Chapter 9

Inner Reflection | home

*OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, SR.

“Yes!” Justin cried, looking at the dice on the table, “drink!”

Joey groaned and took a swallow of his beer. “I hate this fucking game,” he said when he was done.

Lance grinned at him, “You hate it cause you're always the three man.”

JC shared a look with Lance before turning to Joey, “Yeah, you seem to like it when it's someone else who has to drink.”

It was a favorite game of theirs, three man. They liked it because it was simple. That and the fact that just about every roll someone had to drink. And every time a three was rolled, either on one die or a combination of both of them, the `three man' had to drink. Right now, that was Joey.

Justin rolled the dice again. They landed with a one and a two face up.

Chris grinned, “Jesus, Justin, what did you do, weigh the dice?” He glanced at Joey out of the corner of his eye, “Oh, no, Joe, keep it up, you didn't drink anything that time.” Chris held the bottom of Joey's glass tilted in the air until he was satisfied that Joey drank enough.

Joey wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, “Damn. I need another beer.”

Lance stood up, “Here, let me get it for you, Joey.” He took Joey and his glass to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Taking out two bottles of beer, he twisted off the caps and began pouring them in the glasses.

Lance loved nights like this. Those rare nights when there wasn't a show the next day, or an interview, or anything scheduled, and no one quite felt like going out, but they wanted to have some fun. That was when Joey and Chris ran to the liquor store, or local bar, or distributor and picked up some alcohol. Then they would all pick a game and just play all night long. Usually, passing out where they fell.

He heard someone behind him in the kitchen and turned to see JC stumble slightly as he entered. Giggling, he held his glass out to Lance. “More, please.”

Lance grinned at him. “Feeling alright, JC?”

JC burped and nodded, “Yep.”

JC had been the three man earlier in the night, before he himself rolled a three and relinquished the title. Lance poured JC's beer in a glass and handed it to him, “We need to play a new game,” he said, watching JC as he tilted his head back to take a long swallow.

Lance simply stared. Even drunk, with his hair messed up, his shirt partly untucked and his mesh shorts hanging low on his hips, JC was beautiful. Lance stared at his neck as it was tilted back and somehow resisted going over and kissing it. If he had a few more beers in him, he just may have done it.

JC stopped drinking and looked at Lance staring at him. “What?” he asked, smiling lazily, his eyes glassy.

Lance shook his head. “What?”

JC took a step closer, “Why were you staring at me?”

Lance blushed and turned back to the counter, “I wasn't staring at you, JC.” He busied himself with putting the empty bottles in the cardboard case they came in.

“Yes you were,” JC's breath was hot on his neck as he spoke, and Lance jumped slightly.

He turned around, forcing a laugh, and was shocked at how close JC was standing to him. Lance pushed past him, “JC, I wasn't staring, I was simply marveling at how much beer you drank tonight.”

JC stared at him a beat before responding. “Sure,” he said, grinning. “Hey,” he said, suddenly getting an idea. “Let's do some shots.” He was reaching for the shot glasses as he spoke.

Lance groaned, “Oh, no, JC. That's a bad idea.”

JC waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Come on, Lance, lighten up. It'll be fun.” He handed Lance his glass of beer and tried to pick up the five shot glasses in one hand. Finally succeeding in that task, he picked up a bottle of vodka. “Come on,” he commanded, moving into the dining area.

Lance followed JC, carrying his own, JC's and Joey's glasses of beer. He barely set them on the table when JC grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the kitchen.

“What do we need for that shot?” he asked dumbly, looking at Lance.

Lance held out his hand, “A little more information, here, JC.”

JC rolled his eyes, “You know, the one with the whipped cream?”

Lance felt his groin stir as thoughts of JC with whipped cream on him popped into his slightly drunken mind. He imagined himself licking the white cream off of JC's stomach, just before he dipped his mouth lower…

“Lance!” JC interrupted his thoughts. “Hello? The shot?”

Lance shook his head. “Yeah, the shot. Um, are you talking about apple pie?”

JC snapped his fingers, “Yes!” He pointed at Lance and grinned, “See, I knew you were smart.”

Lance laughed at JC's silliness and moved to the refrigerator. “See if this place has cinnamon.” JC began opening all the cabinets of the kitchen, and looking around in them. After Lance removed the apple juice and whipped cream from the fridge, he followed behind JC, closing all the open doors.

JC was on the floor, looking in a spice rack hidden inside one of the cabinet doors. “A ha!” he proclaimed, holding a spice jar above his head.

Lance squinted at the jar, “JC, that's garlic.”

JC pulled his arm down and looked at the label. “Oh yeah, the cinnamon is right next to it, I grabbed the wrong jar,” he said. Dropping the garlic on the ground, he reached into the cabinet again. “A ha!” he said, holding up the cinnamon.

Lance shook his head at JC. “You are too much.”

JC cocked his head and grinned, “But you love it.”

Lance nodded slightly, “I sure do,” he said quietly.

Chris poured some vodka into a shot glass.

Lance picked his head off the table to look at it. “Chris,” he slurred, “it's only supposed to be half full with vodka, not three quarters of the way full.”

Chris looked at Lance, “Will you shut up? It's not for you this time, anyway. The question is about you.” He picked up the jar of apple juice and tried to fill the glass the rest of the way full with it. He succeeded in doing that, plus spilling some on the table. Ignoring the spilled juice, he opened the cinnamon jar and shook some on top of the liquid. Placing his hand over the glass, he slammed it on the table, causing the cinnamon and the apple juice to mix with the vodka.

“Okay,” he said, looking at his bandmates. “This is a Lance question.” The others perked up and looked at him. Chris and Justin sat at the heads of the table, JC and Joey on one side and Lance across from JC on the other. JC, Joey and Justin had a look on concentration on their faces. Chris looked each one of them in the eye before asking the question. “Who would Lance prefer to share a room with?”

Joey met Lance's gaze across the table and grinned at him. Lance sighed and dropped his head on the table with a loud thud. Whose stupid idea was this game? This had to be a Chris game. He was the only one who made them up. It was a how-well-do-you-know-your-bandmate game.

Chris pointed at Justin, who's blue eyes were half shut from all the alcohol. Justin's mouth dropped open as he thought about the question. “Um, JC?” he asked.

Chris pointed at JC, who sat up in his chair. “I think it's Justin!” he said triumphantly, positive he had the right answer.

Joey didn't wait for Chris to point at him, he jumped right in. “I know it's JC.”

Chris tapped Lance on the head. “Lancey-poo? Get up and answer the question. Which one of us do you prefer to room with?”

Lance lifted his head off the table with a sigh. “JC.”

Justin raised his arms in the air in victory. “Yes! Have another, loser!”

Chris passed the shot glass down the table to JC. JC made a face and raised the glass to his lips, drinking the mixture in one gulp. Taking the can on whipped cream, he tilted his head back and shot some whipped cream in his mouth.

Lance stared at him, transfixed. He watched his throat bob when he swallowed and his gaze traced the curve of his jaw, the way his eyes fell shut when he shot the whipped cream in his mouth and his tongue flick out to lick the remaining whipped cream off his lips.

Joey cleared his throat and Lance looked at him sharply. Joey grinned like a maniac at him and Lance scowled.

“Damn,” JC said, “that shot is good.”

“You just like the whipped cream,” Joey said.

JC shrugged, “yeah, so?”

Justin slapped his hand on the table, “New game!”

JC clapped his hands, “I get to pick this time.”

Joey groaned, “You're not going to pick truth or dare again, are you?”

JC looked crestfallen, “What's wrong with truth or dare?”

Chris shook his head and took another drink, “JC, that is so third grade!”

JC crossed his arms over his chest, “Fine,” he pouted, “we won't play.”

Lance smiled at JC's face and was about to put his two cents in when Justin interjected.

“We have to play his game, guys. It's the rule.”

Joey and Chris sighed and Joey stood up. “Fine, let me take a leak first.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom.

Justin turned to JC. “You really need to think of a new game, Josh. This one doesn't have nearly enough drinking in it.”

JC shrugged and poured himself a shot. “I don't care.” He glanced at Lance and reached for another shot glass. “Come on, Lance, let's do a shot together.” He didn't wait for an answer, just poured the vodka into the glass.

“Okay, JC, truth or dare?” Justin asked him.

“God, you're so boring,” Joey complained from the couch, where he was sprawled out, resting against one arm, his right leg draped over the back of the couch, his left on the floor.

“Bite me, Joe. I don't feel like drinking Justin's egg-beer-soda-and whatever else he can find in the kitchen concoction.”

“Enough!” Justin said. “Okay, when are your going to break up with Bobbi?”

JC shrugged. “Next time I see her, I guess. I don't want to do it over the phone.”

Lance smiled into his hands, which were in front of his face.

JC turned to Chris, “Truth or dare?”

Chris sighed, “Dare, I guess.”

JC scowled, “I was hoping you'd say truth.”

Chris grinned, “Don't have a dare for me?”

Joey raised one arm, “I do! I dare you to drink from the toilet.”

Lance laughed, “Joey, that's just gross.”

Justin chimed in, “Yeah, we don't know what the hell you just did in there!”

Chris spoke up, “No way in hell am I doing that. I'll just take the drink.” He downed his beer and looked thoughtful. “Lance,” he said, turning to him.

Oh no, Lance thought. He knew that look in Chris's eyes. It was the look Lance learned to dread. It reminded him of the times when Chris picked on him unmercifully. He wasn't falling for it this time. Even in his drunken state, he recognized it.

“Truth,” he said automatically.

“God,” Joey said, “you're so boring!”

“Why don't you have a girlfriend?” Chris asked.

Lance's breath caught in his throat. “What?” he managed to get out.

Chris crossed his arms in front of him on the table and leaned forward. “Since you and Danielle broke up, you haven't really dated anyone. Why not? What's the problem? Saving yourself for marriage?”

Lance's eyes were wide with fear, but he doubted anyone recognized it. What was he going to do? What could he say? He was supposed to tell the truth. Screw that, he thought, he was going to lie through his teeth.

“I guess I just haven't met someone I want to date. I don't really have a lot of time.”

“Bullshit!” Justin said. “There's always time to date.” He promptly dropped his head to the table.

“Guys, leave him alone,” Joey called from the couch. “He doesn't have a girlfriend cause he's gay.”

JC gasped and stared at Joey.

Justin slowly raised his head from the table.

Chris stopped his motion of taking a drink from his glass.

Joey sat up on the couch, a look of compete and utter horror on his face.

Lance stared at Joey, his mouth open, his green eyes wide. He felt tears burn behind them, and one by one, they started to fall. Suddenly, everyone was completely sober.

“Lance, I'm…” Joey stared at him, “God…I didn't mean to…it just…shit!” He ran his hand through his brown hair.

Justin looked at Lance, “You're gay?”

Chris turned his gaze on him, too, but Lance didn't notice. Time seemed to stand still. All he could do was stare at Joey in disbelief. He felt a hand on his arm.

“Lance,” Justin said quietly, shaking his arm. “Is that true?”

Lance swallowed and turned his gaze from Joey. “Yeah, Justin, it is.”

Justin squeezed his arm, but didn't let go. “Wow.”

Lance looked at Chris as he heard him exhale, “Damn,” he said, sitting back in his chair, staring at the table.

Lance turned his gaze on the one person in the room who mattered most.

JC had a blank look on his face. He stared at Lance for a minute with an unreadable expression, and didn't say anything as he pushed his chair back from the table and left the room.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to Secret Desires Chapter 9 TRUTH IS TOUGH. *OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, SR. CHAPTER NINE-TRUTHS “Yes!” Justin cried, looking at the dice on the table, “drink!” Joey groaned and took a swallow of his beer. “I hate this fucking game,” he said when he was done. Lance grinned at him, “You hate it cause you're always the three man.” JC shared a look with Lance before turning to Joey, “Yeah, you seem to like it when it's someone else who has to drink.” It was a favorite game of theirs, three man. They liked it because it was simple. That and the fact that just about every roll someone had to drink. And every time a three was rolled, either on one die or a combination of both of them, the `three man' had to drink. Right now, that was Joey. Justin rolled the dice again. They landed with a one and a two face up. Chris grinned, “Jesus, Justin, what did you do, weigh the dice?” He glanced at Joey out of the corner of his eye, “Oh, no, Joe, keep it up, you didn't drink anything that time.” Chris held the bottom of Joey's glass tilted in the air until he was satisfied that Joey drank enough. Joey wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, “Damn. I need another beer.” Lance stood up, “Here, let me get it for you, Joey.” He took Joey and his glass to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Taking out two bottles of beer, he twisted off the caps and began pouring them in the glasses. Lance loved nights like this. Those rare nights when there wasn't a show the next day, or an interview, or anything scheduled, and no one quite felt like going out, but they wanted to have some fun. That was when Joey and Chris ran to the liquor store, or local bar, or distributor and picked up some alcohol. Then they would all pick a game and just play all night long. Usually, passing out where they fell. He heard someone behind him in the kitchen and turned to see JC stumble slightly as he entered. Giggling, he held his glass out to Lance. “More, please.” Lance grinned at him. “Feeling alright, JC?” JC burped and nodded, “Yep.” JC had been the three man earlier in the night, before he himself rolled a three and relinquished the title. Lance poured JC's beer in a glass and handed it to him, “We need to play a new game,” he said, watching JC as he tilted his head back to take a long swallow. Lance simply stared. Even drunk, with his hair messed up, his shirt partly untucked and his mesh shorts hanging low on his hips, JC was beautiful. Lance stared at his neck as it was tilted back and somehow resisted going over and kissing it. If he had a few more beers in him, he just may have done it. JC stopped drinking and looked at Lance staring at him. “What?” he asked, smiling lazily, his eyes glassy. Lance shook his head. “What?” JC took a step closer, “Why were you staring at me?” Lance blushed and turned back to the counter, “I wasn't staring at you, JC.” He busied himself with putting the empty bottles in the cardboard case they came in. “Yes you were,” JC's breath was hot on his neck as he spoke, and Lance jumped slightly. He turned around, forcing a laugh, and was shocked at how close JC was standing to him. Lance pushed past him, “JC, I wasn't staring, I was simply marveling at how much beer you drank tonight.” JC stared at him a beat before responding. “Sure,” he said, grinning. “Hey,” he said, suddenly getting an idea. “Let's do some shots.” He was reaching for the shot glasses as he spoke. Lance groaned, “Oh, no, JC. That's a bad idea.” JC waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Come on, Lance, lighten up. It'll be fun.” He handed Lance his glass of beer and tried to pick up the five shot glasses in one hand. Finally succeeding in that task, he picked up a bottle of vodka. “Come on,” he commanded, moving into the dining area. Lance followed JC, carrying his own, JC's and Joey's glasses of beer. He barely set them on the table when JC grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the kitchen. “What do we need for that shot?” he asked dumbly, looking at Lance. Lance held out his hand, “A little more information, here, JC.” JC rolled his eyes, “You know, the one with the whipped cream?” Lance felt his groin stir as thoughts of JC with whipped cream on him popped into his slightly drunken mind. He imagined himself licking the white cream off of JC's stomach, just before he dipped his mouth lower… “Lance!” JC interrupted his thoughts. “Hello? The shot?” Lance shook his head. “Yeah, the shot. Um, are you talking about apple pie?” JC snapped his fingers, “Yes!” He pointed at Lance and grinned, “See, I knew you were smart.” Lance laughed at JC's silliness and moved to the refrigerator. “See if this place has cinnamon.” JC began opening all the cabinets of the kitchen, and looking around in them. After Lance removed the apple juice and whipped cream from the fridge, he followed behind JC, closing all the open doors. JC was on the floor, looking in a spice rack hidden inside one of the cabinet doors. “A ha!” he proclaimed, holding a spice jar above his head. Lance squinted at the jar, “JC, that's garlic.” JC pulled his arm down and looked at the label. “Oh yeah, the cinnamon is right next to it, I grabbed the wrong jar,” he said. Dropping the garlic on the ground, he reached into the cabinet again. “A ha!” he said, holding up the cinnamon. Lance shook his head at JC. “You are too much.” JC cocked his head and grinned, “But you love it.” Lance nodded slightly, “I sure do,” he said quietly. Chris poured some vodka into a shot glass. Lance picked his head off the table to look at it. “Chris,” he slurred, “it's only supposed to be half full with vodka, not three quarters of the way full.” Chris looked at Lance, “Will you shut up? It's not for you this time, anyway. The question is about you.” He picked up the jar of apple juice and tried to fill the glass the rest of the way full with it. He succeeded in doing that, plus spilling some on the table. Ignoring the spilled juice, he opened the cinnamon jar and shook some on top of the liquid. Placing his hand over the glass, he slammed it on the table, causing the cinnamon and the apple juice to mix with the vodka. “Okay,” he said, looking at his bandmates. “This is a Lance question.” The others perked up and looked at him. Chris and Justin sat at the heads of the table, JC and Joey on one side and Lance across from JC on the other. JC, Joey and Justin had a look on concentration on their faces. Chris looked each one of them in the eye before asking the question. “Who would Lance prefer to share a room with?” Joey met Lance's gaze across the table and grinned at him. Lance sighed and dropped his head on the table with a loud thud. Whose stupid idea was this game? This had to be a Chris game. He was the only one who made them up. It was a how-well-do-you-know-your-bandmate game. Chris pointed at Justin, who's blue eyes were half shut from all the alcohol. Justin's mouth dropped open as he thought about the question. “Um, JC?” he asked. Chris pointed at JC, who sat up in his chair. “I think it's Justin!” he said triumphantly, positive he had the right answer. Joey didn't wait for Chris to point at him, he jumped right in. “I know it's JC.” Chris tapped Lance on the head. “Lancey-poo? Get up and answer the question. Which one of us do you prefer to room with?” Lance lifted his head off the table with a sigh. “JC.” Justin raised his arms in the air in victory. “Yes! Have another, loser!” Chris passed the shot glass down the table to JC. JC made a face and raised the glass to his lips, drinking the mixture in one gulp. Taking the can on whipped cream, he tilted his head back and shot some whipped cream in his mouth. Lance stared at him, transfixed. He watched his throat bob when he swallowed and his gaze traced the curve of his jaw, the way his eyes fell shut when he shot the whipped cream in his mouth and his tongue flick out to lick the remaining whipped cream off his lips. Joey cleared his throat and Lance looked at him sharply. Joey grinned like a maniac at him and Lance scowled. “Damn,” JC said, “that shot is good.” “You just like the whipped cream,” Joey said. JC shrugged, “yeah, so?” Justin slapped his hand on the table, “New game!” JC clapped his hands, “I get to pick this time.” Joey groaned, “You're not going to pick truth or dare again, are you?” JC looked crestfallen, “What's wrong with truth or dare?” Chris shook his head and took another drink, “JC, that is so third grade!” JC crossed his arms over his chest, “Fine,” he pouted, “we won't play.” Lance smiled at JC's face and was about to put his two cents in when Justin interjected. “We have to play his game, guys. It's the rule.” Joey and Chris sighed and Joey stood up. “Fine, let me take a leak first.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom. Justin turned to JC. “You really need to think of a new game, Josh. This one doesn't have nearly enough drinking in it.” JC shrugged and poured himself a shot. “I don't care.” He glanced at Lance and reached for another shot glass. “Come on, Lance, let's do a shot together.” He didn't wait for an answer, just poured the vodka into the glass. “Okay, JC, truth or dare?” Justin asked him. “Truth.” “God, you're so boring,” Joey complained from the couch, where he was sprawled out, resting against one arm, his right leg draped over the back of the couch, his left on the floor. “Bite me, Joe. I don't feel like drinking Justin's egg-beer-soda-and whatever else he can find in the kitchen concoction.” “Enough!” Justin said. “Okay, when are your going to break up with Bobbi?” JC shrugged. “Next time I see her, I guess. I don't want to do it over the phone.” Lance smiled into his hands, which were in front of his face. JC turned to Chris, “Truth or dare?” Chris sighed, “Dare, I guess.” JC scowled, “I was hoping you'd say truth.” Chris grinned, “Don't have a dare for me?” Joey raised one arm, “I do! I dare you to drink from the toilet.” Lance laughed, “Joey, that's just gross.” Justin chimed in, “Yeah, we don't know what the hell you just did in there!” Chris spoke up, “No way in hell am I doing that. I'll just take the drink.” He downed his beer and looked thoughtful. “Lance,” he said, turning to him. Oh no, Lance thought. He knew that look in Chris's eyes. It was the look Lance learned to dread. It reminded him of the times when Chris picked on him unmercifully. He wasn't falling for it this time. Even in his drunken state, he recognized it. “Truth,” he said automatically. “God,” Joey said, “you're so boring!” “Why don't you have a girlfriend?” Chris asked. Lance's breath caught in his throat. “What?” he managed to get out. Chris crossed his arms in front of him on the table and leaned forward. “Since you and Danielle broke up, you haven't really dated anyone. Why not? What's the problem? Saving yourself for marriage?” Lance's eyes were wide with fear, but he doubted anyone recognized it. What was he going to do? What could he say? He was supposed to tell the truth. Screw that, he thought, he was going to lie through his teeth. “I guess I just haven't met someone I want to date. I don't really have a lot of time.” “Bullshit!” Justin said. “There's always time to date.” He promptly dropped his head to the table. “Guys, leave him alone,” Joey called from the couch. “He doesn't have a girlfriend cause he's gay.” Silence. Complete silence. JC gasped and stared at Joey. Justin slowly raised his head from the table. Chris stopped his motion of taking a drink from his glass. Joey sat up on the couch, a look of compete and utter horror on his face. Lance stared at Joey, his mouth open, his green eyes wide. He felt tears burn behind them, and one by one, they started to fall. Suddenly, everyone was completely sober. “Lance, I'm…” Joey stared at him, “God…I didn't mean to…it just…shit!” He ran his hand through his brown hair. Justin looked at Lance, “You're gay?” Chris turned his gaze on him, too, but Lance didn't notice. Time seemed to stand still. All he could do was stare at Joey in disbelief. He felt a hand on his arm. “Lance,” Justin said quietly, shaking his arm. “Is that true?” Lance swallowed and turned his gaze from Joey. “Yeah, Justin, it is.” Justin squeezed his arm, but didn't let go. “Wow.” Lance looked at Chris as he heard him exhale, “Damn,” he said, sitting back in his chair, staring at the table. Lance turned his gaze on the one person in the room who mattered most. JC had a blank look on his face. He stared at Lance for a minute with an unreadable expression, and didn't say anything as he pushed his chair back from the table and left the room.