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JC was surprised to walk in on Chris lying face down on the couch in the dressing room of the Detroit arena. It was there last concert on the tour and then they would have a two-week vacation before doing anything else.
�I miss her JC,� the mound on the couch spoke, his voice was muffled by the pillow his face was buried in. �I miss everything about her, her smell, her soft voice, the way she twirls her hair around finger when she�s concentrating.�
�Is that all?� JC asked, attempting a weak joke.
�No,� Chris continued. �I miss her kisses, the way she bites her lower lip when she�s nervous, I even miss the jealousy I feel when I see her talking to another guy.�
JC�s heart wrenched as he regarded his miserable friend. He wished there were something he could do to help him. Of course, he could always tell him of her whereabouts�
�I ruined everything,� Chris cried mournfully.
JC marveled at the familiarity of this conversation. He studied Chris�s forlorn figure. In the past three weeks of the tour he had wasted away. His usual cheery face was thin and pale, the only color being the dark circles under his eyes.
�I need her,� he whispered. �I need to see her.�
�You know what?� JC decided. �You�re going to.�
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