| DON'T THINK I'M NOT THIRTEEN |
| "What the fuck were you thinking?" Lance hissed into the phone, his temper and nervousness combining into one frightened voice. "I...I..." her voice was soft, and she stammered at the uncertainty of what she had unleashed. Her feelings for Lance had grown beyond what she could comprehend, and when asked directly about cheating, she'd easily admitted to Justin, pinning the blame on the younger scapegoat. Her heart wouldn't give Lance away, as angry as she was with him, she had strong emotions that couldn't be fought with. "Stop it!" he screamed. "Stop stuttering. Justin just got knocked out by your fucking fiance and now..now he's going to tell Joey it was me to. Do you hear me?" "Lance, please. I didn't know what else to say." Her sobs broke through and she wondered why he had such a hold over her. The fun of the naughty sex was dissapating, and her heart was torn between the sexy Italian with the roaming eye and the innocent southerner with the never ending sexual energy that turned her on so much. "Well, you are responsible for marring Justin, and now, I'm sure I'm next. I hope your happy." He sat on his bed and bit on his nails, praying for a good way out of this. Any minute, he was sure Joey would break down his door and beat the snot out of him. If Justin got a punch and just slept with her by accident, well, he'd be killed. No more N Sync, well, at least no more bass in N Sync. "I just don't understand you. Couldn't you just deny it all? Why bring Justin into it?" Her voice trembled under the harshness of his tone, and she thought hard. Sighing, she spoke. "Look, you were the one who brought the kid into this. It was your idea to keep him quiet by tricking him. It's not my fault. I said something in my sleep about him, and Joey called me on it, and he was so mad. Jesus, I just slipped." She paused, and took a deep breath. "But I kept you out of it." Lance cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the window which shot back his reflection at him. Looking away, he twisted the comforter beneath his fingers and closed his eyes. "What do you suggest we do?" "I don't know. I wish to hell I did." "Not good enough," he stated flatly. "My life is about to either end or be fucked up horribly and I have to find a way out of it." He hung the phone up, not bothering to wait for her response. There had to be a way to get out of the fact he'd been carrying on a torrid affair with Joey's fiance without being seriously hurt. Standing up, he wandered into the bathroom and ran the water. The bang on the door startled him, and for a moment, he contimplated pretending he didn't hear it. The bangs grew more and more intense, and he shuddered, thinking maybe his time was up. "Who's there?" he called weakly, approaching the door with caution. "JC! Open the fuck up!" God! Not JC again. He'd had enough of that earlier. Flinging open the door, JC stood there, a crumpled Justin by his side. "Lance. You are so dead!" He shoved his way inside, pulling a reluctant Justin behind him. "He told me everything! You let this poor kid take a hit for you?" JC was hollering, and Lance noticed with interest that the veins on his neck stood out vividly. Justin shrank back under Lance's stare, gingerly rubbing at his sore face which had started to swell. He couldn't make eye contact after all this. "Stop with your antics!" Lance retorted. "Poor kid? This poor kid has been blackmailing my ass for days now. Poor kid!" He snorted with disgust and shut the door. Eying JC, he licked his lips and wished he had something to drink. His mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty, a definate sign of guilt. "So? What do you want? Now you know." JC sighed and slumped into a chair. "Joey will be devastated. You realize that right? Not only one of his friends slept with the woman he loves, but two of them? What's wrong with you?" Lance shrugged and sat on his bed. He didn't know. She had been a willing participant. He didn't rape her for chrissakes. She wanted him too. But he was the bad guy. "You have to tell him," JC commanded, looking at Justin for support. Lance blinked, pulling a pillow behind his head and leaning back. "No way. I can't. He'll cut off my balls." JC grinned. "You'd deserve it. But you may just get off with a punch." Justin swallowed hard and backed up. "I'm sorry," he whispered, glancing at Lance. "Why are you sorry?" JC cried, tugging at his hair. "He tricked you. He's the one who should be sorry. He never says that. He's always acting better than us." Turning his anger onto Lance he stood up. "Come on. You're going to tell him now. That way I'll know you did it." Lance threw his hands behind his head and settled in. "Nope. Not gonna do it." He'd be up shit's creek if he admitted it. If he never actually said the words, then maybe Joey would believe it wasn't true. A little tactic he used growing up with an older sister. JC groaned and crossed over to the door. "I'm telling him, Lance. If you're too much of a pussy to do it, then I'll do it for you. Fucking asshole!" He grabbed Justin's elbow and dragged him out. Lance watched as the two left the room. His heart throbbed wildly inside him and he grabbed his jacket. He had to get out of there and now. As distraught at Joey was, he'd kill him for sure. Diving for the door, he headed down the hall, feeling a bodyguard follow him silently. He stepped up his pace and used the stairwell to make his escape. He could hear Joey open the door behind him and let JC in. His time was running out. Taking the steps two by two, he listened as the careful steps of the bodyguard mimicked his. When he saw the lobby, he pulled the door open and rushed out. It was late, and all was quiet. One quick glance behind him to check for trouble, and he hurried toward the doors. Fans stood outside faithfully, and he felt a strong hand pull his shoulder. "You can't go out there," the bodyguard said. "Too many fans." Lance glanced into the darkness, then heard a loud voice boom. Joey. He knew. The lobby door from the stairwell flipped open, crashing against the wall behind it. "Bass! You're a deadman!" The bodyguard was oblivious to the impending danger and stood dumbfounded as another member of N Sync headed toward the exit. Lance felt little beads of sweat pop out along his forehead and a lump formed in his throat. The fury in Joey's eyes was unfathomable, and he stumbled toward the glass doors. A second bodyguard appeared from behind Joey, and Lance felt some strange comfort in that. "You are dead, motherfucker!" Joey screamed as he broke into a run straight toward the blonde. "God, Joey. You don't want to do this!" he cringed, backing up some more. "There are fans right out there. They can see!" His ideas were running out, and he looked at the bodyguard for help. "What's going on?" he finally asked, eying the other bodyguard. "This little shit fucked my fiance!" Joey screamed, jumping on Lance in mere seconds. The bodyguards, surprised by his quickness, assisted in pulling the angry singer back. Lance took the opportunity to push the doors open and head out into the night. Fans shrieked when they saw him, and Lance dove right into the crowd, fearful of them, but more of Joey's wrath. He winced as fingernails dug into his cheek and hands pulled at his hair. He felt his jacket being taken off him, and his shirt tearing with the sheer force of the fans. Panic washed over him, and for a moment, he thought he was going to be trampled. Girls flung themselves at him, and he tripped. Glancing down, he noticed a girl laying motionless on the ground. Without thought to himself, he dropped and yanked on her. "Come on!" he yelled, "Get up." Nothing. He attempted to scoop her up when he felt the hands of his bodyguard upon him, lifting him to safety. "The girl!" he cried, and was relieved when the other bodyguard assisted her. Half naked, he was deposited back in the lobby, where JC, Justin, and Chris were sitting with Joey, in attempts of keeping him back. He glared at Lance. "You are dead! You hear me? You won't know when or how, but I'll get you." Tears formed in his hateful brown eyes and Lance looked away in shame. No matter what, he hadn't meant for things to go like this. Justin walked over and Lance tried not to look at the bruise forming on those gentle young features. "You're goose is cooked," he said solemly. Lance shoved him back hard. "Fuck off!" he snarled, taking the stairs back to his room. He didn't know what the future held, but he was sure it wasn't going to be pleasant. |