Chris didn't have to wait another year to see Howie. He saw him a month later, at the American Music Awards, looking as out of place in the glitter as a sandstone in a pile of diamonds.

As usual, the red carpet interviewers were most interested in talking to Justin and JC, especially since Justin had Britney Spears on his arm and a big cowboy hat designed to call attention to himself. Chris hung behind JC, listening to JC answer questions. How did they think their chances were tonight? Would they be taking home any awards? It hadn't even occurred to Chris that Howie would be there. At least he hadn't consciously thought about it.

Then he looked over, past Jennifer Lopez and her crew, and through the couture dresses and borrowed jewels caught a flash of brown hair. His heart sputtered. He craned his neck. And when the person turned, his heart sputtered again.

Howie noticed him right away, looking through the chaos and smiling calmly. Chris nodded a little in reply and felt a sharp poke in his side.

Lance leaned in and whispered, "Are you paying attention here?"

"Yeah," Chris said, finding the camera from instinct and smiling big at it. "Happy to be here. Happy to be here."

It was rare that the two groups were in the same place at the same time, and even when they were, Chris and Howie didn't really talk. There was a time and place for everything, and his friendship with Howie was reserved for once a year, in a hotel room, ordering pizza and talking trash. Once a year, he told himself, until it became like a mantra. Once a year. Once a year. We have work to do.

So he focused on the task at hand and didn't look at Howie for the rest of the night. He tried once during the ceremony, but he couldn't see him from where he was sitting. But he knew where Howie was at all times. He felt a magnetic tug from whatever corner of the room Howie was frequenting. And he couldn't help it, he figured. He'd known the guy for what seemed like forever. They were old friends.

Three hours later they were backstage, amongst the post-show chaos. Media. Photographs. People comparing awards and congratulating each other. Chris noticed Howie across the room with his group, talking to some Spanish artist that Chris didn't recognize. He poked the closest person, which was JC, and said, "I'll be back."

The crowd bounced him back and forth like a pinball. He passed about 18 different smells on the way over there - expensive cologne, trendy perfume, mounds of hairspray. Finally he was right next to Howie, looking at the back of his head, smelling him, close enough to touch him.

Chris tugged a little on Howie's sleeve and the whole group turned in unison.

"Um, congratulations," Chris said brightly.

"Thanks," AJ said, leaning across the gap between them and shaking Chris's hand. "You too."

"Thanks. Where are you...." Chris had already started the sentence before he realized that he didn't know how to finish it. He wanted to grab Howie and yank him away, but he couldn't do that, for so many reasons. He wasn't even sure why he'd come over here, but he might as well keep going. "Where are you guys heading after this?"

No one answered right away. Nick's eyes narrowed. Kevin turned abruptly and started talking to the nearest person who was not Chris. Howie wasn't saying anything, just looking up at Chris with those beagle eyes. Brian finally answered. "In Style party," he said.

"I think we're going there too," Chris said. "I'll see you there." Chris turned and shoved his way back through the crowd, keeping his eyes on his own group across the room, trying to keep his cheeks from flushing.

He finally reached Lance and grabbed his arm. "Where are we going after this? Can we go to the In Style party?"

"Maybe," Lance said. "It's up to the rest of them. Why?"

"I don't know," Chris answered quickly. "I just thought it sounded cool."

Joey leaned across Lance and patted Chris's arm. "I'll go to the In Style party with you."

"Cool. It just sounded fun, that's all." Chris still couldn't get his heart to slow down.

"I don't know where Justin's going," Lance protested.

Joey made an exaggerated face. "Fuck Justin. I don't think he gives a shit where we're going."

Chris smiled in spite of himself, suddenly so relieved that it was absurd.

Joey walked around behind Lance and put his arm around Chris. "If we leave right now, we'll be the first ones at the free bar."

Chris realized, not for the first time, that Joey was the coolest fucking guy on Earth.

Chris and Joey were belly up to the bar before the Backstreet Boys even got there. Chris tried not to watch the door, tried to keep his mind on what Joey was saying. "We should schmooze," Joey said, spinning his ice cubes around in his otherwise empty glass. "But not without another drink." He slid the empty glass across the bar and it took the bartender about five seconds to replace it with a full one.

"Yeah," Chris said, finishing off his drink and setting down his own empty glass. "Let's get warm and toasty."

Full drink in hand, Chris followed Joey over to Quincy Jones and one of his daughters. A waiter walked by Chris, holding out a tray of champagne, and Chris took one of those, too. "Hey," he said, poking Joey in the side. "Mobile alcohol."

"I love these things," Joey said.

So they talked to Quincy Jones. And then Jessica Simpson. And then a couple of stuffy record execs. Chris's heart was still beating faster than a racing thoroughbred, a stubborn knot of anticipation sitting in his stomach. How long was it going to take Howie to show up, anyway?

It was crazy that he was feeling like this. He'd lived with Howie in college, stepped over his dirty underwear, sighed when he opened the fridge and saw that Howie had eaten the last of the cheese slices. And never once had he felt like this. Howie had been the same to him as any other friend. They got drunk, they fought over the TV remote, they searched the carpet for lost pennies when they didn't have money for milk and spent what change they did find at the arcade next to the dorm. He'd seen Howie with girlfriends, and boyfriends, and friends and lovers, and Chris couldn't ever remember feeling jealous.

And it wasn't like the last visit was the first time they'd had sex, either. The sex thing didn't actually evolve until he and Howie started meeting once a year, their lives so distant that they didn't even call each other the other 11 months. It happened first because they were drunk, and then because they were horny, and because their lives were so sheltered that they could do it knowing neither of them would tell the tabloids. But now, after all this time, Chris could barely stand still.

The record exec droned on about Menudo, talking about how Ricky Martin had managed to rise above it and make a solo career. Joey nodded politely, gulping down more of his drink. Chris would have been offended by the line of conversation if he didn't suddenly feel a hand on his arm.

He spun around, already knowing who it was when Howie flashed him a big smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Chris said.

Chris smiled at Howie. Howie smiled back. Neither of them said anything for a ridiculous amount of time, and finally Howie tapped his jacket pocket. "Want to get stoned?"

"Yes!"

He forgot all about Joey and followed Howie through the crowd. He watched Howie in front of him, smiling and nodding and saying hello to all the right people, and realized he was doing the same thing. Then Howie reached the back of the room and walked down a long hallway, past the rest rooms and a couple of doors marked "Staff only" and opened the one at the end marked "Emergency exit."

Chris tensed, a little worried that an alarm might sound, but it didn't. They stepped out into the cool night air and stopped next to a garbage bin.

Howie looked down to fish the joint out of his pocket and the wind blew his hair in his face.

"How have you been?" Chris asked.

"Good. Really good." Howie held the joint in his slender fingers and motioned with his thumb. "Got a light?"

"I think so." Chris fished through his pockets, a little more frantically than he would have liked, and found a book of matches he'd just grabbed off the bar. He tossed them and Howie caught them, striking one and lighting up.

Howie took a deep toke, his eyes closing as he did it. "You know how long it's been since I've done this?" he asked with a strained voice.

"What? Smoked pot?"

"Yeah." He exhaled a band of smoke and passed the joint to Chris, stepping back and leaning against the garbage bin.

Chris inhaled. "I take it that's a rhetorical question."

"A year," Howie replied. "Nick smokes it so often, it's like he's going to join a reggae group."

Chris laughed and puffs of smoke escaped from his lungs. "I hear that's not all he does."

Howie took the joint back and took a drag. "If you're talking about coke, he doesn't do that anymore. Although when he quit he gained a lot of weight, so we're just trying to keep him off it. One of us tries to be with him at all times."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. So there's a lot more to it than the little jokes you make."

Chris felt a chill run up his spine. He tried to reason that he was reading too much into that comment, but it felt an awful lot like a jab.

"Sorry," Chris mumbled. But for whatever reason - maybe the alcohol - he suddenly couldn't leave it at that. "That almost sounded bitchy, you know."

Howie didn't answer. He looked down at the ground, his hair falling in his face, and took another toke.

"Are you mad at me?" Chris asked. He meant for it to sound like a normal, logical question, but his voice came out quiet and strained.

Howie kicked the ground with his foot, his arm extending to pass Chris the joint. Chris shook his head.

"I was just...I was just trying to make you laugh," Chris said weakly.

Howie raised his head, brushing the hair out of his face. "Do you want any more of this? Because I have to get back inside."

"No," Chris said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Okay." Howie threw the joint on the ground and crushed it with his boot. And Chris realized that Howie really was going to go back inside. No more friendly banter. No more "how ya' doing, buddy?" Just back inside to be strangers again.

Chris rushed to the door, getting there just as Howie reached to open it. "No. Not yet."

Howie stared up at him. No questioning look. No humor in his eyes. Just watching Chris patiently, waiting for him to get out of the way. And Chris realized for the first time ever how much Howie had changed in the last six years.

Chris put his hands on Howie's arms, wanting to keep him in place. "What's with you?" he asked. "What's the matter? Just talk to me."

"Chris," Howie started, and then seemed to lose his nerve. When he spoke again, he looked like he was talking to the garbage bin. "A year is long enough recovery time, but a month isn't."

"What do you...."

"And don't ask me what I mean. You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean." Chris reached down and grabbed Howie's right hand, the familiar feeling of Howie's skin hitting him like a gust of wind. Chris pulled Howie's hand toward him and rested it on the left side of his chest. "It hurts in here."

"Yeah," Howie said. He leaned forward and rested his head on Chris's chest, letting Chris pull him closer and wrap him in a tight hug.

"It hurts me too," Chris said against Howie's shoulder, hugging him even tighter. "It hurts so fucking much." And it did. Chris felt like his heart was cracking in two. Like he could start crying if he only let himself.

He heard Howie breathing steadily, their chests moving together rhythmically. Chris heard Howie take a breath to speak, and heard the words start in the back of Howie's throat and come out like a stream of smoke. "What's happening here?" Howie asked.

"I don't know."

Suddenly the door opened, banging Chris in the head hard enough for him to see stars. "The fuck?" Chris snapped, letting go so Howie could pull away.

"Sorry." It was Joey's voice. He turned and saw Joey poking his head out the door. Joey looked from Chris to Howie and his facial features tensed. "Oh. Sorrysorrysorry."

"It's okay," Howie said. His smile was back.

"We were just smoking illegal drugs," Chris said brightly. "Doing very un-boy band things."

"I bet," Joey said, and then rumbled with laughter.

"It's not like..." Chris said, but his voice trailed off and he couldn't help but laugh too. "You almost knocked my lights out."

All three of them laughed, including Howie. And the sparkle was back.

"Okay, I'll be inside," Joey said. "Don't leave me for too long."

"I won't."

The door closed and they were alone again. The mood was broken, but Chris didn't want to lose his chance. He pressed himself against Howie again, wrapping his arms around Howie's waist. "Stay with me tonight. At the hotel."

"I..."

"Not to do anything," Chris said. "Just to talk and stuff."

Howie sighed. "I'll tell you where I'm staying and if you want to show up, you can show up."

"No," Chris said, squeezing him tighter. "I can tell you right now. I'll want to show up."

Howie seemed to think about it, and the anticipation was so high that Chris almost hummed the Jeopardy theme song. "Okay," Howie said. "My room. When do you want to leave?"

"Like, right now."

Twenty minutes later they were in the back of a cab, giggling about a combination of something Chris said and the alcohol that was in their systems. The driver stopped at a red light and Howie picked a thread of music out of the rest of the chaotic sounds. He leaned forward. "Could you turn that up, please?" he asked the driver.

The driver, still silent, turned up the radio and the car filled with the sounds of Ricky Martin and Christina Aguilera.

"I love this song," Howie sighed.

"You're kidding. Really?"

"Yes!" Howie flopped back in his seat and sang along. "Time is precious and it's slipping away, and I've been waiting for you all of my life...."

Chris grinned and joined in. "Nobody wants to be lonely..."

"So why..."

"Why?"

"Why don't you let me love you?" Howie closed his eyes and smiled.

Chris turned to the side a little, studying him. "You have a beautiful voice," he said.

Howie opened his eyes and rolled his head sideways. "Really?"

"Yes," Chris replied, and received the broadest, most heart-stopping smile he'd ever seen.

An hour and a half later they were laying in bed, Chris on top of Howie, the sheets wrapped around them like a cocoon. It was the first time they'd had sex and one of them hadn't run out the door to catch a plane. The first time they'd been able to just lie there and face the consequences.

Chris propped his head on his hand and traced Howie's bottom lip with his finger. One of those smooth, perfectly arched lips, the color of his favorite crayon. Howie lay calmly, letting Chris's hands run across his face, letting Chris's eyes scrutinize him. He didn't flinch when Chris ran a fingertip across his eyelid. He occasionally kissed Chris's finger when it ran across his lips.

Chris thought about saying it. Debated it. At that moment, he meant it more than anything. But those were strong words to throw around. He took a deep breath and said it anyway. "I think I'm in love with you."

Howie flinched and fixed his line of vision on some other point in the room.

Chris felt his heart crumbling. "I'm sorry."

Howie grabbed the hand Chris was using to touch his face and pulled it away. But then he held it in his own. "Why now?" he asked. "Why not two years ago? Or five years ago?"

"I don't know," Chris answered honestly. "Do you feel the same way?"

Howie's voice was so quiet that Chris barely heard him. "Yes."

"Then what about you? Why now? Why not five years ago?"

Howie stayed focused on a point near the door, almost like he was fantasizing about leaving. Howie opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Then opened it again. Pressed so close to Howie, Chris could almost feel the agitated beat of Howie's heart, the nervousness twitch through his body, the pain of what he was about to say.

Howie's eyes narrowed. "I've always felt this way," he said, and Chris swore he could hear Howie's voice break. Howie took a deep breath and finally looked at Chris, giving him a pained smile.

Chris was speechless. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. He knew he should say something but he couldn't find his voice.

"Go ahead," Howie said. "Say 'what do you mean?'"

"I..."

"It's okay," Howie said, his voice sarcastic and at the same time so strained that it was ready to crumble. "I'll just tell you what I mean. I mean that I've been in love with you for years. Probably since the day I met you." He let out a shaky breath, and then held up his hand like he was counting each statement on his fingers. "It's the whole reason I roomed with you. It's the whole reason I joined that choir. It's the whole reason I ever even talked to you in the first place. I saw you in the hallway and I just fell in love with you. I can't explain it. And I know you probably want to just leave right now, so go ahead."

Chris didn't move. He just stared. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ha!" Howie said. "Why?" A single tear rolled down his face and he caught it with his finger. "So you could tell me that you liked girls? Or that you only liked me as a friend? No thanks. I'd rather just live with it than hear something like that."

"Howie..." Chris wiped away another tear, then stroked his hand across Howie's forehead. "Howie, I didn't know...."

"Could you just...could you just get off me please?"

Chris rolled off immediately. Howie climbed out and grabbed his shorts, tugging then on and going into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, leaving Chris on his back in bed.

Chris stared at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. Of course he would have gone for it. He could have easily felt those things if he thought there was a reason for it. And he knew now, with absolute certainty, that he meant what he said when he started the whole conversation. And now he didn't know what was happening.

He rolled into a fetal position, watching the door. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry or knock. He crawled out of bed and tugged on his boxers, crossing the room and tapping on the door.

"Howie?" he said. "Do you want me to go?" He pressed his head against the door. Please, he thought. Please don't want me to go.

The door opened suddenly. Howie flicked off the bathroom light and had an embarrassed smile. "Sorry," he said, wiping away the last of the tears. "I didn't mean to get weird on you."

"You didn't get weird." Chris grabbed one of Howie's hands and squeezed it. "Come on. Let's get back in bed."

They crawled under the sheets again, leaving their boxers on this time. Chris laid on his side, turning Howie so he was facing him, and cuddled up close. He ran his fingers through Howie's hair, pulling it across him so it formed a veil around them. Then he used his palm to smooth it back again, running his hand across Howie's face.

"I want to be with you," Chris said. "And not once a year."

"But you have a girlfriend."

"Only sort of," Chris said. "And I'll explain it to her."

"We still never see each other."

Chris sighed heavily. "I don't know how to answer that one. I guess we just do the best we can."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder?" Howie offered.

Chris smiled. "Something like that." He kissed each of Howie's eyelids, and then his lips. "Want to go to sleep?"

"No."

Chris kissed him again, but longer this time. "Want to do something else?"

"This is a dangerous time to do that," Howie said. "We just had an intense conversation and we're feeling very intense things."

"So?"

"So it won't be sex. It'll be making love. And there will be heavy feelings with it and maybe we shouldn't go there yet."

Chris buried his face in Howie's chest. "You are, like, the master of playing hard to get. You know that?"

Howie snickered a little. "Sorry. Let's go to sleep and you can wake me up in the middle of the night again."

"Okay."

Howie reached over and flicked off the light, bathing the room in darkness. He rolled onto his other side and cuddled back against Chris, so they were laying spooned against each other as they went to sleep.

Four hours later, Chris cuddled against the warm body next to him. He opened his eyes slowly, running his hand down Howie's side and across his chest. Howie mumbled something, pressing back against Chris.

Chris leaned in and murmured in Howie's ear. "Howie Dorough, this is your wake-up call."

Howie laughed until Chris rolled him onto his back and covered Howie's mouth with his. They kissed searchingly, then with growing intensity, things progressing so quickly that it was like someone had flicked a switch to turn them on.

Chris squirmed until he was on top of Howie and bit Howie's bottom lip. "I want to get kinky with you," Chris said. "I want to try everything with you."

"You want to dress me up like a nurse?" Howie asked.

"Stop making me laugh. We'd get so much more sex done if we didn't stop to laugh."

"But the laughing is my favorite part."

Chris ground his hips against Howie's, his tongue slipping down Howie's neck and heading toward one of his nipples. "Your *favorite* part?"

"Okay. Almost."

"I don't want to get kinky with you tonight," Chris said, dragging his tongue down Howie's stomach. "Tonight I just want to make love to you." He wrapped his lips around Howie's cock before Howie could protest.

Chris worked on Howie for about 30 seconds before he broke his rhythm to say, "Is that okay with you?"

"Uh huh," Howie breathed.

When Howie was on the brink of orgasm, he gripped Chris's shoulders hard. Chris knew this was his signal to stop, and he let Howie flop him over on his back. He sighed when Howie's tongue flickered across the head of his cock.

"You give the best blow jobs," Chris groaned.

"That's what Nick says."

Chris froze. "You're kidding, right?"

Howie let out a deep laugh before he took Chris's cock all the way to the back of his throat.

"Really," Chris said, pausing to gasp. "You're kidding, right?"

Chris heard a slurp. "Of course I'm kidding," Howie said.

"I still don't believe you."

"Okay," Howie said, bending lower to swipe his tongue across Chris's thigh. "Do you want to stop and talk about this right now?"

"No."

"Good." Howie moved back up his body and kissed Chris deeply, tongues melting together and jaws working in unison.

Ten minutes later they were in perfect harmony, Chris thrusting into Howie at the same time as Howie's hips bucked towards him. Howie dug his fingernails into Chris's shoulders and Chris groaned. He went even deeper, hitting the spot that made Howie's back arch and his body writhe.

"Why am I..." Howie started, then paused as his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw twitched. "...always the bottom?"

Chris shuddered, wiping away a bead of sweat that was dripping closer to his eye. "Don't you like being the bottom?"

"Yesss," he hissed. "It's just..."

Howie's hands dug into Chris's arms, his hips jerking until Chris rolled over onto his back. Howie started to ride him, barely missing a beat, rotating his hips and thrusting on Chris's cock like he knew exactly how to make himself come. Chris thought he would come just from watching him, Howie's head back and a strand of hair sticking to his lip. Chris reached up to pull it away and Howie took Chris's finger in his mouth, sucking on it and rolling his tongue over the tip.

"Fuck," Chris grunted, pumping his hips faster, pressing his head back into the pillow. He could barely stand it, Howie so tight and hot around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth when he came, groaning loudly. Howie pulled off him and bent over him, kissing Chris deeply as he jerked off and came a few seconds later.

Chris laid there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Howie dropped next to him, breathing just as heavily.

"Fuck, man," Chris said. "I had no idea you could do that."

Howie chuckled evilly. "You've only just begun to see the things I can do."

Chris rolled on his side and rested his hand on Howie's chest. "Like what?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"But where did you learn all of that?"

Howie smiled at him, the sparkle back again. "Chris, I'm in the music industry. I've had sex with a lot more people than just you."

"I know," Chris said, rubbing his face against the smooth pillow. Then he brightened. "Like Nick?"

He wasn't even surprised when he got a pillow in the face.

That morning they started their good-bye kiss 10 minutes before Chris had to leave, and it still wasn't enough time. The kiss spilled out into the hallway, Howie's back to the wall and Chris leaning against him, tongues hard at work trying to make up for however long it was going to be before they saw each other again.

A door opened with a loud click and Nick walked out. He paused for a second and raised his finger like he wanted to say something before he turned around and walked back in his room again.

"He's gonna be pissed," Chris spurted. "I'm stealing his boyfriend."

Howie swatted his stomach. "You have to go."

"Yeah, I do." Chris kissed him one last time, trying to make it count. "We'll just see what happens, okay? No worries."

"No worries," Howie repeated.

"See ya."

"See ya."

Chris walked slowly to the elevator, around the corner and back to his world. He grabbed a taxi outside the hotel, knowing that if he phoned for a car it would get there around the time a taxi would have him back. When he got back everyone was slumped in Joey's room, waiting to leave.

Chris sat down next to Joey and patted his leg. "Hey."

Joey smiled. "You have a big stupid grin on your face."

"I do?" Chris looked down, trying to straighten out his expression. "Look, Joey, don't...."

"Not until you want me to," Joey replied. "I told them you went to the party of that record exec."

"Thanks. You rock, you know."

"I know."

"I'll be back." Chris stood and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him and phoning one of the assistants.

"Yeah, can you find out where Howie Dorough is going to be and send him one of the Chris Kirkpatrick dolls?"

"Sure thing."

Chris snapped his cell phone closed and smiled. That oughta tide them over. At least for now.


home