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Chapter Nine

Nick

A week and a half flew by. But really, how couldn't it? Between my TV appearances, my record store signings, the soundchecks, concerts, and being constantly followed by rapid (gorgeous) European fans, I was exhausted.

Besides, I was pretty sure time had sped up because the world was about to end. I, Nick Carter, was about to fly to Kentucky, buy a ring, and pr...pr...

Yeah, that.

Needless to say, the night before my flight, I wasn't in a great mood. My chopsticks were like daggers to the little bits of sushi on the smorgasboard. I drizzled a tiny bit of wasabi sauce on the corner of my plate and turned to look at Lauren.

She somehow had gotten prettier in Germany. I don't know how, but she did. She looked up at me with a knowing smile as I settled in across from her.

"What time does your flight leave?" she asked.

"Three a.m."

"Did you even know there was a three a.m.?"

I smiled. "That's usually my bedtime."

We laughed and started to eat in companionable silence. I felt the toe of her pointed flat shoe graze against my leg. That was always a good sign.

"So I've decided I can't let you leave," she said. I waited for her to say more, but she picked up her small cup of tea and sipped, her eyes devouring me over the rim.

"You can't let me leave?" I asked. She shook her head.

"You didn't keep your promise."

"What promise?"

"I have a whole roll of film in my purse and it needs developed."

Hot damn. I had forgotten about the dark room. How the hell did I forget about the dark room?

"I'm sure we can find a nice, small room to do it in," I said, my voice lowering dramatically. Laur laughed, but a second later, the laugh faded into seriousness.

"Nick, why are you doing this?"

My eyes widened. "Doing what?"

The tips of her fingernails tapped against her teacup. "We both know we're going to end up having sex while those pictures develop. And yet, tomorrow you're going to fly into Corn Country, USA and propose to a girl you can't stay faithful to. Why?"

"Once I'm married, I'll be faithful. This is like the bachelor party," I argued.

The look I got back screamed bullshit. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean...I can't keep doing this forever, can I? Besides, she is good for me." Suddenly, I realized who I was talking to. I tugged at the collar of my shirt. "Not that you're not good, but--"

"I'm not that kinda girl." She smiled. "But I have a goal."

The tone of her voice sent my adrenaline pumping. "A goal?"

She scooted back. I watched as she stood, her long frame swaying as she walked around the table to me. She nudged the table back with her hip and settled into my lap. My arms wrapped around her slender waist. Her hair tickled my arms as her lips met mine. I tilted my head back, savoring the contact of our two tongues wrapping around each other like cobras. When she pulled back slightly, I felt her nails dig into my shoulders. Her lips were still so close that they continuously brushed against me as she spoke.

"I'm gonna rock your world so hard that I'll always be the girl you'll want...and that you'll never forget." I didn't answer; she didn't give me time. But as she became my own personal sushi buffet (we had to warm up, you see), I realized something she didn't:

Even without the dark room, I was never going to stop lusting (gulp - loving) Lauren Kitt.

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Heather

"I can't believe this thing is still standing. This should be a historical monument or something."

I laughed as Bri's voice sailed up to me. My hands were wrapped around the frayed rope ladder. My body twisted and turned awkwardly until I had a grip on the wooden frame. With a grunt, I hoisted myself up and scooted back. A moment later, Brian's head popped through the hole. Even though the sun was setting, I could see the sparkle in his eyes.

"This brings back a lot of memories."

For the past week and a half, I couldn't think of one moment that hadn't brought back a lot of memories. Finding out my brother had transferred his old tree house (aka boys club) to the backyard of his house had just been the icing on the cake.

"You know how bad I always wanted to come up and see what you guys were doing up here?" I asked in mock hurt. Bri rubbed his hand through his hair, scattering it messily. It was longer that I had remembered; perhaps the Kentucky air had rejuvenated life into more than just our psyches.

"Chris made the rule," he explained. He pointed past my shoulder. I turned to make out the crude 'No Girls Allowed' sign.

"I don't think that applies anymore," I said. "He was telling me he's going to remodel this place for Tessa."

We both laughed. "I can see it now," Bri said, holding up his large hands. "Lace curtains, a tea table, and a bright pink tiara painted on the side."

Looking at the place as it was, the idea was absurd. Yet, somehow, I really could see it. I felt the smile forming on my face.

"Times sure change, don't they?" I asked softly.

"Yes, they do."

The tone of Brian's voice was melancholy. I looked at him, noticing the pained expression between his eyes. He caught my stare and visibly shook it off. In the next second, he was walking across the floor on all fours. He began to laugh.

"What?"

"It's still here," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

Curiosity had always been my weakness. I slid over to where he was, my shoulder pressing against his. He was staring at the wall, a wall that had several scratches in it.

"What is it?" I asked.

His grin was contagious. Even though I had no idea what had gotten him so excited, I couldn't help but share his enthusiasm.

"This," he said, tapping the scratches. "Was the Summer of 91 bet."

I looked back at the wall in confusion. "Bet?"

Bri sat back. I pulled up my legs, wrapping my arm around the smooth, bare skin. It was unseasonably warm in Kentucky, my hair clung to my clammy neck.

"Chris and I had a bet to see how many girls we could kiss by the end of summer," Bri said with a laugh. "Anytime we got one, we scrambled up here and put a scratch on the wall."

I squinted at the wall. Sure enough, there was a rough 'C' and 'B,' both with lines underneath. But 'C' had almost a dozen. 'B' had three.

"What happened?"

Bri tapped the marks. "That was the summer I started dating Sam. You probably don't remember..."

"I remember," I said quickly.

Boy, did I remember. I had been nine. That was the summer that I had developed a little crush on my older brother's best friend. It had been a stupid thing, a result of seeing Brian in Grease. I had been obsessed with all things Grease for two years; ergo, I had developed a newfound love for the sixteen year old boy the night I sat enraptured in the audience.

Mom and dad had put Chris in charge of watching me one night while they went out to dinner with the Littrells. Chris had other ideas. He obviously went out to work on another tally for the wall and left me alone. It didn't take long for my nine year old self to get bored. I remember grabbing our old basketball and heading over to the Littrells to see if I could beg for a game.

What I got was so much more. Brian had his own plans while his parents were away.

I remember hearing noises as I approached his backyard and just feeling happy that he had stayed home. I quietly slid the stick that kept the wooden gate closed aside and wiggled my stick skinny, non-developed body through. My goal had been to scare him. It was so funny to see his face contort. He would hold his chest and scream 'Lizabeth, I'm coming to join ya!' which was a line from an ancient TV show.

As soon as I was in the backyard, I slid behind a large azalea bush. I peered through the branches, trying to hone in on my target. When I finally spotted him, my prepubescent mouth dropped open.

Brian was in the hot tub. He was shirtless. He had a girl with him. He was kissing her. She was making noise.

My little girl heart broke. I ran off as fast as I could. To this day I know that he never suspected I was there.

And from the time I was about thirteen, I realized that he had been making muffins with Sam in that hot tub.

"I didn't care about the bet after that," Brian was saying. I had a feeling I had missed a little story, lost in my own thoughts. Bri was smiling at me and I was still thinking about Sam. He didn't play games. He was faithful. Leighanne didn't know how lucky she was...

Mortification struck as I felt the first tear slid down my cheek. Then a second. A third. I slapped my palm to my skin. I caught the glimpse of sympathy in Bri's eyes right before I turned away.

"Aw, Heath," Bri said quietly. "Why the tear?"

His hand wrapped gently around my shoulder. I stared at a really old cover of a Wheaties box featuring the Wildcats that had been nailed to the opposite wall. It was yellowed and beginning to disintegrate. The tears fell over the palm I was still holding to my face.

"I'm never going to get it," I said morosely, the gentle squeezing motion on my shoulder breaking my barrier.

"Get what?" Bri whispered.

A salty drop hit my mouth. I ran my tongue over it, my misery mounting. "I'm almost thirty. I wanted to be married by now. I wanted to start having children. I thought Nick was the one, but now I'm back at home and I'm terrified at having to start all over. All my college friends are talking about diapers and mortgages and all I've got to show for my life is a romance story I've rewritten a dozen times that everyone..." I took a breath and shuddered at the illicit word ready to spill from my mouth. "Everyone fucking hates. And why? Because I suck at romance. That's why."

The power of cussing did me in. I dropped my soggy face to my knees and just let loose the most dramatic cry of my life.

At the same time, I felt Bri's hand leave my shoulder.

I knew at that moment that I had even scared off my knight.

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Brian

It scared the bejebus out of me, like the Lochness monster rising out of the depths of the dark pools of Hell. My shirt collar suddenly felt tighter, like in some B-rated cheesy horror movie Nick would be watching on the bus. Attack of the Killer Tuxedos. I barely felt my hand fall away from Heather’s shoulder, my throat was swelling with a gigantic lump. My hand balled into a fist – to restrain myself.

See, Heather’s words had done more than broken my heart. They’d broken my image of her. Ten seconds ago, she’d been Chris’ little sister, a pint sized pain in my ass whose diaper I’d clumsily helped to change. Then she suddenly became a woman. Gone was the kid with the skinned knees and the PBJ stains around her mouth… Instead, sitting in front of me was a woman whose chest was heaving as she cried, and whose chest had very –uh- erect –uh- you know, nipples, and who was so not a little girl that it made my –uh- you know also –uh- erect.

This was not good.

“I gotta go,” I gasped. And I slid across the floor quickly and attempted to drop into the hole.

No puns intended?

Heather looked up, a panicked, desperate expression on her face. “I’m sorry,” she begged, “Please don’t leave. Please. I’m sorry. I know Nick’s your best fr—“

“Nick is an ass,” I snapped quickly, interrupting her. “I need to go.” I dropped to the ground without using the rope ladder and hit the grass rolling, sprung to my feet and sprinted across Chris’ back yard, even as Heather leaned out the window, screaming for me to wait and come back.

I was high tailing it, my mind on overload, my heart slamming in my chest. I was more than halfway to my parents’ house before I slowed my sprint to a run, and even closer by the time the run dissipated to a jog, then a trot and finally a slow, tired walk. After a moment of that, I doubled over, crouched and held my ankles and breathed.

More than the boner – which was definitely a problem – what was bothering me was the fact that it was there because of Heather Johnson, Chris’ sister.

I’d wanted to lean over and kiss her. I’d wanted to comfort her… to touch her… to taste her… to be in her.

I shook my head. “Chris would kill me,” I said to my sneakers on the pavement below me.

And that brought on a whole new wave of guilt.

What kind of friend was I? Heather, at her very most vulnerable moment, had just confessed her fear into me, and I’d run away. I’d run away. Worse! I’d been ready to take advantage of her, and then run away. She probably thought I was mad at her, and I wasn’t .I was just terrified of the feeling that had coursed through my body, of seeing Heather as though she were a woman instead of Chris’ little sister.

And also terrified that, had I tried, she might have said no.

What would have happened, I wondered, if I’d done it? If my mouth had touched Heather’s, if my hands had moved to her breasts, if I’d squeezed them between my fingers, if I’d let my tongue touch her skin, taste her flavor…

Oh my God.

I could’ve destroyed everything. I could’ve destroyed a lifetime of friendship in one stupid, careless, thoughtless move.

I had to apologize, like now.

I turned around and started walking back to Chris’ house.

When I got to Chris’ driveway, I looked ahead and saw him sitting on his front stoop with Tessa in his arms, watching me as I made my way up the driveway. When I got to him, he held up his hand. My car keys danged from his forefinger. “Forget something?” he asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “Heather didn’t leave, right?”

Chris shook his head.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Still out back,” Chris answered, “She was screaming your name for quite awhile there…” he paused, staring at me. “Might there be something we want to talk about, Brian?”

I shook my head. “Just a misunderstandi ng.”

Chris stared after me and I started to walk around the house to the trees our fort was in. I paused at the corner of the house. “Hey Bri?” he called.

“What?” I asked.

Chris stared at me, “If you hurt her, don’t think I won’t kick your ass as much as any other person’s.” And with that, he didn’t wait for an answer. He stood up and went inside the house with Tessa on his hip.

I rehearsed my apology all the way out to the tree house. Heather was still inside. I climbed the ladder until my head popped through the door. Heather looked up at me tearfully. “Brian?” she choked out my name.

I’m sorry I was an asshole Heather is what I meant to say. What I actually said though?

“Do you wanna go out to dinner tonight? Just you and me?”

Heather stared at me for a long moment, then she said, “I thought you’d never ask me.”

The strangest part of it all, though, I didn’t realize until I’d crawled into my passenger side car and turned the engine on. I’d felt so guilty about my relationship with Heather that I’d forgotten to feel guilty about two things:

1) Her boyfriend, my best friend, Nick.
2) My wife.