CHAPTER 21   The grandfather clock in the kitchen struck two o'clock in the morning, and AJ and I were about to lose consciousness.  These were the small hours of the night, the time when there can be no bullshit simply because it takes too much effort.  It was at this time when AJ decided to launch a meaningful conversation with me, bless his whacked-out heart.  We were still sitting at the kitchen table, my back aching and head pounding.  AJ diplomatically decided that we should move somewhere more comfortable, so we relocated ourselves next door to one of the several great rooms in this quasi-mansion.  Collapsed on the overstuffed couch, we put our feet up and treated ourselves to a well-deserved relaxation session.
    "Can you believe we just spent almost an hour working on our friends' problems?" I laughed, leaning back contentedly.  "And in the middle of the night, no less."
        AJ stroked his moustache thoughtfully.  "You're absolutely right.  We deserve a fucking Medal of Honor."  We both laughed softly, happy to be alone and together and at peace.  "Nah.  We're just two generous, unselfish people.  What can I say?"  His eyes sparkled, a glint of light dancing in dark brown.
I sighed and worked on getting the knots out of my neck and shoulders.  AJ moved behind me and took over, and I let out a satisfied moan.  His hands were strong and warm, and they kneaded skin and muscle like they had been made for it.  I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck, tingling and causing my eyes to drift shut.  I leaned back against his chest as he continued his work in silence.
     "But you know what?" he suddenly interjected, his voice low and gentle.
Trying to concentrate and failing, I responded in a low, drowsy voice.  "What, babe?"
     "After all that time we spent on the phone, working out other people's relationships," he said steadily, calmly, "We haven't spoken one word about us."
        The hands stopped working; my eyes slid open.  He had my full attention.  I turned around, facing him as we sat cross-legged on the couch.  This was a serious topic, though not in a bad way.  Not bad at all.
        "What's on your mind?" I asked softly, pulling my hair back from my face.  I stared him evenly in the eye, silently pleading for him to lead me into a conversation, which I was too afraid to initiate myself and yet desperately needing to have.
        "A whole lot of things," he said, wetting his lips, his eyes low.  "You.  Me.  I have to be honest with you, after what happened last night I've been thinking a lot."
        A bolt of fear ran through me.  "Okay, that got me worried."  I tried to make my voice light, but the slight quaver that ran through it could not be disguised.
        "No, no," said AJ concernedly.  "Nothing that you need to be worried about."
        "What then?"
        Silence reigned.  I offered AJ my eyes, and he caught them: another dangerous gaze that made me lose my emotional footing.  I took a deep breath as he looked away and said, "Have you ever thought about the way that we met?"
     I was caught slightly off guard, but replied quickly, "Of course.  Every time we're together, probably.  Does it bother you?"
        "I wouldn't say it bothers me, exactly.  I just find it so strange to have found a person like you-" he placed his hand on my forearm- "in a place like that.  To me, computers seem so distant, so cold.  And you don't seem like that at all to me."
        "I know," I said, my voice almost bitter.  I backed away from him a bit, giving myself physical as well as emotional distance.  "I should have done it some other way.  But what other way was there?  I'll be honest with you, AJ."  I crossed my arms defensively, thus removing his hand from me.  "When I sent that first e-mail, I thought of it as some big joke.  Something I shouldn't have done but did anyway just for the hell of it.  The last thing on my mind was the possibility that you were out there somewhere, on the other end of a modem, reading the words I had written and sent."
        "Well, let me be honest with you, Becky."  He made his voice hard to match mine, but I knew that underneath he was feeling anything but rough or angry.  "When I got that e-mail, it was like a shot out of the blue.  'How the hell did this girl get my address?' I said, because I don't just give it away.  But I decided to be polite.  I decided to respond, and look where it's gotten us today."
        I could not meet his gaze after that.  The room loomed large and dark about us, attempting to intimidate but not breaking through my barriers.  I searched it wantonly with my blinking eyes, trying to find a hint, a clue, anything that could give me the answers to so many questions I had inside but was too foolish not to ask.
      "When we talked," I said, swallowing hard, "online, I never believed it was you, AJ.  Not once.  I was so stupid."
      "But how could you have known?" he asked me, leaning forward, his skin glowing in the dim light.  "That's what I'm talking about.  Things over a computer are so unclear."
        "Unclear except for one thing," I stated more firmly.  "It was a computer that brought me to you.  And for that it has my eternal gratitude."
        With that, the distance was once again bridged.  I moved closer to him, and he welcomed me back into his arms.  He sat cross legged on the couch with me in his lap, curled up against his chest, his arms tight around me.  I breathed deeply of the scent of cologne and something else that has no name as he ran idle fingers through my hair.
        "That's not what's bothering me, AJ," I murmured into his chest.  I slid my arms around his waist, saying, "It's not what brought us together that I worry about.  It's what separates us."
        He knew exactly what I meant.  "We are different, babe.  We're so different that sometimes I'm sure we're from two different worlds.  And in away we are."
        "How can we make it like this?" I asked softly.  "You have tours, photo shoots, interviews.  I have school, normal friends, a normal life."
        "I don't know," he said sadly, his lips brushing the top of my head.
        "People around the world know your name.  Ask them mine, and all you'll get is a blank look and a shrug of no recognition." I nestled closer against his firm chest that gave me strength and comfort.  "I'm only eighteen years old, AJ.  I know so much about the world and yet so little compared to you."
        "None of that matters right now," he said his voice full of emotion.   "Look around.  Do you see any microphones, any cameras?  At this moment, all that exists to me is you.  And that should be enough."
        "And if it's not enough?" I whispered.
        He held me tighter.  "Then we'll make it enough."  His voice slipped into a different gear, as it always did when he felt something strongly.  It dropped and became more raspy: more raw and honest.
        I drew back and studied his face intently.  This was the face that millions of girls adored, the face whose image graced posters and magazine covers, the face that I was allowed to touch and to know.  The ever-changing hair, the sweeping forehead, the piercing eyes forever hidden behind shaded lenses.  The strong, determined nose, the famed moustache and goatee, the mouth that sang so beautifully it brought my world crashing down.  How was it that this face, the face of a celebrity, could at this moment be so close to my own?
     Our relationship seemed incredibly fragile, for what could last in the world of the entertainment industry?  People came and went, famous for an instant and back to obscurity the next.  It was a cruel world, a world that Alexander James McLean was used to, and a world that I had yet to experience.  This world was what separated the two of us, and it made me wish that things could be simple between us.  If only he wasn't famous, if only we could be two normal people in love.  Maybe then our relationship would work.  Just maybe.
        He drew me back to him and kissed my forehead gently.  "Come on, Becky.  Let's go to sleep."  He stood up, pulling me to my feet along with him and placing his arm about my shoulders.
      "Don't tell me I have to wear these things to sleep in," I said, indicating the jeans I had on that were about four sizes too large.  We both laughed lightly, and I fell back into his embrace.  Hand in hand, we went upstairs: not to do anything I had been hypothesizing about earlier, but simply to sleep.  We were both tired and needed the rest.
        Any other problems that we needed to face could wait until tomorrow.           HOME CHAPTER 22 BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS