After the show ended, she went on auditions again, but nothing happened. She was in school, and trying to find jobs, and not having much luck. She liked making normal friends, though, and taking classes with kids her own age. Two years of high school, and then she starts getting big again. She pays her parents back for every penny of her education.

She's seventeen when Justin asks her on a date, and it's wonderful and sweet and everything she hoped it would be. He asks permission to kiss her good night, and her parents are waiting up inside, looking at their watches and reminding her she's 5 minutes after curfew, and she can't remember a thing about the movie. Just that he smiled at her, and opened the door, and bought her popcorn with salt and butter, because it tastes better that way, even if it is fattening.

They do a photo shoot together, because someone thinks it's a cute idea, even though no one knows that she and Justin are dating yet. The photographer brings her a halter top and mini-skirt, and she turns bright red. Justin stares at the clothing, and she wishes she could read his mind, know if he was turned on, or horrified. Before she can ask, Chris spots the outfit, and rips the clothing from her hands.

"What the hell is *this*?" he asks the photographer.

"It's okay," she tells him, but he rounds on her then.

"It most certainly is *not*, Brit. Jesus Christ," he says, and Chris *never* takes the Lord's name in vain, "if I caught one of my sisters wearing this in public, do you have any *idea* how dead they'd be? There would be nothing left of them to ground! And you Ð" he turns back to the photographer Ð "want to put her on the cover of a national magazine dressed like *this*? Go get the girl some actual clothing. NOW!"

The photographer sends an assistant for jeans and a T-shirt. Her mother tries to soothe him, but he doesn't listen. She wonders if the shoot'll be any good now, or if it's ruined.

When she comes out dressed in the new clothes, Justin touches Chris on the arm.

"Thanks," he says. Chris nods.

When she tours with them, they incorporate her into their daily routine, like she's one of them. Joey and Lance tease her, and JC and Chris are protective. Justin treats her like gold.

The fans don't all like her, though. She gets boos, and her mother spends long conference calls with Johnny, trying to figure out how to fix her image. She curls up on the couch with Justin, watching some TV show she'll never see enough consecutive episodes of to get into. He puts an arm around her shoulder, and tells her that she'll be big someday soon.

"You'll see," he says, "you're gonna be just as huge as we are."

She nods, but really, sitting on the couch with Justin while the other 4 guys lie on the beds and toss potato chips at the television, she thinks that all she needs is this. Them.

Him.

They don't have sex, not really, even when she's old enough, because Justin thinks they should wait. She doesn't mind, although one time when she's visiting she hears Joey say, "there's only so many blow jobs you can get and still be a virgin, J." He doesn't know she's there, and she doesn't say anything, and that's the end of it.

She knew guys discussed sex. She's not stupid Ð of *course* she knew that Ð but it hadn't quite penetrated that Justin was a guy, and therefore would talk about *her.*

Chris and Dani break up, and the world comes to an end. Chris is bitter, and hurt, and upset all the time, and she can't visit because seeing her with Justin, happy, is too much for him. All the girlfriends are banished, for a few weeks anyway.

She had thought she was different, that she was one of them. She's in their world, too, shoved in since she was too young to know better, and she's been in it so long, she's started to believe the lies. Dani calls her when she's in LA, and they talk for 3 hours.

"All they need is each other," Dani says. "And I need more than that."

She murmurs assent, but it's a lie.

She sees them at the awards shows Ð has to. The fans would be upset if she and Justin went separately. Bobbee and Kelly are there, too. Lance and Chris have dates, but she doesn't know them, and they ignore her.

"I could be a star too if I lip-synched all the time," one of them says in the bathroom. Kelly grips her shoulder, and Bobbee smiles ruefully. She turns away, goes backstage and waits to perform. The mike she wears is turned off before her entrance.

She sees Kelly talk furiously to Lance later, and the girls never shows up again. She asks Lance, and he shrugs. "They weren't girlfriend material," he says. "Besides, they never put out."

She laughs, but Justin still won't sleep with her.

"It should be perfect," he says, "for both of us."

A few weeks later, he tells her he's in love with Joey.

She wants to hate him, but all she can do is cling to the friendship he offers, and wonder if the others will dump her too. Her mother says it's going to ruin her, if word gets out. She points to Nick Carter and Willa, Nick Lachey and Jessica, and her mother shakes her head.

"98 Degrees and Backstreet," she says, "are going strong. Where are Willa Ford and Jessica Simpson today?"

She offers to fake-date, for publicity. To help them hide their relationship. Joey hugs her, and Justin kisses her cheek, and it feels perfect. But when they leave a show in a limo, it's Joey's hand that Justin holds, and she wishes she were dead.

She tells herself that if she were normal, he were normal, they'd be in Tennessee right now with two children and a third on the way, married. Justin would work at a gas station, or in construction, and she would stay home and take care of the children. They would go to church every Sunday, and live in a town where they knew everyone's names, and everyone knew theirs.

None of the guys asks if she's doing all right, but she runs across Kelly at a playground, and they hug quietly.

She and AJ McLean are photographed at a club together. There's no alcohol, no cigarettes. Just the two of them, talking.

"Do you understand," Johnny says, "how bad for business this is?"

"Pop's Princess and Pop's Bad Boy," her mother says, "do not belong together."

"We're just friends," she says, but when they run into each other again, she smiles and leaves after 5 minutes.

He follows her out the door, and offers her a lift home.

"I can call a cab."

"Don't be silly. It's on my way. Besides, you know I haven't been drinking."

She laughs at his joke, looks around for cameras, and gets in the car.

"How are you?"

"Okay," she says.

"How are you really?"

She sighs, presses her head against the cool glass of the window.

"That's what I thought," he tells her.

"I miss him."

"Do you? Or do you miss the idea of him?"

"Either. Both."

"Don't let them run you down, Brit. Make your own image. Do it your own way."

"Got you so far," she snaps, and blushes immediately.

He barks in laughter.

"Lou made me the rebel, sweetie. Put some shades on, and pointed me to a tattoo parlor. This, now? This is me being myself. I refuse to party just because they want me to."

"I don't know if I can," she says, thinking it's true.

"You can try, anyway."

When they pull up to her house, he isn't even surprised when she invites him in.

"Coffee," she says, but he knows what she means.

While she plugs the percolator in, he kisses her collarbone. She turns around, offers her mouth, and he greedily accepts.

She's never kissed anyone but Justin before, and she likes it. Likes him. He picks her up, asks where the bedroom is, and she has to think to navigate backwards. By the time they get to her bed, they're laughing helplessly, and the kisses have become shallow again, because they can't breathe.

He trips on a sneaker and topples over, onto her, and that sets them off again. But after a few minutes, they regain composure. AJ runs a hand through her hair, down her jawline. He unties her halter-top while she unbuttons his shirt, and they grin at each other. She licks his neck, making him groan.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"After years of everything other than sex," she says, "I'm pretty good at just making out."

He laughs again, and then everything becomes a blur. At some point, she's certain he pulls back, asks her if she's sure she wants to do this. She nods, and pulls him close, and her world explodes.

She wakes up the next morning, curled in his arms.

"Hi," his says, kissing her nose. She wrinkles it.

"AJ McLean is a cuddler? Not exactly living up to your hype."

"Neither are you," he says. He licks behind her ear, making her shiver, and murmurs, "little slut."

She collapses against him, giggling, and doesn't worry about management, or her parents, or her image, or her fans. Just him, and herself, and how long they can spend in bed before hunger drives them to the kitchen.

It's pretty much perfect.
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