Lance stretched languidly out of the limo. He smoothed his suit down and looked up the red carpet and around at his bandmates.
Eminem saw them arrive. Light shining off them as if they stole it from the sun itself. Momentarily he thought to himself how much heat he radiated tonight. It varied with how turned on he was. Em smiled to himself. When Lance was hot, his flesh was burning. Then he noticed who got out of the limo after him. Blond girl. ‘Die,’ he thought. He saw him wrap his arm around her waist and smile for a picture. Just last night that arm had been wrapped around his waist, bringing his hips down to … Eminem shuddered involuntarily.
Lance looked over in his direction and nodded in recognition. Five feet and Eminem would be face to face with him. He could close that distance. Say something to him. Get close enough to smell his cologne, feel his heat.
It’s nothing, it’s so normal you
Just stand there I could say so much
Wandering down the red carpet, doing interview after pointless interview, answering question after pointless question, Em’s eyes kept wandering back to the green-eyed blond. Lance was good at keeping his smile, making small talk, making strangers feel welcome. Everything Eminem was not.
“Fuck,” Em heard Dre mutter. Back up on the red carpet. He feels someone back into him and turns. It’s Lance. He forces his face to harden. Lance turns, blushes, and mumbles an apology, turning back to his group.
If you see me out you don’t know me
Try to turn your head, try to give me some room
To figure out just what I’m going to do
Eminem can feel the heat on his back where Lance touched. He closes his eyes, trying to bring ice to cool his body down, but the heat just spreads, leading the trail down to his groin. He turns to NSYNC wanting to make a biting comment, trying to make the ice come back.
“Fucking traffic even on the red carpet,” he mutters instead.
The five guys laugh, sounding almost natural. Eminem pointedly looked at Lance. He looked back, smiling that easy smile. Em melted.
I was thinking if you were lonely
Maybe we could leave here and no one would know
At least not to the point that we would think so
Eminem shifts his gaze to the girl at Lance’s side. He doesn’t recognize her. She’s smiling at him brightly. He snorts and turns around, resisting the urge to say something to her. Something about how he knows Lance is going to end up in his bed tonight. About how
he was in his bed last night. About how good Lance told him it felt. He wanted to ask her if she knew that she was dating a Sun God, a man who radiates heat to those around him. Instead, he turned and brushed past the rest of the reporters and went into the arena.
This don’t mean that, you own me
This ain’t no good, in fact it’s phony as hell
But things worked out just like you wanted too
Two hours later Eminem is fighting sleep during the awards ceremony. People are rambling on the microphone over shit he wouldn’t even read while he was on the toilet. Then he hears them win an award. He watches him walk up to the stage, smiling big. He catches Em’s eye in the crowd and winks. Em can feel the heat down to his toes. Lance
thanks God and his family, and Em smiles, never expecting less. Then Lance leans closer to the mic and says in his deep southern accent, “I love you, Em,” and walks off stage waving at the screaming crowd.
Eminem can feel himself blush. The next act was coming on. He forced himself to listen intently to take his mind off the intense heat of the room. Meredith Edwards. `Never heard of her,’ Em frowned. Walking out on stage was the girl that he saw Lance with earlier. Eminem’s jaw dropped. M. Em. Fucking sly bastard.
Everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking about
It’s best if we all keep it under our heads
“Back to Good” by Matchbox 20