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Her mind was racing a million miles an hour, replaying every single exchange they’d ever had. From their first handshake—she’d actually had to yank her hand back—to each snarky comment, to the way he’d honed in on her like a heat seeking missile every time she walked into a room. Everything looked so different with this new piece of information. Part of her wondered how she could have missed it. The other part marveled at the ridiculousness of it all.

She stared at the pointy toes of his shoes, trying to parse everything in her head. Trying to find the right words. He was silent too.

And he was eighteen years old.

Her brain suddenly kicked into gear. The youngest person she’d ever dated was twenty-seven. That was not an accident. Let alone the fact that his age made it more than mildly inappropriate for her to date him. And he was her client. She could not mix business and pleasure, not in that way. Not with this client. This eighteen-year-old pop-star client. Who had no private life. Who could not date a woman her age. Who could not handle a woman her age. Who had probably only figured out how to talk to her, finally, by accident.

“We can be friends, right, Joe?” she asked. It was the only thing she had to offer him.

He looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes taking everything in. She felt as though he were looking through her. And wondered what he could possibly see in her. The air was thick with words neither one of them were speaking.

Still her brain spun, as though stuck in a muddy rut. He was eighteen. A child. And he was her client. And he wore a purity ring. And he clearly had no idea how to handle an adult female. And he was famous in this terribly unappealing way. And he was Christian. And eighteen. And a client. He was a devout Christian kid who wore a purity ring. And he was a pop-star. A pop-star she worked for. The list ran in circles inside her head. She couldn’t stop the line items from repeating themselves over and over and over. Couldn’t shake herself free.

“I—” the beginning of his sentence was loud enough, in her painfully silent apartment, to ring out over her deafening thoughts. Their eyes locked again. “I guess I can try the whole ‘friends’ thing,” he finished.

Although she did not know him very well, she did know his voice sounded different. This was not the voice she had become accustomed to. And now, with his revelation tightening the focus on everything around her, she knew why his voice sounded so foreign. He was lying. Or at least, he was betraying himself. He did not want to try the whole friends thing. He wanted her. She couldn’t allow that.

“Good,” she offered a shaky smile.

She thanked her lucky stars when the phone rang, penetrating the silence that was settling around them again. The handset said it was her uncle and she was relieved to realize that she would have to take the call. Maybe a few moments of distraction would clear the air. She looked forward to talking about something easy, like business.

“Hey Daniel,” she said, watching Joe as he flipped through a list of messages in his phone, appearing to delete them with a sense of complete abandon.

After her call detailing both the results of the meeting, and the day’s updated numbers, she hung up the phone. Joe was still seated in the far corner of her couch, but his posture had changed. He’d been spread out before, like every boy she’d ever known, taking up far more space than his body required. Now his legs were crossed away from her, his chest turned toward the television.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said softly.

And she genuinely was sorry. She’d had no intention of hurting him. Until ten minutes ago she hadn’t a clue of what he was feeling, hadn’t a clue that her afternoon would turn out this way. But she knew there was nothing between them, and more importantly, that there never could be anything between them. They were just too different.

“Don’t be,” he forced a smile in her direction, his body still turned away from her.

She felt the need to explain herself, somehow, to diffuse the blow of her rejection.

“I just…we can’t go there. We need to work together, and I can’t mess with that relationship.” A sad smile twitched across her lips. “Besides, my uncle would KILL me.”

“It’s fine. Friends,” he said, his smile only slightly less forced, “I can always use more of those. Especially ones who are willing to be mean to me. I mean, those are few and far between.”

She appreciated his humor, his instinct to lighten the situation. The room was getting positively stuffy with all that was hanging, mid-air, between them.

“So when are you supposed to be back at your hotel? Don’t you have a show tonight or something?” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

“Yeah, we’re playing Jones Beach tonight. Busses leave at 2pm.” He recited the schedule as if from rote memory, his voice dull.

“Jones Beach, god, that’s a great venue,” she sighed, glancing at the clock.

“You’ve been there?” he asked.

“I grew up on Long Island, Joe, of course I’ve been there!” She laughed; he seemed to loosen up at the sound. “I saw my first concert there, which was James Taylor. We sat in the very last row of the entire place and it was amazing. The sun set was so beautiful, and there was rain, but he just kept right on playing…” A dam had broken and verbal diarrhea spewed forth, “My god, I saw the Goo Goo Dolls there in a torrential downpour! They were so thankful we stayed for their set that they played for an extra hour, easily. I’d been wearing this awful yellow sailing rainsuit thing, like for when you’re stuck in a storm on your boat, and even THAT was soaked clear through by the time the show was over. And it was so worth it…And then there was my first Hanson concert, where I also got rained on!”

“Do you get rained on every time you show up? Because in that case, I’d like to make sure you won’t be there tonight.”

“Shut-up.” She threw a balled up piece of paper at him, secretly thankful he’d cut her off and stemmed the tide of words. “I don’t get rained on every time. I didn’t get rained on when I saw *NSync there…” she laughed again as his eyes widened, as though he hadn’t pinned her for a boy band kind of girl, “I only get rained on for the important shows. The ones that actually mean something to me.”

“Ouch, I should call Justin Timberlake and tell him you said that.”

“Oh please, he wouldn’t even take your call.”

“Oh, I believe he would.”

“Whatever. Your time would probably be better spent begging me to come tonight so it doesn’t rain.”

“You are actually the meanest person I have ever met,” he said, forcing crocodile tears to well in his eyes.

She threw her head back and laughed with gusto. The last time she’d seen crocodile tears like that she was sixteen years old, babysitting Kaleigh on the first night in her big-girl bed. Kaleigh was two at the time, and working on giving Sara Bernhardt a run for her money. The two-year-old drama queen had looked up at her like she was the most heartless person on earth as she tried to leave, the room dark, Kaleigh on a real bed for the first time.

“You are such a drama queen!”

“Me? Never!” he feigned shock.

“Oh come on, princess,” she rolled her eyes at him, standing. “Let’s go grab some lunch before you have to head back. I’m starving!”

***

“Can I ask you a question?”

They were seated at a small interior booth in her favorite diner/Asian fusion joint, a few blocks from her apartment. Joe was poking at the last of his French fries, having devoured his burger at a rate that was actually kind of offensive. She had about half of her grilled cheese and tomato staring her in the face.

“You’ve asked me about a million, Aisling, what’s one more?”

“Well, I think this one might be kind of serious, so I just thought—“

“You’re rambling again. Just ask.” He interrupted, smiling at her winningly; she tore her eyes away from his to look down at her hands as she fidgeted with a fork.

“Why didn’t you want to be around your brothers today?”

She glanced up to see the look on his face fall and knew in that instant that she’d somehow touched a nerve. Her instinct had been correct; this was not just a simple question. Joe remained calm, and even let half a smile tug at the outer corner of his lip, but he said nothing for a few moments. Just as she’d begun to feel guilty for asking him something that was clearly very personal, he looked her directly in the eye.

“Oh, that old line?” in his voice she could hear the struggle to be flippant. He had failed.

“Stop it, Joe,” she intoned.

As she waited for him to answer, she felt compelled to reach out for his hand as it rested near his water glass. He spoke with his eyes trained on the places their skin met.

“Things haven’t been great with us lately. I don’t even know what’s going on. Or why. It’s just…not good.” He shook his head.

“Not good?” she prompted.

“Sometimes I just feel like…expendable? I don’t know. I don’t think they take me seriously.”

“That’s completely untrue, Joe. I know that much and I hardly know your brothers at all.”

She squeezed his hand warmly as it lay under hers.

“Maybe it’s just me…” in the silence she could see him thinking through things, and did not interrupt, “I wish I understood it. I wish I could explain it…I just know that things don’t feel right. It’s not fun anymore, not the way it used to be, everything is so serious all the time. And Kevin and I are fighting and Nick is just…Nick is Nick. Bright and beautiful and perfect in ways that none of us can reach, none of us can touch…”

“Tours are tough. You guys are constantly moving, constantly in go-mode. I can’t even imagine…I mean, 5 nights a week of shows? Interviews all day? That’s got to be stressful. Maybe it’s just exhaustion and stress and all that…” she offered.

“I appreciate that you’re pretending to understand,” he smiled up at her, and by the look in his eyes she knew the subject was to be dropped. “But ‘tours are tough’ that’s pretty funny coming from you, kid.”

“Hey! Who are you calling kid?”

“You.”

“Oh that’s rich, Humphrey.”

“My name is Joe….although, I AM rich.” She widened her eyes at him.

“You, are a piece of work—“

“Are you going to finish that grilled cheese? Because if not…”

She shouted and slapped at his hand as he snatched the uneaten half sandwich off her plate. Her sudden movement jostled the hand that had been resting on top of his. She’d forgotten. She looked down, as though noticing it for the first time. Deftly, Joe turned his hand over beneath hers and closed his fingers around her palm. She couldn’t escape his grasp even if she wanted to.

“What’s this?” he asked, mouth full of her grilled cheese, fingering one of the silver bracelets on her wrist.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand your question around the half-masticated lump of food in that gaping maw of yours.”

“Was that in English?”

“Finish chewing with your mouth closed before you talk to me, you moron.” He made a show of chewing the last of what remained in his mouth.

“What’s this?” He repeated, still touching the bracelet.

“It’s a Pandora bracelet. My brother bought it for me one Christmas, and my family has been filling it with charms since then. This one is my birth stone, Aquamarine, and that’s the symbol of Peace, the bunny is from the Easter Bunny, the others were for Christmas another year—the snowman and the purse. And the A, obviously…”

“That’s really nice. Kind of like you have a piece of them with you all the time when you wear it.”

“Kind of, yeah.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“Who gave you the shamrock?”

“My little brother, Ryan.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s not so little, anymore, actually. He’s almost twenty-three. And he’s engaged.”

“Is that weird? Your little brother being engaged before you are?”

“A little, I guess,” she shrugged. “But I know he’s ready to be engaged. He’s ready to marry Kristen. And I know that I am nowhere near ready to get married.”

“How do you know?”

“What, that I’m not ready to get married?” He shook his head. “Oh, that he’s ready…I don’t know…you just know. You know how they always say ‘when you meet the one, you know’? It’s kind of like that for your family too, it turns out. It just…feels different with her. We could tell. I’m happy for them. Even if they’re making me look bad! I mean…damn, they’re getting married and I’m worrying that I won’t even have a date for the wedding next year!” She laughed.

“Well, if we’re still friends in a year, I’ll be your date.”

The smile that danced across his lips was strangely heartwarming.

“Haha! You’re on. Monroe family events are an experience…my Uncles will eat you alive. I’d LOVE to see that!”