She sat against the window of the hotel room, staring out over the city, wondering why she was there at all. Wondering why after all this time she had chosen to leave the safety of her life to join the circus that was Lance Bass. Curious as to what the hell kind of hold he had over her --  amazed she hadn’t even blinked when he called her up hysterical, professing his love with watery apologies. The “i’m sorries” that he cried out over the line as his own mortality took hold of him. The very real, and very frightened boy she heard that pulled at her heart, and made her get on the next plane to him. *********** He held one finger up toward Joey as he answered his cell phone, a complete bundle of nerves. An overload of raw emotions ready to bubble out onto the carpet of Joey’s hotel room. His mind refused to focus as he made last minute arrangements. Because he didn’t have quite enough on his brain. And he meant, really meant, to bump her up a few notches. But as his stylist pulled at him, he had to relent and leave her toward the bottom again. *********** The flurry of activity was something new -- something hard for her to comprehend, and when three outfits flew through the door at her, she shrank back. “I was planning on wearing this,” she offered, pointing to a simple red dress with a casual denim and leather coat. Maybe too Mississippi, but it fit her, and while it wasn’t elegant, it was cute. “Oh no, no,” the stylist was saying with pursed lips and a tape measure wrapped around her neck. “We simply cannot have that. Jeans off. Let’s get you fitted.” And Laura noticed it was not a request. It was an order. She checked her watch and wondered where Lance was ... and if he was ever coming back for her. *********** “Listen, I don’t care,” Lance was saying into his cell phone as Joey threw a wad of paper at his head. He swatted it away with deep creases folding along his forehead and turned his back. “I need them delivered. Two dozen red roses.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Roses. For Laura. Her favorite. An apology of sorts for dragging her to New York. For jumping back into her life after a lengthy absence. For professing a panicked love over the phone. For clinging onto her like a life line. “Roses?” Joey mouthed, stepping back into Lance’s sight. “Can we say whipped?” Lance flicked Joey square in the head and stormed toward the window. He listened as the florist shuffled papers and put him on hold, and he knew his call waiting was beeping, and that it was most likely something important. But Laura. She was what was important to him. A rock really. A beautiful woman he’d known forever, or so it seemed. A girl who still used “ma’am” and “sir” to refer to elders. “I need them tonight,” he repeated, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. “Please.” Desperation wasn’t his way, not at all, but for her he would walk on fire. Or at least consider it. ************ She was shy as the gruff older woman tugged at her bra. “Ma’am, I really think ..” “Aw, ain’t you cute?” the woman barked with a sloppy grin. “Bashful are we?” Laura sighed and folded her arms over her chest. She needed to see Lance, to lay her head against his chest and inhale his scent. She ached for a nice quite dinner, perhaps in bed, just lounging. She longed for an off switch to press on him, a little button that would force him to stay still and enjoy time. “Look, Mr. Bass told me I was on time restraints,” the lady sighed. “So if you wanna look pretty tonight I suggest you drop the arms and get this done.” “Okay,” Laura said quietly, and she did drop her arms, but the blush in her cheeks stung, and tears filled her eyes as she watched an assistant whisk her pretty red dress away. *********** Lance tugged at his hair as Wendy traipsed in with a dozen more promotional posters to sign. “Oh Christ!” he hissed, flopping down on the couch. “More?” “Always,” she smiled, handing him a sharpie marker. And Lance thought of Laura, just a few rooms down. He had promised her lunch, but as he gripped Joey’s wrist and twisted it for a time check, he realized it was far past that time. His fingers itched to dial her up on his cell and make sure she was alright. It was only a few posters, though, and then he’d be out of there. Just a few more. ***************** Laura squirmed as yet another strange woman thrust shoes at her, and a quirky little man presented a selection of handbags. It was an overload, and her stomach rumbled loudly. “I don’t know,” she said, wishing she had feigned illness, just stayed behind and let Lance go solo. But she was in New York for him, she reminded herself, to support him, to hold his hand. To whisper soothing reassurances into his ear. To calm his fears, his nervous stomach. To present a united front to the media. To the world. And really, she didn’t care if she attended the premiere in jeans. She wanted to discard her grace and stamp her feet -- scream out loud and make these creepy people leave. She wanted to march down to Joey’s suite and yank Lance out of there, make him come back to her. Give him a nice long bubble bath perhaps. A knock at the door caused her to look up with hope in her eyes, and she grabbed Lance’s sweatshirt, tugging it over her head. Rushing to the door, she pushed past the swarm of people invading her and threw the door open. Disappointment flooded her as she saw a hair stylist standing there, a tiny man with a tiny crowd of assistants standing behind him. “Darling, are you ready for me?” “I guess,” she said, peering out into the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lance. All she saw were more people buzzing about, bodyguards and more unfamiliar faces. Her heart jumped as a cart full of food swished past her and she tried to slam the door, but it was a hotel door, and it only moved in one speed. Super slow. Soon she was being shoved into a chair as her blonde hair was being brushed,  and her body was strained, crying without mercy, begging for Lance. ************* An hour later and Lance was at his wit’s end. “Wendy, this is it!” he cried. “No more! I can’t. I have to see Laura ...” “Lance! I know, I know. But I just need you for one more minute.” And Lance stayed because it was the right thing to do for his business mind. But he was losing patience, and his energy was being sapped. He tried to listen as Wendy talked about the premiere, but his mind was on Laura, and the fact she would be introduced as his girlfriend, the night he was planning to show the world he was taken. Because to him, Laura stood for what he grew up being, for the truth inside him. “I gotta go,” he said finally, discarding the random paperwork that filled his lap. It crashed to the floor and he stepped over it carefully, grabbing Wendy’s hand and kissing it gently. “I love you Wen, I do, but no. I have to go.” Her mouth dropped open in protest but the way he cocked his head and pleaded with wide green eyes sent her a clear message. “Fine, go Bass. But be on time! Please!” “I will,” he smiled, tossing a wave to Joey. “Catch ya there!” A whistle fell from his lips as he sauntered down to his suite. *********** “Up sweep darling? Or down?” Laura stared helplessly into the mirror. She looked funny. Completely foreign and strange. This person was not her. “What?” “Oh honey. Are you thinking about that beautiful man of yours?” the man asked, pinching her cheek lightly. “That’ll give you a natural glow.” Laura blushed and looked down at her hands. It was insane. She was starting to want out. Suddenly, working twelve hour shifts four times a week as a nurse was sounding comforting to her. A makeup brush came at her and she swatted at it instinctively. “No more please,” she cried, dropping her head into her hands. “Just no more!” ********** Lance wandered in with a grin, his hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Clothes were strewn about and people milled. Nothing out of the ordinary until he saw the crumpled figure in front of the vanity, her shoulders shaking and her blonde hair dangling helplessly over her face. “Jesus,” he hissed, rushing over. “Laur? Honey?” It was music to her. A symphony from inside. “Lance?” Her face turned upward as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Make them go, please!” Her eyes watered as he clutched his shirt. “Please.” “Okay. Shh. Okay.” He knelt down beside her and stroked her hair, waving the stylists away, ignoring the angry looks they flashed. And Lance wondered why and how she had broken down. Then he noticed the time. “Laur, I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. “I didn’t mean to be so long.” She sniffled and curled into him, aching for that hint of protection. “I didn’t mean to be a baby,” she replied, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “All these people. They just came right in and started touching me.” Lance shook his head, angry with himself for not thinking -- for taking for granted the fact he was used to all the commotion. For putting Laura in a precarious position. “No, it’s not you. I should have thought more. I mean ... GOD! I’m sorry!” He felt tiny pangs of hurt attack his gut and he pulled her closer until the last person was gone. Only then did she stand up. Only then did her smile dare peek out. “Too much,” she admitted, holding her hand against her heart. “Never again,” he promised, staring at the various outfits. “Which one are you going to wear?” Her hands fell on her hips and she chewed on her lower lip. “Which one do you like?” Lance moved toward her, needing to feel her body against his, to comfort. To be comforted. “I kinda like that red one,” he grinned, pointing to the outfit she had chosen. The outfit the stylists had so rudely pushed aside. “Really?” She spun in his arms and blinked up at him. “Really?” “Yeah, it’s ... it’s you.” Lance ducked his gaze a bit, unused to such intimacy. But with Laura it didn’t seem so scary anymore. “Comfortable but stylish.” Laura sighed as her hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “Sometimes, Bass, you say the perfect thing.” Lance chuckled and brushed his thumbs across her lips. “Sometimes?” “Yeah, sometimes.” She leaned in and kissed him as her center returned. He sank into her as he felt the Mississippi boy in him come back. * Back *