---Part Twelve---

Abbey dressed quickly, twisted her hair back into an efficient knot, and grabbed her keycard before heading down to the hotel restaurant. She was a little worried that she wouldn't be able to find J.C. and Lance, but the sound of laughter alerted her to their presence -- as did Mike, sitting near their table with a long-suffering expression on his round face. As she drew closer, Abbey saw J.C. flinch under a barrage of water flicked at him by Lance.

"What's up?" she asked, taking the empty seat next to Lance. "Someone in need of cooling down?"

"He's just jealous because Karyn's meeting us in Cleveland," J.C. reported.

"Am not," Lance said, affecting a sullen glare. "Besides, Carrie's probably coming out to see us in Cincinnati."

"You guys are so cute," Abbey chuckled.

"Pathetic is more like it." Justin entered the conversation casually, straddling the seat opposite Abbey. J.C. gave him a dry look, eyebrows raised, at that comment.

"I don't think you have room to comment," Lance noted, glancing significantly at Abbey. Mortified, Abbey felt herself blush.

"Ha, ha, it is to laugh," Justin said as he picked up a menu.

"Well, he's coherent without the benefit of cereal," J.C. observed, his voice hushed and smooth as if he were a golf commentator.

"You're right. Something's definitely changed here," Lance agreed.

"Could it be? Is our little Justy all growed up and in love?" J.C. laughed, grinning when Justin turned a glare on him.

"Quit it, you guys," Abbey said. Justin gave her a grateful look, and she smiled softly at him. It was so easy to respond without thinking -- smiling, hugging, kisses that had become almost commonplace (if far from common); that easy way of just being around him scared Abbey a little, but she was learning to enjoy it.

---

The next day, they drove up to Columbus. During the day, a visit to a children's hospital had been scheduled; Abbey prepped her cameras in the bus as they drove over, since she had been asked to take pictures for a feature on the visit. She knew that the guys weren't looking forward to this -- not because they didn't want to see the kids, but because the sight of young children who were sick or terminally ill was always heart-rending.

Almost as soon as they got to the hospital, Abbey saw why. One ward had been cleared, making room for the children who couldn't be moved from their beds, while other, more mobile kids were grouped on chairs and cushions. The children's enthusiasm at seeing the band was evident in the smiles and cheers that greeted them; but Abbey's heart broke to see the children too weak to even sit up to see their idols.

The guys made their way slowly through the room, all their attention on the kids; they seemed oblivious to the doctors and nurses who popped up in the doors to watch their celebrity guests. Abbey had taken about a roll of emotional shots when she suddenly felt a stab of guilt. Chris was reaching down, carefully embracing a fragile young girl in a hospital gown; the girl's arms were bruised from where IVs had been placed, a sign of her probably terminal leukemia. Abbey found her hands shaking too much to keep the camera steady as she tried to focus the lens. Taking a deep breath, she put it down. The emotion in Chris's face was too private, too intense to share; it felt almost as if she was exploiting his pain by taking the picture.

Without another thought, she began packing up the camera. They could do a group shot later; that would be more than sufficient.

As she zipped the last case closed, she looked up to see Justin approaching. Though his face was set in grim resolve, she saw the despair in his eyes, and stood up to hug him.

Justin put his arms around her shoulders, gripping her tightly and pressing his forehead to her neck. Abbey could feel his body shaking as he fought the tears that threatened. Her arms went around his waist, holding him close; resting her head on his shoulder, she let him react to whatever had tipped him off.

After a few minutes, he seemed to relax somewhat. Abbey felt his body slacken a little, the grip on her shoulders easing. "You okay?" she asked him in a soft voice.

He nodded, swallowing, before flocking his gaze to her. "This is always hard," he said thickly. "Thanks."

"No... no problem," she replied. Her voice came out in barely a whisper from a mouth gone suddenly dry; she could feel all of him pressed against her, joined to him by the electric connection of their eyes.

Giggling began to sound around them; Abbey broke the gaze to see some of the girls nearby, their hands over their mouths and their shoulders shaking with mirth. Clearing her throat, Abbey stepped away from Justin.

"Your adoring public," she said, smiling. Justin gave her a smile, a look that promised that this would be continued later, and walked over to the girls. The swagger had returned to his stride, she noticed. Hastily, she reached for her bags, telling herself firmly that she had not been checking out his butt.

---

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. Abbey began to enjoy her newfound closeness with Justin; in ways it scared her, but she thought that maybe being scared might be a good thing. She'd played her life safe and conservative for so long that she'd begun to forget that acting on impulse could be fun, rewarding.

She'd been hanging out with the guys in the waiting room before the St. Louis show; as she stood up, wishing them a good show, and headed for the door to get into her position, Justin stopped her.

"Hey," he said, his voice lowered. "Do you, uh, want to go out tomorrow night?"

"Just us?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It'd be a date." He scuffed a foot on the carpet, looking up at her from under the brim of the hat he wore during the first number; his eyes were sweet, endearing.

"Okay." The word came out of her mouth before she could even think about it. Justin gave her a grin, and she smiled back at him, feeling an odd bubble of breathlessness in her chest, before he headed back to the guys to start their pre-show rituals.

Heart pounding, Abbey left the room and steered for the press area, her body moving on auto-pilot. I'm going out on a date. With Justin. What's wrong with me? I should never have let it get this far. I was supposed to say no. I can't wait until tomorrow night. Am I out of my mind?

She had to shove her turmoiled thoughts aside during the show to focus on the pictures, but every time she brought the lens to bear on Justin, she remembered again how his eyes had looked when he'd asked her. It didn't help that he glanced at her several times during the show, winking and smiling at different points, and his gaze rested on her for a few lines of "This I Promise You".

I still don't believe in promises. I don't!

Apparently word had spread quickly. When she returned to the hotel room after the show, Michaela leaned out of the bathroom area -- where she was putting on makeup for the evening's festivities -- to grin at her. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks." Abbey's tone was only mildly sarcastic. She'd heard this from enough of the crew now that it was starting to get a bit annoying.

"What, you're not excited? I thought you liked him."

"I -- I do like him." It was the first time she'd admitted it out loud, and briefly she was amazed that her feelings for him had made such a thorough turnaround in what seemed such a short period of time.

"Well, when we get in tomorrow, I'm gonna take you out and get a haircut and a makeover. Maybe hit a nail salon, too." Michaela strode out into the bedroom area, reaching for the high-tech sneakers she'd tossed on her bed earlier. "And don't give me that look. You need a girly day."

Abbey sighed, letting the annoyed look on her face lapse. "Slavedriver," she muttered as she dug through her bag for her nightshirt.

"You know it," Michaela replied smugly. "Do you need clothes?"

"He said slacks would be fine. I have a few nice outfits."

"Mm. Well, we'll see." Once she had finished putting on her shoes, Michaela grabbed her keycard and purse. "Don't wait up for me!" she called as she headed out the door.

"Never happen," Abbey told the door closing behind her roommate.

---

Approximately eighteen hours later, Justin stood in the lobby of the Cleveland Ritz-Carlton, pacing before the elevators. He'd told Abbey to be there at 6:30, and it was almost twenty to seven now. She was late. Maybe she wasn't coming. He paused in front of a mirror hung between the elevators, checking his appearance as he'd already done a hundred times. He'd worn a dress shirt and slacks in neutral colors, keeping it low-key; tonight wasn't about being flashy or showing off.

Finally, one of the elevator's doors slid open; Justin turned to see who it was, as he'd already had a few false alarms. Fortunately, Mike was standing nearby in case any problems occurred.

Abbey stepped out of the elevator. She was tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and when she looked up and smiled at him, Justin's jaw dropped.

He'd never seen her in real, full-out makeup before, since she usually only wore a little foundation. The effect was subtle, yet at the same time her face seemed thoroughly transformed, shimmering with a soft glamour. A few strands of hair framed her face; the rest had been pulled up in a twist that turned back on itself along the back of her head, tucking under at the nape, the whole thing like something a movie star from the forties might wear.

Abbey's shoulders were bare, revealed by a spaghetti-strapped top in rich violet. Justin took in her whole outfit -- black slacks, sandal-styled heels that showed off her slender feet, as well as the light jacket over one arm and the small black purse clutched in the opposite hand -- before he finally managed to wrench his jaw back into place. Hoarsely, honestly, he said, "You look amazing."

She smiled softly, her eyes flicking downward in acknowledgement. "Thanks. So do you."

Justin managed to get himself under control (but damn, he thought, she looks incredible), offering his arm. Abbey took it as she gave him a curious glance. "So where are we headed?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he told her, smiling.

She slanted him a guarded look, but didn't protest as he took her outside, where a limousine was pulled up to the curb at the front doors. The driver was already waiting with the door open, and Justin handed Abbey into the limo as easily as if he'd been doing so all his life. (Which, she reflected, probably wasn't far from the truth.)

Abbey took comfort in being able to engage in small talk with Justin during the limo ride. She told him about her day, how Michaela had dragged her from hair salon to makeup department to nail salon -- at this last, she held up one hand, fingers newly tipped in a set of evenly trimmed and painted fingernails -- and how the hairstylist had laughed when told who Abbey's date for the evening was.

"She didn't believe you?" Justin asked, pretending to be horrified at the hairstylist's disbelief.

"Thought I was delusional." Abbey laughed. "And Michaela's behind me telling the lady to just humor me, I hadn't had my meds yet--" She rolled her eyes as Justin laughed. "She's pure evil, I tell you."

"You know, she's been with us since our first tour. She's a trip."

"I know," Abbey said, stonefaced. Justin laughed again.

Eventually, the limo pulled up into the curving driveway of a large building whose front face was styled in a tasteful art deco look. Lights mounted on the lawn picked out large letters on the overhang that spelled out the name "Cloud Nine Ballroom".

"Where in the world..?" Abbey said softly, turning her gaze from the letters to Justin.

"Don't lose your nerve now," he replied, seeing her confusion as hesitation, possibly even nervousness.

Her eyes held a dubious look, but she allowed him to help her out of the limo without a fuss. Together, her arm tucked into his, they walked into the building.

The ballroom was already in full swing, the wide dance floor thick with couples moving and shaking. On the stage, a full orchestra belted out a classic Louis Prima tune, setting the air alive with shimmering, vibrant music. The musicians themselves seemed to be having as good a time as those they entertained; many of them stood to deliver their parts in the song, their heads nodding in time.

The dining area was also crowded, and for a moment Abbey worried that there might be a problem; but a glance told her that most of the people her were their age or older, not as likely to cause a riot over the fact that a member of 'N Sync was in their midst.

They were escorted to an out-of-the-way table by the hostess, an older lady who winked at Justin as she handed out their menus. Justin gave her a polite smile, but rolled his eyes after she was gone.

"Hm, I think she was coming on to you, Justin," Abbey noted, chuckling. "Can't say I blame her."

"She's old enough to be my mom," he said, looking disgusted and running a hand over his hair. He'd had the cornrows taken out tonight, and after so long with them in, his hair felt strange to him.

"Okay, just ignore the fact that I gave you a compliment, there," Abbey teased.

"Oh, sorry. Thank you," Justin replied with cool dignity. "Now, as I was saying..."

Abbey hadn't expected to enjoy the evening as much as she did. Dinner was delicious, and her company most enjoyable. She was immensely grateful that she'd taken a dance class during college, dragged by a friend who didn't want to go alone; as the moves came back to her, she managed to acquit herself creditably enough to draw a compliment from Justin. They were approached by a couple of autograph seekers, but in each case Justin handled them with polite charm and sent them off with the autograph with a minimum of fuss.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been dancing, but when they went back to the table to refresh themselves with some water, Abbey found herself yawning into her glass.

"Tired?" Justin asked.

Abbey covered her mouth, nodded, waiting for the yawn to pass before speaking. "Unfortunately, yeah. I never got any sleep after we got on the buses this morning."

"Well, we can go back," he offered, sympathetic.

"I am really enjoying this," she said, with a regretful tone. "But yeah, I am starting to get worn out."

"Okay." Justin rose easily, came around to pull Abbey's chair out for her, and took her hand as they headed out to the waiting limo.

Abbey's exhaustion showed more during the ride back to the hotel; she leaned on Justin's shoulder, her eyes half-closed, as soon as he had pulled the door shut. Obliging, he re-settled himself with one arm around her, letting her cuddle to him. It was definitely a sign that she'd allowed herself to trust him, so easily did she lean into his proffered comfort without a thought.

"Stay awake," he murmured to her. "We still have to walk you to your room."

"Uh-uh. Don't wanna," she said, petulant as a child. Amused, and feeling incredibly tender towards her, Justin let her doze until the limo pulled up at the hotel's doors.

"Come on, Abbey," he said once they'd arrived. "Time to go upstairs." Gently, he shook her until she blinked up at him. Her hair was tousled, her eyes sleep-glazed still, and her lips slightly parted; the elements combined into an unknowingly seductive whole that made Justin suck in a short breath. He fought down the impulse; he couldn't attack her in the limo. "Abbey," he said again.

"'M awake," she mumbled, blinking, and raked a hand over her hair, partially dislodging the complex hairstyle. The effect was devastating. Maybe no one will notice if we stay out here, Justin thought to himself, then ruthlessly quashed the thought.

Walking through the halls of the hotel seemed to revive Abbey to some extent; when they reached her room, she found her keycard right away. Opening the door, she peered inside to see if Michaela was present.

"No roommate. Come on," she invited him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Though this particular line had already been crossed, tonight felt different, unfamiliar, as though he'd be stepping past the point of no return if he followed her in.

Abbey slanted him a dark, intense look from underneath her long lashes, one that made his breathing stop for a moment. "Don't you want a goodnight kiss?" she asked.

Justin needed no further encouragement, stepping into the room after her with all due haste. Abbey tossed the purse and jacket onto the bathroom counter; then she turned, moved close to Justin, and wound her fingers into his shirt's collar.

She made a small whimper as she kissed him, as he gathered her body close to his. She was warm, soft, the scent of her floral and utterly feminine; he ran a hand over her hair, finding the source of the twist and pulling it loose. Her hair flowed over his fingers in a silken wave. He couldn't keep himself from groaning into her mouth as she pressed herself closer to him, her pelvis grinding against his.

Her mouth was hot and sweet; her tongue darted into his mouth, dipping and tasting, then pushing deep. He reciprocated the invasion, giving her his tongue in return, and was rewarded by the plaintive, mewling noises she made.

Dimly, he was aware that they were both panting shallowly, that the room seemed several degrees warmer, and that if they didn't soon stop, he would end up doing something he might regret. But it was getting harder to think, what with more blood every second being diverted to his groin, and her hands were exploring his back, groping--

"Abbey," he managed to say on an explosive breath.

"Yeah?" She looked up at him, pausing; she'd been nibbling on his earlobe, a sensation that was doing wonders for his state of arousal. His voice sounded strange, hoarse, even to him.

His mind raced. "Uh, maybe we should go sit down."

"All right." She took his hand, led him over to the bed; he tucked one leg under the other as he sat, leaning against the headboard, to face her. She easily sat in the triangle formed between his knee and the other leg, resting her hands on his calves.

He took a deep breath, composing his thoughts for a moment. Then he looked at her, watching her face, dim in the darkened room. "Are you... um... are you sure about this?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, managing to sound almost innocent.

"Look," he said, "if you keep kissing me like that, I'm going to think that you're not going to want to stop."

"I don't," she replied. Her eyes were serious now, her face clear and determined. "I thought about it, what might happen, and I'm... I'm okay with it."

"'Okay with it'?" he quoted back. "You don't sound enthusiastic."

"No, I am, believe me." Her fingers curled around his lower leg, the one pressed to the bed; he felt the electric touch as they caressed the calf muscle. "I just... it occurred to me today that this is something I like, being with you, and it's something I want to grab onto and hold for as long as I can."

"You're sure?" he said, feeling the need to confirm it. It wasn't that he wasn't happy about it -- if anything, he wanted to jump up and down and shout, or start kissing her all over again and damn the consequences -- but her attitude was so changed, so quickly, that he would have guessed her to be drunk had he not witnessed her drinking water all night.

"I'm very sure." Abbey got to her knees, pushed his legs apart, and moved in between them, planting her hands on the headboard, one on either side of him. Her eyes still bore that sultry gaze, but there was also a winsome look in them, and maybe even a little bit of fear. That was what got to him, more than anything else; she was still scared, after all this time, that he might reject her.

Without further thought, he put his arms around her and kissed her.

 

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