"I have a report, Mom! Leave me alone!"

That's what I have to do everyday. Yell to get my point across to my mother. Don't get me wrong; I love her so much, even more than I love myself. It's just�sometimes I don't know how to keep my big mouth shut.

"Hannah," she opened the door to my steaming hot room of around 92�F and looked at me with a concerned eye, the Toni way of wanting to know what I was doing, "Doing a report�when there's no school?"

I just looked at her, slightly stunned that she had even responded to me, not even planning to respond myself. I heard the phone ringing beside me on my nightstand and I quickly went to answer it after 2 rings, "Hello?"

I heard silence on the other end of the line and a second later, a click.

"Damn telemarketers," I muttered to myself and then looked at my mother while I hung up the phone, "Stupid telemarketers," I corrected my blunt speech as I let my hand off the receiver and cradled my head into it, "They never give up."

"Right," my mother spoke clearly and l took a deep breath. I really wish we could go out today, but I know we can't. When my mother says, "I'm staying in bed for the rest of the day," that means, we usually don't go anywhere.

Well�she didn't exactly say that�she just said she was going to rest for a little while longer, but her illness�it really gets to me sometimes. When I walk up from just watching television downstairs and see her still covered up in the thick, autumn blankets in the sweltering, summer sizzle, it clenches my heart, makes it twist in discomfort and pain. I still think all the time that she would have never gotten sick.

"Are we still going to the store?" I asked her quietly, looking up from my summer assignment. It wasn't mandatory, but I managed to be attracted to the extracurricular task. My former junior year American Literature teacher had told the students to write about someone who had changed your life significantly or changed the way you viewed certain people, but only on a chance meeting. That got me thinking�someone you've only met once, but has significantly changed your view on an aspect of life�that eliminated me writing about my mother's miracle.

"Yes we are, but aren't you going to your dad's?" Toni asked me softly and tapped her foot on the floor.

"Uh huh," I replied softly, not even really wanting to speak of my dad at that moment. I'll bother telling that story later. Being 17 and with a separated family definitely has its downsides.

"Okay, finish getting ready," she said softly once again and walked out of my bedroom. I grabbed my purse and swung it up next to me on the bed, returning my attention to the task at hand. I bit down on my green sparkly pen and tried to think about what I wanted to write. Absentmindedly, I looked around my bedroom and saw my photo album with over 200 pictures in it. I had gone through every single picture I owned about 2 months ago and nearly filled the brand new album up with memories. One of them that struck me odd and took me a while to remember when it was from was a picture of me in the middle of 5 older men. After looking at some of the other pictures that were accompanying it, I noticed that it had actually happened:

I had met *NSYNC before they got big.

The 1997 pictures were slightly fingered from holding them so much. I was 12 then, very young. Christmas shopping with my parents last minute, about 5 days before Christmas day; the procrastination did us good.

*Flashback*

"Hannah�go in Sears and get the last few things on the list, here's 200 dollars," she quickly slipped the money into my hand, "Keep it folded and put it in your pocket. Don't tell anyone you have this money, okay, Hannah?"

"Alright, dad, I mean, Mom," I quietly let my mistake slip out. I had had that bad habit for a few years now, calling my parents opposite titles on accident. Bad habit I had yet to cease in. I looked back at my mother and father with big, innocent, brown eyes and walked towards the Sears quietly.

I smiled as I mostly kept to myself on the way there. What really caught my eye was these 3 guys eating Auntie Anne's pretzels and laughing, standing against the railing. I was just getting really attracted to guys at the moment, but they looked really out of my age range, so I kept walking.

I felt their eyes on me as they said, "Hey," to me.

I didn't want to sound completely rood or anything, but I kept walking. I mean�I wasn't just going to say 'hello' back to some older guys I didn't know. As far as I knew, they might attack me and take my parents Christmas money.

Stepping into the Sears, I looked around the whole department store twice for the items on the Christmas list: a bunch of toys, clothes, and other such things for stocking stuffers. I smiled as I finally finished picking up the last thing, a Tickle Me Elmo for my little cousin Alex, and started to head for the checkout from where I had walked in. My arms were fill and busting as I slowly put the items on the counter, dropping a few on the floor in the process. I bent down to pick them up, but was met by a bigger hand accompanying mine. I looked into the patron's light green eyes and smiled, "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," I heard a slight Southern accent coming from his voice, "I was just buying a couple of things myself for family. Is that what you're doing?"

I bit my lip in slight fear, but figured he was just asking a simple question; what was the harm in that? "Uh huh, for my parents."

"Oh, nice thing to do," he said quietly as I took the money out of my pocket and stood back up to meet the lady at the register.

"That will be $195.67, please, do you have a Sears checking card for that?" the lady asked politely.

"No ma'am," I replied, handing her the cash that was in my hand. She counted it quickly and gave me my $4.23 change, which I quickly put in my pocket for safe keeping and looked back at the young man, who was waiting to move forward. I grabbed the 3 overstuffed bags and set them down to think for a minute. I leaned against the cash desk and sighed, letting my mind catch up with the rush of procrastinating shoppers passing by me. My eyes slipped shut, grasping 2 of the bags in my hand firmly and lifting them up.

"Do you need help with your bags, ma'am?"

My eyes shot open again and I looked above me, my na�ve eyes meeting the clearest sapphire-like eyes I have seen in my short 12 � years. An amazing phenomenon, his eyes�it was like I already knew this person�

"Um, sorry, sir," I said quietly, grabbing the 3rd bag and lifting it up, realizing the slight struggle I would face if I would be saying yes to his offer, "I guess I'm a little stressed."

"Don't blame you in the slightest," the guy said, letting a smile enfold on his face. He looked a couple years older than me and very nice. But his attention diverted from little preteen me and onto the upcoming rush, "Lance! Are we ready to go?"

The man he referred to as Lance looked over and smiled at him and myself, standing there like a complete Christmas-struck dork, and said, "We're leaving in an hour. This is the last of the stuff, then we head to Bev's for Christmas dinner."

Christmas dinner? 3 days before Christmas?

"I'm sorry, I'm being unusually rood today," Lance came over to me and introduced himself, "My name is Lance, the man behind you in line."

I smiled, since he looked around the other guy's age, and that wasn't too much older than me, "Hello, Lance, the man behind me in line," and slightly laughed, "My name's Hannah."

"Hannah�" Lance smiled at me, "I guess we can engage in conversation now, that we know each other's names."

"I guess so," I laughed lightly as I looked at the boy with the�absolutely breathtaking�eyes and asked Lance, "Is that a friend of yours?"

"Yeah, that's Justin. Justin, this is Hannah�what's your last name?" he turned back my direction after introducing the two of us.

"McCormick," I laughed, "Hannah McCormick."

"As in 'spices' McCormick?" Lance asked me, wanting to laugh.

"Uh huh, yeah, I know, kinda stupid," I laughed.

"Nice to meet you, Hannah," I heard Justin say softly, coming up to shake my hand and I took it with a full arm of bags and knew I would never forget the eyes that pierced my young soul.

*End Flashback*

I smiled as I got up from my space on the couch in my dad's house, sighed, and listened to the Baha Men's CD. I haven't listened to them in a while. It's funny�they were such a one-hit wonder, yet I really liked them. My dad's been nice to me so far, but I have definitely kept on my toes since I've gotten here. Today was the day of his "pig roast" for work and of course�he drank his share of beer. Total bum alcoholic since he was 16. I really wish he hadn't drunk as much as he has since that first drink. As a matter of fact, yesterday I crushed 16 boxes of Genesee cans with 30 cans in each, and it didn't even make a dent of a difference in the back room. He knows he's an alcoholic�he just doesn't want to change.

I was so glad to get back to my mom's house on Sunday night, where we were hopefully going to see my sister in a couple days. Jessica�she's�she's special. She's been bound to a wheelchair all her life and cannot talk to me�but we completely comprehend her. She's a gift to us and I don't want to lose her.

My mom is sitting on the recliner in our living room watching television when I arrived back. I didn't want her to get up, since I knew she has had a problem with her leg. She's had too many problems for me to completely comprehend. To have a serious form of cancer that is highly fatal and to come out alive and healthy�it makes me feel completely inhuman that I treat her with a harsh mouth.

I pop my Baha Men CD in the CD player as I gather stray papers off the floor, stack them on the bed, and start unpacking from my dad's house. I hear my phone ring and I climb over some of the higher obstacles in my room, grabbing it, and said, "Hello?"

"Well, if it isn't the Italian princess."

I smiled as I heard the voice come through the line, "Hi, Joey, what's up with you lately?"

"What's up with you lately? I'm the one that barely talks to you," Joey laughed into my ear and I couldn't help laughing as well.

"I'm doing okay. How's 'Rent' going? I'm surprised you could call," I smiled, knowing the star of 'Rent' needed his rest.

"It's going great�just wanted to call to tell you that J wants you to come up and see him at rehearsals for the VMA's�I'll send you tickets�would you be able to come? He wants to mend ties."

I bit my lip softly, "You know how I feel about Justin�"

"Yeah, you're in love with him, and it's about time you stop avoiding him," Joey said softly into my ear and it just brought unpleasant memories.

*Flashback* November 1999

I looked over at Justin from the other side of the room, they were doing the last of the recording for "No Strings Attached" at the Jive studios and I was invited of course. The guys with their nicknames for me; JC with Sarge cause I barked at him once, Chris with "Hannah-Banana", Lance with of course, "Spicy", and Joey with "Italian Princess", and Justin�well�with nothing. I hadn't been getting along with him very well, but he would always see me looking at him through the corner of my eye and one day, he just had enough.

"If you hate me so much, why do you keep looking at me?" he started to walk over to me and my eyes went to my lap softly.

"I�I�I don't know," I sighed to myself, not wanting to reveal my mad crush on him that I had developed.

"Just tell me�you know you can trust me," he sat down next to me and grabbed my arm softly, as a friend would. I yanked my arm away uncomfortably and sighed to myself again, making him develop a strange twisted frown on his face, "I'm sorry. I won't touch you."

"It's not that�it's just�" I almost revealed my secret to him, and at my tender age of 14, I was afraid I would reveal it all.

"What?" Justin said softly, placing his hand on top of mine.

"Please don't touch me," I said sharply, looking at him with a stern eye and he looked shocked, those eyes�just making me completely melt.

"Sorry," he sighed, taking his hand off of mine, "I won't touch you. But if I do in the future�you'll know why."

"What?" I looked at him strangely, "What do you mean?"

"If I touch you in a special way�you'll feel the warmth, and you'll know the difference between a touch like now, and a tender touch�I know you've never had a boyfriend before but�"

"Why are you preaching to me?" I yelled, getting up from the chair and leaving him there, in a kind of daze.

*End Flashback*

*Fast Forward: April 2001*

What a coincidence; another recording session. They were putting the very finishing touches on the "Celebrity" album and I had brought my poems along. Poems had become my main outlet�well�one. I didn't write many, but the couple that I wrote were pretty nice.

Justin was over in the corner, reading my poetry. I felt like a part of my door was open and he was beginning to trust me�god willing I wanted him to know I trusted him too. That's why I let him read my poetry. He kept glancing up at me with the corner of his eye and giving me a just�hatred-melting look with those soulful eyes of his, the deep blue glittering out of them. I eventually met his gaze, actually doubting he was looking at me.

About 10 minutes later, after thoroughly reading through my material and handed it back to me, "I like it. It's really nice."

"Thanks," I just said simply and he stood there, as if expecting another answer, "Don't you have recording to do?"

"You're right, I do�but I do trust you, you know�you wouldn't give me that 'very personal folder' if you didn't," he spoke the exact words I was thinking as he headed back into the studio. I flipped through a couple of the poems just absentmindedly and I saw the poem that said I was in love with him�

and freaked out.

*End Flashback*

"Joey�" I paused and looked down at my one hand, which was ringing my thigh nervously, "I can't�I can't face him�I couldn't after I knew he read my poem about him."

"You're going to have to get over it someday�I know you have troubles in your life�but like your poem said 'he can help take them all away'," Joey said softly.

"I don't know�I'll just go for observation," I just said softly, not even knowing what I was getting myself into.

*~*~*~*~*~*

August 15, 2002

Sitting in the dance studio, watching Justin move across the floor with his dancers and seeing his mom singing along with the lyrics to "Like I Love You", his first single from his solo CD�absolutely hypnotizing. I pretty much sat there and looked at him dance, wondering in my mind where he got the inspiration for the song.

*Flashback* February 2002

"You're�you're going to write a song about me?" I spoke into the phone softly, "But why?"

"Well�I just had inspiration," he just played it cool, his voice calm and collected, "And I think you would go good in this song."

"O�kay," I said softly and sighed to myself, "I hope it's semi-good."

"Oh, I think you'll like it," he smiled into the phone.

*End Flashback*

I must admit�the song has a hook to it. I didn't like it that much when I downloaded it a week ago, but it's one of those songs that have to grow on you, I guess. I just smiled and sipped on my Pepsi, glancing periodically at him from my poem folder, which had grown larger over time.

While I was writing, the rehearsal had ended and everyone had left. Then, I heard his soft voice, "Hannah?"

I looked up from my poem folder softly and looked around, noticing the rehearsal room was empty, "Where'd everyone go?"

"I told them to leave," Justin said softly, kneeling down so he could see me eye level. The warmth from his eyes was radiating from him and his lightly soaked body�wait�he doesn't smell sweaty.

"How long have I been in here alone?" I asked him, trying to prevent myself from looking him in the eye.

"Only 10 minutes�I just got a shower and I wanted to tell you something," he looked at me, tilting my chin up softly so I would look at him and with his other hand�

I felt this magically warmth on my arm that made shivers run down my spine.

"I know you trust me�and I know I told you 3 years ago that if I ever touched you again�you would know the difference," he said softly, "Is there a difference?"

"It felt a little different," I looked at him, my poem folder sliding off my lap and I was sucked into his energy lightly.

"'You will know the difference when I touch you'," he sang softly, his lightly raspy voice sifting into my ears and I just closed my eyes and then they shot open�.

"That's the song?"

"Yes, after I read that one poem of yours�I got a little inspiration, but didn't know how to put it into words. And then it all came together in 'Like I Love You'."

"Why? Why did you write that song about me?" I asked softly, bracing myself and looking him dead in the eye.

"I know you have problems and think you can't deal with them�but I could always help," he changed the subject on me.

"I know you could�but why did you write that song about me?" I asked softly to him again.

I heard the music to "The Warmth" by Incubus softly floating in the background�I love this song was the thought running through my mind�and he softly replied,

"Because you felt the same way I did."

My shocked expression didn't last long because I felt his lips softly caress mine, laying themselves down on mine and my hands dove into his wet curls and his hands went around my waist. I didn't feel anything, I didn't feel any pain, any unpleasant memories�

just "the warmth".