Lance took his place at the table, sitting between JC and Justin. It was all routine to him. Get to a city, do a show, have a press conference. Only, this was different. They were in Hershey, although not for long, and it had not been an ordinary stop on the tour.

"You-who! Earth to Lance, come in, Lance," JC said, waving his hand front of the young man's face. "Hey, space cadet! Snap out of it!" He snapped his fingers in front of Lance's face a few times, hoping to bring his friend out of his trance.

"Huh . . . wha . . . yeah, JC? I'm sorry. I was zoning."

"Yeah, I noticed. The press conference is about to start."

"Another round of the same old questions. Don't they ever get tired of it?" Lance asked no one in particular, not realized he voiced his thoughts aloud.

"No, 'cause they're hoping one day we'll answer differently to the girlfriend question," Justin told him, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "I keep answering 'single and ready to mingle' 'cause I can't disappoint my public. Wouldn't want to be responsible for a higher rate of suicide of teenage girls."

Chris sat down on the other side of Justin, rolling his eyes. "If only your public saw you checking your ass to see if it grew a third cheek the other night . . . Now there's something to tell the reporters. . ."

"My ass is a major priority of my public. And you need to watch yours, because it's getting less flattering everyday. If you sit on it so much, reading books, it starts to level out and become flat. Now the trick to avoid that is--"

"You been checkin' out my ass, JuJu?"

"It's kind of hard not to see--"

"Well I guess my not-so-perfect posterior weeds out all of the forty-year-olds who get a lot of enjoyment out of sizing and readjusting my pants."

"Huh? Joey! Did you tell Chris about Tammy?" Justin leaned back behind Chris and turned to his left to ask in a hushed whisper.

"About Tammy liking your buns?" JC looked up from his coffee.

"Joey . . ."

"I had to tell! It was priceless," Joey defended, running a hand through his bright red locks.

"Now, everyone knows . . ."

"Not everyone," Lance countered. "But I plan on making a mention of it once the questions start--"

"I swear to Buddha, Lance, if you make one mention of it, I am so telling people about the lipstick."

"The lipstick that you used last Friday!"

"Guys, guys! Hush," JC intervened as the room began to get quiet, and reporters found their prepared questions and checked to make sure their cameras were ready to go.

"We'd like to welcome JC Chasez, Lance Bass, Justin Timberlake, Chris Kirkpatrick, and Joey Fatone of 'N Sync to answer questions here at Hershey Park, today. Please be respectful and ask one question at a time. We've got enough time to make sure that all the important ones are asked, so be patient. No flashes until the end, please. Okay, first question," Steven Wright, a newer publicist on the 'N Sync staff announced.

"Hi, my name is Marcia Eagles and I'm an editor at Teen Celebs Monthly. This question is for Justin Timberlake. Justin, rumors of you and pop star Britney Spears have resurfaced after reports that the two of you were seen together in Orlando two weeks ago? Your comments?"

"Britney and I are just friends. She's a fly honey and all, but no, we aren't seeing each other."

"None of us have any steady girlfriends at the moment," Joey announced. "We're dating, of course, but nothing serious."

"Right, it's impossible to date on the road. Johnny Wright won't let us add any extra bunks on the tour bus and we snore, so no girl would want to share one," Chris added.

The reporters shared a chuckle before a second woman gathered her notecards and fired her question, "I'm Lucy Anders from The Hershey Gazette. This question is for Mr. Joey Fatone. Joey, I'm sure everyone has heard about the scandal that took place in New Jersey last week." The crowd gasped and eyes prompted for clarification. "The wedgie scandal?" Reporters immediately understood and nodded their heads for her to continue, while picking out all of the notecards that they'd created on the topic. Lucy stood, proudly, knowing she was getting to ask the question that was on everyone's mind. "My question is, Mr. Fatone, for the record, what are your feelings on the subject and do you have any true information you'd like to express that hasn't been reported. We've heard everyone's side of the story but yours." She held her pencil, tightly between her fingers, poised to jot down his words.

Four members of 'N Sync broke into grins and laughed lowly, under their breaths. Joey sank in his chair, blushing to match his chosen hair color and pausing to think of something smart to say. "The entire incident occurred purely because of pants that weren't a proper fit," he spoke up, stuttering lightly on his words. "Otherwise, I would've never done something of that nature, especially in public. However, I think we've all heard the rumors enough and now that it's been clarified, I'm anxious to drop it and focus on what really matters--the music."

Chris smiled and backed his friend up. "That's right. 'N Sync is all about music. We get wedgies, we pick them, and we move on. Thanks for asking the question, though. We'd rather the incident be kept out of the media from now on, if at all possible. We like to reserve such things for only us to use in making fun of each other. When MTV gets ahold of it, the joke just isn't as funny."

"Serena Alschul just isn't a very funny person," Lance continued in his deep voice in a touch of his Southern drawl.

"She's downright cruel," Joey muttered under his breath, inaudible to the crowd. "Next question," he spoke up, anxious to get to more intriguing issues . . . like if Justin wasn't seeing Britney, was JC seeing that girl from Innosense?

"Yes, I'm Jack Meyer from The Philadelphia Inquirer. I heard that Darren Henson has been injured. Is this true? And if so, what choreographer are you working with now, if you're even working with one at all?"

Lance leaned in towards his mic. "Yes, Darren was injured during a rehearsal. His assistant, Morgan Ramiccio, is filling in for him while he recovers."

Reporters mumbled among themselves, asking questions about the proper spelling of "Ramiccio" before Jack asked the second part of his question. "And is everything running smoothly with the new choreographer? Any problems with adjusting or creative control?"

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but JC interrupted, "Morgan's great! She knows exactly what our strengths and weaknesses are and she's moving in quite nicely. We think our fans will be pleased with the direction we're moving in. And she's really working us hard." He paused when Joey stopped to clear his throat, raising his eyebrows at the comment.

Chris and Justin exchanged glances before Justin jumped in. "Morgan don't like to let us slip, ya know? She makes sure we're the best we can be."

"In the army," Chris sang, lightly, before going on. "Next question!" Lance tapped his fingers on the table, before moving to pick up his mug of coffee. A few more questions, maybe a signing, and then he could cut lose. Joey had mentioned something about a party, and all of the guys were ready to have a little fun.

Cassandra checked into the hotel a quarter after three, knowing she was still a bit early. She needed to take a shower and cool down. The humidity was unbearable and it was giving her long, wavy red hair the frizzies. Sliding her card key into the slot, she let herself in and told the bellboy to leave her suitcase and notebook laptop on the bed.

After he was tipped, the bellboy left Cassie alone to relax. She slipped out of her beige pantsuit, tossed the outfit beside her luggage, and stepped into the bathroom for a shower. The cool water felt fresh on her shoulders and she lifted her face to let her cheeks be hit by the spray. Flushed cheeks that seemed to brighten in color with every thought of Chris worked against the chill of the water and sent shivers down her spine.

The thought of seeing him again kept her on edge and she imagined how it would be to talk to him again, the former adoration nervousness gone and replaced by a similar feeling caused by something entirely different.

Turning the shower knobs, she stopped the water rush and stepped out onto the bathmat, grabbing a towel. Just as she had twisted the towel around her head and hair, the phone rang. She cursed under her breath and jogged out of the bathroom, dripping across the carpet.

"Hello?" she asked, frustrated, after the fourth ring.

"Where were you?" he asked. Chris.

"Nice greeting . . . and I was in the shower," she said hesitantly.

"Oh . . . sorry." He paused and wondered how such a simple comment could lead to the complex thoughts that raced through his head, right then. He stuttered before continuing, "W--well, I'm calling from the press conference. We just wrapped up, but several reporters brought their kids, so we're going to do a little signing."

"Such positive press," she smiled.

"Well you know how it goes . . . So I'd say I'll be there in no less than an hour. Joey's got a friend outside of Hershey who he used to work with at Universal Studios. He's generously offered to have us all for a dinner party. And with Joey's friends, that's more party than dinner . . . Anyway--"

"Sure! I'd be glad to go."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course. Do I really have any choice?" she laughed, lightly.

"Well no, I guess not."

"Then Universal Studios Employee Reunion Party it is."

"Good. Joey's going to go directly from here to his friend's place, but the rest of us will be back at the hotel soon. We're going all together in the limo."

Cassie laughed, "Aren't you guys trying to keep a low profile?"

"Joey wants his friends to see it. Don't ask me why. You know what they say about boys and big cars."

"No, Chris, actually, I don't--" she answered.

"You don't? Well . . . um . . . I just said that, so I don't know either."

"Joey got a big--?"

"How should I know?"

"You're buddies . . . you see his--"

"I do not! I don't see anything that he has."

"Not with all the touring and time you spend together? You never see his . . . gas mileage?"

"Huh?" Chris asked, wrinkling his eyebrows. "Oh wait . . . big car, big gas mileage oooh, you're smooth . . . so funny I forgot to laugh."

"You only wish you could be as funny as me, Chris. Now go sign your name for the reporters' daughters and hurry back. I need to meet this Joey--"

"Hey, you watch it," Chris laughed. "Later Cass."

"See you," she said, hanging up the phone and heading back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

"Cassandra, these are the guys--JC, Lance, and Justin. Guys, this is Cass," Chris made the introductions after they'd gotten situationed in the limo. Chris and Cass sat together, their backs toward the driver and facing Chris' bandmates.

"Nice to meet you," Cassie said, politely shaking hands with the boys.

"So you write romance novels?" JC asked.

"Yeah, but I'm nothin' special, though," she answered, nervously.

"Nothing special?!" Chris laughed and hooked her line for compliments. "Are you kidding? She's the very best at what she does. Her writing is incredible."

"Thank you," she whispered to him, grinning.

"Yeah?" I read some of it on the bus, and I just gotta' say I was expectin' a bit more sumpin' sumpin if you know what I mean," Justin threw in his two cents and caused Lance to choke on his bottled water.

"Justin! Please! A little sumpin' sumpin'? Cassandra's characters are in love and--lovemaking--should be treated very, very carefully," Chris snapped and patted Cassie's hand, ashamed of Justin's behavior. He didn't see the amused look on her face.

"No, Chris, that's okay! I love hearing constructive criticism. So . . . Justin? You think I should write more sex--I mean lovemaking scenes into the plot?"

"Yeah! See now, in your last book, Lorenzo and Juliana didn't even get down until the end of the story. I think they shoulda' been kickin' it by at least the fifth chapter."

"Justin!" Chris spat, disgusted, but Cass interrupted him.

"No, Chris. It's fine. Thank you, Justin. In the next novel I'm working on, I want to modernize a bit. I was actually thinking of making it a lot steamier than those past. I tend to work from personal experience, though, and I haven't exactly been inspired," she answered and patted Chris' knee. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he put two and two together and quickly shut up.

"Well, just let me know if you need any ideas or what, because I'd like to work on a book! And not to brag, Cassandra, but I do knows what the ladies like," Justin smiled proudly and she fought to surpress her laughter.

"That'd be great, Justin. Just fabulous!"

JC smiled and nodded, "Interesting work you do, Cass. Very interesting work." The vehicle pulled up to the side of the street and the group looked onto a very suburban, two-story house with what seemed to be an in ground pool in the back. Joey sure knew how to pick his parties.

"Guys! You made it! I was thinkin' we'd have to call the search party!" Joey raced to the door, brandishing a beer and a bigger grin than he'd worn all spring. Cassandra hid slightly behind Chris.

"Joey!" Justin smacked a high five with his friend and walked through the doorway.

"Joey, it's seven o'clock, broad daylight, Man. Are you already drunk?" JC raised his eyebrows.

"Huh? This party's just gettin' started!" With that being said, Joey bounded into the room, searching out people to introduce his bandmates to. The guys followed him in and were met with several odd stares, before Joey's friends, apparently unsusceptible to being starstruck, carried on and began to search for a keg. "I feel like I'm in high school," Cassandra giggled when she saw Joey's college-aged friends bounding down the halls. "I bet this house belongs to some guy's parents."

"It indeed does! See that guy over there? That's Derek Bradley, a friend of mine from high school. And this house? It belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Bradley. They're away on vacation in the Alps!" Joey popped out from behind Chris and Cass, causing them to jump. She turned around and faced him, laughing. "Hey . . . I know you," Joey spoke, after staring at her face for a few moments. "Yeah, I do."

She wrinkled her nose, "No, I don't think so. I'm Cassandra Tate," she stuck out her hand for him to shake. He accepted it but shook his head.

"Yeah, you're the writer chick. But no, I've met you before. We used to hang out, Man."

"No! I don't think we've ever met, Joey--"

"Yes, we have! You rode dolphins," Joey slurred. Chris started laughing and raised his eyebrows.

"You really are drunk, Joe. How many beers does that make you?"

"No I'm not! I swear! She rode dolphins."

"Wait a minute," Cass answered as things begin to click. "I know what you're talking about. You're talking about Melissa."

"Melissa?" Chris asked, confused.

"My twin! I have a twin, Melissa, that Joey must've known. She used to work at Sea World. She did tricks with the dolphins when we all lived in Orlando."

"That was it! Man, Melissa. She rode dolphins and she's your twin. Man, that's so kinky," Joey nodded, giving a satisfied smile before taking another gulp.

"You never told me you had a twin," Chris whispered, looking at her oddly.

"You never asked," she laughed. "We were talking always about my characters."

"Yeah! I used to know Melissa!" Joey interrupted them by reiterating the same thing he'd already said several times.

"Yeah! You knew her at Sea World!" Cassandra repeated, genuinely amused. She would have to make a character for Joey.

"Yeah, see, when I worked at Universal, a big group of us would always hang out together after work. Melissa was there, too, and I saw the act she did like five times. She was good with those dolphins. So she doesn't do that anymore?"

"No, she quit after renting Free Willy. Something about that whale really moved her and she couldn't go back to the animals, feeling the same way," Cassandra answered him, remembering those days Melissa would call her up each night, not really knowing where she was going, but still feeling she couldn't go back to Sea World.

"What a shame," Joey sighed, shaking his head. "What's she doing, now?"

"She moved away for a while, but she's back in Orlando. Runs her own salon."

"You don't say!" Joey shouted. "Well, if you talk to her, tell her Joey Fatone asked about her. I'd really like to talk to her, too! She was always so good with those dolphins," Joey repeated again, sadly, before walking off to grab himself another beer.

"I can't believe you have a twin sister, Cass. Who rides dolphins," Chris marveled, surprised. "You really think you know a person."

"Rode dolphins," she corrected. "And we really are going to have to get acquainted . . . but it seems like talking around you would be wasting time," she smiled, lightly.

"Wasting time? Well, we have all the time in the world . . . you know, when you're not on book tours and I'm not performing and everything that goes along with those two. So, basically, we've at least got tonight, and here we are at this fabulous Pennsylvania home. Since Mr. and Mrs. Bradley aren't here, do you think you might want to live out those teenage years?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow hopefully.

"Not really, Kirkpatrick . . ." she laughed and smiled at several girls who were surrounding Joey as he downed more beer. "But wouldn't it inspire you?" Chris was so smooth.

"Hmm . . ." she thought for a second, "I could go for a little inspiration, right now. You feeling pretty creative?" She snorted and took note of the staircase, nodding her head to them.

"Oh, I'm always creative."

"Then let's go upstairs!" she laughed, knowing she was about eight years too late to be making out in the host's bedroom, but not quite minding, just the same. The two escaped, unnoticed, up the stairs and out of sight.

Lance and Justin sat, together, on the couch, nursing beers and surveying the crowd. "Man, how does he do that?" Justin asked in frustration as he watched a beautiful young woman hit on JC for the second time that night.

"How does who do what?" Lance asked, not particularly interested in what his friend was whining about.

"JC, man. We've only been here for what, twenty minutes? And that brunette is all over him. She's come up to twice already!" He shook his head and returned his gaze to the couch a few feet away. JC was sitting down, and the brunette with the large breasts and clothes so tight they could have been spray painted on, was practically in his lap. His friend had no apparent interest in the woman, for all intent and purposes, sitting astride him, and as far Justin was concerned, it was a sin if he ever saw one. "He's not even making a move! There's gotta' be something wrong with him."

"Maybe he needs Viagra," Lance suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, no, no, this is much more serious," Justin informed his friend, a look of concern on his face. "He won't even look at her. And this isn't the first time this has happened. Remember that night in Hoboken a few weeks back? We had to practically drag him out to the Cadillac Bar, and even then he didn't scope out one chick."

"Now that you mention it . . ." Lance's voice trailed off as a few particular incidents came to mind. "He has been off his game lately."

"Exactly!"

"Like today. What was with him? Barely said a word during the press conference. Then that one reporter wants to know if we have a new choreographer, and he comes to life. 'She works us hard.' What the fuck was up with that shit?"

Joey, who had maneuvered his way through his crowd just in time to catch wind of Justin and Lance's conversation, began to laugh. Lance and Justin turned and looked at him strangely, not finding the situation humorous at all. Joey only laughed harder and their bewildered expressions. "Oh, come on! Don't tell me you don't know!"

"Know what?" they asked simultaneously.

"JC and Morgan."

"Yeah, what about them?" Justin asked, still not following.

"They're going at it, man."

"What?" Lance asked in shock, snapping his head from JC to look at Joey.

"No way!" Justin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm tellin' ya, man," Joey said, taking a sip of his beer. "JC's gettin' ass from Morgan."

"I think you've had one too many," Lance said, trying to take the can from his friend.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he said, taking a step back in order to protect the brewsky. "Think about it. Granted JC was never really a player, but any self-respectable guy in his position would at least be cupping a few good feels. He looks bored out of his mind. I'm tellin' ya, him and Morgan are gettin' it on. And since she's on tour with us, he probably gets it every night, too. Lucky bastard."

"Uh-uh . . . whatever," Lance rolled his eyes, but with the way JC was completely ignoring the brunette and his actions as of late, there was quite a bit of self doubt evident in his voice. Justin agreed, but didn't speak up about it. No use in giving Joey the satisfaction of coming up with the one reason that actually made sense.

"Well that's fine!" Joey spat, finding offense in Lance's tone. "I know where I'm not wanted or trusted. I'm going out to the pool, anyway. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley have a kickin' a slide and you know me . . . I'm all about slides." Joey began to stagger on outside to the pool deck where thirty or so college students were having the absolute time of their lives.

Justin eyed all of the eligible young ladies in the room, hoping to find someone to take his mind off the fact that JC could quite possibly be hitting it with the choreographer. Spotting a very familiar black-haired girl drinking alone at the Bradley's home bar, Justin's hand moved instinctively to run through his curls. "Hey, is that Diana from wardrobing?" Justin asked, nodding towards the girl, wondering why she'd be there.

"Yeah, Joey invited her before he left," Lance cooly replied, his interest slowly leaving Justin and focusing in on the pool deck.

"Did he invite anyone else from wardrobing?" suddenly nervous.

"Tammy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I think so. But she's got a family or some shit, man. She can't just go to watch Joey . . . get naked at parties," Lance spoke slowly.

"Huh?!"

"Look outside, man," Lance began to lowly chuckle. Joey had stripped himself of his clothing and with a t-shirt pulled up to his neck and bunched on his back like a cape, he stood proudly on the diving board before running and taking a perfect belly flop into the pool.

Justin and Lance winced simultaneously. "That had to hurt."

"Shit, it's just eight o'clock and Joey's already doing the naked belly flops. I'm gonna' go get him out of the pool before he gets himself into trouble," Lance grumbled, standing up and making his way out to the pool, shifting between body after body.

"Okay, man. I'm gonna' see what our Wardrobing Assistant is up to."

A sly grin on his lips, Justin Timberlake coolly strutted up towards Diana Breen. She was sitting on a bar stool, her slender legs crossed. He stood beside her, putting an elbow on the counter and propping his hand on his chin to give her a smile. Leaning in, he whispered, "Well if it isn't Miss Diana Breen lookin' like who's the ish. Tell me something, Lady Di, 'cause I know you know a lot about clothes and shit. I think your dress is amazing, too. But, you know, it'd look a hell of a lot better on you with me in it, if ya' know what I'm saying."

"Oh, I know what you're saying," she said, grinning flirtatiously. "However, I'm afraid you got some heavy competition tonight. Jose is serenading me."

"Jose?" Justin asked, confused. They were the only two at the bar at the moment.

"Yeah, Jose," Diana said, holding up the bottle of Jose Cuervo tequila.

"Tequila? You like that shit?" he asked, surprised. He had always been under the impression that ladies drank wimpy stuff, like wine coolers.

"Love it," she replied, slowly licking her lips. "So, what do you say, Hot Stuff? I got a worm here with your name on it."

"Excuse me?"

"The tequila. Wanna' do a shot with me?"

"Uh . . . sure, I guess," Justin replied, really not sure of himself. Whenever he went out with the guys he had a few beers, but hard liquor was a whole different realm.

"You guess?" Diana asked, one eyebrow raised. She got two shot glasses and set them down on the counter between them. "Don't tell me," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin. "You've never had tequila shots before, have you?"

He shook his head no, lowering his gaze to the tiny pile of lemon seeds with spilled salt in front of him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Nope."

Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "A tequila virgin . . . Well, please allow me the honors of giving you your first shot," she said, filling the glasses with the gold liquor. She took two lemon wedges from the bowl and handed one to Justin. Then she reached for the salt shaker. "Okay, first you lick," she told him. Her left hand formed a fist, and her tongue danced across the skin by her thumb in a teasing manner. She sprinkled some salt on the moist skin, and then handed him the shaker.

Justin grinned as he accepted the shaker. His left hand formed a fist, and his tongue moistened the skin, just as Diana's had done. He sprinkled on some salt and looked up, a sly grin on his face. "What's next?"

She raised her shot glass and smiled over it. "You lick the salt, then down the hatch it goes. And then you suck on the lemon like there's no tomorrow. Ready?"

He raised his glass to meet hers.

"1, 2, 3!"

As quickly as possible, the two licked the salt from their fists, threw back the shots, and then suckled the lemon wedges. Diana's eyes lit up when she saw the expression on Justin's face.

"Fuck, man! That shit burns!" he said before his lips returned to the lemon, sucking the last few drops of the bitter juice from it. His eyes were beginning to tear. "I can't believe you actually like that shit."

"Aww . . . did Jose burn your chest on the way down?" she asked playfully between giggles. "I like it because it's fun. Come on, admit it. You think it's fun, too."

Justin felt the temperature in his body rise, and had trouble distinguishing if it was from the liquor or the view he was getting of down Diana's lowcut tank top. "Well, yeah, it wasn't all that bad . . ."

"That's what I thought," she said, her tongue licking the last of the lemon juice from her lips. "So, what do you say?" she asked, leaning in closer, lowering her voice. "Wanna go around round?"

Christopher Kirkpatrick had Cassandra Tate pinned on Derek Bradley's bed in a room he'd most likely lived in all his life. Neither knew exactly who Derek Bradley was, but both were deciding they really enjoyed not only his waterbed with the Baltimore Oriole's bedspread, but also Derek's fine collection of lava lamps. It was finally getting dark outside and inside, the lava lamps shone all kinds of colors from their stands scattered across the area. When the two had gotten up to the bedroom, sounds from the pool, down below, had filtered into the window, so Chris was forced to turn on the CD player to drown them out. The soothing sounds of Dave Matthews surrounded the room, mellowing them out.

Cassandra laid back on the bed as Chris supported his weight on each side of her, straddling her around her hips. She brought his head down to meet her lips by running her fingers through his cropped hair and pulling him down. She felt his soft lips flutter across hers and the tickling sent shivers down her spine. He lifted up and watched her open her eyes and grin, him with a smile sweeping across his face. She bit her lip lightly, and turned him to his side, so they were both resting face to face, the sides of their heads resting on pillows.

Feeling more comfortable, they closed their eyes and lips met again, carefully exploring and tasting each other. Their tongues mingled and they kept the kiss at a slow pace, not bothering to rush things, but to take them for what they were and enjoy them. Chris kept his lower hand on her face, gently holding it and carressing her cheek. With his other arm, he rubbed her back, reaching up to play with her hair. Her hands were placed carefully on his chest, and the two kissed like they used to do in movie theatres as teenagers.

Chris' lips moved off her's to her neck, and he laid deeper in the pillow. She kissed and suckled his neck, relaxing as she felt his hands slide under the back of her shirt, giving her a soft back rub. She stopped working on his neck and sighed happily and opened her eyes, resting her head on his. "Mmm, that feels good, Chris."

"You going to return the favor?" he joked and she lifted his shirt to slide her palms along his lower back. She knew she could've stayed like that forever and he really was relaxing her to the point of sleepiness. The book touring hadn't caught up to her yet, but after two months, she knew the exhaustion would soon be starting to hit. Putting work thoughts out of her mind, she kept her eyes open to look at KISS poster Derek had on his wall. Right below the poster was a stack of board games--Checkers, Monopoly, Battleship, and . . . could she really believe her eyes? Her most favorite game in the world that she honestly hadn't played in years?

She sucked in a breath and jumped back from Chris. "What? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" Chris asked, suddenly, trying to get her to focus on something, but her eyes seemed to be looking at something else. "Huh? What are you looking at?" He rolled over to see the object of her attention. "Twister?" he grumbled.

"It's Twister! I haven't played in years! Twister rocks!" she squealed and he groaned, moving to lay on his back.

"We can play later. Come on . . . let's just--"

"I cannot pay attention to you when there is Twister in the room," she confessed. "I mean . . . it's Twister. I love Twister."

"Great!" he groaned and she jumped off the bed to grab the box. Unfolding the game sheet across the carpet, she tossed him the spinner.

"Come on! Spin for me."

Chris rolled his eyes and flipped the spinner. "Okay, it says . . . your tongue goes in my mouth."

"Chris," she whined. "Be serious."

"Right hand on blue," he huffed. She moved to the spot. "Okay . . . left foot red," he said after flipping again. She stretched her position and he gave a bored sigh. "Dude, this sucks. How are you going to win? You aren't playing anyone?"

"Well play with me," she grinned hopefully.

"Uh-uh. Let's just get back on the bed and go back to what we were doing . . ."

"Come on. For me? Please?" she asked, quietly. He looked down at her puppy dog eyes as she squatted, hunched over on the Twister bored.

"Fine," he sighed. "Just once. And then we're going to play what I want to play."

"Deal!" she laughed. "Okay, now come on and bring the spinner. I'll let you lift your hands to spin, but that's all. No cheating." Chris reluctantly slid off of the bed and took off his shoes to stand in sock-feet. She stood back up and they started the game over.

"Left hand red," Chris said after spinning. They got to their spots fairly easily, but left leg blue was a little more challenging. "Right leg yellow," Chris announced. Chris was moved so he could hover across the board in a crabwalk position and Cassandra moved over top of him as if she was doing a push up. She flipped for him, since he couldn't reach the spinner.

"Right hand green!" she shouted and she and Chris scrambled to place their hands on the same dot. She slammed her hand down over his and lost her balance, falling straight on top of him and sending him down. "YOU HIT THE GROUND FIRST!" she squealed. "I WIN!"

"Yeah right," Chris looked up desperately, as she straddled him at the waist. "You were the one that fell. You just knocked me down! I win. And you know that fair and square."

"Whatever, first one to touch the ground--"

"DOESN'T MATTER WHO TOUCHES THE GROUND! IT'S WHO FALLS!" he grumbled again, and realized he was taking this much too seriously; he looked up at the writer, her long red hair flowing over her shoulders as she cocked her head back to laugh her huge distinctive cackle. He smiled at her and watched her laugh until she felt his eyes on her and caught him staring. Her laughter faded and she spied him with her huge grin. He really loved that smile . . . "It's my turn to play, now," he told her, lightly, and she decided she wouldn't mind playing his games too much.

She moved down to face him, his lips several inches from his. Her hair fell down her neck and she leaned in, pulling it back and kissing those fantastic lips of his again. She relaxed and Chris kissed her as if they'd never left off from where they were, and the two went on playing together, exploring each other's lips with sweet kisses on a Twister game sheet, up in Derek's room.

Meanwhile, back at the pool, Joey was proudly showing off his nude body after having discarded his T-shirt cape. During the sunset, he'd charmed all of Derek's school buddies with his rendition of "Rubber Duckie," and now that it was dark, he was showing off his impressively perfect backstroke moves. Up and down the length of the pool, Joey swam on his back, letting his body feel the warmth of how it was originally intended that man should feel. He'd attracted quite a crowd. Girls had flocked to the waters and swam with him, some even joining in on his songs.

Lance knew, as he watched the event, that Joey was drunk as a skunk in New Orleans, and that he had never actually been as drunk as he was, tonight. Joey could handle these things. He was big . . . he was Italian . . . and he was a drinker. Lance had started to believe, as of late, that Joey just wanted to show off how comfortable he was with his body and wanted to put on an entertainment special at his parties.

"Joey! Grab onto the swim doodle, man," Lance tried to convince Joey to take hold of the florescent foam rubber pole. Poking Joey, whopping him across the head, and coaxing didn't seem to be working, though. For some reason, Joey was just completely refusing to take hold of the swim doodle. This was a first. "Come on, Joey, just grab it. It's getting late . . . People are watching, Joey," Lance complained. This was the only suitable way to pull his friend out of the water and Joey showed no response. He smiled at Lance and kept right on with the backstrokes, causing even more of a stir.

"Grab it, Joe!" someone shouted from the drunken audience of college-aged kids. Joey saluted the group, but kept on swimming, taking no notice of the swim doodle, being waved in front of him. JC marched gallantly out of the house, noticing that the party guests had gradually filtered outside. He knew, at once, that Joey was making a scene, again.

"You're going to have to go in after him. He's not coming out," JC instructed.

"He's naked, JC! I just can't do it!"

"You're not intimidated by him, Lance, are you?"

"JC, you know that I of all people, wouldn't be intimidated. Besides, water does things to a man that no one can quite understand. But even so, I am not going to get in the water to pull Joey out. He's gotten drunk and naked way too many times for us to babysit!"

"That's it. I'm going in," JC bravely spoke after thinking. He undid his shirt cuffs and stepped out of his shoes, before diving into the water. Swimming to Joey, he took hold of him around his shoulders and neck, carefully taking him back to the stairs and helping him step out of the water. Joey's audience began to clap at the rescue of their friend and several kids whistled for JC. Lance grabbed a robe from the poolhouse and wrapped it around Joey. Joey placed an unsteady arm around both of his friends.

"I love you guys, a lot. I never . . . get the chance . . . to say it," Joey admitted as the guys steadied him and helped him walk back through the sliding doors and into the house. He got quiet when he saw the look on JC's face.

"I'm disappointed in you Lance. There is no I in 'N Sync. You're a member of the most prestigious boyband in the world and sometimes I don't think you value it as much as you should. I'm going to take Joey upstairs so he can sleep this off. I suggest you come with me to help, so you can redeem yourself. We need to get some clothes for him," JC ordered Lance, none too pleased with his bandmate, at the moment.

"Rubber Duckie, you're the one. You make bathtime lots of fun!" Joey interrupted with his song and Lance guiltily helped JC carry the drunken redhead upstairs. When they got to the top, they found the bedrooms and opened the first one on the right, hoping it was free for Joey to use.

Moving into the doorway, the three soon realized it wasn't. Chris and Cassandra obliviously kissed on the floor, rocking back and forth on each other, having an ultimately private moment. JC was not in the mood to deal with this either. It seemed as if he was the only mature member of his boyband left. He loudly cleared his throat and Cass sat up on Chris screaming. Chris jumped up and the two stood on their knees on the Twister mat, wide eyed and guilty. "This really is just like high school," Chris thought.

"IT WAS JUST TWISTER!" Cassie squealed, pointing at the board, trying to explain. She frantically tried to brush through her hair with her hands, waiting for JC to say something about how irresponsible they were being . . . Instead, JC remained quiet as Lance realized what they'd been doing.

"TWISTER??" he asked, surprised. This was his very favorite game. They'd been up here playing Twister and hadn't even told him!

"Can I play?!"

Morgan inhaled deeply, slowly lowered herself towards the floor in a grande plea, then came back up. Hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, she pushed a few loose strands behind her ear so she could better check her posture in the mirror. She continued to focus on the ballet warm-ups, and jumped when she heard the guys walk into the room, startled. The guys staggered slowly and heavily; Joey popped some aspirin as he walked in the studio.

"Hey Morgan," Joey said, weakly. "We're ready for practice. But keep it easy on us, though, we're still feelin' a party we were at last night. Thanks for letting us come in this afternoon, instead of this morning . . . What were you doing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in appreciation of the black sports bra and red boxer shorts Morgan was wearing.

"Yeah, was that Yoga, or something?" Justin asked.

Morgan quickly glance at JC, who rolled his eyes, before answering young Timberlake. She smiled. "No, Justin. That was ballet."

"Ballet? Like pink tights and tu-tus ballet?" Joey asked, a slightly confused expression on his face.

"Is there any other kind?" Lance asked his groupmate, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, there is," Morgan told the group. "There's classical pointe and then neo-classical pointe. And then there are several styles. I learned Balanchine's style."

"Balanchine?" Chris asked, wanting clarification.

"George Balanchine, founder of the New York City Ballet," JC spoke up, his eyes closed and his head slowly rolling in a circle to stretch his neck. He stopped and opened his eyes when he was met with sudden silence. He found everyone in the studio looking at him, the guys' mouths agape. "What? I'm a cultured guy," he said in his defense.

"Yeah, whatever. This is coming from a guy who only eats jar tomato sauce," Joey said, rolling his eyes and huffing.

"Well, excuse me for not having grown up on homemade sauce that takes two hours to make. Besides, what do you know about culture, Mr. Wedgie?" JC desperately tried to keep a straight face as made that last comment. It wasn't easy with everyone snickering.

Joey's face turned red. "I told you already--"

"JC, Mr. Wedgie, that's enough! Let's get to work. All of you, start stretching." Morgan sat down on the floor, and spread her legs in a straddle split. All of the guys' eyes widened, Lance's jaw dropped, and JC lightly licked his lips. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and noticed their expressions. "What?"

"Doesn't that hurt?" Chris whispered, a slightly pained expression on his face.

"No," she responded, continuing to stretch. When she saw none of the guys were making an attempt to warm-up she said, "Are you gonna stretch, or are you gonna stand there and think about it?"

"I'm thinking. And what I'm thinking is, shouldn't you be on Broadway instead of here, or something?" Lance asked.

Justin noticed the wheels turning in his friend's head, and swatted his arm. "What? You gonna manage dancers now, Lance?"

The singer blushed before mumbling his defense. "No, I just thought . . . I mean, with that kind of talent, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, that's easy," Morgan said, smiling. "This pays the bills much better than waiting tables, and I like a challenge."

"You consider being here a challenge?" Joey asked, scratching his head in confusion.

"What? You don't think working with you five dumbasses is a challenge?"

"Hey! Who do you think you're callin' a dumbass?" Justin took a step closer, and looked down at the young dancer.

"You, Thrustin' Justin. I'm calling you a dumbass," Morgan said, rising to her feet, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile.

Timberlake blushed when she used the nickname given to him as a result of the numerous times his pelvis thrusts got out of control on stage. "Why are we a challenge?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It's not you that's a challenge. It's your style. I'm broadening my horizons," she told him.

A sly grin spread across JC's face at her last comment. He opened his mouth to give her a suggestive reply, but quickly caught himself, and started to cough. Everyone looked at him. He stopped coughing, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm fine. Continue your discussion."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you challenging me, is there?" Joey asked, raising his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive, yet playful, manner.

Morgan giggled in spite of herself. "I'm going to ignore the overtly sexual context of that question and just tell you this." She paused for dramatic effect. "You couldn't keep up with me," she said in a low voice.

Joey's eyes widened and JC began to cough again. Justin shook his head slightly then spoke up. "Are you trying to say you're in better shape than us, or something?"

"Trying to? I think she flat-out said it," Chris said, taking a step forward. "And on behalf of the guys, I'd like to tell you we'll take your challenge."

"Chris, I don't think that's such a good idea . . ." JC said from his post in the back of the group, knowing full well just how tiring Morgan could be.

The dancer held up her hand, signaling for JC to be quiet. She turned to Chris. "Care to make a little wager?"

"Sure. How much?"

She shook her head. "No money. I had something else in mind."

"Ooh . . . this is getting good," Joey said excitedly, rubbing the palms of his hands together in great anticipation.

"Pipe down, Mr. Wedgie," Morgan said, glaring at the singer.

"Well, what do you want then?" Justin asked.

"Respect," she said, crossing her arms in front on her chest.

"We respect you, Morgan," Lance spoke up quickly, knowing that wasn't entirely the truth.

She tilted her head slightly to the side and thought of a moment. "Hmm . . . Yeah, you do respect me. What we seem to be lacking is trust and faith. And don't give me that look, Lance, I know you have your doubts. All of you do. That became apparent when Darren got hurt. So . . . what I'm proposing is an opportunity for you all to see that I really do know what I'm doing. If you're not completely whipped when you walk out of here and sore tomorrow morning, I'll back down, let you show me how you want things done. But, if you are, take it as a sign that I know what I'm talking about, have faith, and trust in me and what I tell you." Her eyes scanned the guys' faces, their expressions unreadable. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"Hey, Siddhartha, you wanna knock it off with the humming?" Morgan asked Justin. She and the guys were sitting on the floor. As phase one of rehearsal, she had them sit down and close their eyes, envisioning a flawless routine in their minds. Once she explained that it was a meditation, of sorts, Justin started humming and hadn't stopped since.

"Morgan, you're breaking my concentration," Justin whined before taking a deep breath. "Ooommm . . . Ooommm . . ."

She opened her eyes and bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. He had his elbows resting on his knees, thumb and middle finger together, and a look of complete seriousness on his face. "Yes, well, you're breaking everyone else's. You're just envisioning a flawless routine, not trying to reach enlightenment."

"Oommm . . . nipotent," Justin hummed, ignoring Morgan and getting creative with his hums.

"Ommmm . . . nicient," Chris echoed.

"Ommmm . . . inous," Lance said, taking his cue.

"Ommmm . . . nivore," JC hummed.

"DAMNIT! WHY DO I HAVE THE HARD ONE?!" Joey shouted, frustration evident in his voice, when he went to take his turn.

"It's the same as all the others, Joe," JC said opening one eye.

"Yeah, well, all the rest of the 'om' words are gone."

"I know a word," Justin said, eyes still closed.

"What?" the guys asked.

"Ommmm . . . budsman."

"There is no such word!!" Joey shouted, knowing Justin had to be making up words again.

"What the fuck is an ombudsman?" Lance asked.

"Is too a word! An ombudsman is someone who investigates reported complaints, findings, and helps to achieve equitable settlements," Justin explained before resuming his humming.

"Yeah, right, that's a word," Joey mumbled.

"Dat be my phat word, yo! Ombudsmans are crunk, foo."

"I'm not bilingual, Justin, so could we please keep everything in English today? Thanks," Morgan said, amused, despite everything, by what was unfolding before her. "And I think that's enough meditation for now. But that's something you wanna' keep doing. Typically the best time to do it is right before bed. Not one word out of you, Fatone."

"What? I didn't say anything," Joey said, a bit baffled as to why he was being reprimanded.

"No, not yet you didn't. But I know there was a smart remark on the tip of your tongue somewhere. Not a word, Chris."

"Hey! I don't like this! At no point in time when we made this wager did we give you permission to read our minds. Let's just stick with the stretching, okay?" Chris raised his arms above his head, as if that was some signal he was ready to move on. "What's next?"

Morgan smiled. "Legs and back. Ready for this?" She waited for each of the guys to nod their heads yes before continuing. "Okay." She took a deep breath and spread her legs in a straddle split. Immediately all five guys began to shake their heads no.

"No way, Morgan. I'm sorry but there's just no way," Joey said, still shaking his head.

She stood up and walked over to the reluctant singer. "We made a deal, Fatone." She stood in front of him, arms crossed in front of her chest. "Now spread 'em."

Realizing there no way out, he slowly spread his legs into a V-shape. He closed his eyes, and hoped against hope this was all a nightmare, and he would wake up any second. He peaked through one eye to find Morgan still standing in front of him. "That the best you can do?" she asked.

When Joey shamefully nodded his head yes Morgan clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, making a "tsk" sound. She walked around him, knelt down, and placed a hand on each knee. Then slowly she pulled his legs further apart.

"SHIT!" Joey shouted, immediately bringing his legs together. "I can't spread my legs that far apart! And I don't think I'm supposed to if I want to have kids!"

"If that's the case, she's doing the human race a favor," Lance said, getting quite the kick out of seeing his groupmate in pain.

The guys snickered, Joey glared at them, and Morgan rolled her eyes. "I promise you, you will all be able to procreate at the end of rehearsal. You may be too tired to do it, but everything will be intact."

"Good. You'd be in big trouble with my public if I couldn't pass ma' genes on when I settle down with a fly honey," Justin oh-so-modestly informed her.

"Timberlake, shut up and stretch already," she told him, walking around the room to check on the guys' progress. "JC, straighten your knees. It's okay if you can't touch your toes; just keep the knees straight. Mmm-hmm . . . Not bad, Chris. How did you get so limber?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Is there any correlation with you being limber, and your ability to hit those falsetto notes?"

'N Sync's oldest member sat up and glared at Morgan while the rest of the guys snickered. "Have you no respect for your elders?"

She shook her head. "No. None whatsoever." She was about to say more when she caught a glimpse of Lance out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing a look of pure determination on his beet red face. "Lance, dear, it helps to breathe while you're stretching."

"I am," he said in a small voice.

"Breathe, Lance!"

The singer exhaled loudly, letting the breath he had been holding pass through his lips. "There. I breathed."

"Good," Morgan said, ignoring his sarcastic tone. "Now, put your legs out in front of you, reach out for your toes, hold in for eight counts, and then you can rest a bit. Okay?" Once the guys had all nodded their consent, she counted off. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 1/2, 7 3/4, 8."

The guys all groaned and flopped onto their backs. Chris lazily draped one arm over his eyes, mentally cursing himself for opening his big mouth in the first place. Lance silently planned the murders of Chris and Morgan for being the source of the pain he was feeling at the moment. Justin wondered if there was anyway he could charm their new choreographer into letting them meditate again. Now that, in his opinion was fun. Being one with the universe was crunk. JC mentally kicked himself for not keeping in better shape; Morgan would be in big trouble if he was too tired to meet up with her tonight. Then he smiled at that thought. Let her be the frustrated one for once.

Joey wondered if Morgan had been telling the truth earlier. He certainly didn't feel like everything was intact. In fact, he felt as if he had been ripped in half. "I just wanna' go back to the hotel to spread out on the bed and help Little Joe heal . . ." he softly mumbled to himself. "Wait . . . hotel . . . OH MY GOD! THE OMNI HOTEL! OOMMMMNIIII!" he shouted, jumping into a standing position. "It's a word!! I got a word! Guys! I got a word!!"

"Better late than never," JC said dryly.

"You know, that's just so true on so many levels," Justin said, not addressing anyone in particular.

"I don't think I want to know about you being, quote-unquote, late," Chris told him.

"That's not what I meant," 'N Sync's youngest member said.

"And I don't want to know about anyone of the female gender being late, either."

"Okaaayy . . . I think it's time to work those abs now," Morgan interrupted them, not even wanting to venture a guess as to where Chris and Justin's conversation would lead to. She clapped her hands, signaling the guys to sit up. "Come on! Get movin'! Your public is going to thank me for this. Checking out your six-packs will certainly give them a thrill."

"That's not the only way to give them a thrill . . ." Joey started to say.

"Sit-ups, Fatone! We're doing sit-ups!" She rolled her eyes at his raging hormones. "Okay, everyone get into position. And keep it shut, Chris."

"Man! You gotta' stop doing that. It's creepin' me out."

"So I creep, yeah . . . Just creepin' on the down low . . . 'Cause nobody's supposed to know . . ." JC suddenly burst into the TLC song. The guys looked at him strangely and snickered, with Chris making cracks about how JC's voice was so pretty he had to remind everyone during exercise. Morgan ignored the comments and felt herself blushing at his choice of song. She looked over at JC, and he turned his head to look at her. Their eyes met and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She would eventually lose favor in Kingston's eyes, but she could separate her work from her . . . play. She shook her head and bit her lip to let him know she meant business.

"Sit-ups, boys, sit-ups. Ready?" Morgan started to count and watched the guys carefully as they worked their abs. "Stop, stop, stop," she instructed. "You have to make sure your back is flat on the floor and your pelvis is tucked when you do this," she told them, walking over towards JC. "See this?" she asked, kneeling down and pulling his shirt so it was tight against his back, revealing the small arch in it. "This is wrong." She released the shirt and slid one hand underneath his hips, raising them slightly so his back was flat against the floor. "This is the position you need to be in." She smiled softly when JC closed his eyes in frustration. "And when you do the sit-ups, raise your hips at the same time. That way, you'll be working both your upper and lower abdomen."

"You know, I don't think my pelvis is tucked properly, either," Chris spoke up from his spot on the floor, grinning.

"Well, then, fix it, yourself," Morgan told him, flashing a smile. Once she saw Chris was situated, she resumed counting and the guys continued with their work-out. "1, 2, 3 . . ."

"The only time I've seen anyone in this position is when they're giving birth," Lance said in between sit-ups.

"Really?" JC asked. "Tell me, Lance, exactly how many people have you seen give birth?"

"One. They made me watch The Miracle of Life in sex ed in high school."

"Yeah, I've seen that!" Joey said, while Chris began to imitate Lamaze breathing exercises.

"You did?" Lance asked, pleased to be able to share the experience with someone. "Remember that part when they showed the guy getting . . . you know . . . on the electromagnetic heat screen?"

"You remember a sex ed movie you saw in high school, Lance?" Justin asked, finding that lifting his pelvis in the air while doing sit-ups was not as easy as he thought it would be. Maybe he wasn't worthy of the nickname Thrustin' Justin, after all.

"Well . . . it was a turning point for me."

"I'm not even going to touch that one," Justin said, rolling his eyes.

"You don't have to," Chris told him. "The electromagnetic screen picks it up."

Lance felt himself blushing. "Shut up!"

"Hey," JC spoke up from his spot on the floor. "I think I know what movie you guys are talking about . . . Don't they shove a microscopic camera up his--"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. The guys knew how it was going to end. All at once they dropped from their positions. Hips no longer in the air, they fell to the ground, groaning.

"Hey! Is high school sex ed more important than your careers?" Morgan shouted, frustrated with her students.

"Well . . ." Joey began, "Yes, I think it is. Because high school sex ed is really the reason our careers are what they are."

"'Splain, Lucy," Chris asked, getting interested.

"Without sex ed, many young girls would not be very aware that their raging hormones are a normal thing and they wouldn't be as adamant about developing sexual crushes on us."

"Mr. Wedgie's right," Lance nodded to Morgan. "Their developing sexual crushes helps sell our CDs, merchandise, and it's what sells tickets."

"All right, nevermind. Just do sit ups. Please!" Morgan moaned, in frustration, deciding she'd have to go back to the drawing board and develop something more effective for the next rehearsal.

"I'm gonna have to call Darren later and tell him how rehearsal went," Morgan said, sitting on the studio floor across from JC. "I think he'll get a kick out of it," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, sure. Who wouldn't get a kick out of our misfortune and pain?" He rolled his eyes and laid down on the floor.

"Aww . . . What ails you, Baby?"

"My back," JC responded, his eyes closed.

Morgan moved in closer and tugged on the bottom of his wifebeater. "Come on, take this off and roll over. No one's around, and you worked hard today. You deserve a good massage."

JC laughed playfully, sat up, removed the wifebeater, and rolled onto his stomach. She straddled him, sitting on his rear, and began to kneed the tense muscles, gently pushing in with her palms. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Oh, God, no! That feels . . . amazing. Your hands . . . it feels so . . . good. Please, don't stop."

Morgan smiled and felt her cheeks blush at JC's praise. "Was I too hard on the guys today?"

"Yes."

"You were supposed to back me up. . ."

"I was too busy looking at you doing the splits."

She giggled. "Shh . . . Someone might hear. You're in no shape to be saying things, anyway. You just need to rest up. Relax."

"No one's around. They don't hear anything. It's not like it's against the rules to be with me."

Morgan frowned, and was thankful JC couldn't see her expression. "I know, but I don't want to deal with Kingston yet. Now be quiet and let me rub your back some more."

Morgan gently rubbed JC's temples, the circular motion moving down his jawline. Then she began to rub down both sides of his neck, gently working her fingertips into his flesh. Her fingers worked their way down from his neck to his shoulders, rubbed back up to his neck, and then back down to his shoulder blades, massaging a little deeper with more pressure.

JC moaned softly, and Morgan bent down to kiss the back of his neck, lips grazing gently across it. Gently, she licked back of his neck, and flicked her tongue down his neck to his shoulders, up one side and down the other. She moved her hands down his back, caressing his sides as well. A shaky breath passed through his lips as Morgan massaged up and down his spine, rubbing vertebra by vertebra. A sly grin formed on her lips, and she began to nibble down his spine to his lower back, and then massaged it deeply. She carelessly ran her fingertips along the elastic of his windpants, laughing lightly when JC inhaled sharply. She caressed along the elastic, back and forth in an almost lazy fashion, and he moaned softly in appreciation.

"JC . . ." Morgan said softly, slowing moving her hands from his waist to rest on her knees.

"Morgan, no, please," he said, recognizing her tone of voice.

"We'll save it for later. Think of this as a preview of things to come . . ." She smiled as JC shifted a bit underneath her. "Now, I'll get back to the aching muscle at hand . . ." she said, her tone flirtatious, and her hands resuming their work on his shoulders.

Kingston silently slipped into the rehearsal studio. He grimaced as he witnessed the choreographer giving the singer a massage. He cleared his throat loudly, startling her, and she jumped into a standing position.

Morgan slowly walked towards him, a nervous expression on her face. "Uh . . . Mr. Kingston, is there something you need?"

He smiled. "You, actually. I was looking for you." He frowned when he noticed JC watching him carefully, then shook his head slightly and embraced Morgan. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Dear. I have forms and schedule changes I need to go over with you."

JC's body stiffened when he saw Kingston's hand rest on Morgan's small hips, and pull her in for a hug. He noticed her arms didn't return the embrace, and instead hung limply at her sides. He looked into the mirror, and his eyes met hers. She mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," and he gently nodded his head in understanding.

"I was hoping we'd go out for coffee and look over these," he said to her, holding up the papers, fully aware she wasn't comfortable being in the same room with both him and one of 'N Sync's lead singers. "What do you say?"

Morgan swallowed hard. "Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Kingston, but I'm afraid I can't. I had a really hard rehearsal today, and I really need to just shower and sleep . . ."

Kingston looked over her shoulder at JC skeptically before returning his gaze to the young choreographer. "Very well . . . I'll talk to you a bit later. Morgan . . . maybe you should go on to your hotel room and . . . settle in."

She nodded her head. "I'll do just that." Once Kingston left the room and she was sure he was out of earshot, she turned to face JC, a coy smile on her face. "Well, you heard the man. Let's go to my hotel room . . . and settle in."

Opening up the crumpled piece of paper Renee had scribbled her hotel address on, Lance hesitated before handing it over to Max, his driver. He waited impatiently in the backseat of the car, believing he absolutely had to see her before she left. There were the obvious reasons--to get her home address in that little town in North Carolina he couldn't quite remember the name of. To get her phone number so they'd be able to keep in touch. But then there were the reasons he couldn't quite understand, exactly.

The Hershey show had brought with it more than overexcited fans and weather in the highest temperatures Pennsylvania had seen in four years. It had brought more energy than he'd seen in himself for a while. He even left the venue and got to his hotel room feeling like he could just about rope the moon, if he had a lasso in Mississippi that could reach the length. It was energy that he had to admit wasn't only from the sugar in all of the chocolate he'd consumed.

There was something in her hazel eyes that flashed with light as the two of them rode the swirving tracks of the roller coaster. And when she kissed him, her lips planted firmly on his like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she wanted to be doing what she was doing.

He knew the feeling was mutual, because the girl was hooking him in. She was twirling him around his little finger and he liked the way she rode the breeze in within her little cloud of animation.

But above all, he knew he had crush.

"So . . ." Renee said she pulled a Hershey souvenir sweatshirt from a plastic bag and folded, carefully, smoothing it down into the suitcase.

"So . . ." Lance repeated, lips forming into a slow smile. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm just about done, anyway. I can handle it. Don't want you going through my luggage," she grinned.

"I came over to get your number and address," Lance spoke up when he saw her lifting a clipboard and pen into her tote bag. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, before unclipping the pen and lifting the paper up to find a blank sheet in the back. She wrote everything down, before ripping the paper in half and giving it to him to do the same.

"Thanks," Lance replied, making sure he got the digits right to his cell phone. "Okay, here you go. Now, call whenever you like. If you don't get me, you'll at least get voice mail and I always check it, so . . ."

"So . . ."

"So, call."

"Do you really want me to?" she asked, quietly. "I mean, if you don't want me to call, don't give me this number, because I don't know if you have a girl in every city. And I know that guys in your position do that, so don't act innocent."

"Yes, I want you to call. Not a girl in every city, anyway. Just twenty or so."

"Am I more important than the other nineteen?" she rolled her eyes with his sarcastic answer.

"Well I'd say you were a close second," he laughed and she punched his arm.

"Then maybe I won't call. I do like to pick up the boys on these fam trips."

"How many others?" "Well counting the guy I met in Cancun last spring . . . nineteen."

"We could set them up with mine."

"You don't think they'd mind the blind dates?"

"They should be thankful we're not completely ditching them and leaving them lonely," Lance snorted, putting on a fake conceited air.

"You're right. So I'm going to call."

"And I'll call you."

"I'm going to kiss you."

"And I'm going to kiss you." He answered her and the two met halfway, lips connecting with force again. She gave him a current of electricity, flowing at hyper speeds from her body and into his, sending him into a rush of power. Where he felt power, she felt weakness in her knees. Butterflies whizzed around their heads and she felt like she needed to lie down.

She couldn't possibly cut this off, however, so she kept her eyes shut, her lips partly open and accepted his tongue as it ventured further past her lips.

Chris grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt and took them in the bathroom with him. "You can go ahead and make that phone call," he told Cassandra in the hotel room. "Let me take a shower and then we can head on to Philadelphia!"

"Okay, Chris. I've got to make a call to Melissa."

"Twin Melissa?"

"Yup."

"Twin Melissa who rode dolphins?"

She laughed. "In the very flesh."

"Tell her I'm interested in this dolphin thing," he confided, before stepping into the bathroom. She made the long distance call to Orlando and her sister picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Melissa?"

"Cass!" her sister said, excited. "How is Hershey? And this Chris Kirkpatrick boyband fellow?"

"He's cute, Hon. But you'll never believe which friend of your's I ran into at a party, yesterday."

"Who?"

"Do you remember a Joey Fatone?"

"Joey Fatone! I knew him back when I worked at Sea World! I haven't seen him in ages."

"Well he's one of Chris' bandmates."

"No way!" she marveled.

"He certainly is. He said he wanted me to tell you hey for him."

"If I remember correctly, Joey Fatone is the one who I had a fling with back then. He was wild . . ."

"Oh really?" Cassandra laughed and raised her eyebrows.

"Yup, that'd be him. Listen girl, I have a 4:30 appointment that's been waiting for a few minutes, so I'm going to have to cut this off. Anyway . . . keep me updated, sis."

"I sure will."

"I mean, who knows? I might have to make a little visit up to see you . . ."