next to JC. "You can count off."

"All right, then," JC crouched into his starting stance. "Ready. Steady. Go!"

---

And, of course, Justin won. As he helped JC out of the water he said, "I guess I should've warned you," and grinned, "I've swum competitively since I was five."

"You must be crushed," JC panted for breath, "that West doesn't have a team."

"Pretty much," Justin slapped JC's back. "But hey, I'll drown my sorrows in a beer."

JC smiled ruefully, getting up to head back to the cabin. "Shouldn't give you one, anyway. You're underage."

Justin laughed. "Less talk, more walk. Backtalk won't put a beer in my hand, bitch."

"Just because I'm beer bitch doesn't mean you get to actually call me bitch," JC yelled over his shoulder.

"That's exactly what it means!" Justin yelled back.

Lance plopped down next to Justin on the deck. Joey was laying in one of the inner tubes. "So, looks like you and JC are hitting it off."

Justin looked at Lance, lifted one shoulder. "Eh. I mean, yhea, as friends."

"You don't think he's interested?" Lance watched Joey, who was digging in his belly button as he floated around.

Justin grimaced. "I don't know. I kind of feel like he likes me, but every time I, you know…"

"Flirt?" Lance supplied.

"Yhea," Justin blushed a little. "Well, yhea. He doesn't respond. He just gets distant or something. And then I just feel like…"

"An asshole?" Lance was just helpful as shit today.

"Basically." Justin saw JC returning with a small cooler. "Here he comes."

"You want me to talk to him about you?" Lance said quietly, even though JC was well out of hearing range.

"No."

Lance looked at Justin. "For real?"

"No," Justin admitted sheepishly. "Just. Be discreet."

"I'm discreet as hell," Lance assured him. "Don't worry."

But Justin did, anyway.

---

Dinner was hamburgers and turkey sausage. Joey and Justin manned the grill while Lance and JC sliced vegetables and toasted buns. Justin was ready to balk at the idea of sweating over an open flame when he caught the look Lance was giving him. Get lost, his eyes said, So we can talk behind your back.

Justin complied, drinking beer with Joey and feeling like he was cooking right along with the meat, burning himself twice because he was too preoccupied with wondering what was going on in the kitchen to pay proper attention to the grill. "Watch the flame!" Joey kept booming, pushing Justin away every time he stepped close. Justin didn't mind; he was just fine sitting in the grass and watching Joey cook, and speculating what was being said inside.

As they came into the house bearing platters of hot barbecue, Justin caught Lance's eye anxiously. His expression was unreadable as he said, "Done?"

"Yhea," Joey told him, putting the hamburgers on the counter, "Sausage is a little burnt, but the rest came out good."

"We're in here," Lance said, going into the dining room.

The condiments had been set out on the table, along with buns and drinks. Justin took the plate JC passed him as he sat down beside him, managed a feeble smile. "Thanks."

JC smiled back but looked away quickly. "Man, I'm starving."

"Eat up." Joey was already biting into his first burger, "Damn, I'm good. This is like grilled heaven."

Lance bit into his own. "Oh, yhea. That's good," He nodded approvingly. "Tastes like sex."

"We all know how much you like meat in your buns," Joey grinned.

"Vulgar!" Lance reached over to smack him upside his head. He speared a piece of sausage with his fork and glared warningly. "Not a word."

Joey made an innocent face. "I wasn't going to say anything! Get your mind out of the gutter."

Justin looked at JC, who rolled his eyes, and this time their smiles lingered. They ate in silence for a while, too hungry to talk. When Justin saw JC push away his empty plate, he finished chewing what he had in his mouth and cleared his throat, daring, "You like it?"

JC nodded, "Yhea, you guys did a good job."

"More like I did a good job," Joey pointed accusingly. "He just sat there."

Justin made a noise of protest; hated how easily he embarrassed in front of JC. "I supervised."

"I'm 'bout to supervise my foot up in yo' ass," A good natured threat. "Now go get me another beer."

"Get me one, too," Lance said, finishing off the one he had.

"Sure thing," Justin turned to JC expectantly. JC didn't move. "Bitch?" He prompted, smirking.

JC glowered at him for a moment, but there was mirth in his eyes. He got up with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Anything else while I'm up?" Nobody said anything, so he left.

Justin's head immediately whipped towards Lance. Lance was already watching him. He nodded at Justin, a confirmation that the talk had taken place. "Dishes," He said, and Justin nodded in understanding.

"You're doing the dishes?" Joey said, "Good! 'Cause I sure as hell ain't! I cooked. My job is done."

"Like it's so hard throwing meat over a fire," Lance scoffed. "Thank god for your degree in the Culinary Arts."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Joey grumbled, just as JC was returning.

"You rang?" JC handed Lance a beer, set one down in front of Joey and as he gave one to Justin he told him, "I didn't mean beer bitch for everyone, you know. I meant loser is just beer bitch for winner."

"You didn't say that," Justin shrugged. "Next time read the fine print."

"What's that?" Joey said, "Why are you the bitch?"

JC laughed, "Shut up. I lost a race. Loser is beer bitch for the rest of the weekend."

"Sweet!" Joey cracked open his can and chugged it enthusiastically, "I always thought you were a bitch, Jace. Nice that you're finally admitting it."

"Okay, no," JC looked at Justin appealingly. "Loser is just winner's bitch."

"Fine." Justin conceded, not really caring either way. "But don't expect me not to abuse my power to the fullest."

"Oh, of course not," JC shook his head. "It's only right that you would."

"Wait, no!" Joey objected. "You're the bitch!"

"Yhea," JC said. "I'm his bitch, not yours."

"He's my bitch," Justin backed him up. "Sorry."

"This isn't prison," Lance told Joey, "There's no bitch-sharing."

"You guys suck." Joey stood up and declared, "You're all my bitches!" before exiting dramatically.

"I'll grab the limes," Lance called after him.

"What's going on?" Justin asked, getting up and taking his plate with him.

"He's getting the alcohol," Lance said, helping Justin clear the table. "Time to get wasted."

"Well, at least we ate first," JC said, "So we have something to throw up."

"There's a look on the bright side," Lance laughed. "Thanks for the brain candy, Jace. You go help Drunky McBoozehound and we'll take care of the dishes."

"No, you guys don't have to do that," JC started to help.

"We want to," Lance insisted. "You 're the birthday boy and Joey cooked. We'll clean up. Go."

"Well, technically my birthday is over, but…" He smiled at both of them, "Thanks. That's cool." He picked up the salt shaker and went to find Joey.

Justin waited until they were safely in the kitchen before saying, "So?"

"So?" Lance ran the faucet; seemed utterly engrossed by the sponge he was pouring soap on. "So what?"

"I hate you," Justin pushed him a little. "Tell me quick, we don't have time."

"Tell you what?" Because Lance could be really annoying sometimes.

"You're going to hell." Justin tried not to slam around the dishes he was loading into the washer. "What did he say? What did you say? What the fuck happened?"

"Oh, that," Lance laughed at Justin's pissy face. "I asked him what he thought of you, and he said you're cool. So I said, you know, do you think he's hot? And he said yhea, he thinks you're really hot."

"Really?" Justin's eyes went wide, "He thinks I'm hot?"

"No, I'm lying," Lance rolled his eyes. "Yes, he does. Now, lemme finish. So then I said, are you interested or whatever, and he said he didn't know. And I said why? 'Cause you know, if he thinks you're all cool and really hot and shit, why wouldn't he be interested? And he said 'cause you're a student and it's risky for both of you."

"You and Joey do it," Justin protested. "He doesn't care about that. What's the difference?"

"The difference is that if we get caught, it's our asses, not his or yours," Lance started scrubbing the platters the meat had been on. "And you know, you're only eighteen and he's twenty-two." Lance gave Justin a look, "I kept my mouth shut when he said that, but…care to explain? 'Cause I turned eighteen in May and your birthday's in January and you said you're younger than me. So."

Justin shrugged guiltily. "I'm almost eighteen…"

Lance raised his eyebrows at that. "Well, anyway. I told him that wasn't that bad of an age difference and that if a dumbass like Joey can keep us on the down low, the two of you should have no problem."

Justin gripped Lance's arm, a silent thanks. "What'd he say to that?"

"He didn't say anything." Lance caught Justin's expression, "What? He didn't. He just kind of shrugged and shit."

"So what does that mean? Did he shrug like 'you're right' or did he shrug like 'oh well'?" He was pouring detergent in the dishwasher now, too sloppy and getting it everywhere.

"How the hell should I know?" Lance squeezed the sponge dry and tossed it on the counter. He got a knife from a drawer and a bag of limes from the fridge. "Come on, I need a drink. And don't look so dissatisfied. At least you know he likes you."

"Yhea…" Justin followed Lance into the living room, wiping his hands off on his jeans. JC was sitting on the couch and Joey was kneeling on the floor by the coffee table pouring tequila shots.

"Hey, ladies," Joey greeted them. "Who's thirsty?"

Lance sat next to him on the floor, put the limes on the table and started slicing them. "Don't make me hurt you."

Justin sat next to JC on the couch, tried to arrange himself in an enticing pose, shifted around until he felt like a jerk and gave up. He looked over at JC and found him watching him. "Uh…" He desperately searched his mind for something cool to say. "I hope I don't throw up." He grimaced at his own stupidity, Ah, goddamnit. Real fucking sexy, asshole.

JC smiled, laughed, looking surprised but amused. "Yhea, me, too. That would be. Unpleasant." He scooted a little closer, laid his hand on Justin's arm. "Do you drink often?"

Justin's entire existence was centralized on JC's hand touching him; it took him a minute to even manage to shake his head. "I mean, I drink but. Not too much."

"Good," And now the hand was fucking stroking and Justin thought he might freak out. "I don't drink that much, either."

"Ha!" Joey hooted at that, "You don't? Since when? You drank like a fish last night. You're just trying to show off!"

JC scowled at Joey, his cheeks tinted pink. "No, I'm," He looked down, then up at Justin. "I'm not. I don't…I mean, occasionally I'll--"

"No, yhea," Justin cut him off. "I drink at parties, too. No harm in that."

"Yhea," JC nodded earnestly. "It was a party. For my birthday."

"Could we stop talking about how we don't drink and start drinking?" Lance said, picking up his shot glass and a salted lime wedge. "Because it's starting to piss me off."

They took their drinks in hand and clinked them carefully, Joey toasting, "To Jace. Happy Birthday, you fucking loser."

"And you wonder why you got fired from Hallmark," Lance said, and then they all threw back their shots.

---

Was anyone keeping track of how many shots they'd taken? Almost too many but not quite, and Justin raised his hand when Joey went to pour him another. "I'm full."

"Me, too," JC nudged his empty glass off the table and onto the carpet with his foot. "I'm nice."

"Well, I'm naughty," Lance was sprawled out on the floor, limbs akimbo. "I'll take one more."

"One more, one more…" Joey mumbled, and, "Oops!" when the shot glass overflowed. "Sorry, sorry."

Lance sat up to take it, hardly noticing it dripping. He lay back down, let the empty glass roll out of his hand and across the floor. "Is it drunk in here, or is it just me?"

"We should've done body shots!" Joey realized, and hated everyone. "I can't believe I didn't think about it!"

"I can't, I can't," Lance shook his head slowly. "I don't wanna get too drunk. It's not fun anymore if you're too drunk."

"I know," Joey sighed. "My life sucks."

"Hmm…" Lance smiled lazily, pulled Joey down next to him. "Sucks…"

---

Where the hell were Lance and Joey? Justin didn't know or care. His brain was fuzzy and relaxed and horny and focussed. Completely absorbed in the study and capture of the lithe body beside him. His eyes lingered shamelessly; he leaned closer and pretended he was listening to whatever JC had been rambling about for the past…who knows how long? Actually caught his last few words, "way too many movies about talking animals. You know?"

Justin nodded, "I totally agree. You're so…" He slunk closer, "Smart."

JC grinned at him really fucking adorably, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and Justin just went for it. Kissed him deep, tongue and groping hands and pressing him into the couch, the works. JC let himself be eased onto his back, spread his legs readily so Justin could nestle between them and moaned as their bodies tangled and crushed together, a blur of hot skin and hot mouths and straining muscles. JC's legs clamped around Justin, too tight because he wanted it tight, hard because he wanted it hard, desperate. "Come here," Breathy words between tiny gasps as he threaded his fingers into curls, keeping Justin sucking at his collarbone, "Come here to me."

Justin's hands crept under JC's shirt, flattened against his chest, dragged down to grasp the waist of his jeans and then Justin was lifting off of him and standing up, tugging JC with him. Justin turned to hurry them towards his bedroom, one hand still clutching JC's pants as the other scrambled over the doorknob, and then they were inside and he let him go to work the locks, seal them in and make it theirs. JC went to the bed, sat on it and pulled off his shoes, his socks and shirt and then laid back across it, his knees bent at the edge of the mattress and his feet grazing the floor. Justin came to the other side of the bed, looked down at JC, at the way his eyelashes shadowed his cheekbones, how red his mouth was, the heaving of his chest. Justin sat on the bed and leaned over to kiss JC, perpendicular to him and their mouths met at that angle, JC tilting his head to the side so they could press the tops of their tongues flat and lick in tandem. Justin broke away to strip off his shirt, toss it aside and open his jeans, letting them fall from his hips as he stood. JC looked up at him, so pliant and wanton that Justin didn't hesitate to toe out of his shoes and socks and climb atop him. His knees bookending JC's head as he leaned down to rub his face against the swell of JC's pants before opening them, pulling them down. JC moved willingly, legs folding to let him slip them off. Justin's sigh steamed through JC's boxers, making him jerk and then yank Justin's down, frantic to show him what he needed. "God," JC keened as solid, hot flesh hit his face, and he took it into his mouth, took it eagerly and hungrily and then he got what he asked for, greedy mouth like his own taking him in, taking it all. His eyes wide open to a world built solely of slick, salty heat in his hold and he was sucking so hard, trying to drag it in, fill himself with it because maybe that would sate this fierce urge. And it's too much, too much when fingers dig, when the bed bounces with their rhythm, when slippery sounds mix with muffled moans and it's too much, it's too much.

JC bucked and came, swallowing Justin deeper, drawing it out of him even as he trembled through subsiding shocks of pleasure. And Justin sucked just to know it as he finished, and then let it go, nuzzled his face where thigh met hip and licked lazily, collapsing and satiated. JC grunted, pinched Justin's side and Justin understood, rolled off of him and moved, and JC moved, and they got under the covers, heads on their pillows and Justin settled in behind JC, spooning thoughtlessly. JC stretched an arm to turn off the bedside lamp, and then it was dark. Their breaths became regular and they drifted contentedly into sleep.

---

When Justin awoke he was alone. He groaned, stretched, his mouth dry and his pulse pounding dully in his head. He sat up slowly, rubbed his face and slapped his cheeks. Yawns and slow blinking, and then finally hefting himself out of bed and padding to the bathroom to take a shower.

Hot water and a shampoo and he felt like a new man, put on some shorts and went in search of breakfast. He found Lance in the kitchen, leaning against a counter eating a cinnamon roll. "Hey."

Justin lifted his chin in greeting, went to the fridge to get milk.

"You want one? They're good," Lance held out a tin pan of rolls.

Justin shook his head, lifting the milk jug like proof. "Cereal."

"JC made them."

Justin paused, then took a roll and bit into it. He put the milk down and opened a cabinet to find a bowl.

"JC told me about last night."

Justin looked at Lance warily. "What about it?"

Lance shrugged, ate the last of his roll and picked up another, putting the pan down. "Just said you guys had a good time."

"Shut up," Justin went to the pantry for cereal. "What else?"

"That's it. I asked what y'all did when me and Joey went to our room and he said y'all had a good time," Lance looked at him expectantly. "So...?"

"What?" Justin opened the box of Frosted Flakes and poured himself a bowl.

"So what'd you guys do?"

"Stuff," Justin hopped up on the counter, steadying himself before pouring milk into his cereal. "Pass me a spoon."

Lance got one for him, but held it out of reach. "What'd you guys do?"

"None of your business," Justin leaned forward and snatched the spoon away. "Where's Joey?"

"You mean where's JC?" Lance laughed. "They're getting the boat ready. We're gonna go water-skiing."

"Sweet." Justin ate quickly, anxious to get out on the water. "Hey, do you have any sunscreen I could borrow?"

"Sure," Lance said. "If you tell me what you did."

"Lance," Justin said. "Shut up."

---

When Justin went outside JC just smiled at him and said, "Hey," and Justin reciprocated. It wasn't awkward like he thought it might be. And when JC helped him put sunscreen on his back it was nice, and it wasn't weird. His heart sped up a little at the touch, yhea, but in an entirely good way. And they laughed and joked with Lance and Joey and had a good time, drank beer and skied and ate sandwiches JC had packed in the cooler. Justin thought maybe it was because JC was a college guy, maturer than the high school boys he was used to, who were always hostile or flipping out or vowing eternal love the morning after.

They skied until it got dark, and then put frozen pizzas in the oven and showered, and grouped in the living room tired and relaxed in pajama pants and still-wet hair. "Man, I'm starving." Joey was laid out on the couch, his legs in Lance's lap. "How long do those damn pizzas take?"

"Fifteen more minutes," Lance said, patting Joey's shins. "Let me up and I'll go grab some chips or something."

Justin was on the loveseat, back against one armrest and legs dangling over the other, JC laying between his thighs with his back to Justin's chest, his head on his shoulder and his legs hanging down with Justin's. It was cozy, comfortable. Justin's hands lay on JC's stomach, petting idly. JC lifted one of Justin's hands, inspected it. He tipped his head to look into Justin's face. "Your hands are really big."

Justin flexed his long fingers. Artist hands, pianist hands. Made to play instruments, to wrap around a basketball or maybe a narrow, muscular waist. He moaned lightly as JC kissed his palm, licked it. JC smiled up at him. "I like them."

"Hmm," Justin kissed JC's temple. JC burrowed back into him, squeezed his hand, and Justin said, "I like you."

JC's smile widened, he nipped at Justin's fingertips. "I like you, too." He took the top of the middle finger into his mouth, swirled his tongue around it. A darted glance towards Joey, and then leaning up to whisper, "I like the way you taste."

Justin flushed, cleared his throat, shifting to press himself against JC, thrust and whisper back, "I like the way you feel."

JC slid his arm behind his back, between them and curved his hand around Justin, gentle but enough to make him gasp softly. He nuzzled Justin's cheek and Justin wondered how something could be at once so innocent and so sexy. "I like…" JC trailed off, sighing across Justin's lips, sending shocks racing up his spine.

He sat straighter as he shivered, tightened his arms around and nudged himself into JC, let him know. JC's eyelashes fluttered, his head falling onto Justin's shoulder and his back arching. And God, so hot. Justin bit at his earlobe, sucked it into his mouth, let it go to lick his neck. A crash came from the kitchen, someone dropping something metal. They looked up and realized they were alone in the room. "I'm hungry." JC breathed.

"Me, too," Justin said, pushing him away so they could get up. "But let's eat dinner first."

---

"You have some freckles," Fingers following breath over his skin, Justin tucked his chin to see for himself.

"Huh? Yhea," He writhed as JC dragged his teeth over his shoulder. "Some…"

"I like it." Justin was lying on his stomach, JC kneeling above him, licking across the line of his shoulders, biting the nape of his neck like a cat. His kneaded Justin's back, his sides. "I want to count them," lapping between shoulder blades, "with my tongue."

"Mmm…you…" Because Justin couldn't quite form sentences when he was with JC like this, could barely think. JC was sliding down his body, tasting and nibbling and rubbing, and then his hands on Justin's hips, coaxing him to turn over, and JC lowered himself so every inch of bare skin was touching, and their lips met with delicate urgency. Slow but insistent, sweet but purposeful.

JC rolled them so Justin was on top, enveloping him in his legs, ankles hooked behind Justin's back. Their eyes met with an intensity that made Justin's breath come short. JC told him, "I want to memorize you." And it seemed like what he hadn't even known he'd always needed.

---

When Justin awoke JC was there, curled up like a child with one fist tucked under his cheek and the other low on Justin's stomach. He watched JC sleep, just watched and it felt like eating cobbler at grandma's house, pleasant and cozy. He traced JC's skin with his fingertips, mindful not to rouse him, and wished this was all life was.

He slid closer, a brush of lips he couldn't resist, careful but not careful enough, because now JC was stirring, and Justin almost regretted it until he got to see eyes open, lips crook faintly. "Morning." JC's voice was thick with sleep, airy.

Justin smiled, rested his hand on JC's neck. "Sleep good?"

JC nodded a little, blinked lazily. "Wish we could stay."

"Me, too," Justin scooted closer, hooked a leg around JC's. "What are we gonna do?"

JC turned his head, licked at Justin's wrist. "Do?"

"When we go back," Justin took in a sharp, hissing breath as JC used his teeth. "Are we…?"

"I don't think I could stop," JC murmured, "even if I wanted to."