"Do you even know what it is you're looking for in a girl?" Zoë Walker asked her client of five years, JC Chasez. She had been massaging his back for only a matter of minutes before he started complaining about his lack of a love life. "And besides... I thought you were married to your career."

"Very funny. You know I'm in love with my career, but I'm not married to it. I want a relationship just as much as the next single guy. It's just that my time is taken up by other activities, that's all." His voice was muffled, since his face was smooshed into the face cradle of the massage table.

Zoë smiled and nodded, but continued. "So what are you doing about it? I don't see you hanging out with any girls other than the faceless ones at the clubs, and that's only because I'm too tired to keep dancing with your crazy ass." She heard him sigh, and she knew already that he had no answer. She continued to massage his tight back. "Anyway, it's about time you came in; you're a mess."

He grunted a reply as she passed her elbow down his back. She knew that he wanted her to be silent at that point, so she let the slow, soft music, and the heat of the room lull him into an easy sleep. She noticed his body go slack, so she spent extra time on his feet and legs, knowing he wouldn't mind paying for the half hour she would go over. When she had finally coerced him into turning over, he promptly fell asleep again, and she spent even more time on his neck and working her fingers through the mess of curls that covered his scalp. She could tell that he was letting his guard down, and she made sure to work his muscles more than usual, since he hadn't been in to see her in more than a month.

Upon opening his eyes, JC noticed that he was alone in the room. Zoë had left him there to sleep, and since he knew her style after years of being a client, he wasn't surprised. In fact, he loved it when she did that. She knew him well enough to know when he wanted to be left alone because he didn’t get to sleep as much as he wanted on a regular basis. Lazily looking back at the clock, he noticed it was 5:15pm; two and a half hours since they had started. He closed his eyes again, not caring, since it was his day off. He exhaled slowly, and ran a hand over his supple skin. It was slightly oily, but not so much that it was greasy. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the table, and hopped off. Gathering his clothes, he dressed again, and exited the room.

"Ah, Rip Van Winkle awakens finally," Zoë smiled at him, and slid herself comfortably under his arms for a small hug. He squeezed her gently, holding onto her hand as she pulled back, and she grinned up at him. "Good sleep?"

He nodded, still groggy, but feeling much better than he did when he arrived. He had a soft grin on his face as he reached for his wallet. She went behind the receptionist's desk, and took his credit card when it was handed to her. After swiping it, she handed it back to him, and he replaced it in his wallet.

"Wanna go to dinner?" he asked her quietly, and since this was a usual occurrence, she nodded, not thinking twice about it.

"Sure. Where?" She absentmindedly tore his receipt from the machine, and placed it on the counter for him to sign.

He scribbled his signature and shrugged. "No idea. Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"I don't care. I'm just hungry." She leaned on one arm, and placed the other hand on her hip. Looking up at him, she saw his sly grin creep over his face. "Sushi?" She knew it.

"Mmm. Yes. Please." She could tell she had really worked him this time. He could barely form a sentence.

"I'll come by your place around seven, okay?" She walked out from behind the desk, and slowly walked with him to the door.

"Yeah, I want to shower, and… stuff." He ran a hand through his curls.

"Of course, Hygiene Boy. I need to clean up around here anyway." She watched him try to process her joke, and saw him shake his head and reach for a hug before he exited.

"Seven?" he called back to her over his shoulder as he walked slowly away.

"Seven." She smiled, and watched him drive away in his Jeep.

***

After shampooing and conditioning his hair, JC scrubbed a loofah over his body, and rinsed. He shut off the water, and after stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, he shook his head, letting his hair fall in a smatter against his forehead. He walked into his bedroom from the master bath, and dressed. He squirted his favorite cologne onto his neck, and then returned to the bathroom to put his mousse into his hair. He finally sat on his bed to put on his shoes. As he was tying the second lace, he heard the doorbell ring.

Hopping down the stairs, he opened the door to see Zoë's smiling face. He could tell she had freshened up as well. Her hair now hung at her waist, straight and shiny. He knew she was proud of its length, as it had taken her most of the Celebrity tour to get it that long. She had on a pale pink shirt, light khaki shorts, and sandals.

"What's up?" she exclaimed, and bounced up on her tip-toes, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her to his body, noticing Gap Dream floating to his senses. Letting her go, he grinned at her.

"You ready to go?" He walked outside, closed and locked his door behind them. He noticed she was walking slowly next to him, looking up at his face with a searching glance, like she was waiting for some kind of reaction. He looked at her curiously, "What's… the matter?" His brow creased for a second; then he followed her gaze which now was to his driveway. He stopped dead in his tracks. "You didn't. You actually got one?"

She giggled. "Uh huh. Just a week ago." She was trying to contain her excitement, but that didn't last long as JC rushed to her new vehicle's side, Zoë on his heels.

"Dude! How? When?" He wanted answers, but couldn’t tear his eyes off the car.

"Well, you guys basically paid for it. I just saved up until I found the one I wanted. My brother was helping me look. I got this one from Milwaukee." She watched as JC felt the metallic navy blue paint job, and he suddenly looked up at her with raised eyebrows and a huge smile. "Yes, get in the driver's seat, silly." She grinned.

"A freakin' '69 Camaro. Holy shit. It's even your favorite color!" He was now sitting in the driver's seat, looking at all the gadgets and doohickeys.

"It's got a 427 engine, too." She was just as excited as JC to look at it. She loved her car.

"I noticed on the grill. Damn, this is awesome, Zoë!" His eyes were darting here and there, very excited about Zoë's purchase. "And you kept this a secret? How the hell did you do that?" He had finally turned his gaze her way.

"I have my ways. I didn't get rid of the Passat. I'm only going to drive this on weekends and special

occasions." She leaned back in the passenger seat, looking at JC. She watched him nod.

"Uh, when do you think your ol' friend JC could drive it?" He had his best pleading smile on his face, and he knew Zoë couldn't resist when he did that.

"You can drive home. If you're good." She added the last part when he began to hop up and down in the seat, making the car bounce. She giggled, and made him get out so she could resume the driver's position.

Starting the engine, JC made some kind of growling noise that could only mean that he approved of what he heard. She made him put on his seatbelt, and they started towards the restaurant. When they arrived, the maitre‘d recognized JC immediately and took them to a section of the sushi bar where they were somewhat secluded. It wasn't a busy night, so they didn't really have to worry about fans bothering them. It wasn’t that Zoë couldn't handle it; she'd witnessed it all. From hurtling underwear, and mobbing fans, to people handing them their babies and even some strip-teases. She'd heard about the last one second hand, of course. Chris made sure to be the one to talk about that. For three weeks.

JC was poking wasabi onto his unagi with his chopsticks. "Are you sure you don't want wasabi on yours?" He giggled.

"Shut up. I'm a wuss, okay? I don’t like wasabi, I don’t like anything spicy. I hate horseradish. At least I'm eating the dang sushi." She huffed and acted like she was offended by his jab, but she grinned at him after a few seconds, leaning over and bumping him with her shoulder, causing him to drop his sushi into his soy sauce.

"Dammit. Good job, ex-lax." JC heard Zoë snicker with amusement as he attempted to save his drowned sushi with a huff.

"It's 'smooth move', dork." Zoë looked at JC. JC looked back at her. They began to crack up, JC leaning into Zoë; JC finally got his sushi into his mouth, but he made a face from too much soy sauce.

JC's phone chirped in his pocket, but his mouth was full. "I got it." Zoë calmly reached into his pocket, and grabbed his phone, opening it. She put it to her ear without looking at the Caller ID. "Hello? This is JC's phone, how may I serve you?" JC looked at her with wide, but amused eyes.

She heard a low chuckle. "What's up, Zoë? Why do you have JC's phone?" Lance had recognized her voice immediately, since they, too, corresponded frequently.

"We're eating sushi. His mouth was full, and I was saving him from being impolite." She giggled as JC tried to take his phone back. She switched it to her opposite ear, leaning out of JC's reach. He finally gave up, letting Zoë talk to Lance. "So what's going on, bub?"

"I was just curious if JC would want to come out to a party tonight. I think he said he wasn't going, but I wanted to make sure. Rolling Stone is a bad party to miss."

Zoë looked at JC incredulously as she continued her conversation with Lance. "No, he didn't say anything about that. I gave him a massage today, and he never mentioned it. I'm not sure why. What time's it at?" She looked at JC with a furrowed brow.

"Starts at nine, I think. He was telling me he didn’t have a date, so he wasn't going to go, but I'm like, 'Dude, that's bullshit,' cause he can go stag, you know?"

"Yeah, totally. I'll have to ask him. Where's it at?" JC was now shaking his head at her emphatically, picking up from her end of the conversation what they were talking about.

"It says on the invite. It's on his kitchen counter. I saw it there yesterday. But if you guys don’t go, Joey, Chris and I will be all alone." He added a note of self-pity to his voice.

"Well, I'll see if I can get the hermit out of his hole for tonight. We'll see. If we don’t show up, you'll know why."

"Okay, sweetie, see you soon, then. Tell JC he's a pussy if he doesn’t show up."

"Don't worry, I will. Bye, honey." Zoë snapped his phone shut, and set it on the table. "What's this about you getting an invite to the Rolling Stone party, and you ignore it?"

JC was making a face. "I didn't want to go without someone, and even though the guys are going to be there, it's not the same. I've been to a million of those, and it was my massage day, and I just didn't feel like going, okay?" He was whining.

Zoë stared at him for a moment before speaking. "JC, who has been your 'date' to parties, award shows, and everything else in between? Who would be more than happy to go with you tonight without being a photo-hog? Who would just go for the pure fact that she's your friend, and supports you?"

JC was looking into his lap now, playing with his thumbs. "You."

Zoë nodded, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can just stay in tonight, if you really don’t want to go. But do you really want it over your head that Lance called you a pussy for not going?"

Her attempt at a joke worked, apparently, because JC smiled at her. "You'd go?"

"Only if you want to. I'd only be going to be your friend, and that's it. Sounds like you're expected anyway, since you got an invite. And think of the press you'd get about the album." She added the last part to hopefully get him to decide.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go. I'm full anyway."

"Kay." She picked up her purse, and JC paid the bill as she waited for him.

Once outside, she handed him the keys to her Camaro. "Drive carefully. And let's go back to my house, 'cause if I'm going to a Rolling Stone party, I need to change. You can go like you are, Chrome Hearts Boy. You won't look any different than you do at other parties."

"I'll let that slide because you're letting me drive your car."

"I know."

***

After dressing in her favorite black pants, a satin pink shirt with halter straps, and black strappy heels, Zoë allowed JC to drive again, since he'd been to the location of the party before. They valet parked, and were shuttled through the 'red carpet' of the party where she knew more than a few pictures of them together were snapped. She'd been the 'mystery girl' in pictures with him before, so it didn't really bother her. It was just amusing to see her face pop up in Nsync/JC websites with hate messages, when she wasn't even attached with any of them.

After being guided inside, Lance and Chris spotted them from across the room. They sent Joey to bring them to their table.

"Hey, guys, you made it!" Joey picked Zoë up when he hugged her, twirling her around like he had always done.

"Hi! I see you're the welcome wagon…" Zoë observed as she was set back to the ground. Chris and Lance were waving madly from their seats, and Joey placed a hand on Zoë’s lower back as they walked towards the crazy boys.

Zoë plopped herself beside Chris and soon found herself buried under his arms. "Um, Chris… I need to breathe. Thanks." Zoë had patted his back and he finally let her go. He proceeded to ruffle her hair, which she hated, but tolerated. After smoothing it back into place, she winked at him.

Lance had engaged JC in conversation, Joey was now on the dance floor, and Chris had dragged Zoë onto the dance floor with him. She liked dancing with Chris, because she felt no pressure to look perfect, or do just the right dance move. Hell, he wasn't doing any kind of right dance moves, but he was having a good time, which made Zoë feel comfortable. Being of a shorter, more voluptuous stature, it was hard for Zoë to fit in with the actor/musician scene, but when she was with the guys she was happy to call friends for the past five years, she felt at home and beautiful.

"So CFTC is gonna be awesome, huh C?" Lance was trying to ask JC a question, but it wasn't reaching its destination. "Jace?" He leaned closer to JC, his brow knitting. His gaze was to the dance floor, and when Lance's eyes followed JC's, they rested upon Nick Carter and Zoë. Together. Talking. Well, Nick seemed to be doing more of the talking, and Zoë looked quite disinterested. She kept shaking her head, and seemingly trying to walk away, but Nick kept putting his hand on her arm, or shoulder, bringing her back to the obviously one-sided conversation. They watched as Zoë said something, put both of her hands up, and abruptly turned around and walked away. Lance then watched as JC's gaze followed Zoë to the bar where she was most likely ordering her 'manly drink', a gin and tonic. But when JC saw her tip her head back and down a shot, he looked back at Lance, who was thinking the same thing. Nick needed a talking to.

"I'll handle it." JC started towards Nick's previous position, but found he wasn't there anymore, which stopped him in his tracks. "Or I'll find him later."

"Or you could let Zoë handle it, ya know. She's a big girl." Lance’s sensible nature irritated JC sometimes.

"I know, but dude. Fucking Nick Carter? You've got to be kidding me."

"She obviously said no, JC. Musta been bad if she had to take a shot after." Lance had a smirk on his face, but JC was obviously not taking it as well.

"Which is exactly why I want to know what the fucker said. I want to kick his ass."

"Whoa. Jace. She's not your girlfriend. Calm down." Lance's hand met JC's shoulder.

"I know." JC ran a hand over his face. "I just… she's my friend. And a girl. I just feel that duty towards her, ya know? Like, my little sister or whatever."

"I know what you're saying, but your best bet is to stay out of it unless she asks."

The looked at each other and said in unison, "She won't."

Zoë walked into the women's bathroom, and proceeded to bend over a sink and splash water onto her face. When she looked up into the mirror, her cheeks were rosy as evidence of the recently imbibed alcohol. She hated these things. She really did. All the people trying to look pretty for each other, trying to network, trying to put on facades so the real them wouldn’t show. She hated it. The only real people in that room were the four that invited her. Taking a deep breath, Zoë walked, with her chin high, back into the party.

"Hey, Zoë', you okay?" JC sat next to her at the table, and she nodded slowly, her eyebrows raised slightly to indicate she was telling the truth. She revealed a tiny smile.

"It's just that Nick gives me the creeps. I mean, hello, is he a dumbass or something? I said no. I don't want a drink or to dance. No, Nick, you're not getting my number. I don't want to go to your after party. Is he freaking dense?" Zoë was gesturing with her hands, and as she kept speaking, her eyebrows knit further on her brow, and her voice slowly rose. "Good Lord. He couldn't take a freakin' hint. Ya know?"

"He can be like that sometimes. If you want me to talk to him for you, you know I will." JC was looking right at her, leaning across the table, his hand on hers.

Zoë shook her head, still not meeting JC's imploring gaze. "I'm good. As long as he doesn't talk to me again, I'm good." She looked up at him again, and smiled.

"Wanna dance?" JC held out his hand to her, and she took it, feeling him lead her to the crowded dance floor.

Once on the floor, she fell into rhythm with JC, their bodies touching, JC looking like he was actually having fun. They made faces at each other, and began to laugh and whoop when the DJ played The Bloodhound Gang's "Bad Touch". Zoë felt revived, and began to dance in her silly fashion that she usually saved for the tour bus when no one was watching. JC had seen her do this once before, and it was on a dare. Now she was willingly doing it, and he couldn't do anything but laugh. She knew he wasn't laughing at her, but with her. She had a big smile on her face, and when JC joined in by mimicking her moves, she couldn't help but laugh either. When the song ended, they went back to the table, practically collapsing in fits of laughter. Zoë had no sooner readjusted her hair then a waitress came up to the table with a cosmopolitan.

"Miss? This is for you." She set the martini glass on top of a napkin on the table.

Zoë's brow creased slightly as she tried to remember if she ordered a drink or not. She knew she hadn't. "Thank you, but I didn't order this," she stated, confused.

"The gentleman over there had it sent for you, miss." The waitress nodded in the opposite direction, and saw Nick raise his own glass and wink at her.

Zoë went nauseous. "Well, thank you, but I'm rejecting it. I don’t want it." The waitress nodded and removed the drink from the table and walked away. Zoë looked at JC and sighed. "I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." She got up and went again to collect her thoughts in the seclusion of the women's restroom.

JC watched as she walked away, letting her go. He knew Zoë needed to think, but he had a hard time just sitting there doing nothing to help her. His jaw clenched as he thought about what he wanted to do. Soon, Joey strode up to him, and JC stood up to meet him.

"What's going on, dude? Where's Zoë?" Joey asked, seeing the familiar look of 'angry JC'.

"Apparently Nick Carter can't take 'no' for an answer tonight." JC's expression was hard, and his voice tight.

"What? Is Zoë okay?" Joey's face became concerned.

"Yeah, she's just… She tried to handle him earlier, and she thought she did, but then he sent her a drink after she told him not to. Granted it's just a drink, but she still said 'no'. It's just the principle of the thing, ya know?" JC clucked his tongue, and shifted his weight heavily, almost stomping his foot. His eyes were scanning the room now, his mind made up. Joey saw it.

"Dude, you know I got your back, but don't go do anything stupid." Joey placed a hand to JC's shoulder, and then watched him walk towards Nick, who was on the other side of the room. Joey went to get Lance and Chris, just in case.

In the women's restroom, Zoë had decided to talk to Nick one last time, to hopefully drill home the concept that she didn't want him or his advances. At all. Ever. Once she applied her lipstick again, she blotted it, and then returned to the party. Looking to her table, she saw no one was sitting there. She looked then to the dance floor, expecting to see one, two, or all three of her friends there. Nothing. Just a sea of people she knew of, but didn't know personally. Shifting her eyes more to her left, they rested upon JC in the face of Nick, and Lance, Chris, and Joey behind him; all of them had their arms crossed. Her jaw dropped slowly as she stood there, trying to comprehend what was going on before her.

"What's the big deal? All I did was send her a drink. What, are you her boyfriend?" Nick had a look on his face that was half challenging, half mocking. People around them were staring.

Choosing not to answer Nick's last question, he stuck to the main topic. "The 'big deal' is, Nick, that she told you 'no' more than once. Are you deaf?" JC's hands were in fists, but he unclenched them once he realized he was doing it, and put them in his pockets. "When a woman says 'no,' you listen."

"Dude, what the fuck ever. She wanted me. You know it, I know it, and she knows it. She's been making eyes at me all night." Nick's cocky attitude was testing JC's willpower to not make a scene.

"Funny. 'Cause I specifically remember her sending back the drink you sent her. Sure doesn't sound to me like a girl who's been making eyes at you all night, buddy." JC's eyes bore into Nick's, his voice heavy.

"Either way, I wouldn't have done it if she wasn't asking for it. The way she's dressed, I'm surprised no one else did something worse than send her a drink." With that, Nick tried to turn around and leave the conversation, but JC's hand was already firmly on his shoulder, turning him back around.

"Say. That. Again." JC's jaw set and his eyes afire, Joey, Chris, and Lance had stepped forward now, all of their hands holding JC back.

"JC." Zoë couldn't let him do anything he’d regret later. She walked up to him quickly, putting a hand on the arm that was gripping Nick. Finding his eyes, she stared at him for a moment, long enough for him to know what she was thinking. He let Nick go, and the guys backed off. Nick chuckled and walked away, downing the rest of his drink. Still looking at him, Zoë added, "Let's go. Please." JC nodded.

As they walked towards the door, JC waved to Joey, Chris, and Lance, who waved back, knowing they'd hear from him later. JC bent to Zoë's ear, "I'm sorry."

"Later." Her single-word statement silenced the rest of his apology, and she stood on the sidewalk with him as they waited for valet to bring her car around.

She'd been trying to prevent tears from falling since Nick decided to be a bastard the first time. But when she heard him basically call her a slut, it was the last straw. What she was wearing was the furthest thing from slutty, to begin with. She'd tried to have a good time, tried to brush it off, tried to be a big girl and deal with it… But now, it was just too much. All of that and JC sticking up for her. Which was really sweet, now that she thought about it. She'd never seen him that angry before. Only once when Justin was being a bigger-than-life asshole on the PopOdyssey Tour, and she hadn't wanted to be any part of that, so she never asked. But this was different. He wasn't so much angry, but more… instinctively protective. She was grateful for him doing something she couldn't have. Feeling tears sting her eyes again, she inhaled deeply, trying to make them disappear. But when she exhaled, her lip quivered. She immediately bit it, since the car had now been brought to them.

"Will you drive?" Zoë's voice was tight, and JC noticed, but he just agreed, and after opening her door, walked around the car to the driver's side and sat behind the wheel. He turned on the radio to no station in particular; he just wanted noise to break the silence between them. As he pulled away from the parking lot, he focused on driving. He didn't want to look to his right more than necessary, because he knew that if he did, he'd see her cry, and he hated to see her cry.

Zoë rested her chin on her hand as she looked out the passenger window. If it weren't such a chilly evening, she'd have it rolled down to help the tears subside. She wasn't about to look at JC. She knew he hated to see her cry. He told her that numerous times on tour when he would find her hiding in her bunk, homesick. "Well go away, then," she would tell him, but being who he is, couldn't. He'd squish into her bunk with her and comfort her.

Silently, her tears dripped down her cheeks, her fingers expertly catching them so he hopefully wouldn't notice her doing it. He did see, though, and he was just biding his time until they got to his house. He looked at the clock, seeing the hands point to 1:30am, and knew she would be tired. He made a decision, and knew he couldn't present her with it until they were inside.

Grateful the drive to JC's house was over, Zoë watched JC hop out of the driver's side, and half jog to her side before she could collect her purse and open her door herself. Having a merciful stall in the flow of her tears, she was able to look at him and thank him. "I really should get home, Jace. It's late."

"I know. Come in for a minute, though. I want to talk."

"Can I just call you tomorrow? I'm beat."

"Zo', it's late. You're upset, and I'm worried about you. You're not driving home. You're staying here tonight."

Zoë's eyes turned towards the ground, and she knew she wouldn't be able to argue with him. They did need to talk, and she really didn't feel like driving home. Nodding, she allowed his hand on her lower back to lead her to his front door.

In the kitchen, Zoë sat on one of his barstools at the island. He was doing something in another room, and then he appeared suddenly with Kleenex. "Thought you might need this," he said, handing it to her.

"Very funny."

"What?"

"Nothing." She dabbed her nose, and sighed. "What the hell got into you, Jace? That was Nick Carter. You're JC Chasez. You know people are gonna start talking about another rivalry." She was half joking, but JC knew she was right.

"I couldn’t let him bully you like that. He needed talking to. So I talked to him." It was like a simple answer to a simple problem to him.

"But… Jace. I had it handled fine."

He let her believe her own words. "I know; I was just reinforcing. That's all. I know you're capable of defending yourself." He leaned on the counter next to her, his upper body covering his folded arms, his shoulders near his ears.

Nodding, Zoë sniffed. "Think I can borrow some pajamas?"

"Sure, hon." JC stood upright and leaned over to her, kissing her temple. He then walked out of the kitchen, shuffling his feet, feeling Zoë's presence behind him.

They walked upstairs together, and when they reached JC's bedroom, Zoë flopped onto JC's bed as he entered his closet, looking for something for her to wear to bed. Assuming she was just being quiet, he walked into the adjoining bathroom to get her a new toothbrush from his stash. When he emerged from the bathroom with an extra toothbrush, boxer shorts, and a tee-shirt for her, he stopped dead in his tracks. She looked like she was sleeping.

"No, I'm not asleep," Zoë said, her eyes still closed.

"Oh." JC walked over to her, and set the things on the bed next to her. "Here, hon." He watched her nod, open her eyes, and stretch before getting up and gathering the items. She kissed his cheek, and walked out the bedroom door, yawning widely.

"Zoë'?" JC called down the hall after a few minutes.

Zoë poked her head out into the hallway from the guest bedroom. "Yeah?"

He thought about what he wanted to say, pausing to look at her. "Nothing. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She chuckled to herself, and he watched as the guest bedroom door closed behind her, leaving a sliver of light under the door, cast by the bedside lamp.

He turned around, chewing his lip thoughtfully, and proceeded to crawl into bed, ending up on his back, one arm across his belly, the other hand behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.

Two

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