We walked through the first row of booths in silence with quick side glances at each other and sly smirks. I couldn't find it in me to pay attention to the booths and businesses we walked by because my main focus was on Tristan's pink face. He kept pushing his eyeglasses up his nose even when they weren't shifting in the slightest. Evidently, he knew where we were going or had an idea of the way the booths were set up because in no time we were approaching a booth that had the same large picture of Robby Lingus I'd seen just a couple months ago when we met.

My stomach churned painfully at the raw sexuality and masculinity that the picture exuded. The big E-sized tits belonging to the topless woman in the picture with Robby seemed to mock me from thirty feet away. The flat slope of her stomach and definition in her abs cracked jokes about my plain, flat stomach as I made it closer. His hands seemed larger and more possessive in the poster this time than they had the last and only time I'd seen it before. Why did looking at that poster, even though I knew it was old, hurt so damn much?

Tristan turned to me and placed a warm, sweet kiss on the hollow behind my ear. "I'd do this all over again a hundred times as long as I met you in the end."

He took off before the words were completely out of his mouth, leaving me a trail of verbal breadcrumbs in his wake. To say that I was stunned would be an understatement. Where did he get this from? This Tristan, who up until two weeks ago just clenched his jaw when he overhead me talk about hanging out with other men. This Tristan, who even then maybe didn't comprehend he felt something for me besides those feelings that all friends have with each other.

I valued his bravery and newfound openness more than I valued just about anything. When and where did this man grow some balls?

I followed after him, keeping to the plan we'd decided on in the car. He'd suggested that I walk around until he was done or just hang out and watch if I wanted to, an idea that he wasn't completely crazy about. I decided to hang around for a while until the urge to puke all over his fans got too overwhelming. Or until I began to get homicidal and started looking for the first spork I could find to inflict bodily damage, whichever came first.

The line in front and around the booth where his naughty poster was perched was at least twenty people deep. Apparently, Robby had fans that were as different as the dogs you'd find in a shelter. Fucking bitches. Each woman had the same expression on her face: slack jawed and bug-eyed. It looked like they thought he was the second coming or something. He was going to be some kind of coming later, and it wasn't going to be the same way in which the kind they were referring to was spelled.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and parked myself at the booth across from Robby's so I could keep an eye on my raven-haired boyfriend. Boyfriend? Was that what he was? It was the wrong moment to deliberate what kind of wording could be used to describe the sex god standing across the walkway from me. He was already sitting down behind a table, signing away pictures or whatever the women were handing him. Possibly naked pictures of themselves, ugh.

The booth I was at had a large cross hanging from the curtain behind it and three pretty blondes smiled sweetly at me. They had pink shirts on with 'I Love Jesus' written across the front. "Hi!" one of them greeted me the moment she caught me looking at the cross.

"Hi," I responded, trying to smile just as warmly in return.

"I'm Bambi, and these are my soul sisters, Lady and Jasmine," she said, and immediately I frowned more at myself than at her. "Do you know Jesus?"

I stuttered, torn between trying to understand why one of them would choose Lady as her nickname and wondering why she was asking me if I knew someone who died two millennia ago. "Yes?" I responded, unsure of whether that was the right answer or not.