Not This Time

Nina: February 15, 1986

     When I woke up, I was tangled in my comforter and something was different. It didn't register that I was cuddled up against another person and that there was an arm around my waist. For a moment, I didn't work out that another person in my bed with me was not normal.
     Then I did.
     My eyes shot open and I pulled myself away from him. Jon opened his eyes and blinked at the light, bringing a hand to his face to cover a yawn. I stared at him, bits and pieces of the night before floating around in my head with my typical post-Valentine's hangover. I groaned and brought my hand up to massage my temples. Oh God, what did I do?
     "Did we..?" I mumbled, shaking my head a little in disbelief. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea. He was Jon Bon Jovi. He was my favorite singer and, in a way, my boss. Forget that, he was from a different time! And I went and slept with him!
     Jon wrapped his arm around my waist again and pulled me back to him with a mischievous smirk. "Yeah, I believe we did," he replied.
     "Oh my God," I muttered, shifting and sitting up. I held my top sheet over my chest as if he hadn't seen my boobs already. I rubbed my face and shook my head, trying to figure this out.
     "But....but we don't.." I thought out loud, still shaking my head in tiny, rapid shakes, "..this isn't..we're.....this doesn't happen." Jon sat up, too, and I could feel his eyes on me.
     "Why not?" he asked gently.
     I turned back to look at him. Why not..why not? God, I hated hangovers; they made my brain work so slow. "You're supposed to be with Dorothea," I told him flatly.
     "She's with someone else," he reminded me, scooting forward a little so that he could wrap his arms around my waist again. He leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Be my someone else?" He kissed my cheek right next to my ear and continued down toward my jaw until I turned away, shaking my head with those tiny, panicked shakes again. Jon grinned and kissed my shoulder. "Come on," he coaxed, "You know you want to."
     "It's not that I don't want to, Rockstar," I sighed, overly conscious of his arms around my middle, "It's just.." I trailed off as Matt's voice reminded me of the rules.
     Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't get involved. Don't change the future. Just mind your own business, don't do anything big or flashy, and you should be fine.
     "I-I can't," I finally finished, prying his arms away from me so that I could get out of bed.
     "Why not?" Jon protested as I got up and grabbed my robe. I headed for the bedroom door, still shaking my head. I needed water and coffee desperately. Jon got up and picked up his boxers from where they'd been dropped the night before. He pulled his boxers on as he followed me into the living room, struggling to keep up with me. He caught up with me when he got his boxers on and stopped in front of me. "Nina."
     I looked up at him and sighed, "I don't need the attention, Rockstar." I shook my head a little, "Being with you would draw too much attention to me and I really, really don't need that." I shrugged and stepped around him. He frowned at me as I walked away toward my kitchen.
     "What do you mean?"
     I glanced back at him as I put on a pot of coffee. "I mean cameras everywhere. Pictures all over tabloid magazines," I explained, trying not to imagine how that would change things in my time, "They'd be all over us." I closed my eyes and shook my head.
     Jon came closer as I pulled a water bottle out of one of my cabinets. "Is it about your privacy?" he tried, as I chugged the water bottle. He raised an eyebrow, watching me, but waited for me to finish. "Is that what you're worried about?"
     I paused and thought about it for a minute. I guess that was one way to put it. I was worried about the things I kept private coming to light, like my actual birth date for example. I didn't need the world looking at me and wondering who I was. I finished off my water bottle nervously. Jon gave me an impatient frown.
     "Well," I sighed, "Yeah. I mean, I don't want my picture in some magazine next to the words 'Who is Jon's Girl?' It would be too much." I shook my head again and ran my  hands through my hair. With a grimace, I brought my hands up to either side of my head and massaged my temples again. "I dunno, Rockstar," I grumbled, "I'm the soundgirl. I'm backstage for a reason." I shook my head a little. "I can't do all the publicity."
     Jon leaned on the counter next to me and tilted his head a little. "If that's all it is, I can keep them away from you, Nina," he assured me, "Nobody's going to bother you."
     "You're going to keep them away?" I repeated. He nodded. So did I. "Yeah, and when you're not around? When you're onstage, what's to stop them from approaching the back of the tech tables, huh? Who's gonna keep them away then?"
     "The tour manager could," Jon said uncertainly after a minute or two. I raised an eyebrow. He and I both knew that the tour manager would be too busy to bother protecting the talent's girlfriend from the press.
     I pulled out another water bottle in an attempt to fight my hangover. Before opening it, I shook my head at him. "You don't seriously think the management would actually smile on our relationship, do you?" I suggested. He gave me a confused look as I took a swig of my water. "They're not going to want you dating an employee. They'd probably fire me rather than ask you not to date me, but still."
     Jon bit his lip. He knew that one was true, and there wasn't much he could do about it besides fire me. Fortunately, he was smart enough to know that firing me wouldn't change my position on keeping the relationship secret; it would only leave them without an audio tech. He looked like he was desperately trying to find a way around the situation. I watched him, but said nothing. The coffee pot gurgled over the silence between us.
     "Well shit," he sighed finally, shaking his head, "I can't catch a break. Maybe I'm supposed to be alone." I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion. He took another deep breath. "Dotty broke up with me because she hated that I was gone all the time and she worried. Now you won't give me a chance because of the press," he explained, "I'd be living my dream right now if I had someone like you with me." He paused and shook his head. "What am I supposed to do?"
     I stepped over to him and pulled him into a hug. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist and hug me back. I closed my eyes as I stroked his hair comfortingly. It felt so right to hold him, to have him holding me. I knew, though, that it wasn't supposed to be. He was supposed to be with Dorothea. This wouldn't work. I pulled away reluctantly. He brushed some of my hair back and frowned a little.
     "Rockstar," I said gently, "I would love to be that person who's there when you need someone," I leaned my forehead against his, "because I know there's something between us that could be really great." I closed my eyes and frowned too. "I'm just not ready for everything that comes with you," I finished.
     Jon leaned away from me with an annoyed grumble. I took a step back and took deep breath. I was probably gonna lose my friend. I got too close; I let him get too close. I should have just stayed out of it. I returned to my position by the coffee pot and finished off that second water bottle. Jon stared at the ground, arms crossed in frustration.
     "Which is more important to you?" he asked, not looking at me, "Me or avoiding the tabloids?" He looked up at me when he finished, but I wasn't sure how to answer. Of course he was important to me! I cared about him more than pretty much anyone in my own time, and definitely more than anyone else in this time. I blinked at the question and looked at the floor.
     The thing was, I was avoiding the tabloids so that I didn't change the future that I knew. In the future I knew, Jon got back with Dorothea and they lived happily ever after. There was never any fling with the sound girl in the story I knew, just the beautiful, wonderful, happy life he'd had with Dorothea. The life he hadn't had yet at this point. I was staying out of the tabloids for him, so that I didn't ruin his future. That was important to me.
     With a hesitant pause, I answered, "Avoiding the tabloids." Jon stared in surprise. He looked like he'd genuinely expected me to say it was him. He was right, of course, but he didn't realize it. He shook his head.
     "You don't mean that," he whispered, still in shock. I looked away, trying not to agree with him. Of course I didn't mean it! But I sort of did. If he could see what I was thinking, he'd understand it, maybe. Then again, maybe not. Time travel is confusing as hell. When I looked back at him, he looked a little hurt.
     "No," I relented with an apologetic tone, "I don't. I mean, I do, but not for the reason you think."
     Jon frowned. "What?"
     I closed my eyes and shook my head. God, my head hurt. I didn't want to be doing this. With a tired sigh, I brought my eyes back to him and stated firmly, "Listen. It's either we keep the relationship a secret, or we don't get together."
     He stared at me. For a second, I thought he was considering it. Then he asked, "What about the band? Couldn't we tell them?"
     "No," I replied, shaking my head, "Are you kidding?" I brought a hand up to my forehead again, only briefly though, before using it to gesture as I spoke. "I've seen you guys when you're drunk! You joke and laugh and talk about anything and everything," I spat, "You can't tell left from wrong!"
     Jon smirked a little at my word play, but didn't deny what I was saying. He couldn't, it was all true. They did get reckless when they drank. He looked like he was about to suggest something else, but I cut him off.
     "Nobody."
     Jon frowned. He ran a hand through his hair and thought about it for a good long minute. I took the pot of coffee off the burner and poured myself a cup. I didn't bother trying to offer him one while he was getting his thoughts together. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and looked a little pained. Then he opened them and looked up at me.
     "There's no way we'd be able to do it," he told me simply, shaking his head, "There's no way nobody would know. I can't do it." He looked away again for a minute, biting his lip. Then he looked back at me and added, "I guess that means we don't get together, huh?"
     I nodded, but I was looking down at my coffee. He huffed and pushed off the counter. When I looked up he was walking away. I watched him pick up his shirt from where he'd left it on the back of the couch last night. He pulled it over his head as he returned to my bedroom and picked up his pants from the pile at the foot of my bed. I stepped into my living room as he pulled on his pants and crossed toward the door. He ignored me, slipping into his shoes as I approached with my coffee mug in hand.
     "I'll just go then," he mumbled, barely glancing at me as he reached for the doorknob.
     "I'm sorry," I muttered back. He nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything as he opened the door and stepped out. I dropped my gaze into my coffee again as the door closed gently behind him.
     I didn't even want the coffee anymore. I wanted to cry. I trudged back to my kitchen and set the mug on the counter, reminding myself that I did it for him. His happiness was a sure thing with Dorothea. With me, who knew what would happen?
     Closing my eyes, I shook my head and shoved the coffee cup away. I went over to my TV "trayble" for two and stacked the two empty plates. I set Jon's empty wine glass on the plates, then grabbed the mostly-empty glass of wine that I'd left sitting there last night. Dirty dishes in hand, I returned to my kitchen, ignoring the rose that sat in the vase on the TV tray, taunting me. I poured out the wine and left the dishes in the sink.
     Yay me, I thought. I turned away from the sink and leaned back against the counter, bringing my hands up to apply pressure to my forehead and the migraine trying to form behind it. Such a good person for putting his happiness above yours! This blows!
     No sooner had I thought this than a knock sounded at my front door. I had to admit that I kinda hoped it was Jon, even if it was only because he'd forgotten something. I pushed off the counter and bounded toward the door, maybe a little more excited than I should have been.
     There he was, hands in pockets, when I opened the door. He looked up at me leaned on the doorframe. "So I got to the end of the alley," he began, "And that's when it occurred to me that we're gonna be on tour together." Oh no. So that's why he'd come back. He didn't want to see me again. He was going to fire me. I didn't say anything, I couldn't. Jon took a deep breath and went on, "I don't think I can make it through the whole tour without wanting you."
     I blinked awkwardly and bit my lip. "So you came back to fire me?" I reasoned slowly.
     Jon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? No! Of course not! Nina," he scoffed, "I didn't ask for you because I liked you, I asked for you because you work hard and you're good at what you do." He reached forward and rubbed my arms affectionately. "I couldn't fire you. The band needs you."
     I rolled my eyes at him and stifled a laugh. They didn't need me. What bunk!
     He dropped his hands and stuck them back in his pockets nervously. He looked around the floor for a minute and licked his lips. "I came back to tell you," he said, bringing his gaze back to mine. He shook his head for a second and rolled his eyes like he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. Then he finished, "I'll do it."
     I stared in shock for a moment and then opened the door further to let him in. I turned away from the door, still surprised. He was really willing to do that for me? I must have underestimated his feelings. He followed me in and closed the door behind him. I could feel his eyes on me, trying to gauge my response.
     "So what do ya say?" he prompted.
     I turned back to him, my arms wrapped around myself. He looked so hopeful. He had no idea how much I wanted to say yes. He had no idea how much he meant to  me. It was because he meant so much that I couldn't get that one big factor in his future out of my head.
     "What about Dorothea?" I asked.
     Jon's hopeful expression disappeared and he stared at me. He looked away in disbelief and scoffed, "What about her?" He shook his head and sighed, sounding frustrated, as he brought his gaze back to me. "What does she have to do with this? Seriously, Nina, it's starting to feel like you don't want a relationship with me! If that's the case, you can just tell me. I'm a grown man, I can take it!"
     I glared at him and put my hands on my hips. "Don't give me that!" I challenged, "You're still in love with her, and you know it!"
     "We agree on one issue, and then you find another reason not to be with me," Jon ranted, throwing his arms out to the side in desperation. "Do you want to be my girlfriend or not?"
     I dropped my shoulders and brought my hands up to my head. "I do!" I replied, eyes closed against the my hangover headache. I groaned and dropped my hands. When I opened my eyes again, Jon was staring at me, seemingly surprised by my answer. "I do," I repeated, "But I can't. You and Dorothea are supposed to be together."
     Jon rolled his eyes and shook his head, quite clearly aggravated. "She's with someone else! She broke up with me! She doesn't want me!" he argued. He paused and glared at me, probably for bringing up those feelings for the thousandth time. "She broke my heart, okay? What do you want me to say?"
     "Say you won't give up on her," I answered gently. I watched him sputter noiselessly, completely speechless. He paced a little bit and shook his head some. He looked like he couldn't believe I was still pestering him about his ex-girlfriend. He just didn't get it. He didn't know what I knew.
     Finally, he turned to me and sighed, "What are you doing this for?"
     I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "She makes you happy," I mumbled, my voice cracking a little because I was trying to stave off a migraine, "I just want you to be happy."
     "Are you about to cry?" he scoffed.
     I shook my head. "This hangover really blows."
     Finally relenting a bit, Jon smiled a little and closed the space between us. He pulled me into a hug, petting my hair comfortingly as I'd done for him a few minutes ago. I leaned my head against his shoulder and let him hold me. It was so comfortable, just as it had been last night when we were dancing.
     "You're right, Nina," he said softly, "About Dotty. Some part of me is always, always going to love her." He put a hand under my chin and tilted my head back so that he could see my face. "She did make me happy," he went on, "But that's over now." I leaned away from his shoulder, frowning at him a little. He smiled. "I don't need her as long as I've got you."
     He leaned forward and kissed me. If not for the hangover, the moment would have been perfect and adorable, like something out of a movie. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine.
     "And you know what?" he whispered.
     "Hmm?"
     "You're allowed to be happy too," he said. I looked him dead in the eye and he smiled one of those gorgeous smiles that made me feel all mushy inside. "So you wanna be my girl now or what?"
     I grinned and chuckled, nodding a little. His smile brightened and he pecked my lips really quick before letting me go. Confused, I watched him walk away from me.
     "Where are you going?" I asked as he headed toward my bedroom door.
     "To your bathroom to grab some Aspirin," he laughed, "I know a knockout hangover cure." I grinned and went back into the kitchen toward my now lukewarm coffee. As I picked up the mug, I smiled to myself, hardly able to believe what was happening.
     You're allowed to be happy too.
     Of course I was, right? I bit my lip. Who would have thought, though? Jon Bon Jovi, my boyfriend.