Chapter 4

Lance sat in the booth in the club by himself, nursing a rum and Coke. The others were on the floor somewhere, lost in the crowd of people. He took a long swallow of his drink, and found that he emptied it. Cursing to himself, he began to look for a waitress to get a refill.

I should have stayed in, he told himself for the hundredth time that night. It had been a week since he realized his feelings for JC, and this was the first night the guys had all gone out since then. Lance was trying to have a good time, he really was, but JC's girlfriend, Bobbi, had suddenly shown up an hour before they were leaving, and she of course, decided to tag along.

So right now, they were on the floor, JC holding her close, her arms wrapped around his neck, moving in a sensual rhythm to the driving beat of the song blaring over the speakers. And to make matters worse, they were right in Lance's sight line. Every time he looked at the floor, all he saw was JC and her.

As Lance watched, she turned in JC's arms, putting her back to his chest. She clasped his hands in hers and crossed them over her stomach, never losing the sensual rhythm they created. She closed her eyes and arched her neck, resting her head on his shoulder, allowing him to kiss her exposed neck. Lance saw her hands tighten on his and her mouth open slightly as JC made his way up her jawbone to her ear. Lance's own hands tightened around his glass as she turned her head, their lips finally making contact with each other.

The waitress momentarily captured Lance's attention as she set another drink in front of him, clearing the empty glasses from the table. He immediately switched his empty glass for the full one, gripping it just as tightly as before. He took another drink, and felt the rum burn a path down his throat.

As if it was a morbid fascination, Lance once again looked towards the floor. Bobbi was once again facing JC, their mouths' centimeters apart, her leg hooked around the back of his. JC's arm was around her waist and he lifted her slightly off the floor, bringing her lips even with his. Lance turned away as they began to kiss.

He was looking into his drink, as if searching for answers he didn't know the questions to, when he felt the weight of the booth shift. He glanced up sharply and saw Joey grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Joey moved closer to him on the red vinyl seat and draped an arm across the back of it. He looked at Lance with glassy eyes. “What's the matter?”

Joey sighed heavily and crossed his arms on the table in front of him, looking sideways at Lance. “Look,” he said, “I know something's wrong. You hardly ever drink, and tonight you're drinking like a fish. You haven't gotten out of this booth, except to take a piss or to get another drink. You can either tell me what's wrong, or I can guess.” He looked thoughtfully at Lance, “It's probably going to be quicker, easier, and less painful for you if you just tell me.”

“Look, Joe,” Lance said, “It's nothing. I should have stayed home, I'm just not in the mood tonight.”

“No, it's not okay. You were excited to go out before. What's changed?” Joey watched Lance take a swallow of his drink, and not answer.

As Lance drank, he tried to think of a suitable lie to tell Joey. He should have thought of this before he put six glasses of alcohol through his veins. He set the glass down and avoided Joey's penetrating gaze. Unfortunately, when he looked up, he looked right at JC and Bobbi.

Joey saw Lance's expression change slightly as he looked towards the dance floor. He watched his jaw tighten and his mouth set in a line. Joey wrinkled his forehead and followed Lance's gaze to the dance floor. He didn't see anything that should make Lance upset. Joey looked back at his friend. Lance hadn't changed sight lines, but now his eyes narrowed slightly and he shook his head before raising his almost empty glass to his lips. Joey looked back at the floor, he had to be missing something.

The only thing that Lance seemed to be fixating on was JC and Bobbi. They were dancing close, their arms around each other, occasionally laughing and kissing. Joey glanced at Lance. Yep, he was watching them. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he wanted Bobbi to himself and was jealous of JC.

“It's Bobbi,” Joey said, motioning to the dance floor, “that's why you're not in the mood to be out.”

Lance felt numb. He literally couldn't move, his brain was screaming for him to fix this, get this straightened out before Joey suspected something, but his mouth wasn't working. Lance searched Joey's face for drunkenness, something that would ease his mind. He found nothing. But, my God, he was slurring earlier! But his gaze was clear.

“That's it,” Joey said softly, moving closer to Lance. “You don't like her,” he said, saying the opposite of what he felt, watching Lance for a reaction. Lance looked away from Joey and into his glass. “Why, Lance? I thought everyone liked her.”

It's not that I don't like her, Joe, Lance wanted to shout, I just don't like her with him. I don't like anyone with him. I want to be the one with him. And I can't tell you, cause you won't understand, and he can't find out, and why does this have to be so hard?

Joey studied him, something wasn't right. Something hadn't been right for about a week now. Lance seemed unusually quiet, almost withdrawn lately, like he was hiding something. That's why Joey was so happy when Lance agreed to go out with them tonight. It was like he was finally getting back to normal. Joey thought about the past week, and tried to figure out the exact moment Lance started acting like…well not like Lance.

It was that one morning, he realized, that morning JC pulled the prank on Justin. Lance seemed to relish JC telling that story. His eyes were glued to JC's face, taking everything in. He only looked away when JC was done.

And now, with Bobbi. Lance seemed fixated on the dance floor, he had seen that from across the room. Joey had been watching Lance, hoping that he'd get out of the funk he'd been in and have a little fun. He saw how many drinks Lance had, he saw that Lance's gaze kept wandering to the floor.

Lance forced a laugh, “Joey, I'm fine. I like Bobbi, I just want to go home now.” He rose from the booth, dropping a few bills on the table. He turned and walked towards the door, praying Joey wasn't following him.

Joey fished some money out of his pocket and threw it on the table next to Lance's. He tried to catch up to Lance, stopping at JC and Bobbi on his way to tell them they were leaving. By the time he reached the doors of the club, Lance was gone.

Joey burst through the doors, swiveling his head left and right. He saw Lance about a block down the street, quickly walking in the direction of their hotel. Joey ran after him.

Lance faltered in his walk, but didn't stop. He wiped a hand over his moist eyes, willing himself to stop tearing before Joey saw him.

How did this happen? How did Joey begin to suspect? Maybe he didn't, Lance told himself. Maybe he thinks I just don't like Bobbi. But what he does suspect, then what? What would he do then? Should he just tell Joey, that would be easier, he reasoned. Yeah right. How do you tell someone something like this?

“Jeez, Lance,” Joey grinned, “trying to set a record here?” Lance didn't answer him, just kept walking towards the hotel. Joey sighed and fell silent. If Lance didn't want to talk, Joey wasn't going to push him-yet.

They walked the blocks to the hotel in silence. Joey walked with his head high, taking everything in, while Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, and kept his gaze on the sidewalk. Occasionally, Joey would greet a passerby on the street, a quick, “Hi, how are ya?” before moving on.

They reached the doors of the hotel, and the bellhop opened the door for them, causing the bright light of the lobby to spill onto the street. They smiled briefly in thanks, and Joey exchanged a few pleasantries with him, stopping the conversation to catch up to Lance who was standing at the elevator doors.

The doors opened, and they stepped inside, Joey reaching forward to press the button for their floor. Now he was going to push.

Lance looked up at Joey, fury in his eyes. He saw determination in Joey's gaze, and Lance knew himself well enough to know that he would back down. But not without a fight.

The doors opened and they stepped into the hallway. “You really should talk about this, Lance,” Joey said.

Lance turned on him, “Why?” he practically shouted, “because you want me to? Look, Joey, no offense, but this is none of your business.”

Joey opened his eyes in surprise, “None of my business?” he repeated. “Last time I checked you and JC were two of my best friends, Lance! That makes this my business.”

Joey was shocked at the desperation in Lance's voice. He gently placed a hand on Lance's shoulder and turned the younger man around. There were unshed tears in Lance's eyes; eyes that couldn't meet his own.

Lance slowly looked up at Joey, fear in his green eyes. He could tell by Joey's voice that he knew. Somehow he figured it out.

As his eyes met Joey's, Lance was afraid of what he would find. Horror, disgust, even sympathy were all things he expected to find in his best friends gaze.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to Secret Desires Chapter 4 AND THE SUNLIGHT CLASPS THE EARTH, AND THE MOONBEAMS KISS THE SEA-- WHAT ARE ALL THESE KISSINGS WORTH, IF THOU KISS NOT ME? *PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 'LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY' CHAPTER FOUR - HIS KISS Lance sat in the booth in the club by himself, nursing a rum and Coke. The others were on the floor somewhere, lost in the crowd of people. He took a long swallow of his drink, and found that he emptied it. Cursing to himself, he began to look for a waitress to get a refill. I should have stayed in, he told himself for the hundredth time that night. It had been a week since he realized his feelings for JC, and this was the first night the guys had all gone out since then. Lance was trying to have a good time, he really was, but JC's girlfriend, Bobbi, had suddenly shown up an hour before they were leaving, and she of course, decided to tag along. So right now, they were on the floor, JC holding her close, her arms wrapped around his neck, moving in a sensual rhythm to the driving beat of the song blaring over the speakers. And to make matters worse, they were right in Lance's sight line. Every time he looked at the floor, all he saw was JC and her. As Lance watched, she turned in JC's arms, putting her back to his chest. She clasped his hands in hers and crossed them over her stomach, never losing the sensual rhythm they created. She closed her eyes and arched her neck, resting her head on his shoulder, allowing him to kiss her exposed neck. Lance saw her hands tighten on his and her mouth open slightly as JC made his way up her jawbone to her ear. Lance's own hands tightened around his glass as she turned her head, their lips finally making contact with each other. The waitress momentarily captured Lance's attention as she set another drink in front of him, clearing the empty glasses from the table. He immediately switched his empty glass for the full one, gripping it just as tightly as before. He took another drink, and felt the rum burn a path down his throat. As if it was a morbid fascination, Lance once again looked towards the floor. Bobbi was once again facing JC, their mouths' centimeters apart, her leg hooked around the back of his. JC's arm was around her waist and he lifted her slightly off the floor, bringing her lips even with his. Lance turned away as they began to kiss. He was looking into his drink, as if searching for answers he didn't know the questions to, when he felt the weight of the booth shift. He glanced up sharply and saw Joey grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “What's up, Lansten?” Joey asked, slightly slurring his words. Lance shrugged, “Nothing.” Joey moved closer to him on the red vinyl seat and draped an arm across the back of it. He looked at Lance with glassy eyes. “What's the matter?” Lance shot him a look and replied, “Nothing.” Joey sighed heavily and crossed his arms on the table in front of him, looking sideways at Lance. “Look,” he said, “I know something's wrong. You hardly ever drink, and tonight you're drinking like a fish. You haven't gotten out of this booth, except to take a piss or to get another drink. You can either tell me what's wrong, or I can guess.” He looked thoughtfully at Lance, “It's probably going to be quicker, easier, and less painful for you if you just tell me.” In spite of himself, Lance grinned. Leave it to Joey. “Look, Joe,” Lance said, “It's nothing. I should have stayed home, I'm just not in the mood tonight.” Joey looked at him appraisingly. “And why is that?” Lance stopped his hand partway to his mouth. “What do you mean?” “Why aren't you in the mood?” Cause I'm in love with JC, cause I hate Bobbi right now, cause I want to be Bobbi right now. Instead of voicing his thoughts, Lance shrugged again, “I'm just not, okay?” “No, it's not okay. You were excited to go out before. What's changed?” Joey watched Lance take a swallow of his drink, and not answer. As Lance drank, he tried to think of a suitable lie to tell Joey. He should have thought of this before he put six glasses of alcohol through his veins. He set the glass down and avoided Joey's penetrating gaze. Unfortunately, when he looked up, he looked right at JC and Bobbi. Joey saw Lance's expression change slightly as he looked towards the dance floor. He watched his jaw tighten and his mouth set in a line. Joey wrinkled his forehead and followed Lance's gaze to the dance floor. He didn't see anything that should make Lance upset. Joey looked back at his friend. Lance hadn't changed sight lines, but now his eyes narrowed slightly and he shook his head before raising his almost empty glass to his lips. Joey looked back at the floor, he had to be missing something. The only thing that Lance seemed to be fixating on was JC and Bobbi. They were dancing close, their arms around each other, occasionally laughing and kissing. Joey glanced at Lance. Yep, he was watching them. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he wanted Bobbi to himself and was jealous of JC. “It's Bobbi, isn't it?” Joey asked quietly. Lance looked sharply in his direction, “What?” “It's Bobbi,” Joey said, motioning to the dance floor, “that's why you're not in the mood to be out.” Lance felt numb. He literally couldn't move, his brain was screaming for him to fix this, get this straightened out before Joey suspected something, but his mouth wasn't working. Lance searched Joey's face for drunkenness, something that would ease his mind. He found nothing. But, my God, he was slurring earlier! But his gaze was clear. “That's it,” Joey said softly, moving closer to Lance. “You don't like her,” he said, saying the opposite of what he felt, watching Lance for a reaction. Lance looked away from Joey and into his glass. “Why, Lance? I thought everyone liked her.” It's not that I don't like her, Joe, Lance wanted to shout, I just don't like her with him. I don't like anyone with him. I want to be the one with him. And I can't tell you, cause you won't understand, and he can't find out, and why does this have to be so hard? “I like her, Joey,” Lance said lamely. Okay, so he didn't really like her. Joey studied him, something wasn't right. Something hadn't been right for about a week now. Lance seemed unusually quiet, almost withdrawn lately, like he was hiding something. That's why Joey was so happy when Lance agreed to go out with them tonight. It was like he was finally getting back to normal. Joey thought about the past week, and tried to figure out the exact moment Lance started acting like…well not like Lance. It was that one morning, he realized, that morning JC pulled the prank on Justin. Lance seemed to relish JC telling that story. His eyes were glued to JC's face, taking everything in. He only looked away when JC was done. And now, with Bobbi. Lance seemed fixated on the dance floor, he had seen that from across the room. Joey had been watching Lance, hoping that he'd get out of the funk he'd been in and have a little fun. He saw how many drinks Lance had, he saw that Lance's gaze kept wandering to the floor. At first, he thought it was jealously. But now, he wasn't so sure. “Do you want to talk?” Joey asked him. Lance looked at him, his eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Talk about what?” Joey shrugged, “Anything,” he replied, his voice full of care. Lance forced a laugh, “Joey, I'm fine. I like Bobbi, I just want to go home now.” He rose from the booth, dropping a few bills on the table. He turned and walked towards the door, praying Joey wasn't following him. Joey fished some money out of his pocket and threw it on the table next to Lance's. He tried to catch up to Lance, stopping at JC and Bobbi on his way to tell them they were leaving. By the time he reached the doors of the club, Lance was gone. Joey burst through the doors, swiveling his head left and right. He saw Lance about a block down the street, quickly walking in the direction of their hotel. Joey ran after him. “Lance,” he called, “wait up, please?” Lance faltered in his walk, but didn't stop. He wiped a hand over his moist eyes, willing himself to stop tearing before Joey saw him. How did this happen? How did Joey begin to suspect? Maybe he didn't, Lance told himself. Maybe he thinks I just don't like Bobbi. But what he does suspect, then what? What would he do then? Should he just tell Joey, that would be easier, he reasoned. Yeah right. How do you tell someone something like this? He heard Joey's heavy footfall as he ran to catch up. Soon the footsteps fell in step with his own. “Jeez, Lance,” Joey grinned, “trying to set a record here?” Lance didn't answer him, just kept walking towards the hotel. Joey sighed and fell silent. If Lance didn't want to talk, Joey wasn't going to push him-yet. They walked the blocks to the hotel in silence. Joey walked with his head high, taking everything in, while Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, and kept his gaze on the sidewalk. Occasionally, Joey would greet a passerby on the street, a quick, “Hi, how are ya?” before moving on. They reached the doors of the hotel, and the bellhop opened the door for them, causing the bright light of the lobby to spill onto the street. They smiled briefly in thanks, and Joey exchanged a few pleasantries with him, stopping the conversation to catch up to Lance who was standing at the elevator doors. The doors opened, and they stepped inside, Joey reaching forward to press the button for their floor. Now he was going to push. “So, Lance, how about you come to my room and we can hang out?” “No, thanks,” Lance answered dully. “It wasn't a request,” Joey said firmly. Lance looked up at Joey, fury in his eyes. He saw determination in Joey's gaze, and Lance knew himself well enough to know that he would back down. But not without a fight. “No,” Lance said. “I'm tired and I want to go to bed.” The doors opened and they stepped into the hallway. “You really should talk about this, Lance,” Joey said. Lance turned on him, “Why?” he practically shouted, “because you want me to? Look, Joey, no offense, but this is none of your business.” Joey opened his eyes in surprise, “None of my business?” he repeated. “Last time I checked you and JC were two of my best friends, Lance! That makes this my business.” “This has nothing to do with JC,” Lance said stiffly. “This has everything to do with JC,” Joey replied, holding Lance's gaze. Lance cursed under his breath and turned away from Joey. “Joey, I can't,” he said. Joey was shocked at the desperation in Lance's voice. He gently placed a hand on Lance's shoulder and turned the younger man around. There were unshed tears in Lance's eyes; eyes that couldn't meet his own. He knew that his questions had just been answered. It wasn't Bobbi Lance wanted. It was JC. “Lance,” Joey whispered, “It's okay.” Lance slowly looked up at Joey, fear in his green eyes. He could tell by Joey's voice that he knew. Somehow he figured it out. As his eyes met Joey's, Lance was afraid of what he would find. Horror, disgust, even sympathy were all things he expected to find in his best friends gaze. But he found none of that. He found support.