Prologue

The most embarassing day of my life I was six years old and a girl from the fourth grade decided to pants me on the playground at the elementary school I went to. She was a fat girl with stubby fingers and a loud voice, the kind that commanded attention. Looking back, she was probably a bully to keep from being bullied, but when you're six years old and you're standing in your tightie whities on top of the playland castle with nothing else on but your knee high socks and Keds... well, you're just out for blood then.

"I see London, I see France. I see Nicky's underpants."

The other kids were laughing at my knobbly knees. One kid pointed out that my penis was tiny, even for "a little guy like him". I felt my face flush and in the heat of the moment, I turned to my bully and hollored, "I might be tiny, but I'll grow up and someday be real big and maybe even famous, but you'll always be a girl."

Because being a girl seemed the best insult to throw at this ginormous beast.

She glared at me. "You ain't gonna be famous," she spat.

"And you ain't never gonna be a boy like you wish you was!" I hollored back.

"I don't wish I was a boy!" she yelled. She paused as the retort she was searching for formulated and finally replied, "You probably wish I was so you could marry me!"

"I'd never marry you. You're too stupid!" I shouted.

"Maybe. But I ain't the one that's gonna have a burnt ass." I didn't even have time to register that she'd said 'the a-word' before she kicked me in the stomach, sending me backwards down the red-hot-from-the-sun metal slide in my bare keister to the uproarious delight of the entire school.

I'm guessing if you went back there today, you'd still be able to extract my skin cells from that slide's surface. After all, enough of them melted off on my way down that it made a loud squealching sound and left bright red marks across my backside for quite some time.

That bitch's name was Charlotte Avery and I etched her face out of my yearbook in revenge.

Chapter One

"I can't believe this is happening," groaned the girl beneath me. She had a hillbilly accent that went with the pig tails her hair was in and the gingham shirt I'd already chucked somewhere over my shoulder.

"Oh it's happening baby," I replied. Her white lacey bra and panties glowed in the black light and made her breasts look even bigger and sexier. I felt like I was tingling. I ran my mouth across her skin and she moaned, her fingernails digging into my back just like I'd envisioned them doing through half the freaking concert. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling our crotches closer together. "Mmm," I sighed into her neck, taking in the scent of some sort of fruit-and-flower perfume she'd put on.

Need You Tonight by INXS, pretty much the best song ever to have sex to by the way, blasted through the stereo speakers on the bus as I nuzzled and moaned my way to freeing her breasts and sliding myself into her.

Suddenly, the bus door slammed opened and in the doorway was a hulking figure. The girl - whose name I'd completely forgotten since she'd introduced herself - screamed and sat up, pushing me off her as she pulled the blanket up to cover herself. I rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a resounding thud. The regular lights turned on and I peeked over the side of the bed to look at the door, where there stood some dude I'd never seen in my life, holding a shot gun.

Oh for the love of God, I was being robbed.

I ducked back down behind the bed.

"Billy?" the girl shrieked in horror.

"You know this douchebag?" I exclaimed, peeking again over the edge of the bed. I heard the gun cock, and looked over just as Billy pulled the trigger. I ducked and the bullet ripped through the tiny closet just behind my head. "Fuck!" I yelled, pressing myself closer to the scratchy carpet as shards of synthetic wood showered over me.

"I am not the douchebag here!" growled Billy.

"Billy calm down," the girl begged.

"Cindy-Jo I am not calmin' down when this lil' prick's gonna try'n steal my woman," announced Billy. I heard the gun cock again. I slithered under the bed, thankful that the tour had me burning over 1,500 calories a night other wise my Taco Bell and Chicfila diet may have obstructed my only escape route as Billy's feet swept across the bus. Two more shots fired and more synthetic wood showered around the side of the bed where I'd hit the carpet moments before. I slid further under the bed.

"He's not a lil prick, Billy, he's a goddamned Backstreet Boy!" shouted Cindy-Jo.

Billy's shoes clomped over to the side of the bed. "Ain't no reason for you to be makin' like a couple'a rabbits with him," he announced. I waited until he was on my left and I scrambled across the floor on my belly, probably getting rug burn all up my junk, and made like a sandcrab for the door of the bus.

"You're so stupid Billy!" shrieked Cindy-Jo.

A gun shot blew off part of the table at the breakfast booth as I scrambled by it and I realized I'd been detected. The formica dropped like confetti around me. "Shiiiit," I gasped as I struggled to my feet. Another shot, this one ripped through the vacant drivers' seat, sending fluff and leather floating in the air. I slid on my ass down the three steps and out the still-open door.

"BILLY!" Cindy-Jo's shouts echoed out of the bus.

My barefeet hit the pavement and I ran like the dickens across the parking lot of the hotel we'd parked the buses at, heading like a bee-line for Howie's bus. He was the only one of the fellas freaky enough to not ask any questions when I knocked on his bus door buck naked at 3am.

"Don't think this is over, Carter!" Billy's voice echoed through the dark parking lot.

I banged my fists on Howie's tour bus door frantically.

I swore to God right there and then that I'd never sleep with another girl from Nebraska. Ever-a-fucking-gain. They had batshitcrazy ex's with guns.

Howie's door opened and I was exposed in a pool of light. He blinked down the steps at me. "What in the hell...?"

"No time to explain," I replied, scrambling onto the tour bus. Howie leaped back from my nakedness as I passed by him onto the tour bus. "There's a freak with a shot gun after me out there."

Howie closed the bus door. "I told you not to moon people anymore," he said.

"I didn't moon anybody," I answered, "I was sleeping with this girl --"

"The country chick in the front row?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered, "And she has a name by the way, it's Cindy-Jo. Don't be so disrespectful."

Howie glanced out the window. "So wait, what happened?"

"Her boyfriend, aka Shot Gun Billy, busted in on us and just pumped iron into the walls of my bus," I replied. "He was aiming for my penis."

"Well it is a small target," Howie teased.

"Shut up," I snapped.

"We should call the police," Howie suggested.

"Yes call the police," I replied.

Howie stared at me. "You call'em and I'll go get you a blanket or something..." he pointed to his cell phone on the breakfast table, and carefully passed by me to go fetch a blanket.

I picked up Howie's phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Chapter Two

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed in a toga fashioned out of one of Howie's purple bedsheets, fastened at my shoulder by an elastic we'd stolen from his wife's supply in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Two of the officers that had arrived on the scene were inside extracting bullets from my furniture and the third was questioning me about what had happened.

"Let me get this straight," said the cop, who was a female and clearly the man-half of a lesbian couple. She looked like she'd downed a few donuts and canoodled with a few lasagnas. She looked how I probably would look on my current "tour diet" if I wasn't burning all those calories as previously discussed.

I definitely wouldn't have fit under the bunk if I was her.

"Let me get this straight," she said, "You don't know the girl's last name."

"Her first name was Cindy-Jo," I replied.

The she-cop wrote this down. Howie was drinking a glass of brandy, leaning against his bus as we talked. "And it's amazing he knows that much," he muttered.

"How long have you known Cindy-Jo?" the she-cop asked.

"...a...while..." I answered tentatively.

"How long is 'awhile'?"

"I met her at the show we did tonight," I answered. The she-cop clearly didn't approve of one-nighters with fans 'cos I got glared at like she was Mr. Spock and I was some illogical piece of space shit that got stuck to the Enterprise's windshield. "It hardly ever happens," I stammered, "This, I mean."

Howie snorted in dirision.

The she-cop made note on her little notepad thingy. It probably said that I was a man slut or something. Thanks, D.

"Well it sounds to me like you got what you deserved," she muttered.

I felt my face flush. "I got shot at by a psycho hillbilly from back home by the crick!" I snapped, my voice melting into my worst impression of Brian's accent I'd ever done.

She ignored my terrible accent. I realized after I'd done it that she had an accent, too. I really wasn't building myself many points with this one.

"We'll investigate the case, but since you don't know anything other than the names Billy and Cindy-Jo, I can't promise you that it'll get very far." The she-cop paused and stared at me with a deadpan glare. "Those names are somewhat common back home on the crick."

I flushed harder.

After the she-cop had collected the other two officers off the bus and they'd driven away, I turned to Howie. "I hope you're happy," I snapped, "I'm gonna end up shot to death in my sleep by a freaking country bumpkin and it's your fault the cops ain't lookin' for him because you pissed off the investigating officer."

"I didn't piss her off dude, you and your horny-rock-star ways pissed her off." Howie argued, "You were withholding information that was pertinent to the case."

"Bastard..." I muttered.

"If that's how you feel, you can give me my sheet back," Howie replied.

I clung to it. "But I'm naked underneath."

Howie cheersed with his cup. "And on that note, good night, Nick."

"Wait!" I cried, as he stood upright and started to walk away. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"To bed? It's 4:00 in the morning."

"Yeah but where am I supposed to go?" I pleaded.

"....to bed?"

I looked back at my bus. It stood all silent and empty and ominous and -- violated. I looked back at Howie. "Can I sleep on your bus tonight?"

"Nick you're fine to go back on your own bus," Howie argued.

"What if Billy comes back? With his shot gun?" I pleaded. "He'll come for the kill." I flung myself in Howie's direction.

Howie looked down at my body pressed against his. "Get offa me when all you got between me and your junk is my sheet."

I let go of him. "Howie please," I begged.

Howie sighed. "At least go get some normal clothes."

"Okay." I paused. I looked back at my bus, then back at Howie again. "Will you come with me?"

"Ay Dios mio," Howie muttered. He slugged down the last of his brandy and followed me across the parking lot to my own tour bus.

It was silent inside and the officers had left my bedroom blacklight on. It hissed quietly and illuminated the broken shards of table and closet eerily. I flicked on the regular lights and tippy toed around the splinters towards the bedroom. I hoped his bullet didn't hit my favorite shirt as it flew through the interior of my closet.

Howie was studying the hole in the back of the driver's seat. "Good thing we weren't moving," he commented.

"If we were moving, Billy wouldn't have been able to get on the bus to begin with," I answered. "I would've actually gotten to finish having sex, I wouldn't be spooked and wearing a purple bedsheet toga, and I wouldn't have been snapped at by a she-cop. I only the bus had been moving."

I pulled on my favorite t-shirt - a grey v-neck that I'd worn to the point of being threadbare - and hopped into a pair of flannel sweatpants. Kicking on sandals, I balled Howie's sheet up and carried it out to him. "Here," I said, thusting it in his direction.

Howie promptly dropped the sheet to the floor. "Dude are you fucking kidding me?"

"What? I'm returning your bed sheet."

"It has your --" he waved his hand in the general direction of my crotch, "-- thingy germs all over it... Keep it."

"What in the hell am I gonna do with a purple sheet?" I demanded, "It's not like I'm Elton John or something."

Howie glowered at me.

In retrospect, it was probably that comment that made him leave me there on my bus and not let me sleep in his bus after all.

Chapter Three

I stumbled into Waffle House the next morning and lowered myself into a seat across from Brian and next to AJ. Everything sounded particularly loud. Brian looked up from the menu he was reading. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked with a tone of surprise to his voice.

Howie, who was sitting next to Brian and across from AJ, snorted. "He got shot at last night."

"Like with a gun?" AJ asked, glancing between Howie and I excitedly. "Was it like being on TV?"

"A better question," Brian said, rolling his eyes at AJ, "Might be why he got shot at?"

I opened my mouth to reply but Howie interrupted, "He took that country girl from front and center home last night."

Brian sighed, "Oh g'Lord..."

"Was she good?" AJ asked.

"Her boyfriend opened fire on our little horn dog's ass last night," Howie finished.

"When are you gonna learn ---" Brian started in. I grabbed the menu from my spot at the table, opened it and ducked behind it, cutting off Brian's lecture effectively.

AJ peeked around the menu. "Serious dude? You got shot at by a homeboy fighting for his dame?"

I sighed, "Yes."

"Are you okay?" Brian's parental instincts were delayed but came out nonetheless.

"Yeah I'm okay. I almost wasn't though. He like just barely missed me when I was trying to scramble off the bus for my dear life," I added dramatically. The fact was, the kid was a horrible shot. "He got the back of the driver's seat. And the table and the closet..."

"Did you come out of the closet?" AJ joked, winking.

I stabbed his hand with my fork.

"Ow, sunva--" AJ glowered at me and pressed his hand to his mouth.

"Did you call the police?" Brian asked.

"Yeah but they don't think they'll find anything 'cos I didn't know the girl's last name," I replied.

"Her last name?" Brian asked, eyebrow raised.

"I knew her first name," I argued, "I'm not a complete idiot."

"Are ya missing a couple pieces?" AJ asked.

I turned to him, "Dude, do you want to get stabbed in the hand with the fork again?" I asked, waving it at him. He recoiled. "I didn't think so."

"You look like shit, dude," Howie said to me, "You should go take a shower or something."

"I look like shit because I didn't sleep because I kept waiting to get gunned down," I replied pointedly, "Because some people ditched me and left me all alone."

AJ and Brian looked at Howie. "He called me Elton John," Howie replied. AJ snorted in a way that makes me guess he almost had orange juice come out his nostrils.

The waitress appeared at my side and asked for our orders, which the other three guys were prepared for and I just ordered the same as Brian. Brian was usually pretty good at picking out food on menus. The waitress took our menus back and disappeared to the kitchen. I glanced around at the other guys. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

"Just make sure you pick a single horse or you might get shot at," AJ joked. I quickly stabbed him with my fork before he could duck away.

"Play nice," Brian said offhandedly as AJ grabbed his own fork and aimed for me.

"Maybe you should keep the fork by your bed just in case Billy comes back for you," AJ said in a voice like he was telling a horror story he addd, "WooOooOoOooo," and waved his fingers at me.

I scowled and tried to stab him again but Brian caught the fork out of my hand and put it down next to his own plate. "Enough with the fork stabbing," he said. AJ stuck his tongue out at me. "Good Lord you two are worse than Baylee," he muttered.

"That's because Baylee's still young," AJ said, "He hasn't perfected the art of being a pain in your ass yet." He grinned.

Brian rolled his eyes. He turned back to me. "Seriously, though, have you learned your lesson yet, Nick?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "I learned not to go to bed without a bodyguard on duty."

Brian sighed, "Not exactly the lesson that I had in mind but okay."

Chapter Four

"To increase your security, we had to hire a new bodyguard," Eddie was saying that evening as we watched some guys working on fixing my tour bus. I frowned in disapproval at the different color formica being put on my table. My old blue table top had matched the counter of the kitchenette, but and this one was green and didn't match at all. "The company is flying out their best." He caught me frowning at the table top. "What?"

"It's green," I said.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, "So? You like green." I pointed at the counter top. Eddie rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a woman."

I scowled.

It took awhile for the guys to wrap up their work, and by the time the new table was installed on my bus it was nearly seven o'clock and I had to start getting ready to go on stage. I'd skipped VIP because I was scared that the batshitcrazy guy with the gun would sneak in somehow, but there wasn't a thing I could do to avoid the stage. I imagined the guy rushing the pit with his shot gun aloft and putting a dozen or so bullets through me. My death would be immortalized by thousands of illegal fan videos uploaded to YouTube and Twitter before the night was through.

What a way to go.

"Your new bodyguard will be on the bus when you get off stage," Eddie promised as I dillydallied by the door. "No need to be a'scared'a the dark." He smirked. Everyone was being so mean about this whole affair. It's not like I was afraid of the boogey man, for crying out loud.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"The guy on the phone said they were sending Charley out," Eddie answered.

"Charley," I mused. "That sounds like a good, strong name." I pictured Mr. T.

"Break a leg," Eddie said.

"As long as it doesn't get shot off, I'm fine with breaking any body part," I answered, and I ran across the lot, flanked by Markus and Q, to the venue. Fans shrieked from the fences that surruonded the parking area and normally I would've rushed over to say hi to them and sign some autographs, but with my luck Billy the Kid was crouched among them clutching his rifle like a duck hunter. Maybe he had an electronic fan - a decoy - to lure me in with. A quick image went through my head of that old NES game Duck Hunt. I pictured a computerized bitmap me being blown to shreds while Billy The Kid's High Score flashed in the top corner.

Game over for me.

Inside, I felt like apprehensive and easily fell into the routine of prepping for the stage. People were running everywhere, and I was quickly squished into my costume and smacked in the face with a pouf of powder. Brian was humming nervously to himself and beyond our dressing area the hum of people and conversation was getting louder and louder as the time neared.

Before I knew it, we were gathered together in our huddle for preshow prayer. "Thanks God for everything you do for us, for the fans, and each other... for the management and security teams... and for everything. Help us to give it our best out there on stage tonight, help us to keep our feet and remember the lyrics. Be with our band, with our photography crew, with the light crew, sound crew... Keep your hand on this show and bring smiles to the fans' faces..."

"And let Charley kick Billy's ass if the need arises," I tossed in.

Brian looked up, "You can't say ass in a prayer, Nick."

"Sorry," I apologized. "Let Charley kick Billy's keister, then, if the need arises."

Brian sighed. "Amen."

"Amen," we all chorused.

I tried not to be neurotic on stage, but it's hard when you're on display in front of thousands of people and can't see more than the first 300 or so in the crowd. When the pyro went off towards the end of the show, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I would've hit the deck except I'd been coaching myself for a good fifteen minutes that the bang was about to come and not to be scared by it.

After the show was over, I ripped my tie off from around my neck and chucked it in my stylist's general direction and handed off my microphone and headset battery pack to the first technician I passed. I was out the door and halfway to the bus before the other guys had even finished undoing all their microphone wiring.

Eddie trotted up beside me, "We gotta talk," he said briefly.

"About what?"

"About Charley," Eddie said, "There's something I gotta tell you about Charley."

I grabbed the door handle of my bus and yanked it open, "What about him?" I asked as I climbed the steps. Eddie followed me up them. I came to an abrupt halt at the top of the steps.

Sitting at my green formica breakfast booth was a woman. She was damp from a shower, her stringy wet brown hair hanging to her mid-back, her eyes the color of honey and skin to match. She'd clearly been tanning. She wore a tank top, giving me a pretty good birdseye view of the dip in her cleavage.

"He's not a he," Eddie answered.

Chapter Five

"He's not a he," Eddie said.

"Holy mother of God almighty," I whispered. Charley stood up, dropping the fitness magazine she'd been reading onto the table top. She was nearly as tall as me. It's so few and rare between the chicks that are as tall as me. I snuck a glance down at her shoes, and was excited to see she was wearing flat running sneakers. Sexy. I peeked at her breasts on my way back up to her eyes. "You're my new body guard?" I asked.

Charley stuck out her hand. "Nice to see you again, Nick," she said, "And I can tell by the drool on your mouth that you feel the same."

Drool on my --? Oh crap. I quickly reached up and wiped my mouth. "Again?" I asked as I took her hand.

She made a face and wiped her hand on her cargo pants. Idiot that I am, I'd shook her hand with the same hand I'd just wiped drool off my mouth with. Smooth. "Yes," she said, "Again. Don't you remember me?"

"'Cos you were in my dreams, right?" I asked in a husky voice.

"Charlotte Avery?" she asked, "Tampa Bay Elementry?"

I choked.

Eddie's voice came from behind me, "Old friends?"

"I pantsed him once," she said, smirking.

I wanted to die. Right there, on the spot. Where the hell was Billy the Kid when you needed him? Seriously. He could've busted onto the bus then and shot me and I would've jumped up to make sure he caught me instead of whatever furniture he would've hit instead of me. I stared at Charlotte Avery - my arch nemesis since second grade - and wondered why the hell my six year old self had neglected getting a freaking restraining order. This would not be happening if I'd just been on the ball about such things at an earlier age.

"But they said your name was Charley," I stammered.

"That's what my friends call me," she replied with a shrug. "Charlotte's kinda a mouthful. Plus it sounds too... girly."

"Well, you are a girl," I stammered. Which reminded me. I swung around to face Eddie. "Seriously? You request a new bodyguard for me because I'm being shot at by a psychopath and they send you a girl to protect me?!"

"They said they were sending their best," Eddie replied with a shrug.

"Their best is not a pathetic weakling of a --"

Before I could get the sentence out all the way, I was flat on my back on the floor of the bus. Charlotte-slash-Charley was looking down at me, hands on her hips, like she hadn't done a single thing. "Excuse me?"

Eddie backed up. "I'll um let you guys... catch up..." he said, ducking off the bus quickly. Some manager-slash-friend he is, abandoning me to be killed by Xena Warrior Princess.

"I just - I don't understand why a woman is better than some of the big beefy dudes they've sent in the past is all," I said. I wondered what she'd done to get me on the floor. She'd been so fast that all I'd felt was the shift in gravity as my ass struck the floor.

"I was hoping you'd grown out of being a sexist pig, but I guess not," she said, rolling her eyes.

I struggled to my feet. "I'm not a sexist pig," I snapped. "I just know that chicks don't belong being bodyguards to guys who are being shot at by psyochotic farmers."

"And why not?" Charley demanded, "If we can protect you better than the so-called big beefy dudes can then why not?" She pointed at the door, "From what I hear, your big beefy dudes let a pipsqueak with a gun in here while you were hoofin' his girlfriend."

"I wasn't hoofing anyone," I said, "I was having sex."

Charley rolled her eyes. "The point is, I could take any one of those guys in a heart beat and, like you on the floor there a second ago, they'd have no fricking idea what hit'em."

I rolled my eyes right back. "Please," I said, "The only reason you even got me on the floor just then was 'cos I wasn't expecting it."

"Says the kid whose pants were my tree house flag for like a year."

"I was in second grade," I snapped.

Charley laughed. "Like it makes a difference."

"I work out," I snapped.

Charley raised an eyebrow.

"I work out everyday," I added. I flexed my arm.

Charley studied it a moment. "Impressive," she replied dryly.

"Yeah, that's right," I gloated. "Like I said, you only got me down because I wasn't prepared."

Charley held out her arms. "Prove it then."

"What?"

"You think I'm such a pathetic girl then prove it. Fight me." She stood there, waiting for me to advance.

Her willingness made me uneasy.

"You're a girl," I replied, thinking I'd found my out. "I can't fight girls."

Charley smirked, "Scared are we?"

"No."

"It's okay Nick," she said, "There's no shame in just admitting that a girl could kick your ass." She grinned, "Oh wait. I already did that before, huh?"

"Dumb bitch," I muttered. I decided to go to bed. So I pushed around her and let myself into my bedroom area. "Keep the stupid hillbilly away at least," I said, turning back to look at her. She had a bemused expression on her face. I paused before pulling the curtain shut. "And don't try anything freaky while I'm sleeping."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Charley called. "Nighty-night, snookums."

I yanked the curtain shut and made a mental note to make Eddie send her back.

Chapter Six

I woke up to the sound of my bus shower running. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and rolled out of bed. I peeked out of the curtain that cloaked my bed from the rest of the bus. Charley had figured out how to work the hide-a-bed in the sofa and a flowery pink quilt lay tousled on it, along with a sweatshirt with Berkley scrawled across the chest and a teddy-bear with a little stripey shirt on. And this was the security company's best? I thought to myself. Then I saw her open suitcase at the foot of the bed. I inched out from behind my curtained hide-away.

Steam poured out of the partly open bathroom door. My bus bathroom door's been broken as long as I can remember. I probably should've pointed that out to Eddie when he had the guys on board fixing my furniture, but the non-locking bathroom door on the bus has proven to be more of a gift than a curse (I've many a time accidentally walked in on my lady-friends that've stayed on the bus and been rewarded with some hot shower sex thanks to that broken door).

I would not be walking in on Charley.

I peered into her open suitcase, expecting to see some creepy torture/BDSM devices but instead I found a plethora of folded clothes and other typical suitcasey type things. I picked up an iPod and started scrolling through the artists lists. She liked country music. Figures, I thought.

The shower turned off in the bathroom.

I picked up the teddy bear and studied its face.

The bathroom door opened and I looked up to see Charley step out wearing only a towel that was wrapped precariously around her body. Her skin was still soaked and her hair hung in strings down her back. Air caught in my throat again. Well she's certainly not the fat kid anymore, I thought to myself studying her. Rather, Charlotte Avery had become the very, very, very, very sexy kid since the last time I'd seen her - which was when I was like nine.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

I realized I was still holding the teddy bear. I thought quick and held it up. "Just collecting evidence for why the security company is wrong about having sent their so-called best," I answered. "What kind of a kick ass body guard sleeps with a teddy bear?"

"What kind of a man shaves with womens' razors?" she asked.

"They work better," I answered. Then I scowled. "Why are you going through my shit?" I asked.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied, pushing by me and snatching the bear out of my hands.

I pointed at the teddy bear, "You're obviously not as tough as you like to think you are," I said.

Charley held her hands out again, "You question how tough I am, then fight me," she demanded.

"You aren't wearing any clothing," I pointed out, "I'm not fighting you when you aren't dressed. God forbid that towel fall off and I get subjected to your ugly bare ass."

"Please, like you didn't just drool the Atlantic ocean when I came out of the bathroom like this," she said, rolling her eyes. She turned to her suitcase and started digging for clothing.

"Yeah right, you wish," I answered. I turned toward the bathroom. "I suppose you used all the damn hot water."

Charley didn't answer. Instead, she pulled a fresh pair of cargo pants and a tiny army-green t-shirt from the depths of her suitcase and reached for the towel. Which she dropped. Right there without any questions asked or any pretense to try to get me to look away. I felt my eyes widen as they landed on the perfect curve of her ass and the length of her legs and the way her back was shaped. Her muscles flexed as she pulled on a tank top and the t-shirt, which clung to her skin, and stepped into a pair of panties. She started to turn around and, not wanting to get busted watching, I quickly ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I leaned against the door and took deep breaths, trying to settle myself. My heart was slamming in my chest. Jesus, I thought, there is no denying she's fine. I glanced at the mirror, but I couldn't see shit since it was all steamed up from her damn shower. Blood was rushing to my crotch. I sighed and stripped and reached for the faucet handle. I was right, Charley had used all the damn hot water.

"Freaking bitch," I muttered.

I stepped into the icy cold water and started soaping up my skin, which was quickly covering in goose pimples. If I'd been getting a hard on, it quickly slithered away from the ice cubes that it was being doused with. The water was so cold it almost burned. I daintily worked on getting the soap off and rinsing shampoo out of my hair. I was almost done with the shower when the bathroom door opened and Charley stepped in.

"What the fuck!" I yelled. I hit the faucet and grabbed the one towel she'd left on the rack to cover up with. "What're you doing?" I demanded.

Charley held up a tooth brush she'd adorned with toothpaste. "Don't worry, Carter," she said, waving the brush my direction. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Remember London and France?"

I pulled the towel tighter. "Can you please do that in the kitchenette sink?"

Charley raised an eyebrow. "Aw are you embarassed?"

"Get the hell out."

She smirked. "Okay, fine." Charley paused, "And don't worry, I didn't really see anything. At least not this time." She winked and stepped out of the bathroom, accidentally-on-purpose leaving the door opened behind her. I scrambled out of the shower and slammed it shut.

Chapter Seven

"And she like stripped right in the middle of the bus, right in front of me, like it was nothing."

It was about an hour after The Incident as I was calling it, and I was on Brian's bus, which smelled of bacon and Apple Jacks. Brian was patting the oil off a plate of bacon he'd just pulled out of the microwave. He looked over his shoulder at me as I finished up the horror story of my night-and-morning with Charley the She-Guard.

AJ raised an eyebrow. "Okay, who are you and what've you done with the real Nick Carter?" he demanded.

"What?"

"I second that question," Howie supported. "The real Nick Carter would never complain about a really hot chick stripping in front of him. Ever. No matter what the situation was."

"Particularly one that probably owns a pair of handcuffs," Brian added, putting the bacon down in the center of his breakfast bar table. He pushed AJ over and sat down on the bench and shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth.

"Charlotte Avery is no ordinary woman," I said darkly.

"Clearly," Brian said, his mouth full, "You remember her first and last name."

"Charley's a bully!" I said.

"A bully?" AJ laughed, "Why? Because she knocked you to the ground in front of Eddie?"

I hadn't yet told them about the freaky elementary school connection with Charley. I took a deep breath, "See, there's more to this than you guys know," I confessed slowly. "I - I have a - a history with Charley."

"A history?" Howie snorted. "Nick, you have a history with every breathing entity that has breasts on the West coast. You really think we're shocked that you've got a history with this one?"

I frowned, "Not every living entity with breasts," I snapped, "I don't have a history with yo' momma."

AJ snorted.

"Don't bring my momma into this or I'll keel you," Howie hissed.

"Besides, I didn't mean that kinda history," I said, ignoring Howie's death threat.

Brian was munching more bacon. He was like a bacon eating machine. Or like one of those commercials with the dogs with the beggin' strips. Iiiiiiiiiit's Bacooooooooooon! "What kinda history?" he asked.

"We went to school together. When I was in the second grade."

"Which time?" AJ joked.

"Shut up, it was fourth grade I stayed back in," I snapped.

Howie giggled into his coffee cup.

"Seriously guys, I have a history with this chick. She's vicious."

"What'd she do? Give you a swirley?" AJ laughed.

"I gave a kid a swirley once," Brian said. His cheeks flushed as we all looked at him in surprise. "What? I haven't always been the good one," he said. "I was a jock in high school."

AJ pointed at Brian, "Okay. We'll come back to that, I definitely wanna hear about you giving someone a swirley. But first, I wanna hear about Nick getting beat up by a girl." He turned back to me.

"I didn't get beat up by a girl..."

"What then?" Howie asked.

I looked at my apple jacks and pushed them around in the bowl. They were soggy and getting kinda gross. I hesitated. "She pantsed me," I admitted. "In front of like the whole school."

AJ snorted. "Oh sweet Jesus," he gasped.

"Then she pushed me down a hot slide and melted half my ass skin off." The guys exploded into further laughter. I scowled really hard at them. "It's not funny," I snapped.

"Yes it is," AJ gasped.

Brian nodded, "Really, it is Nick."

"It explains why you do stuff so half-assed," Howie snorted.

This made the lot of them explode in laughter all over again.

"Oh sure, y'all laugh now but just you wait," I pointed at them each with my spoon, "One of these mornings you're gonna get up and find me all dead-like with rigamortis set in or something. I'm telling you. She's vicious. She's probably back to finish the job she didn't get done in the fourth grade."

Brian laughed, "Yes, Nick, she's here to assasinate you."

"She could be."

AJ turned to Brian, "And now it's your turn. Spare us no detail about the swirley incident."

"Well," Brian started, his face and neck turning red, "It was a freshman hazing thing and ...."

But I'd tuned Brian out because I didn't feel like thinking he was very funny right now.

Chapter Eight

I spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding Charley. I figured if she wanted to do her job, she'd have to work for it. After all, if she couldn't find me then she couldn't protect me and therefore she was failing miserably and Eddie would have to send her back. As it were, when I mentioned it to him that I wanted to trade her in, he'd just given me the Look and said that he wasn't switching out my bodyguard just because I was sexist and didn't think it was a woman's job.

"She sexually harassed me," I argued.

Eddie snorted. "Please, Nick. I don't think it's possible to sexually harass you."

And he'd left it at that.

It wasn't until I was getting off stage that I finally resigned myself to the fact that I was about to spend another night with Charley on board the U.S.S. Carter Tour Bus. I trudged through the process of getting my mic taken off. Charley was hovering in the doorway with a walkie talkie. "Hurry up," she called my direction.

I purposely dragged my feet slower.

The other three guys had already gone out and I was the last to go.

"Clear to go?" Charley asked into the walkie-talkie as I finally had no way to prolong my aversion to her. She looked at me, "Okay so we gotta move quick. No pausing."

"Why what's the big --"

Charley swung open the door and I realized why the security team always rushes us out of the stadium after the show. The entire crowd seemed to be outside, surrounding in the buses. And they all shrieked when they saw me. Visions of that time in Rio where the bus almost got flipped by rampaging chicks rushed through my mind and I halted right there in the door way.

"Hoo-oo-oooly shit," I said, shaking my head.

"Nick, c'mon." Charley pulled me.

"You're trying to have me killed," I accused her, "Squashed by mob scene, a likely demise for a Backstreet Boy. You won't even be suspected. It's brilliant."

"I'm aware of my brilliance, but I'm not trying to squash you," she said. She shoved me forward into the crowd and pushed the first wave of fans off me. I ducked down and Charley pushed our way forward until we'd reached the bus. I scrambled up the steps. Charley paused at the very bottom, grinned back at the jostling fans, and announced, "Sorry, ladies, but I'm the only girl that's gonna be sleeping on Nick's bus tonight. Toodles." She stepped back and Donald - the guy driving the bus tonight - closed the door.

I was hovering a few feet behind Charley. "Now they all think we're sleeping together."

Charley laughed and started yanking the seat cushions off the couch to reveal the hide-a-bed that she'd tucked away at some point during the day. I stood there in the middle of the bus and watched as she set up the bed and pulled out her quilt, pillow, and teddy bear from the luggage rack over the sofa and put them on the bed. She turned around. "What?"

I shrugged. I turned to the fridge and pulled out a soda. I sat down at the table.

Charley pulled a soda out, too, and sat down across from me.

"So how come you're such a bitch?" I asked.

Charley laughed, "Don't beat around the bush none."

I shrugged.

"I'm a bitch because that's what I'm good at," she replied, swigging the Coke. She studied me as she lowered the can. "Why are you such a dickhead?"

"I'm not a dickhead," I argued.

Charley shrugged. "At least I'm honest about my flaws." She chugged the rest of the soda, then crushed the empty can with her hand. She put it down on the table. It kinda resembled the core of an apple.

"Why do you have a teddy bear?" I asked as Charley stood up and went over to her own bunk.

Charley shrugged, "Why not?" She sat down on the bed and kicked her shoes off.

"I dunno, because you've got this whole macho act going on..."

"I've told you like three times now Carter," she said evenly, "If you're so certain it's an act, that I can't kick your puny ass, then fight me."

"You act like you've got something to prove."

Charley laughed, but it was a nervous sort of laugh. She rolled onto the bed so she was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, the teddy bear under her head. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

"Why not?" I asked, my curiousity admittedly peaked.

Charley didn't even open her eyes. "You just wouldn't."

I stood up and put my mostly-empty can into the sink. "Fine, don't tell me," I said, "I probably don't care anyways." I headed towards the curtain that separated me from her.

"Probably not," she mumbled.

Chapter Nine

I woke up during the night with a start. The bus had come to a stop and in the process of the engine cooling down, it'd made a loud clunking noise that had busted into my subconscious in the form of a dream of myself getting shot. I clutched at my chest, which I was just glad to see was not being taken over by blood like a flower blooming across my shirt. I sat there catching my breath for a moment before resigning to the fact that I needed some fresh air.

I got up and peeked out the curtain at Charley, who was asleep on the hide-a-bed, blocking the door.

Some bodyguard - she hadn't even woken up at the loud clunking sound. For all she knew, I had been getting shot at and she didn't even give a damn.

I snuck back into my curtained off sleeping space. Clearly I wasn't getting out through the door of the bus. I sat on the edge of my bed and took a couple deep breaths, telling myself how irrational I was being about this whole thing. Maybe everyone else was right and Billy wasn't coming after me, despite what he'd shouted in the parking lot that night. Maybe I didn't need extra security to keep me safe. Particularly a she-guard like Charlotte Avery.

I did however need oxygen, so I got up and opened the window in the side of the bus and stuck my head out it. It didn't take long however, of breathing in the fresh air and it feeling so damn good on my face, before I was crawling out the window. I slipped and banged into the exterior of the bus. I felt a bit like Tarzan with the trees. I scrambled against the metal for a moment, then awkwardly caught my footing on the tire before slowly dropping down to the tar.

The bus was parked in a rest area alongside the highway. The other guys' buses were in a line ahead and behind mine, all the lights off. Across a strip of grass, the highway traffic rushed past, zipping along toward wherever they all were going.

I leaned against the bus and watched the cars go by.

And thats where I was when I was suddenly caught by the neck and chucked violently onto the grass, the wind knocked out of my chest as I sprawled face-first across the wet lawn. I felt a foot press against my spine, holding me down quite effectively, and a gun cock.

I was gonna die on the side of the freeway in the middle of the night while my she-guard slept less than twenty feet away. Great.

I was flipped over. I closed my eyes and raised my hands up to block my face. I didn't want to look my shooter in the eyes.

"Nick? What the fuck are you doing?"

I opened my eyes. My shooter was Charley.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm protecting you," she retorted. "Well, I'm trying to. Why the hell are you outside of the bus?" she moved her foot off my chest and I sat up. I wondered if someone could break their ribs hitting the lawn like that.

"I -" I was about to say had a bad dream, but changed my mind and restarted, "I needed some fresh air."

"How did you get out? You didn't go through the door..." she glanced back at the bus.

"Like you would've noticed if I did," I replied.

"You went through the window?" she asked. Charley looked back at me. "What are you, a complete idiot?"

"AJ says I'm missing some parts," I responded.

Charley rolled her eyes.

"And you would not've known, you were passed out alseep."

"I would've known, trust me," she replied as I struggled to my feet, dusting myself off. "Consequently," she added pointedly, "Are you now satisfied that security sent you the best?"

I shook my head. "Once again, you caught me off guard."

Charley stared at me for a long moment. "You know what? Fuck this and your attitude towards me about being your bodyguard. I'm not your typical girl and you god damned know it. Your masculinity is threatened by me and that's what pisses you off so much about me. Why can't you just admit that?"

"Because my masculinity is just fine," I snapped, "What pisses me off about you is that you're annoying and you're a bully."

"Jesus Nick, it was like decades ago that I pantsed you," she yelled, "Aren't you fucking over that yet?"

"You try being humiliated in front of the whole damn school," I snapped, "You see how you feel about it decades later."

"I was, why do you think I was a bully?" she demanded.

"How the fuck should I know?" I demanded, "Alls I know is you talk a lot of talk but I'm pretty sure that, just like back then, you're nothing but hot air."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Nick," she said.

"Sure I do, same as you were back then when it came down to the wire - absolutely nothing."

Charley stared at me for a long moment. She took a deep breath, "Okay. Just for the record? You totally earned this." And with that, she let fly a punch that landed directly in the center of my face.

I fell backwards into the grass, clutching my nose.

The stars seemed to spin for a few seconds, and then they went out.

Chapter Ten

"So you're telling me you got that walking into the bathroom door?" Brian said, waving his hand at the stint on my nose.

I have to admit that it was a shitty excuse. Both my eyes were black in the center and my nose itself was in a little cast that the doctor said would probably keep it from looking like Owen Wilson's by the time it healed ('cos yes, that's what I asked him when he put it on there). Not wanting to admit that I'd gotten the piss knocked out of me by a girl, I'd spent the ride back from the ER with Eddie dreaming up excuses for my current situation.

The bathroom door had seemed sufficient enough.

"Yeah," I answered Brian.

We were, once again, having breakfast, but this time it was just me and him. The other two guys had gone in an IHOP, but I didn't want anyone seeing me looking like the defeated Rocky. The last thing I needed was a fan asking what happened with Charley hovering a couple feet away.

Brian studied me as he spooned cereal into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "You sure that's what happened, buddy?" he asked.

I hesitated. The way he was asking made me think maybe he already knew. I stared at him. Me and Brian used to do this thing when we were younger - and closer friends than we really are now - where we could tele-communicate with our eyes. Nothing even had to be said, we could literally hold entire conversations just looking at each other. It was freaky, but also kinda cool. Well, now, I attempted doing that again.

Brian bit his lips and nodded slowly. "I won't tell the fellas," he said.

"Thanks," I answered, glad I didn't have to admit outloud what had really happened.

He shoveled more cereal into his mouth. Then, after a pause, "So... how'd she do it?"

"I snuck out the window and she thought I was an intruder, so she went to town," I answered. I decided this was close enough to the truth that he didn't need to know I'd brought this on myself by nettling her.

"And are you quite satisfied now that she's capable of protecting you?" Brian asked, staring into his bowl. I could tell he was amused but had the courtesy to hide it.

However thinly the veil might be.

"I wasn't trying to fight back," I pointed out.

"But she took ya down," he pointed out.

"With one blow, yes."

Brian looked up from the cereal. "So where'd she learn these moves from anyways? What's her story?"

"Well, it all started when her father - you know him better as Satan..."

"No seriously," Brian interrupted my joke.

I shrugged, "I don't know. She was a fat kid in school, that's all I know."

Brian pushed his cereal around in the milk with the spoon. "It just makes me wonder, when a girl is tough like that, why," he said with a shrug.

"I really don't care why," I answered.

Brian stood up and put his cereal bowl in the sink. "So when AJ and Howie ask what happened to you, I don't suggest going with the door thing, just so you know, because - yeah, no door would do that to you." He waved his hand at my face.

"So what do I tell them then?" I asked.

Brian studied me for a moment. "I really have no idea. The truth is the only plausible explanation."

"You know AJ will have way too much fun making fun of me for eons if I tell the truth," I whined, "I don't wanna get made fun of."

Brian grinned, "If he makes fun of you, you could always sick Charley on him."

Chapter Eleven

So two things that don't go together? Pain killers and riding. The medicine to knock the edge off the pain from my nose had made me a little queasy, but pair that with the jostling of the bus moving down the highway and before noon I was hurling up the cereal I'd eaten with Brian. I hugged the toilet on my bus, my face flushed, and the cool porceline of the seat feeling good against my cheek.

"Nick?" Charley was in the door way. I moved my eyes without moving my head to look at her. She actually had some form of concern on her face. "Are you okay?" she stepped into the bathroom and knelt beside the sink, putting one hand on my back and studying me.

"I'mfineI'llbeokay," I muttered the word against the seat.

Charley sighed. "I'm sorry the pain killers aren't agreeing with you," she said.

"Oh sure," I mumbled, "This is like your crown of glory, right? Beat the crap out of a guy and watch him hurl the rest of the afternoon in the aftermath." The word hurl brought on the nausea and I lurched into the basin again. Charley rubbed the heel of her hand up and down my spine as I puked. It was kinda nice.

"Contrary to your belief," she said quietly once I'd stopped, "I don't enjoy seeing you vomit." She reached up and filled a dixie cup with mouthwash. "Here," she said, handing the cup to me. I knocked back the Listerine and swished it before spitting it into the toilet. Charley took the dixie cup and threw it away. "I really am sorry," she said.

"It's my own fault for being a dickhead," I replied.

Charley laughed, "Well, yes, but I didn't have to punch you." She got up and pulled open the cupboard under the tiny sink and got out a face cloth, which she wet with cool water and then knelt and pressed it against my face. "You look hot," she said quietly.

"All the ladies think so," I answered weakly.

Charley rolled her eyes. "See it's things like that which make you a dickhead," she said.

"It's things like that that make me, well, me," I said.

"So you're a dickhead naturally," she said, smirking.

"Something like that," I answered.

But whatever I might have told the guys later, the cool cloth on my face felt amazing and I was thankful for it. I leaned into her hand as she softly patted it onto my cheeks and down to my neck. I sighed and closed my eyes, my head still resting against the toilet seat. After a few moments, when the coolness had faded from the towel, Charley said, "Let's get you in bed."

"But the cloth feels nice," I objected.

"I'll recool it," she offered.

"Okay."

Charley got up and then helped me up and I shuffled to the bed. The sink ran as she cooled the cloth down again. I crawled across the bed. "What if I wanna puke again?" I asked nervously as I nestled into the pillows.

Charley came around the corner and held up the tiny bathroom trash bin.

"Good thinkin'," I mumbled. She sat on the edge of the bed and put the trash bin at her feet.

Charley pressed the cloth to my face again and I closed my eyes as she gently patted my skin with it. It felt so freaking good... And for a few minutes, it was silent except for the sounds of our breathing and my contented hums. Then she said quietly, "You know, that day when I pantsed you, you said you'd grow up to be famous. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah."

Charley laughed quietly, "You always were a cocky lil bastard, weren't you?"

"Always. I hear tell I came out of the birth canal cocky."

"I believe it."

"Is that why you didn't like me?" I asked, "Because I was cocky?"

Charley laughed a little. "No, I didn't like you because you had what I wanted."

"What's that?"

"My dad wanted a boy. He wasn't at all interested in having a princess. But no matter how many little league games I played or however much I played with GI Joe over Barbie or Matchbox over tea party, he never was satisfied with a tomboy." Charley shrugged.

"So you wanted my penis?"

"Basically." Charley laughed.

I opened my eyes and looked up at her. She had an amused-yet-ashamed look about her. I didn't know quite what to say. I decided to go the cocky-joke route to diffuse the moment. "Lots of girls want my penis," I said, cheesing.

Charley laughed, "You're such an asshole."

I sat up and turned to her, "Look, if it helps any, my dad didn't want me at all - as a boy or a girl. Sometimes dads are just jerks and if they don't care about their kids... well they don't belong being dads, you know? But the kids can't carry that around on their shoulders, either. We can't blame ourselves or wish we were any different than we are." I paused, "And you made out okay, right? I mean you're gorgeous and stuff."

Charley stared at me, her big chocolately brown eyes staring deep into me. And she leaned over and pressd her mouth against mine. I leaned backwards into the pillows instinctively, and she came down with me, our mouths still locked. Her breasts pressed into my chest, and she rotated her hips on the edge of the bed until she was leaning over me completely. My hands found her waist and I held her there as she shifted her legs so she was straddling me, the kiss getting deeper and more intense.

Then she moved her head and caught my nose and I let out a yowl of pain.

"Sorry," she gasped.

"No it's okay," I said, my voice sounding nasalier than it had moments before.

"No it's not," she answered, drawing back. "I shouldn't be doing this." She picked up the face cloth and crawled off the bed, standing up. She straightened her shirt. "Your trash bin is right here." Charley pointed at the floor, then quickly ducked out of the curtained off area, leaving me sprawled across the bed with an aching nose and a throbbing crotch.

Chapter Twelve

I felt stupid so I laid there in bed for the rest of the afternoon, staring at the ceiling. Part of me - the vengeful little kid in me - was pissed that I'd kissed Charlotte Avery, and the other part of me - the horny thirty year old - was pissed that she'd run off like that. I still felt nauseated, and I used the trash bucket a couple times, and wished she'd come back with the cool cloth but I felt too ridiculous to poke my head out and ask her to. I wondered why she'd kissed me in the first place, only to run off.

Maybe she was playing me.

It was after nine o'clock when my pain meds were wearing off before I decided it was time to venture into the other half of the bus - if for nothing more than another dose of my meds. When I poked my head out from behind the curtain, I found Charley laying on the hide-a-bed, her back to me, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked asleep, so I tiptoed to the sink, got a glass of water and my pills out of the cupboard and shook two into my palm, which I downed with the water.

I was about to head back to my room when I noticed a robot of some sort sitting on the table. I stared at it for a moment, then went closer. It was a crock pot, I realized. Inside was some kind of red soupy type substance. I glanced back at Charley again and lifted the lid. It smelled fucking amazing. I picked up a spoon that was sitting next to it on the table and took a sip of it. It tasted amazing.

"It's veggie stew," Charley's voice broke the silence. I turned to look at her and dropped the lid onto the crock pot.

"Sorry," I said, "It just smelled good and --"

"Did you want some?" she got up and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and held it out to me. "I didn't know if you'd like it, given your propensity for Big Boy burgers, but I figured if you weren't interested I'd eat it anyways."

I took the bowl. "You made it?"

"Yeah. There was a bunch of stuff in your fridge about to go bad, so I just grabbed what I needed at the last gas stop," she shrugged.

I must've fallen asleep 'cos I didn't remember a gas stop.

I also didn't remember any veggies in the fridge. But then again, the only thing I'd gone into that fridge for in the last few days was like beer and soda.

I spooned out some soup into the bowl and sat down and started eating. Charley pulled her hair into a pony tail and I watched as the hem of her shirt rode up to reveal her flat abs and belly button. She had a scar across her lower right side. "What's that from?" I asked, pointing at it.

Charley glanced down and rolled her shirt up to see the scar, then pulled the hem back down. "Knife wound," she answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I chewed a slightly crunchy carrot and tried to decide how to respond to that. "Someone stabbed you?" Well, it wasn't a Shakespearean response, but it was legitimate at least.

Charley smirked, "You sound surprised."

"Well it's not everyone in the world that's been stabbed in the side," I replied. "Are you in, like, a gang?"

Charley laughed, "Sort of."

I narrowed my eyes, "Are you in the Mafia?"

She snorted and grabbed another bowl from the cupboard, then sat down across from me. "Are you always so paranoid?"

I considered this, "Maybe," I replied. I studied her, "Seriously, who stabbed you?"

"Seriously?" she asked, and I nodded. Charley opened the crock pot and started spooning soup into her own bowl. "Have you ever read Of Mice and Men?" she asked.

"No," I admitted.

Charley spooned a piece of broccoli into her mouth. "Okay, well, so the story is about these two farm hands back in the 20s or 30s, and they're vagabonds, right? And the one is a tiny, wiley guy, and the other is a big dumb guy. George and Lenny. They're best friends and they travel together from farm to farm working because every time they get settled, Lenny messes it up and they gotta move on, but George won't abandon him, see?"

"What's this got to do with someone stabbing you?"

"So George and Lenny get to this one farm and Lenny messes it up for them again, and the farmer's son wants to kill Lenny. Now the farmer's son's a real jackass and he wants to really hurt Lenny and make killing him a sport, you know? So George goes out and he tries to find Lenny before the farmer's son can find him. And he does find him first, but the farmer's son is right on his heels, and there's no way they could possibly get away before he catches up. So George kills Lenny."

"This sounds like a really shitty book," I said.

Charley laughed, "It's actually really good."

"So why'd George kill Lenny?" I asked, "That's kinda crap."

"Because if the farmer's son got Lenny, it would've been a lot worse for him. George killed Lenny out of mercy, you know?" Charley's eyes were sad.

I stared down at the soup. "I still don't get what this has to do with your scar."

Charley shrugged. "It just does." She refocused on her soup.

"Why don't you tell me?" I asked.

Charley smiled, amused. "Does it bother you that I'm not telling you?"

"No," I lied.

"Good," Charley said, "I wouldn't it to drive you crazy or anything. To think, you don't even have all that far to go."

I stared at the soup. "Why won't you tell me?"

"I will, just not right now," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because," she answered, sipping her soup.

I stared at her, flabbergasted. "Why did you tell me the whole thing about George and Lenny if you aren't gonna tell me what happened to you?" I demanded.

"Because you asked about my scar," she answered, "What else am I supposed to tell you?"

"I dunno, something - anything -" I sputtered, "Like the Joker in Dark Knight or something. Tell everyone something different every time you're asked. I dunno. Something besides some depressing crap about a book."

Charley laughed. "And how do you know I'm not like the Joker anyways?"

I stared at her. "Are you?"

A smirk spread across her face. She glanced at the clock. "Do you realize what time it is? You have a TV show appearance first thing in the morning, and you're still looking a little puce --"

"You really aren't going to tell me?"

"-- you really ought to head to bed, get some beauty sleep so you can woo all those ladies that want your penis out there."

"Seriously?" I demanded, still on the her-not-telling-me portion of the discussion.

Charley put her empty bowl in the sink. "Night sweetie."

Chapter Thirteen

I couldn't sleep much that night, thinking about Charley and her scar and what she'd said about Lenny and George. I thought up a barrage of situations to explain it - everything from alien abduction to shark fight to she actually was in a gang/mafia - but I never settled on anything that really did sound possible. By the time I fell asleep, I only had two hours rest before my alarm clock went off, signaling that it was time to get up and get ready to go to the TV appearance.

I showered quickly and pulled on whatever my hands landed on from my suitcase. When the bus pulled up out back of the studio, I was ready to go and Charley radioed ahead of us and led me into the building. Neither of us said much of anything to each other and some tiny part of me started wondering if she'd only been nice to me the day before since I was sort of sick and it was her fault and all.

I didn't thave a ton of time to think because the TV people were ready for us and we were quickly ushered out on stage to sit on these big couches and talk to these morning talk show people. The crowd was packed. Honestly, I was still kinda sleepy.

These crew members set to work making sure we looked good in the lights while the segment was on commercial break, and the show host got a refill on his coffee. "We're gonna interview you, then we've got a few calls on hold for you with questions," the host was saying as they powdered our face and ran lint combs over our chests.

"I hate lint rollers," AJ muttered in disapproval behind me.

"And you're on in 5... 4.. 3... 2... 1..." came the count and just like that we were on air.

Honestly, it probably took a lot more than all that to get us there, but I was exhausted and those are the highlights in our journey from bed to your TV screens.

The host turned to the camera. "And in the studio this morning we have international pop super stars -- the Backstreet Boys," he said in that strange TV-announcer voice that people have on morning shows. He grinned cheesily, then turned to us. "Welcome fellas."

We chorused our usually hi and thank yous.

"So you're here on tour, performing tonight at the Pavillion. How do you like our little city?"

I'm sure he said the actual name of the city, but I don't remember it.

"It's great," AJ answered, "I really like it a lot, I mean I haven't seen a ton but it seems clean and you know... Nice."

"I look forward to spending some time sightseeing," Brian added, "With my wife. Who's flying in." He grinned.

Brian and the host then traded must-see-landmark opinions for a few moments. I used the time to look around and discover that the studio was fairly large, with a big fake plant in the background behind our host. I glanced back at the cameras and noticed Charley was sitting cross-legged in the front row of the studio audience, looking around also. She held a walkie-talkie to her mouth.

I dunno why, but this made me nervous and I started scanning the crowd for Billy.

"Nick?"

I turned, realizing I'd evidently been asked a question and I had no idea what it was. "What?"

"Let's try again," the host laughed. "Any plans for further solo projects in the next couple years?"

"Uh sure, maybe," I replied. I glanced back at Charley, but she was gone. "But I dunno when," I added.

"I'm doing a new solo record," AJ piped up and I was off the hook. I looked around, trying to spot Charley, but she wasn't even in the audience at all anymore. Either that or she'd done some great disguising. I turned back to the host and tried to pay attention for the rest of the segment as he asked us about all kinds of stuff - everything from what our tour buses were like inside to the sorts of charity work we typically do.

After a long series of questions he finally smiled and said, "Okay let's take it to the phones and talk to some fans, shall we?" The host pressed a button on his phone. "Caller number one? You're on the air with the Backstreet Boys."

"Hey guys, I was wondering what you're all currently listening to on your iPods?" we each answered in turn, and the host moved on to the next question, and then the third, and the fourth.

Then, it happened.

"Caller number five, you're on the air."

"Nick?" came the voice. Low and slow but I looked up. I'd heard it in my head for the last week. I gawked around. "Ah, don't you be worryin', I ain't forgotten about you..." Billy chuckled into the phone. "Did you think I forgot?"

Brian, Howie, and AJ were glancing back at me.

"I done tol' you I weren't lettin' ya git away with what you done," Billy continued. "And I ain't."

The host quickly cut him off and hung up the phone. I stared numbly towards the desk, even after Billy's voice had been cut off. My heart raced and I shot my eyes around the crowd again. "Any clue what that was about?" the host laughed in my direction.

"I- uh- I --" I stammered.

Charley was suddenly behind me. "Come on," she hissed and grabbed my forearm, pulling me away from the interview. "So sorry to interrupt," she said to the shocked looking host.

"But we're not done here," he squealed, standing up.

"You've got three other boys to play with," Charley answered, and she pulled me off the set roughly by my elbow as the host began to pitch a fit and the fans booed. But Charley didn't even slow down for their disapproving cries.

Chapter Fourteen

Charley took her job very seriously.

As we moved from the studio through the building toward the door that would lead to the buses, Charley kept herself ahead of me, one hand back, kind of like a tiny human shield. She had her own gun drawn, though not held aloft in an obvious, menacing way, but kept the arm hoisting her firepower down to her side. She glanced in every open doorway, around every corner, and when we reached the door to the parking lot, she motioned for me to stand against the wall, pushed open the door, stepped outside, and did a really thorough examination of the space between the door and the bus. Which, considering they'd pulled the bus up to the studio, wasn't more than a couple feet.

Charley stepped back into the studio. "Okay cleared for boarding," she said into her walkie-talkie. "Open the doors." She lowered the radio and grabbed my arm, "C'mon." The bus doors were open when we stepped out of the studio. I climbed on board, and Charley backed-up the steps behind me.

It was all fucking terrifying.

"He's here, isn't he?" I demanded, panic rising in my throat. I dropped numbly onto the couch that was Charley's hide-a-bed by night. "He's here somewhere, that's why you were in the audience. That's why you're acting like you're fucking Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan."

Charley took the ammo out of her gun and dropped the two pieces on the counter. She looked at me. "We aren't sure if he's here or not," she replied. "We set up a trace on that call but I dunno if that fucking studio host kept him connected long enough to establish and location point." She lifted her radio, "Anything?" she barked into it.

"Traced to a phonebooth two blocks away," came the reply.

Charley frowned. "Can we move this damn bus, please," she yelled into the radio.

"Two blocks?" I demanded, "Two blocks?!"

"Relax, you're safe," Charley replied. She did, however, put the pieces to her gun back together, which was an action whose significance was not lost on me.

Don, the bus driver, started the engine and the bus rumbled away from the studio. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to the other guys when they tried to leave the studio. What if Billy thought I was one of them? Dude wasn't exactly the smartest crayon in the box, and I wasn't sure how good a look at me he really had gotten.

I started hiccuping.

Charley grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it with water. "Here," she said, handing it to me, "Drink this."

I drank it, but I hiccuped anyways.

Charley sighed and sat down on the top step facing the bus door, the only sound that of the engine and my hiccups. After a long moment she let out a second sigh - this one was much heavier than the first.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Charley answered. She stood up and stretched her arms. "You need to talk to Eddie about the show tonight."

I stared up at her.

"I don't think you should do it," she added.

"You took the words -" I hiccuped, "-right out of my mouth," I answered.

"Good. All I could picture was you being one of those valiant bastards that refuses to cancel," she said, "And getting your brains shot out for it." Charley sat down next to me and rubbed my lower back.

"What'cha-" hiccup, "-doing?"

"Trying to get your god-damned hiccups to go away," Charley answered.

"Oh."

Her touch was electric. I stared at my hands and tried not to let her see how much I liked her hand on my back. Especially when she reached under my shirt and rubbed directly against my skin. I took a deep breath.

"There," she murmured after a few moments of silence. "Hiccups are gone."

And so was her hand.

If I'd known she was gonna stop when the hiccups did, I would've faked'em for a few extra minutes.

Chapter Fifteen

Eddie grudgingly agreed that I shouldn't do the show that night, and trudged off the bus to go let the other guys know before announcing it to the fans. Anytime I skip a show poor Eddie gets thrown more shit than he really deserves for it. I mean, it's not Eddie's fault when I don't show up. But nonetheless, he was about to eat shit from pretty much every fan in that audience.

Since I wasn't gonna be doing the show, and there really was no completely inconspicuous/safe place to park the bus, Charley had them drive the bus to a hotel and I got a room for the evening. I was assigned two additional bodyguards, besides Charley, and once we'd gotten our room assignments, the guards stood on either end of the hallway, while Charley followed me into the room.

"I'm going to be sitting just outside the door," she was briefing me as I dropped my duffle bag onto the floor by the bed. "If you need anything, you just holler out. If I need something from you, I'll knock three times sharp and three times soft then once sharp, got it?"

"What?"

Charley knocked on the wall like she meant.

"Why?"

"So you know it's me."

"Of course it's you, you're the only person outside the door," I answered.

"Maybe." Charley shrugged. "Just wait for all the knocks, okay? And still look out the peep hole before answering."

I sighed, "I really don't think this guy's smart enough to figure out your secret code knock," I answered. But Charley gave me The Look so I quickly said, "But I'll definitely peep at you and only let in the right knockers." I grinned.

Charley rolled her eyes. "Get some rest. Your jokes are getting progressively worse." And with that, she took the chair from the desk and effortlessly moved it into the hall before closing the door behind her.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. It was a typical hotel room, with the ugly carpet patterns and the pastel sailboat painting over the king sized bed. It smelled a little of cigarette smoke, even though it was a non-smoking room, and there was an old TV on the dresser, and a desk with stationary with the hotel's logo on it.

I wondered if anyone really ever used that stationary or if the hotels just had it printed for good looks.

I took a shower, lingering under the hot water until the chills I'd gotten from the idea of a crazy person with a gun that wanted to kill me being so close had washed away. When I got out I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself, really studied my jawline and my eyes and the curve of my nose. I do that sometimes, and it makes me feel more human when I'm afraid.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard concerned voices in the hallway. I stepped up to the door and pressed my eyes against the peephole. Both of the security guards that were supposed to be on the ends of the hall were right in front of the door, looking down.

I opened the door.

Charley was curled up on the chair, her face buried in her knees, her shoulders shaking, crying.

"What's going on?" The two guards looked up at me helplessly.

Charley coughed and sputtered, "N- nothing, Nick," she said, taking a deep breath and trying to act like she hadn't been crying. "N-nothing's g-going on." She shook her head and sat up. "You guys go back to your p-posts, I'm f-fine."

The two guards shrugged and looked at me with apologetic expressions, then walked away slowly. Charley looked up at me. "You aren't s-supposed to be opening that d-door," she accused me.

"Sorry," I shrugged. I studied her for a minute, really searched her eyes, which were red from the tears she'd been crying. Not to mention the curved stains that traced her tears tracks down her face. I lowered myself and wiped away the stains with my hands, pressing my palms right against her cheeks, my thumbs very softly smoothing her skin. Charley stared right back at me, her chocolate brown eyes slightly questioning. "What's the matter?" I whispered.

Charly shook her head.

"Come inside," I pleaded.

"I have to keep you safe," she whispered, refusing.

"You can keep me safe in here," I replied. "There's a window. He could come through the window. Besides, I'm really lonely in here all by myself."

Charley took a deep breath, then glanced at the two guards on either end of the hallway. "Okay," she muttered.

I helped her up from the chair and we went inside the hotel room. "Here, go sit on the bed, I'll be right there." I stepped into the bathroom and got a face cloth and wet it with cool water before joining her in the room. Charley was perched on the edge of the bed, and she was crying again. I walked over and sat down next to her, then gently wiped her face with the cool cloth, just as she'd done for me when I was sick the day before.

This brought on more tears.

"Shh," I whispered, "It's okay."

"No it's not," Charley cried.

"No it really is," I answered, "I'm not scared at all anymore, see?" I pet her head softly with the cloth. "You're here, I know that means everything's gonna be all right, you know?"

Charley shook her head, sobbing. She looked so fucking sad, the way her mouth curved and the dents that her cheeks made in response. Her beautiful brown eyes were closed tightly and her shoulders shuddered. I hate it when people cry, but even worse I hate it when people I know don't normally cry cry.

The cloth was warm, so I got up and rinsed it again under cold water and when I came back, Charley was still shaking with tears. "Shhh," I whispered, pressing the newly cooled cloth to her cheek.

"I killed him," she gasped out the words.

"Who?" I asked gently, running the cloth along her forehead.

"Henry," she cried.

I had no clue who Henry was. I bit my lip to keep from asking, though, I assumed she'd tell me. I just stayed quiet. I slid a hand around her shoulders, and she sank against me.

"I wanted out of my parents' house so badly," she whispered, "That when I turned eighteen I enlisted in the army. I'd lost some weight in high school so I met the weight requirements but I had a fuck of a time getting through basic..." Charley pulled back from the embrace we were in and she looked up at me. "I gave it everything I had and I failed a couple times but I didn't give up, I stuck with it and the third time I went through basic, I really, really applied myself and I passed with recognition. I was shipped overseas following the 9/11 attacks and I did some time in Afghanistan. I didn't engage at all there, really, I mean we basically hung out in the desert in that round but I didn't want to go home so they sent me to Iraq." Charley paused. "I met this boy, - Henry," she said quietly, "In Iraq. He was a soldier, too, and he was so handsome and so nice. I got a sunburn and he called me Lobster." She sighed, "We used to talk all the time, we got paired a lot because we worked really well together. Anyways this one night, we were watching the news and the Iraqis had a soldier they'd taken prisoner and were torturing terribly, and we agreed that if it ever looked like we might be taken prisoner, we'd kill each other. We never thought it would happen until it did. We were playing Clue in the bunker and they suddenly came through the door and they had him and he was so scared looking and I couldn't let them take him so I punched the guy holding me and I took his gun and I shot Henry. Just like that."

"Like George and Lenny," I said quietly.

Charley nodded. "I got this scar," she reached down and touched her side, "Trying to escape from them. Another soldier shot them down and I was discharged." Charley's eyes were intense. "I failed at protecting him," she said quietly, "I don't want to fail at protecting you."

I bent closer and kissed her forehead softly.

"You know why I picked on you when we were kids?" she asked.

"Because you wanted my penis, we talked about this already," I said.

"Because I loved you," she said quietly.

Chapter Sixteen

I woke up the next morning to find myself still curled around her. We hadn't had sex, but I'd spent the night holding her. I studied her as she was sleeping, curled into my chest, her cheek pressed against my skin, her hair flowing behind her head and across the pillow. She looked so beautiful asleep like that, so... I guess the word is non-lethal.

I gently kissed her forehead and her eyes fluttered ever so slightly, then slid open slowly. She blinked and I could feel her eye lashes moving against my skin. Carefully, she moved her head to look up at me. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't quite dare to. "Yeah?" I asked.

Charley shook her head, and turned away, silently pressing her mouth against my chest. "C'mon," she said, rolling away.

"Where?" I asked, sitting up. I was missing the feeling of her pressed against me already.

Charley smiled, "Just c'mon."

I followed her lead, pulling on my t-shirt as we spilled into the hall. Charley grabbed my hand and led me toward the stairs. "Keep watching the room," she told the guard as we went by, "We're just gonna be a few minutes."

The guard nodded, and winked at me - he clearly thought I got lucky.

Charley led the way into the stair well. Our footsteps echoed off the cement walls. "You know what I love about stair wells?" I asked her as she pulled me along.

"What's that?"

"THEY ECHO!" I hollored out.

Charley giggled as my shout echoed and repeated all around us. She grasped the handrail with her fingers and paused on a landing, looking up at me halfway down the steps behind her. "THEY DO ECHO!" she shouted.

"ITS A LOT OF FUN!" I yelled.

"IT REALLY IS," she cried back.

I laughed. "CHARLOTTE AVERY'S A SEXY NINJA WOMAN!" I bellowed.

Charley grinned, then looked at me with naughty eyes, "I'M GONNA FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT IN THE POOL!" and then she laughed boldly and ran down another flight of stairs.

"What?!" I leaped down the steps that got me to the landing and chased after her, "Seriously?" I whelped.

At every landing, Charley stopped and looked back to see me, grinned, then bolted forward. I followed after her, my heart racing and my feet only barely finding each step as I rushed to keep up with her.

When we reached the bottom floor, Charley opened the door into the hallway and slipped out. She crept down the hall to a door marked Locker Room and tugged on the handle. It was locked.

I pointed to a sign marked Pool Hours, indicating the pool wasn't even open 'til after noon.

Charley grinned. "Wait here," she commanded, and she ran off down the hall.

As I stood there, waiting for Charley to come back, I tried to wrap my head around the idea of what we were doing. My palms were clammy with excitement by the time Charley returned, holding up a key, which she used to unlock the locker room door. "How in the hell did you get that?" I asked.

Charley grinned, "I told the girl at the desk what we were doing."

"What?"

"She was really excited for me," Charley laughed. She locked the door behind her, then turned to me. "Strip, soldier," she joked.

"Yes m'am," I answered, saluting her.

"And make it sexy," she added.

I laughed and reached for my shirt, humming bow-chicka-bow-bow.

Charley laughed.

Stil humming, I shimmied out of my t-shirt and lowered it to the floor, feeling only slightly self conscious. After all, like she'd said, it was nothing that she'd never seen before. I unbuttoned my pants. Charley leaned against the wall facing me, biting her lip and watching intently as my zipper went down and I stepped out of my pants, leaving me dressed in nothing but my boxer shorts. I was still humming bow-chicka-bow-bow as those, too, met the floor and I stood there before her in the dim locker-room lighting, naked.

Charley rubbed her chin and hummed like she was appraising me. Her eyes sparkled. "I approve," she said after a long pause.

"Your turn," I said.

Charley didn't hum the bow-chicka-bow-bow music as she lifted her shirt up nor as she dropped the cargo pants to the floor. I was entranced. It was like being hypnotized. I couldn't have ripped my gaze from her if I'd wanted to. She was wearing bright red underwear and bra, all lacey and fancy. She walked towards me, pressed her hand to my chest, and whispered, "Can you help me with the clasp, sir?"

My mouth was dry. I reached behind her and undid the clasp, my fingers fumbling a little over it. Charley pressed her lips against my cheek as the bra fell away between us, then stepped back and removed her underwear. My eyes travelled across her body slowly, "Fuck," I muttered, "You -- you are -- incredible."

Her hand slipped to my thigh and slid slowly until she had a firm grasp on me. She stared right into my eyes, "You wanna talk about incredible?" she whispered, her voice husky. Her eyes twinkled, "No wonder all the ladies want your penis."

I couldn't hardly breathe. She started working me gently with her hand, pushing me slowly backwards until my back hit a cool tiled wall. I lookd up and realized we were in a shower stall in the locker room. She let go of me, leaving me at full attention, and turned the faucet on. Water rained down on us and I presesd her into the wall, my mouth all over her neck and shoulders, my hands holding onto her breasts, fingers rotating on her nipples. She gasped and pressed her palms against the walls of the shower stall as my other hand dropped down and started rubbing her softly. I slid one finger inside of her and she gasped, tossing her head back and thrusting her chest into my grasp.

A few moments of this, and Charley gasped, "We should --" but she couldn't quite finish the sentence.

I dropped my hands away from her body and she sank against the tile, gasping. She turned off the water, and looked deep in my eyes. "Come on," she whispered, once she'd regained composure. She grabbed my hands and pulled me out of the shower stall, and out the locker room door to the main pool chamber.

It was a high-walled room, with murals painted all along the walls. The water was bright blue and two skylight windows on the very top of the building revealed the clouds and allowed bright streaks of sunlight to filter into the otherwise dark room. We didn't bother with a light switch.

Charley pulled me along the deck of the pool to the deep end, where she stopped and jumped at me like a puma. I fell backwards into the water, my arms tight around her, her chest pressed against mine. The splash was tremendous, and it echoed off the tight walls. Charley clung to me and when we bobbled up to the surface of the water, she had her legs wrapped around me and I was inside of her, our mouths locked in a kiss.

Chapter Seventeen

The next couple days were kinda weird on my bus. After getting out of the pool, Charley and I had dried off, redressed, and gone back up stairs, where Charley insisted on sitting in the hallway again instead of coming inside. And she remained distant like that. I kept trying to get her attention, but she got more and more obsessed with figuring out where Billy was and making sure I was protected aptly. One night, she actually stood by as they ripped the tickets at the front doors of the venue before the concert, making sure that every person was being checked for concealed weapons, especially the men that were coming in. She trusted no one. She even took away a box of special chocolate chip cookies a fan gave me during VIP.

I was starting to feel like Charley really was playing me.

I made the mistake of sharing my apprehension with AJ.

"Of course she's playing you!" AJ said with an air that neared jealousy. Being married had really made him want to live vicariously through me, so he was quite excited when I'd showed up and told him about the pool incident and Charley's cool exterior since then. He was grinning and leaning forward in his chair. "I would be damn excited about it if I were you!"

"About being played?" I asked.

"Yeah! Dude, think about it, it's like friends with benefits only you don't even have to pretend you understand her at all," he said, "No hassle, just free sex."

"I dunno if it's quite like ---"

"What is it like then, Nick?" he demanded, "Seriously... the woman's playing you hot and cold." He grinned. "Ah you lucky bastard."

I stared at my fingers. I was usually the one that played people hot and cold, not vice versa, and now that I was being played hot and cold, well I wasn't positive I liked it.

But if I thought AJ's advice - or at least definition - was less than satisfactory, Brian's was even worse. "Why don't you just talk to her?" he asked.

"I don't wanna sound like a tool," I replied.

"Girls like it when you talk to them," Brian said. We had Return of the Jedi playing on TV and the little Ewoks were running amuck. Brian kinda looked like an Ewok. I didn't say so. "They're into all those feelings and crap, you know? If you just talk to her then at least you'll know." He popped some popcorn into his mouth. "And knowing is half the battle."

I felt like he was one step away from breaking out nail polish and painting my toenails some shade like Red Trollup or something, so I changed the subject to who would beat who in a one-on-one light saber battle: AJ or Howie.

We both agreed AJ would win.

Which is why I didn't even bother asking Howie for advice. Howie, I decided, had already fucked up my situation enough by not letting me sleep on his bus the night Billy initially attacked. After all, if it hadn't been for Howie, I would've gotten the proper sleep and would've asked for more information about my bodyguard before they sent Charley and therefore I wouldn't have this problem at all.

Of course, I also would not have gotten laid in a hotel swimming pool, but that's besides the point.

All in all, it was an awkward couple days following sex. I wasn't used to such awkwardness. I found myself sneaking glaces her way and leaving the bathroom door open just a teeny bit in hopes that she'd decide to join me.

Finally, almost a week of hardly any conversation later, I sat down across from her while she was setting up a game plan for the show the next day - a large outdoor set we were playing in Chicago - and I stared at her until she looked up.

"What's up?" she asked.

"What's going on?" I asked, "Like with us?"

Charley's eyes locked with mine. "Seriously Nick? You wanna have the relationship status talk?"

"Yeah, kinda," I replied.

Charley cleared her throat. "Do you realize I'm working on a plan that could potentially keep you from getting shot tomorrow?" she asked, "Do you really wanna interrupt that?"

I nodded, "If I die tomorrow, I wanna at least die knowing what's going on between us. If you don't tell me, there's a really good chance I could haunt you, as you'd be the cause of my unrest."

Charley raised her eyebrow.

"You just never know," I said.

She shrugged, "I don't know what we are, Nick." She turned back to her paperwork and chewed the top of her pen carefully.

"But I need to know," I commanded.

Charley looked back up. "What do you think we are?" she asked.

I hesitated.

"What do you want to be?" she asked.

I shifted in my seat. "I dunno," I answered finally.

Charley nodded. "Okay, well that's your answer then. I don't know." She looked back down to her stuff. "Have a good night, Nick." Her tone was dismissive.

I stood up reluctantly. "Was I bad?" I asked.

"No," she said distractedly.

"Cos everyone always says I'm very good," I pointed out.

Charley looked up. "Everyone?"

"Yeah," I answered, "You know. All the other girls."

Charley rolled her eyes. "For future reference, Nick, no girls like hearing the terms everyone and all the other when talking to sexual partners about previous sexual partners."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Good night, Nick," she said.

"Can you let me know when you figure it out?" I asked her.

"Figure what out?" Charley looked up from the papers. "How I'm gonna keep Billy out of the crowd tomorrow?"

"No..." I replied, "Us."

"Right," she nodded. "You do the same."

Chapter Eighteen

I was so busy worrying about Charley and our whatever-it-was relationship that I forgot to worry about the fact that I'd be performing on a stage in the middle of a busy city street the next day. Even as Charley had pointed out that's what I was interrupting her planning for, I'd still managed to not think about it. I went to bed after talking to her and lay there staring at the ceiling obsessing over where I'd gone wrong and what I could do to fix it. A quick blitz on the net and I had picked out a bouquet of flowers, but when I went to enter in a shipping address, I realized my tour bus wasn't really an address for the delivery dude to follow, so I cancelled it and sighed in frustration.

How did normal guys fix shit like this when they had issues? I momentarily considered sneaking off the bus and going to buy flowers, but I was in my mind enough to realize that would be dumb without a bodyguard and seeing as Charley was my bodyguard, there really was no sneaking off to buy anything for her. She'd see it before I gave it to her and there would go the surprise. I might as well just go to a florist, point out the flowers and say, "Those are the ones I was gonna maybe buy for you, but now that you seen 'em..."

When you think about it, really, what good is it to get flowers? They just die anyways.

It didn't really strike me about the outdoor concert until the buses were pulling up to the studio that was airing the show and I saw the stage down a side street between two tall buildings. I stared out the window at it, my mouth growing dry. There was no covering, no way to monitor the crowd because there were no gates, there was nothing except an open air stage and about a billion people already surrounding it.

Charley stood by the door of my bus, her face in an expression of stern nervousness as she stared out at the already gathered crowd. She lifted her radio to her mouth, "Have any attempts been made at all to screen this crowd?" she asked.

Various responses echoed through the radio. They were doing their best to keep an eye on everything. There were security dudes throughout the crowd, pushing around, looking, watching. They were working on putting something over the top of the stage.

"Can we please get Nick in here?" I heard my stylist saying, "I need some time with him in wardrobe."

Charley looked up at me. "You ready?" she asked.

I didn't think now that the enormity of what I was facing was sinking in that I'd ever be ready, so I just agreed and Charley radioed in that she was about to transport me. We made our way into the studio, fans crying out my name as we moved, Charley moving me along quickly without pausing. Inside, she lingered by the door. "You go on to wardrobe," she said, "I have some stuff I gotta do." She paused, "Do not go outside or on that stage until I get back. Got it?"

I saluted.

She stared at me for a long moment. "About last night -" she started.

But my stylist came out and grabbed my arm. "Come on, I've got the other Boys practically stage-ready and you're the hardest one to prep. Let's go."

Charley waved me off, "We'll talk later," she said. And with that, she ducked back out the door.

I followed my stylist back to the wardrobe room, where they fitted me into a charcoal grey suit and worked gel into my hair. Brian and Howie were playing chess, their ties loosened, and AJ was flopped over the arms of a director's chair reading a book and sipping on a Red Bull.

When our stylist had gotten me halfway human looking, Eddie appeared in the door. "Ready to hit the stage in five?" he asked.

The other guys chorused that they were, but I asked, "Where's Charley?"

Eddie made a concerned face, "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her." He shrugged. "No worries, I'm sure she's around. Are you ready to go?"

"I will be when Charley shows up," I said. Eddie ducked out of the wardrobe room promising to go find her. I rubbed my hands across my knees.

"You really are hook-line-and-sinker aren't you?" AJ asked with a snort, "Can't even go on stage without your woman?"

"It's not that," I said, "Charley said not to go on without her. She's the one that wrote up the security plan so I kinda trust her about that."

Brian checkmated Howie and looked up. "I'm sure the whole team knows what's going on."

"I guess. But she said to wait for her."

And wait we did. Eddie searched and radioed for her, poking his head in every 5 minutes, for almost twenty minutes. Finally, he stepped into the room and he stared at me for a long moment. "Look, Nick. We need to get you guys on stage. I don't know where Charley is, but the studio isn't gonna wait any longer. We need to do this. Security is on standby, we've done all the security measures that Charley requested, and we'll station someone on stage, which is where she was gonna stand while you guys did the show."

"She isn't answering the radio?" I asked nervously.

"No, but she could be out of range," he answered, "One of the other guys in the team said he was pretty sure he saw her going in to check out the hotel next door. I'm sure she's fine. God knows Charley's a tough cookie. She probably just lost track of time. When she shows up, she'll get on stage where she belongs, okay?"

I didn't feel comfortable about this at all. I glanced at the other guys, who were all standing up and clustering near Eddie, ready to go. "Okay," I said, "Let's go."

Chapter Nineteen

Before every show there's that moment when we break out of the preshow prayer when my heart seems to echo through my whole body. I feel like I can literally hear my heart beat at these times, like when you hold your breath underwater for a long time and you can hear it inside you. As I climbed the steps to the stage, it was like it was on an amplifyer. My feet felt leaden and I gripped the handrail on the little steps so tight my knuckles turned white.

The TV announcers spoke louder than natural to be heard over the screaming fans as they introduced us, and my name seemed to bounce off the walls of the two adjacent buildings. The moment I was up on the stage, my eyes scanned around, searching for Charley, but there was such an intense mix of faces in the early morning sunlight that there was no way in hell I would've been able to pick her out of the crowd if she was down there.

My palms were soaked, but Brian gave me a reassuring smile and played air-drums on my shoulder with a grin on his face, so I forced a smile. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I knew that was 'cos I was terrified, on the verge of shitting myself actually.

We started out with an acapella number, something we'd been working on for some time for the new album but hadn't officially mixed yet. The fans went crazy, of course, but I couldn't fully concentrate on it, so I messed up the lyric a little and Brian made us start that part over again twice before I got it right. At the end, when the fans were cheering, Howie laughed into his microphone, "Of course it'll be really great when we record it, we'll all get the lyrics right. Right, Nick?" he giggled and the fans laughed and screamed for me. I laughed, too, but felt my eyes scanning the building windows.

It didn't matter how much security was there, I realized, I only felt safe with Charley.

And I'd tell her that later, I decided. I'd tell her that because that's how I felt and that's what I wanted. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted us to be an us. I wanted more moments like that silly moment in the stairwell when we'd yelled into the echo. Except next time we yelled into an echo I wanted it to be an I love you, because, I realized, I did.

I did a lot actually.

But she didn't show up. We sang number after number and still there was no signs of Charley. Between two songs, I made my way over to the guard on the stage and I asked if she'd answered her radio yet and he said that she had but that her battery was dying and she hadn't been able to finish her transmission. She was in the hotel at that point, he said.

At least she was okay, I comforted myself with that.

I walked back across the stage to the fellas and put my water bottle on the floor after taking a long swig. Brian laughed and flipped onto his hands, showing off as he teetered that way across the stage. AJ made some weird noise to accompany the stunt and Howie made a joke about Stupid Pet Tricks and wanting to enter Brian into a competition.

Then we started singing the last song of the set, I Want It That Way, which was usually what we ended with.

"You are my fire," Brian's words echoed between the two buildings over the crowd, "The one desire... believe... when I say..."

That's when I spotted Charley. She was about twenty rows away, pushing towards the stage. I instantly felt safer, knowing she was so close and I grinned at her and waved and she struggled to wave back. She shouted something my direction, something that sounded like good luck from the distance she was at.

Good luck, please woman, I've sang this song a billion times, I thought.

"I want it that way..." Brian concluded.

I lifted my microphone to my mouth, "But we are two worlds apart..." I sang. My eyes scanned the fans, and they were all singing along happily. It was my favorite part of the song, the way the fans responded. It was beautiful.

"Can't reach to your heart..."

My arm was suddenly grabbed by the guard that'd been sitting on the stage. He pulled me to the left and threw me to the stage floor. I hit the stage on my side. "Ummph!" My groan echoed through the small side street. A concerned gasp arose from the crowd and I realized I'd heard a gunshot echo, too. Brian, AJ, and Howie had all been tackled by bodyguards, too, and the band had stopped playing. The guard that had thrown me to the floor was at the edge of the stage a few feet away, eyes shielded, looking up, squinting into the light towards the building behind me.

Suddenly Charley was at my side. "C'mon," she implored, "We gotta get you inside - now."

"What's going on?" I gasped as I struggled to my feet with her by my side.

"Why didn't you duck when I told you to?" she demanded.

"Ohhh you said to duck... I thought you said good luck."

"Why the fuck would I say good luck?" she demanded as she shoved me forward. She glanced back over her shoulder and before I could answer, another gunshot had fired and Charley shoved me to the stage once again. "Duck," she yelled into my ear, her voice emphasizing the duhhh part.

She came down with me, spreading across my back as we hit the floor.

If the moment wasn't so serious... I might've been turned on.

"Well this is certainly exciting," I yelled to her. "Huh Charley?"

Chapter Twenty

"Well this is certainly exciting, huh Charley?"

But she didn't answer.

"Charley?"

Everything else around me became a chaotic buzz, like water rushing by. It was blurry, I couldn't have focused on it if I wanted to. I was told later that Eddie came running onto the stage, that security got Brian, Howie, and AJ off stage, and tried to move me, but I shooed them away. The guard that had knocked me down, meanwhile, shot and struck Billy so that he was neutralized and a couple other guards had gone up and detained him until police could get there.

All I could focus on was the way Charley's body lay across my lap.

I cupped her head with my hand, my fingers twined in her hair, bracing her neck. "Stay awake, you gotta stay awake," I implored her. She stared into my eyes, her breath gasping. Those chocolate brown eyes were losing color quickly. "Somebody call an ambulance!" I hollored.

"We did," someone's voice answered, "They're coming."

I held Charley close. "I thought about it," I said to her, "About us, about what we are and stuff." She reached her hand up and touched my face softly. "I feel safe with you," I said, "And I like feeling safe. I don't feel safe a whole lot you know."

Charley's eyes started to slip close.

I shook her gently. "Listen to me, this is important. You gotta stay awake for this, okay? Cos I ain't never told a girl this stuff before. Are you listening?" Charley's eyes meet mine and her lips parted a little, but she gave a tiny little nod. "Okay good," I said, "Now listen. I thought about it and I wanna feel safe all the time okay? I don't ever want you going away or nothin'."

I could feel her blood on my hand. I was holding the place where she'd been shot in the back, trying to keep her blood in, but it was leaking between my fingers a little. I tried not to freak out. I had to be strong right now like she would be strong. I wished I had a cool damp face cloth. I'd pat her face with it to comfort her.

"I love you Charlotte Avery," I said thickly.

An almost imperceptible smile twisted the corners of her lips.

"Whoever thought that day on the playground that I'd ever say that, huh?" I laughed. Charley started to close her eyes again, but I shook her slightly once more and she opened them. She tried to focus on me. "Don't you dare close your eyes," I scolded.

Charley opened her mouth and gasped what sounded like words. I leaned closer, trying to hear her enough to understand what she was saying. "...safe..." she whispered.

"What's that?"

"...your...safe... I... didn't... fail..."

"Yeah, we're safe," I said, "You didn't fail. I'm okay, see?"

Charley's lower lip quivered. "...cold..." she breathed.

"I know, I'm sorry," I pulled my suitjacket off as best I could without letting go of her back. "Here, look." I wrapped it around her. "It's gonna be okay. The ambulance is almost here."

"...love..." she gasped.

"I love you," I answered.

Charley closed her eyes.

"No no no no no," I said quickly, shaking her softly, "Don't. Don't do that."

She didn't open her eyes this time.

"Charley!" I shouted at her.

And then the paramedics were there. The first one pushed me back gently, and they quickly swarmed around, carefully replacing the pressure my hand was giving her back with guaze. They started taking blood pressure and pulse and temperature and all the other things paramedics do and they had her on her stomach, her head turned to the side and they put her on a stretcher and started talking crazy things, saying words that sounded scary and shouting in hurried voices as they wheeled her away.

I leaped to my feet. My suit pants were stained. I grabbed Eddie's arm, my hand bloodied his shirt. "You gotta take me with her."

Chapter Twenty-One

You know how, in movies and stuff, people pace around hospital waiting rooms and eventually somebody makes that joke about them wearing a hole in the floor? I never quite understood what the pacing did. Like why did walking back and forth help the poor bastard that was waiting, you know? I get it now. I think I paced that waiting room like a thousand times waiting for someone to tell me something - anything - about Charley. Because I wasn't family, they couldn't tell me hardly anything, they said, except that she was in surgery and in critical condition. That's it. They wouldn't tell me anything else. And so I paced and wrung my hands and worried without any real promise of finding out much more than that.

Eddie had fallen asleep in a waiting room chair and after an hour or so of us being there, Brian had showed up along with a security guard. Brian had tried keeping up with me at first, but even he ended up sitting down after a bit, and watched me pace. I could tell by the look on his face that he felt bad, but there really wasn't much he could do to help. I tried to tell him so, but I couldn't really muster many words.

Somewhere around the five hour mark, Brian and Eddie apologized and headed back to the tour buses. Eddie pointed out that we had another tour date the next day and I told him for them to go on without me. I wasn't leaving this spot. Brian had looked concerned, but Eddie only said that he'd postpone the show, and they'd taken off, leaving behind the security guy, whose name I wasn't sure of as he was one of the new guys that had come the same time Charley had. I wasn't in a social mood, so I didn't bother asking. I just returned to my pacing.

Around midnight, when I'd been there for eight hours or so, a couple of middle-aged people came running through the door out of breath. The stern, angular looks of the man and the chocolate brown eyes of the woman caught my attention and I followed after them, leaving behind the guard who had long since fallen asleep laying across the couch in the waiting room. When I caught up to them, they were at the information desk and the nurse had turned to page Charley's doctor. At a closer range, there was no mistaking them for who they were, so I walked up to them. "Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Avery?"

Mrs. Avery turned around, while Mr. Avery glanced back, saw his wife was going to address me, then turned back to the nurse's station, an impatient look about him, a muscle in his jaw vibrating with nerves. Mrs. Avery looked me over head-to-toe a couple of times, then managed, "You're the Backstreet Boy," she said simply.

"Yes," I answered. "I'm Nick. Nick Carter."

She looked like she was somewhere between admiration and anger, like she wasn't sure if she was pleased I was there for her daughter or pissed off that I was the one that Charley had been protecting.

"How long have you been here, son, you look exhausted," Mr. Avery commented without really turning around.

"I've been here as long as she has, sir," I answered.

"What happened?" Mrs. Avery pleaded.

"I'm a bit fuzzy on the details myself," I answered. "She saved my life, though. I know that."

"She's so brave," muttered Mrs. Avery, teary-eyed.

"I want to help. Anyway I can. Please."

"Thank you," Mr. Avery answered, "But you should go home and get some rest."

"I can't rest," I said, shaking my head. "I think I'm sort of your daughter's boyfriend." He eyed me. Mrs. Avery patted my arm.

The nurse returned and told Mr. Avery where Charley's room was and said that a doctor would meet them to explain what was happening. He turned to me. "Go home anyway, son. We'll give you a call if anything happens."

And with that, they walked away, leaving me standing by the nurses station.

I didn't go home. I couldn't. Home was a place that you felt safe and I only felt safe with Charley by my side. If a hospital waiting room was as close as I could get to her, then it was as close to home as I was ever gonna be. So I resumed my pacing in the waiting room and waited for someone to make that joke about the hole in the floor.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"I was hoping I'd find you here."

I blinked open my eyes, the harsh flourescent lights burning my retinas. Hovering over me was Mr. Avery. He offered me a hand.

I'd fallen asleep on the carpet of the waiting room somehow, a sweatshirt in a ball under my head. I remembered laying down, but it was strictly to stop from pacing since I was driving even myself crazy with that. But I didn't think I'd be able to fall asleep. Now that I was awake, though, I realized I'd been dreaming about the ocean and being on the beach with Charley. She'd looked soo pretty on the beach. I made up my mind that if -- no, Carter, when -- she got out, I'd bring her to the beach.

"What time is it?" I asked, disoriented.

"Six o'clock," Mr. Avery answered.

"Is she awake?" I struggled to sit up, then took Mr. Avery's hand and he pulled me to my feet carefully. The room spun a little bit, and I steadied myself by reaching out to touch the wall.

Mr. Avery shook his head. "She should be waking up soon."

I followed Mr. Avery through the lobby of the hospital, past the nurse's station, to the elevator. I realized I hadn't warned the security guy where I was going and I felt guilty. Not listening to security and not taking every step to assure safety had already caused enough problems, and here I was hours later already repeating history. Guilt settled into my stomach as I realized the meaning of this thought of mine. Charley was upstairs because I'd failed to listen to her, because I'd gone on stage before she'd cleared it. If I had just listened to her, everything would be okay. She wouldn't be hurt.

The weight of that bore down on me heavily.

As the elevator rose, I cleared my throat. "How - how bad - is it?" I asked Mr. Avery.

"The bullet knicked her heart," he said. "They had to repair a part of her aortic wall. Other than that, it was just tissue damage."

A lump rose in my throat. "So she's going to be okay?" I asked.

Mr. Avery nodded, "Yes."

A rush of relief splashed over me.

Mr. Avery turned to me. "Earlier, you said that you're Charlotte's boyfriend," he said.

"I- sort of," I stammered.

"Sort of?"

I didn't quite know how to explain my uncertainty to him in a -er- kosher manner. Finally I said, "It's complicated, I guess."

Mr. Avery studied me. "The fact that you were still in that waiting room just now tells me a lot about your character," he said slowly. "It tells me a lot about how you intend to treat my daughter." He turned away.

I somehow felt the way I imagine a person who's just been knighted must feel, like they've bestowed with some recognition or something that's beyond precious.

I tried to suppress the feeling in my gut that reminded me I'd had a whole week to tell her how I felt between the sex and the shooting, that maybe things would be different if I'd told her sooner. I pictured how it must've looked from the fans' perspective... the view that was probably all over YouTube right about now. Charley had dove to cover me, the bullet meant for me had pierced her.

When the elevator came to a stop, Mr. Avery led the way off and I followed, my palms becoming increasingly sweaty as I began to fear what it was that I was about to see. As the door to her room opened, my heart stopped. She was laying there in the hospital bed, sleeping peacefully. I felt my eyes well up and my throat close off as Mrs. Avery looked up from the chair she was sitting in.

I numbly stepped into the room and looked down at Charley. She had on a loose gown and I could see over the top of the low neck that she now sported a scar similar to Brian's on her chest. I took her hand from her side and wove my fingers with hers. I noticed things about her. Like the shape of her fingers, how they were long and skinny and there was a light sheen of clear nail polish on - evidence that Charley was capable of being girly when she wanted to be. I noticed the constallation of freckles on her forearm and the curve of her ear, spiraling like the inside of a seashell. I squeezed her hand ever so gently, bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Hey Charley," I said quietly.

Mr. Avery stepped up beside his wife and placed a hand on Mrs. Avery's shoulder. "How long have you known Charley?" Mrs. Avery asked.

"She used to beat me up in the first grade," I replied softly.

Mr. Avery chuckled.

"I didn't really know her then, though," I added. "I thought I did, but I didn't." I ran my thumb across the smooth top of Charley's hand. "If I had, I would never have let her disappear out of my life for as long as I did."

"How did Charlotte start working for you?" Mr. Avery asked.

I recounted for him (most of) the story about Billy and Charley being called in to guard me. Of course I left out the bit about Cindy-Jo and the pool, but for the most part they got the whole story. They both seemed amused and proud of Charley by the time I got to the shooting on the stage, when she blocked the shot. "I can't help but think it should've been me that was shot," I said, voicing my fear. I stared down at her hand for a long moment, then closed my eyes, wishing she was awake.

"You couldn't have taken it."

I opened my eyes. Charley was staring at me through half-open chocolate eyes and a slight curve of a smile on her lips. She squeezed my hand back.

"Charley!" I gasped. Mrs. Avery stood up and grabbed her daughter's other hand, and Mr. Avery hovered closer over his wife's shoulder to see, too.

Charley's eyes wandered from me to them, "Hey," she whispered, her voice was rough from unuse and whatever they were pumping her with in the IV. Her breathing was a little labored, but the cannula in her nose helped keep it on track. "You're here," she said groggily to her parents.

"We came the moment we heard," Mr. Avery confirmed.

Charley's lips twitched in an attempt at a bigger smile, but she was still only half-awake. She looked back at me. "You," she said accusingly.

"Me," I said.

"Are we even for the pantsing now?" she asked, her voice slurring words together. "Seeing as I took a bullet for you and all?"

"I suppose so," I replied. I kissed her hand. "Only on one condition."

"Hmm?"

"Go out with me?"

Charley smiled. "Kind of a challenge at the moment, since I'm still recovering from getting shot for you. Can I take a rain check?"

"You just want all kinds of special treatment for this bullet thing, huh?" I asked.

Charley closed her eyes, smiling, "I figure I oughtta milk it while I can."

Epilogue

"We're on the bus." Charley radioed to the other guards as the tour bus pulled away from the venue. She turned to me, her low slung jeans hugging her hips just right. "You. Stopping to talk to that fan. Seriously? I told you to keep moving. Do you remember last time you didn't listen to one of my orders?"

It was six months later and Charley was back for her third night as my bodyguard since the shooting. She was looking ridiculously good. It'd been a long road to recovery but she'd pulled it off and had whipped herself back into shape and was ready and raring to go before the end of the tour. I'd gotten my one condition - we'd been out many times since her original rain check.

Now, I pressed my mouth against hers to quiet her and pulled her close, my hand on the small of her back. "I've been a bad, bad boy," I muttered against her lips.

"Very bad," she muttered back. "Extremely bad."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, you're the baddest boy I've ever seen."

We stumbled backwards into the bedroom and Charley fell back onto the bed as I leaned over her. I stared down into her eyes, and I smiled. "Ask me again, I said.

"Ask you what again?" she demanded.

"About if I remember," I said, "Ask me that again."

Charley looked at me like I was nuts.

"Please?" I asked.

Charley sighed, "Okay. Nickolas Gene Carter," she said, embellishing what she'd said the first time, "Do you not remember what happened last time you didn't listen to me?"

I grinned, "Of course I remember what happened." I winked and opened my beside drawer.

"You better not be getting all kinky on me," Charley accused me as I pulled out a box.

I handed the box to her.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Open it."

Charley eyed me suspiciously as she lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a ring I'd had custom made using the bullet they'd pulled from her back the day of the shooting. The shell's brass rim had been fitted onto a ring and set with a bullet-cut diamond. Charley stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at me. "Nick," she said quietly.

"Charley?"

Charley swallowed and lifted the ring out of the box. She dropped the box onto the bed, then looked back up at me.

"I don't want either of us to ever forget," I said. "That bullet brought us together... and I don't want anything to ever tear us apart."

"Neither do I," she whispered, her voice caught in her throat.

I smiled and reached for the ring and her hand and slipped it carefully onto her finger. She stared at it, as it sat on her skin perfectly, her eyes watery. Charley looked up at me, a smirk playing on her face. "I seem to recall you having yelled once that you'd never marry me."

"Oh I'm sorry, you're right, my seven year old self will be so disappointed in me..." I smirked, too. "On second thought, gimme that ring back." I launched myself across the bed, laughing as I tackled Charley.

"Just don't forget I can kick your ass Carter!" She let out a shriek and held her arm over her head, her hand out of my reach.