*******
�Please sweet Jesus don�t do this to me.� Margot mumbled angrily to herself. She rolled over in her comfortable bed, which was having difficulties being just that, comfortable, and laid still for a few minutes.
�It�s no use Margot. You�re already up.� She muttered into her feathery pillow before turning to glance at the clock beside her bed.
�3:30 in the freaking morning. Ugh, I knew that iced tea was doing something crazy to my internal clock.�
Margot rose slowly and slipped on a large gray sweatshirt. She walked out of her grand bedroom and was immediately greeted with soft, yet incredibly sweet melody. She could make out a faint voice singing along. Her feet started shuffling down the stairs but the music still seemed far away. She moved across the cold hardwood floor of the living room and came across a small staircase JC hadn�t shown her on the house tour the day before. Curiosity and the fact that the tune seemed louder drove her to descend the steep stairwell. Her eyes took in three small doorways, but her feet once again took charge and stopped her in front of the door the rich music was drifting from. She knocked on the door and waited to be let in, but when nothing happened, she pushed the wooden door open and forcing her eyes to adjust to the light, she looked around her. A mini recording studio, complete with a full mixing board and five microphones hanging from the ceiling in the adjacent room.
Margot�s eyes quickly darted to her left when the music stopped and she saw JC standing beside a stereo set, tape in his hand and guilt written on his face.
�Margot, hi!� he chuckled nervously. She eyed him strangely.
�Josh, hi.� She returned, a little less enthusiastically. �Last time I saw you, it looked like you were about to die. What�s with the sudden busy body mentality?�
His eyes roamed down the length of her. Her upper body was shielded from view by a large sweatshirt, but her legs were only covered by boxers. Very short boxers. He cleared his throat and let out a breath he didn�t know he�d been holding. When he didn�t speak, Margot kept going.
�You didn�t tell me you had a recording studio in the house� she paused until she finally caught his eyes in hers. �Come to think of it, I still don�t really know what you do for a living.�
JC knew he should have told her who he was within the first fifteen minutes of meeting her. He�d just wanted a normal relation- friendship with this girl. The sensible JC corrected his �slip�. He shook his head. Telling Margot he was a world famous pop superstar wouldn�t change their relationship. The throw-caution-to-the-wind JC raised his head triumphantly.
Let�s just see about that, sensible JC reminded.
�Yeah, I guess you�re right. I kind of didn�t want to tell you. It might make you think of me differently.�
Margot�s eyebrow shot up.
�Honey, as long as you�re not a professional assassin, or a male escort, it won�t make me think any differently of you.�
JC smiled hopefully.
�I�m a singer.�
�So that was you I heard singing before I came down here?�
�No, no, see, I�m part of a group.�
�Oh.� She nodded. �Then who was that?�
�That was Justin.�
She didn�t look impressed. He sighed.
�I�m in a pop group with my best friends. We tour around the country and sell records.�
Margot�s eyes widened.
�Really now? That�s quite impressive. What would your little pop group be called? Maybe I�ve heard of you.�
Margot was impressed. She didn�t really know anyone famous and this was a change for her, even if she didn�t know who JC was. The thing that made her smirk though, was that he was part of a pop group. Bubble-gum pop was not her thing. She was definitely a classical music kind of girl; Mozart, Schubert, Chopin, Beethoven, among countless others. But she was open to anything.
JC took a long breath, almost acting as if it would be his last.
�*NSYNC.�
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