TRACK ONE
FALLING WITHOUT KNOWING
Eyes meet, though we didn't see what would be.
Falling, falling without knowing.
One of the cardinal rules of any friendship is 'bro's befor ho's.'
It's a platinum, diamond encrusted, adamantium-impenetrable rule, no one should break.
Should you break it, that means you weren't trustworthy to begin with. Should you break it, that means your loyalty and sincerity aren't worth anything. Should you break it, that means you're one lousy excuse of a friend.
It's a given fact that most relationships never recover from this. It's territory you just don't step on.
Not for anyone.
There are only a few exceptions to this rule and unless you're sure the girl is 100% worth it, you don't go there.
Or so you thought.
Now you're cursing whoever it is who made that rule and the fact that the fates dictated that he should have met her before you did. That he was able to claim her as his before you decided you wanted her for yourself too. It would have been easier if you were at the beginning, both on equal terms and just vying for her attention. Then, the decision would fall upon her shoulders. The best man would have won, no harm, no foul. Sure egos would be bruised but you both eventually move on. Now, however, if you do decide to even suggest that you have feelings for her, you will be branded an asshole. So you are stuck with having to pretend that you're not attracted to her when you are.
Because no matter how you put it, you are one sprung motherfucker. You are way in over your head. You are in love.
You are in love with Kayla Lee.
Who wouldn't be in love with her?
She's gorgeous. Beautiful. Charming. Sexy. Intelligent. Talented. Kind. Understanding. Everything a guy could ever want in his woman. Anyone would be lucky to have her in his life. And you would have been okay with her being another's. Just not your friend's.
Just not the friend who you've known since before everything started. Just not the friend who you valued as a brother. Just not the friend who is able to make you feel a twinge of guilt whenever his name was brought up in conversation.
The other thing you hated about her being his is that distancing yourself was out of the question.
You saw her everywhere he went -- by default attached to his hip. You have to endure seeing her being paraded in front of you, knowing you could never have her. You are made aware of the fact that you could be the one in his place -- but you're not. You are also reminded that there's nothing you could do about it, lest you end up being branded a traitor.
What makes things worse is that it is getting harder and harder to pretend like she doesn't matter to you.
It's difficult to act like you just see her as your friend's girl and by extension your friend as well. You have to grin and bear it when he or she talks about the other. You have to constantly bite down the bitter taste that forms in your mouth when you realize they're serious about this. Being the friend of both has got you almost going insane.
Isn't that what got you in to your current predicament in the first place?
You sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair. Too emotionally attached, you cannot distance yourself from the situation. They want you to take the objective side, fucking-neutral-Switzerland, when you know that's not remotely close to possible but you pretend anyway -- for her sake at least.
She's asleep now, resting in your guest bedroom. Having come to you earlier, another fight occurred apparently, you couldn't very well turn her away. She said she didn't want to talk about it, she just wanted company. Your attempt at distracting her ended minutes ago when you saw she was not into playing Guitar Hero as you both are accustomed to. You are in the living room now, a drink in front of you, not trusting yourself to be near her. You think back to the past two years and you wonder how it got so bad. You smirk knowing only how it started.
For the umpteenth time that night, the all too depressing notion that you could have had her makes you grimace, making you knock back the rest of your drink. Now, you are presented an opportunity to manipulate things to your favor. You're also presented with the opportunity to piss off a friend.
On the other hand, she could very well be 'the one.' You are sure of it. What would these feelings be based on if you weren't? You wouldn't have dared to even think it unless she was worth it. And the frightening thing is, deep down you know that she is.
And that's why you are tempted to consider ending one of the oldest friendships you have had.
That's why you're in this position.
The only question now is, what would you choose do?
She was running late.
The meeting was at 10:30. It was already 10:15, with the traffic she'd make it there by 10:50. Checking her wristwatch for the nth time, she wondered what the hell was taking her coffee too long get served? They were normally quick with these things, but today, they decided to mess with her.
She sighed glancing down at her watch again, considering the multiple possibilities that her client would react to her being late. She knew it was a bad idea ending the date too far gone into the wee hours of the morning. She had imagined this happening when she decided to stay for a second helping of hot chocolate. Instead, she caved in and stayed up well after midnight, hanging out with a man who she saw as a potential boyfriend.
Smiling at the thought of him, she could almost forget the fact she could very well lose her job that morning. To say that he was handsome was an understatement. He had the old Hollywood bad boy quality to his features, without the attitude. He possessed the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen in a man. They had this certain light to them whenever he'd flash her one of his sexy grins.
He was certainly old fashioned in choosing what to do on their date -- roses, candies, a corsage, romantic dinner, a drive-in movie in his mansion, and hot chocolate indoors by the fireplace of all places. He was also entertaining, attentive and interesting. He was definitely unlike what she had expected of him.
Priding in herself the ability to stay away from the celebrity types, she surprised herself by agreeing to go on a date with him. Hollywood men, she had learned earlier on, are obscenely cocky bastards who walked around the streets with the belief that they are God's chosen gift to women everywhere. In fact, 90% of those she have met never fail to meet up to that stereotype she had of them. True there were those who weren't that way but they were already taken or gay. And though she was flattered to get the attention of these men, who some women would kill just to have them look their way, she was sick and tired of dating another alphabet-lettered asshole.
Her thoughts were derailed upon feeling her phone buzz in her hands. She saw that it was her assistant, Karen, and she had no doubt that they were wondering where she was. Just as she picked it up, she heard the barista call her name. She cursed internally at the coincidence and just headed to the counter. She was too preoccupied with assuring Karen that she was well on her way to notice that someone reached for the same cup at the same time she did.
He hated morning meetings. He hated waking up early just to accomplish the hundred and one things he needed to do just to look halfway decent for when he exited his house. What made it worse was that there was no longer a redeeming quality to his mornings, what with his break-up and all. No girlfriend meant not being able to feel of another's body with him when he awakens. No teasing and dirty tricks to wake him up. No being cajoled into getting out of the bed. No promises of a morning romp in the shower. How he hated waking up now. Period.
It wasn't that he couldn't get laid. If he wanted to, all he had to do was snap his fingers and any woman would jump to bed him. He just disliked waking up every morning with a random stranger in his bed. He hated how he sometimes didn't even know the name of the woman lying next to him. It was somehow depressing. Hence, he resolved to either stay at their place or do it in other areas of his mansion that was not his master's suite. That and he enforced a strict no sleepover policy, ergo, his attitude in the morning.
Grunting at the thought, he pushed his aviator shades up, glaring at the baristas who are taking a fucking long time with his coffee. If he weren't already addicted to the coffee served by this place he wouldn't have come here. Normally, his assistant would fetch his morning fix for him but he needed an excuse to come in late to the meeting he was already running late for. The obvious willful denying him of his coffee, however, was enough to send him over the edge.
He was just about to ask for the manager when finally they called for him. He smirked as he stalked over to the counter. Counting the seconds until he could taste what could steer his morning into the proper direction. That was until this bitch grabbed his order from him and started walking away with it.
Reminding himself that he was in a public place, he nixed the idea of talking down to the broad who stole his coffee. The paparazzi would have a field day over that. He could already imagine it being the headline of every gossip rag and entertainment show. His publicist would neuter for pulling something like that. More importantly, his upbringing reminded him he couldn't be rude to a person he didn’t know, much less a hapless woman. He thus forced some calm and reasoning back into his brains before daring to address her.
"Excuse me, miss?" He began but he noted that she wasn't paying attention.
She was on the phone, gabbing away to the other party's ear. He figured this was the reason why she wasn't aware she took away what was his or that he was calling out to her now. He sighed in exasperation. This stupid cunt was really trying his patience. He tried again, this time placing a hand on her shoulder determined to get her to notice him. He had to have his coffee damn it.
"Hey."
Startled, she whipped her head around to look at him, putting her phone aside. She looked genuinely confused as to why this intrusion took place. He on the other hand was too preoccupied to notice this. When he finally saw her face, he felt the wind knocked-out from him. She was stunning. Literally. All he could do was stare and gawk at her. He saw her mouth move but he couldn't process what she was trying to tell him. Seeing that she was getting weirded out by him, he decided to speak but all that came out was an incoherent garble of words.
"What was that again?" She asked unable to decipher the unintelligent language his uncoordinated mind and mouth was producing.
He could feel his face burning in embarrassment. He opted to try again, and quickly, before she decided he wasn't worth her time and left him.
"I think you took my coffee by mistake."
"Damn. Really?" She said, looking quite abashed herself now. "Here you go." She handed it to him without so much as an argument, and walked back to the counter.
It took him a while to process that she was gone and he had to follow her back there. He cursed under his breath knowing that he was looking like a stalker now. When he got there, she was talking to the barista already. He stood a couple of steps away from her, and watched as she dealt with the 'situation.'
"Can I help you?" The barista asked as she made her way over to her.
"Yes, I was wondering where my order is?"
Looking over the receipt, she presented to her, she gave her a puzzled glance. "You already took your order."
Both of them were shocked to hear this, staring at her, not quite comprehending what she meant.
"I haven't yet. You gave me his order." She said pointing at him.
"Uh, no. You got yours already. He has yet to pick up his." As if trying to make a point, she picked up the unclaimed beverage and read what was scribbled on it.
When he heard his name and order, he never wanted to just have the floor swallow him whole than now. Apparently he had made the mistake. Great. Not only was he a blubbering stalker, he was now a blubbering, idiotic stalker. He gave her an apologetic look before handing over to her her drink then getting his. Afterwards, they both made their way out of the store together, neither talking.
"You should let me make it up to you." He breaks the silence after a while, when they're both out on the sidewalk. Thankful he hardly looked like himself this morning, if the annoying paparazzi not flocking to take his picture were any indication of that.
She looked towards his direction, not quite understanding where it came from and why he said it. "Huh?"
"You know, taking your order and everything, when I was the one who made a mistake..."
"Oh. Uhm..." She paused deliberately not wanting to answer the question. They were near her car and opted to take that time to fish her keys out of her bag. This proved to be more difficult than she anticipated, having to balance her drink and phone in one hand.
"Let me get that for you." He offered, taking the items off of her hands, not waiting for her to reply.
"Thanks." She replied, surprised albeit relieved for the help, not about to turn down him down. Having finally located her keys, she faced him, this time with a smile as she retrieved her items from him.
"You're welcome. So, would you take me up on my offer?" He reiterates, returning her smile, relief coursing through him, grateful he didn't scare her away with his temporary awkwardness.
"Sure I'd love that." She said, finally conceding, figuring it wouldn't hurt since she and her potential boyfriend weren't serious. They had yet to discuss the exclusivity clause, barely agreeing on when date two would be set. Besides, he looked seemingly harmless, and she wasn’t about to deny the fact that he was hot. Of course she knew who he was and she impressed by the fact he wasn’t like she expected him to be.
After exchanging numbers, she got into her car and was just about to drive off. At that moment, she heard someone knock on her window. As she pulled it down, he leaned on the door and extended his phone towards her.
"What, did we swap phones now?" She teased.
He smiled at her words, biting on his bottom lip, suddenly unable to wait for when he could see her next. "Nope, you just forgot to tell me your name."
“It's Kayla." She managed to say before both their phones begin to make a sound.
"I take it you're late too?" He straightened up as he says this, attending to the latest message he got from his assistant.
"Unfortunately." She sighed, putting on her own shades and looking at him one last time, waiting for reassurance that she didn't make a mistake.
"Well I guess I'll see around..." He said saluting to her from where he was standing. "I'll call you." Then he grinned upon seeing that he received a bright smile in response to his words. Then and there he was sure that he does not need to worry about leaving a bad impression with her.
"I'd love that. Bye Justin." She said in parting as she drives off to her office. It was already 10:30. She knew that she is late but she could not care less. He just made it worth the reprimand she was sure she is getting later from her boss.
"Bye." Said mostly to himself though he knew she wouldn’t hear this. As he walked over to his own car, a sunny disposition replaced his previous sullen mood at the thought that he might just about look forward to his mornings again.
Disclaimer: The author is by no means affiliated to the factual people, institutions, companies mentioned or used for purposes of this fiction. She does however own the plot and the original characters. Plagiarism is illegal.
TRACK TWO
Always on My Mind
I'm told that I'm a victim of obsession
That's what my friends say
Oh, I'm a fool for having ever let her tempt me
Glance at the clock next to the bed, and you see that it is 2 a.m. Try to get comfortable. Deny to yourself that you are unable to sleep because you have too much on your mind. Do not under any circumstances leave the guestroom to seek him out. Remember that you have a fiancé and that you do love him. Also, keep in mind that he's his friend and what you are thinking of falls under the category of worst betrayal. Bite down the pangs of guilt, because you are here in his house and that in a way you are cheating. No you did not sleep with him, nor did you give in to the temptation of even just kissing him. But isn't emotional attachment just as bad as the actual physical aspect of cheating on someone?
Put your phone down. Any calls made at this hour would likely merit discussions you do not want to delve into this early into the day. Decide to wait until a more decent hour, probably when you've made-up your mind over the matter, to call him. You have after all resolved to think matters through. Do not act on impulse and resist the urge to even have alcohol in order to ease your anxiety. You do not need an excuse to give in to your curiosity, or worse, unearth thoughts and feelings you've kept at bay.
Again you shift in the bed, and wonder why resting on one which is better than your own cannot conjure sleep.
Hear him enter the room and know that it's your cue to feign sleep once more. Ignore him, calling out to you, trying to gauge if you really are asleep. Will your breathing to even out. Do not give him the slightest clue that you are awake. Dare not move a muscle as he sits next to you, looking at the wall opposite himself. Command your pulse not to quicken when you feel his fingers, lightly treading through your hair -- fingers barely there, yet enough to spread that dreaded warmth through your body.
Above all things, do not listen to him when he says that one sentence that's enough to throw you head first into oblivion, completely unsure of yourself, your feelings about him and his friend -- your fiancé.
"I love you, Kayla."
Fight back the urge to cry as soon as you feel his lips graze your temple. Do not let even a single tear escape until you hear the door close behind him as he leaves. And when you do break into sobs, it is only when you are sure that you are once again alone in the room.
Decide to leave early, in a few hours at the most. Do your best not to see him or let him know you've been crying. It would just open up questions you do not want to delve into, and put you down a road you're not ready, nor willing to take. No matter what, you cannot forget that you are meeting your fiancé afterwards and that you are going to talk about your future with him.
Crying yourself to sleep, you realize that no matter who you pick someone you love will end up getting hurt.
“Just call her already.”
“No can do. That’s against the rules.”
Trace Ayala scoffs at his best friend’s response, shaking his head in disappointment as he goes through the racks of clothing inside his office. “I’m telling you man, if this girl is anything like you’ve described her to be, she’s not staying available for too long. Pretty soon you’ve missed out on your chance... Then you’ll be your miserable self... Whining to me about how I didn’t warn you that this would happen.” He says in between cross-checking the catalogue and the samples.
The other man in the room simply chuckles at this, leaning back on the table he planted himself on earlier. He had come to Trace in order to brag about his restraint in being able to withstand not contacting her. He was not entirely sure why he had gone a few of days without contacting her but it happened. After arriving at the meeting, all thoughts were refocused to work and he became complacent over the fact she was interested in him. Though he reciprocated the feeling, he lacked the drive to pursue her. Based on his experience, a woman was more than willing to wait a while for him to get back to them and he was sure that she is no exception. Hence, he took a lax attitude towards his courtship of her.
"I don't know. It feels as though I have this in the bag already." Justin muses as he played with the items on his friend's desk. "Besides, if she wants me bad enough, she knows how to reach me." He then slides off of the table and trots over to where his friend is standing. "In fact, I'm willing to bet she'll call me before this week is over before I even lift a finger to send her a message or dial her number."
"You're fucking insane man." Trace replies, moving away from Justin. He knows where this is headed but he had not the patience to indulge him. He's seen this before and he knows better than to provoke him. "Call, bang 'er, leave like you always do. Since when did you start denying yourself pussy that you wanted anyway?"
Justin pauses, wondering whether to share what he's really feeling with him. He sighs already knowing he'll be on his ass about this if he when does. However, he was not really one to keep things from him no matter what unwanted things he'll hear from him later on. "She's different." He says to Trace as he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down on his sneakers as they shuffle over the varnished floor.
"All the more reason to call her dipshit!" Trace returns from where he's standing, not looking at his friend. "What the hell have you been sitting on your ass for if you're looking for more than getting laid?"
"I just wanted to be sure where I wanted to take this before I do anything." Justin says, his words edged with bitterness.
Upon hearing this, Trace finally puts aside the catalogue and looks at him. "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened between you and Jess."
"I'm not." He mutters, moving to sit on the couch, unable to meet his friend's eyes.
"She knew that you weren't ready to commit and she kept forcing to do something you didn't want to do. Weren't you the one who told me you didn't want to get married for the sake of just tying the knot and if you did push through with the wedding, chances are you'd end up being divorced?" Trace continues, his gaze unwavering, knowing his friend needed to hear this.
"I did say that."
"So what's the problem then? You two were obviously at that point in a relationship where either you stayed together or you don't. It happens dude. Just let it go and move on."
"I know." Justin sighs again, burying his head in his hands, willing his guilt in the matter to subside. The last he heard or saw of her was with some other guy. Though he was the one to initiate the break-up it stung to see her, the morning period clearly over. He had no regrets over his decision and he was genuinely happy that she's moving on. He just wished the feelings of guilt would have been gone by now.
"One proper date isn't going to kill you, J."
He looks up at this and finds that Trace has gone back to the work at hand. "Okay, I think I got the point a while back." He quips chucking a crumpled piece of paper towards his friend.
"Good. Now that's settled, would you stop your bitchin' and start helping me here?"
For once he is early. He figures that if they started sooner, he could get out earlier. Tonight is D-Day and he had a lot to do in order to prepare for it. He could only hope that he wouldn't be detained longer than necessary, but that's only if JC would let him. Having worked with him for years, Justin has adapted to his former band mate’s work ethics and knew how his friend went about recordng. Justin may consider himself a perfectionist but that pales in comparison to how JC handled things. This in mind, he resolves to resort to groveling and to begging if that's what it takes to be let out before five. And if all else fails, there's the fallback bribe of promising to work extra hours during the next couple of days.
Now if only said slave driver would arrive.
Not one to disappoint, JC enters the studio on cue, talking to someone on his phone. He gestures his greeting to everyone in the room before walking over to where Justin is messing with knobs on the soundboard. When his friend hands him a cup of coffee, he only raises an eyebrow in question, immediately feeling that something's up. The suspicion mounts when he gets "You're welcome" that’s topped with a smirk he knows all too well. He soon bids goodbye to the person on the other end of the line before turning his attention to the younger man.
“Who was that?” Justin asks, watching as JC ends the conversation, internally deliberating how best to breech the subject of ending early. His thoughts are derailed upon seeing that his friend does not answer but instead wears a silly grin on his face. His mouth gapes slightly in understanding before switching to a teasing mood. “Was that a girl?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs at his friend's weak attempt at evading the topic and presses him further. "When did the two of you hook up?"
"Just recenty." JC finally concedes, knowing that Justin won't stop until he's got what he wanted. "We were introduced by a mutual friend at a party. We just had our second date last night." He gushes, unable to stop himself from feeling ecstatic over his girl.
"This sounds serious."
"It is."
With this, Justin immediately knows that his friend could be falling for this girl. He feels happy for him, thinking to himself that he of all people deserved to be happy. " When do I get to meet her then?" He questions, originally meaning it as a joke.
"Funny you mentioned that. She's actually dropping by later so we can have lunch since I suggested that she listen to our work. You can join us if you want." JC offers as he instructs the technician to play the initial track Justin had laid out.
For some reason, Justin feels slightly hesitant about this suggestion. Though he genuinely wants to get to know the girl who has won his friend's affection, he did not expect it to be so soon. He is not too big on having strangers listen to his work before it was finalized and although this chick is his friend's girl, he cannot be held accountable for an irritable nature later. Giving it a thought, he realizes that he could use it to his advantage. "Sure, if you guys don't mind," a nod accompanying his agreeing to it. He silently vows to kissing as if it would mean that she could get his friend to comply to his request.
As these things go, the morning was soon over and pretty soon it was time for lunch. The rest of the crew had left the studio for the scheduled break while the two friends stayed behind to wait for JC's date to arrive. In the middle of reviewing what progress they made, the opening chords to Sting's "Fragile" interrupts and filters through the song's melody. Justin then immediately cuts the music, watching JC as he reads the name of the caller. "That's her." He states as he stands up and proceeds to exit the studio. Justin follows suit and the two walk towards the entrance.
In the middle of debating which restaurant they should head to, Justin notices a familiar looking Porsche parked there and he slows his pace. Immediately, a sinking feeling overwhelms him. His friend however does not notice this as he is too busy hurrying over to the car, where the driver is just about to get out. Justin stops completely when gets a good look at the woman, and all too soon, the crushed emotion he previously felt is replaced with that of anger and rage. He feels his temper continue to rise when he sees the two of them kiss and he resorts to glaring at them from where he's standing.
When the two part, JC notes that his friend is a good distance away from them and a not-too-happy expression etched in his features. Utterly confused, he misses the shocked look that register's on his girl's face. Unfortunately for both her and Justin, JC motions for him to come over and knowing he had no choice on the matter he stomps over to the pair, determined to make evident his displeasure. He doesn't greet her once he's next to them as his focus is on his friend's hand comfortably resting on her waist.
It is at this point that JC notices the the obvious tension between them. Not one to opt for a loud and direct approach, he opts to attempt to salvage the disastrous first meeting between them. "J, I want you to meet Kayla. Kayla, this is Justin."
"Nice to meet you." She says, offering him a smile as extends a hand out to him.
The gesture is rejected however when he scoffs in reply, giving her a pointed look. And instead of a cordial greeting and the expected small talk he says, "Hey man, I forgot about this thing Trace wanted me to check on. I think I might have to bail on lunch."
"Okay..." JC responds a little uncertain, but knowing that now was not the time to probe either. "I'll see you back at two though?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever." He mutters turning away from them, leaving one completely bewildered at what had just transpired and the other feigning innocence whilst coming to terms with her guilt. Justin knows that what he did was downright rude, but like he earlier thought, he cannot be held accountable for his actions when faced with a manipulative, gold-digging bitch like Kayla Lee.
