And he probably is. He's probably looking up from that dark place I took him last night. The place where he found out he's not straight as an arrow, but rather quite heteroflexible and quite attracted to me. I guess that's good though. It's what I wanted, I think.

So I should just let him wallow in it for a while, think over what happened between us last night -- how he couldn't stop looking into my green eyes, and how he couldn't keep his hands off me as we came up in the elevator. I didn't have sex with him, but I could have. He was pretty drunk though, and I didn't want him regretting anything.

I hope he doesn't regret anything that we did do. That would just be too much. He probably won't even talk to me if he does. The substance of our friendship would turn to goo, and that would be a fucking shame.

I'm packing my bags, so we can head out to the bus, and someone knocks on my door. It's Joey. "Lance," he says. He looks pissed. "Will you go talk to him, please? He's driving everyone up the wall."

"Like he doesn't do that anyways," I said.

"No, no. This is not spazzy, fun Chris that drives you nuts because you're laughing so hard at him, this is mopey, pouting Chris who's going to be strangled if he acts like this when we get on the bus."

"Pouting? He's pouting?"

"Yeah, Lance -- pouting." Joey rolls his eyes. "What the hell did you do to him last night?"

"We just went out...dancing. We danced, wemadeoutalittle, we had drinks."

"Wha... What?!"

"Don't acted so shocked. You know I'm..."

"A little light in the loafers? A little..." he took an index finger and traced it over his eyebrow. I assumed it meant "gay" in some fucked up version of sign language.

"Yeah, so what's the problem?"

"Chris. He's not. I mean, maybe he did stuff in college, but he went out with Dani for so LONG..."

"No, he didn't do stuff in college."

"How do you know?"

"He told me. He said he'd never done this before."

"Just go talk to him." He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Skinny Puppy, played at that volume is official 'leave me the fuck alone' music."

"I don't care. Just do something." He walked out the door and stood in the hallway. "Just remember, if he gets accidentally killed on the way to Chicago, it's all your fault."

I ignored him and went back to packing. I knew that if I talked to him, there might end up being two mopey Nsyncers on the bus. I didn't want to know why Chris was brooding, unless I knew that it was because he liked what happened last night, and not that he wished it hadn't happened.

I zipped up my suitcase and set it by the door to be picked up. I sat at the small hotel table and opened my laptop. Maybe I could check my email and this will all be over when I'm done.

Sure enough, after replying to an email from my sister, the music stopped. I sighed and opened the next message, an email from JC. He thought it was funny to email me even though he could walk right up to me and say things in person. There was a knock on the door again.

"Joey, go away. I'm still not gonna go talk to him."

The door was pushed open. "Why don't you want to talk to me?"

I turned around to see Chris, biting his lip, peeking in.

"I heard you were pouting, I didn't want to bother you."

"Well, Joey sure wanted to bother me. He tossed me out of my room."

He was still standing outside the door, waiting for and invitation, or for a rock to crawl under, I didn't know which. "Come talk to me," I said and walked towards the door. "If we don't figure something out before we get on the bus, I think they're going to lock us in the bathroom the whole time."

He smiled and stepped in the room. A smile -- a good sign. He looked around the room as if he didn't know what a chair was, or what sitting was. He ended up flopping on the floor next to the bed.

"Lance, what happened to us?"

"What do you mean?" I kind of knew, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"When did you fall in love with me? When did I let myself fall in love with you?" He sighed and put a hand on his chest, as if it hurt.

"You... fell in love... with me?"

"Yeah, even before last night."

"I don't understand..." I couldn't figure out what to say. My mouth stopped moving and all I could do was sit down next to him and hope he meant what he was saying.

"Neither do I," he said. "You'd think that'd I'd have it all figured out by now, at my age." He reached for my hand, and I held it up for him so he could wrap his fingers in mine. "But I don't. It seems like I don't know anything more than I did when I started puberty."

"Puberty?" I said. "No wonder your voice hasn't changed yet." I couldn't resist. He'd set himself up for that one.

He laughed and squeezed my hand. "No, not like that. It's like, you make me feel like I'm 12 again -- giddy and flustered and..."

"Hormonal?"

He laughed again. "Maybe."

We sat in silence like that for a while, him looking down at our hands, me looking at his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in them.

"I guess I don't know if I want to feel this out of control," he said and looked up at me.

He was wrong though. He was in control -- over my heart. And right now he was holding it a little too carefully, a little too much like someone might hold a piece of China or a delicate piece of blown glass.

"I think I just need some time..." he said. I closed my eyes and prepared for the blow -- Chris was the type who would accidentally break china if left with it long enough.

Maybe he noticed my reaction because then he said, "No Lance, not time like that, away from you. Time like with you. With you so I can find out if this is real."

I shook my head. "Chris. Don't do this if you think you're going to end up backing out. I don't want us to be like that."

"Who says I think I'm going to eventually back out?" He smiled and stood up, pulling me with him. "Because I don't. I want this to work and I want this to be GOOD. And I think we can have that."

He pulled me into a hug and I melded into him. He wanted to be mine. He wanted me to be his. He wanted and I could feel it in his breath as he exhaled on my neck.

"Is this how it's gonna be?" I asked. "We have little intense moments like this and then make up?"

"Maybe," he said. "But if so, the making up part will be worth it." He kissed me, much like he did last night, without fear on his lips or question marks on his tongue.

End.

Originally written as an *Mprov on 12/25/00 with the words heteroflexible, elevator.