How many times can I break till I shatter?  

Give me a break; let me make my own pattern.  

All that it takes is some time but I'm shattered

There are moments in life that are forever burned into your memory.  Things you will never forget.  Your first kiss.  Where you were on September 11th.  The death of a loved one.  Graduation.  Receiving a longed for and very special gift.  A rejection letter. As I sat staring at the paper in my hand I knew this would be a moment I never forgot.  Everything I'd spend my whole life working toward had just been savagely ripped from my hands with no warning. The air had been knocked from my lungs and my mind scrambled to come up with an explanation.  I had put everything on the line to move here for this opportunity.  I'd spent the last four months searching for, and finally finding, an apartment I could afford.  I'd sold everything that wouldn't fit into my old, beat up, green Honda, and then made the cross-country trip to start living my dream.

Ever since I can remember, I knew music was my calling.  Like those kids in elementary school who knew they wanted to be teachers, doctors, or firefighters and then became those things, I knew music would be my life.  I also knew I wouldn't be in the spotlight.  That's not for me.  I'm not a performer.  Behind the scenes is where I belong.

Going against my parents' wishes I majored in marketing.  Being the only child of two very successful and high-profile corporate lawyers meant there were expectations I wasn't living up to.  Disappointing my parents had always been a difficult thing for me, but one that I couldn't seem to stop doing.  I thought this was finally going to be my chance to prove that this wasn't a foolish dream.  I thought this was my chance to show them I could be successful.  

Having to admit that it had been a mistake to move out here left a bitter taste in my mouth.  I felt like I was going to throw up.

Crumpling up the rejection letter, the words typed on the cream paper echoed through my head as hot, disappointed tears began to fall.

You need more experience...we decided to go with someone else...not a good fit...

I didn't understand.

Things had been going so well--falling into place so easily.  As if God himself were orchestrating it all.  The phone interview I'd had had gone great and the experience they were now telling me I lacked had never been brought up or even discussed.  How was I supposed to get experience when every opportunity was denied me?  I hadn't deluded myself.  I had known this internship wasn't going to be exactly what I wanted, but it was going to be my foot in the door.  I knew I was probably going to be a gopher the majority of the time--fetching coffee and doing grunt work--but it was going to be a great opportunity to learn and being to make contacts.

What was I going to do now?

Moving here had almost completely wiped out my savings.  The internship had come with a stipend.  It was small but, with what I had left in the bank, I had figured I would be okay.  I wasn't going to be living the high life by any means, but I wasn't going to starve either.  Now, I didn't know now how I was even going to afford Raman.  

With no other income, my savings would be depleted in a couple months.  I knew I could call my parents, but everything inside me balked at that thought.  Calling home would be admitting defeat.  My mother would tell me, "I told you so," and my dad would insist I move back home.  I couldn't do it.  Not when I was so close!  I was in L.A now.  Moving back to Retirementville, Florida would be tantamount to giving up.  I knew if I went home that would be the end of my dream.  I was twenty-seven.  I had to do this.  I was staying until I either found another job or starved to death.  Drawing on every ounce of faith I possessed, I pulled back my shoulders and wiped the tears from my face.  God had helped me get this far.  Yes, He had just closed a door on me, but somewhere there was a window that was open.  

I just had to find it.     

You know it's all the same, another time and place.  

Repeating history and you're getting sick of it...

Can you feel it now?  These walls that they put up

To hold us back will fall down.

                      
Six months later

                      

"Good morning!  Welcome to Starbucks.  What can we make for you?"
                      

I forced a smile as I repeated the greeting and adjusted my headset.  I took the drive-thru order and asked them to pull forward.  I input the information into the register and looked around as I greeted the next car in line.  Working the window wasn't my favorite part of this job, but I tried to remind myself to be grateful that I had a job.  I went through the motions of taking orders, accepting payments, and sending customers on their merry way with their beverage of choice on autopilot.  
                      

Thinking (naively at the time) that I would be able to find another internship or job where I could use my passion for music and the education I'd spent the last five years earning, I had applied for a part-time position here.  My search for a marketing position was continuing to prove futile, and my part-time job had soon become full-time out of necessity.  My dream was proving to be continually evasive.  
                       

I had quickly moved into an assistant manager position and my paycheck helped me stay afloat.  Working here allowed me to indulge my coffee addiction without breaking my budget and the free wi-fi let me continue to search and apply for positions during my breaks and after my shift.  My position also helped give me an excuse to not go home for the holidays.  It was hard--being alone for Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time--but it was easier to lie to my parents from across the country then face to face.  They were still under the impression that my internship hadn't fallen through.  When they asked me how it was going I told them things were great!  I told them I had moved up to a better position, but was still in charge of the coffee.  Both things were obviously true, just not about the situation they thought...
                      

I prayed for forgiveness after every phone call with my parents, but I think God understands.  
                      

At least I hope He does.
                      

I went through the rest of the morning shift, trying to keep the nervousness from taking over.  I had an interview this afternoon.  The first one in a while and I was trying not to freak out.  It was an assistant position at an ad company downtown.  It had nothing to do with music but, at this point, I didn't care.  Anything other than caramel macchiatos, iced lattes, and white chocolate mochas at this point would be better than nothing.  If I got this position maybe I wouldn't feel like my whole life had been a waste.  What was the point of working my butt off to graduate cum laud when no one was willing to give me a chance to put my hard-earned knowledge to work?  I knew there were probably hundreds of applicants trying for this position, so I had stayed up all night tweaking my resume, working out my answers to all the typical questions, and picking the prefect outfit.  I wanted this.  I needed this.  Please God, let me get it.
                      

At two o'clock, I handed the restaurant over to the manager, took off my black apron, and hurried out to my car.  I had just enough time to get home, take a quick shower, change, and then drive across town for my appointment.  Everything ran according to schedule and, as I gave my name to the receptionist, I breathed a prayer of thanks for no snarl-ups on the freeway as I sat down to wait.  I anxiously tapped my toes inside my Steve Madden pumps, and adjusted my black pencil skirt.  My blue eyes darted around the lobby while I kept a small smile on my face--trying not to let my nerves show.  My stomach growled and I placed a hand over it, hoping no one had heard.  In order to make it on time I hadn't had time to eat.  I promised my stomach food as soon as the interview was over.  I saw a few others sitting in the lobby.  Each one dressed like me and each had the same forced expression of cool confidence on their faces.  We all knew what we were there for and so we avoided making eye contact for very long.  Or striking up any conversation.  We were all competing for the same position and were thus considered the enemy.  Obviously, the interviews were running behind schedule since there were so many of us waiting.  I tried not to get frustrated.  If I had known, I would have stopped for a quick burger or something.  I hoped my stomach would stay quiet until this was over.

I watched and waited while everyone else in the lobby was called back.  Apparently I was the last one scheduled for the day.  That was either good, or bad.  The interviewer had either already made up his or her mind about who they wanted to hire and were just going through the motions to appease HR, or I had the opportunity to completely blow them away and make one last big impression on them before the decision was made--and hope they would pick me, since I was the last one on their mind.  

"Lauren Michaels?"

My heart jumped into my throat as my name was called.  I looked up at the middle-aged man with dark hair who was holding a piece of paper.  I stood and smiled as I began walking toward him.  

"Ms. Michaels." He said, stretching his hand out.  I took it firmly and confidently.  "Nice to meet you.  I'm Jordan Walker." He smiled warmly.  "Follow me."  His friendly grey eyes calmed my nerves slightly.  

I walked a step behind Mr. Walker as he led me through a maze of hallways, offices, and conference rooms.  Finally, he opened the door to his office and held it for me as I stepped inside.  He indicated a chair for me to sit in, then sat down himself behind a large desk.  My eyes flicked over the room, surprised at how homey and comfortable I felt in it.  I wondered if Mr. Walker had had an interior designer decorate the room with its warm browns, rich blues, and creamy ivories.  In my experience, guys weren't usually this good when it came to decorating.  As my eyes turned back to the man in front of me I caught the glint of a gold band on his left ring finger and smiled.  Not an interior designer.  A wife.  

I don't know why, but knowing Mr. Walker was married made me like him a little bit more.  I knew wearing a ring didn't really mean much these days, but it was a step in the right direction and, if the multiple family pictures sitting in frames on his desk were any indication, Jordan Walker was one of the few who value family and marriage.

"Your resume says you've been working at Starbucks for the last six months." He began.  His eyes looked over the papers in front of him then back up at me.

"Yes, sir." I nodded.

"That's not really in the ad business." He remarked.

"Yes.  I know."

He looked at me for a moment then leaned back in his large overstuffed chair.  "Tell me why you think I should hire you."

This was it.

Could I sell myself?  I had one chance to market myself to a marketing genius.  Here went nothing.  

I launched into my pitch, telling him everything I'd done in school, my passion, my determination and work ethic.  I described the ideas I had come up with and sent to Starbucks headquarters since I'd been there.  Of course, nothing had come of my ideas yet, but I hoped it showed I did have what it took to be in the ad business.  I presented him with copies of the recommendation letters a few of my professors and my current manager had written.  I answered every question he asked without hesitation.  I could see I was giving the right answers by the approval in his eyes.  I tried not to let my confidence get the better of me, though.  I'd been in this position before.  I'd "aced" numerous interviews only to receive that dreaded call, email, or letter saying the position had been filled.  

"Bottom line, Mr. Walker," I said, closing my argument.  "I really want this.  I know you have hundreds of applicants to consider and there are probably many who are more qualified than I am, but I can promise you, no one will work harder than I will.  If you give me a chance, I won't let you down."  

"This isn't a glamorous position, Ms. Michaels." He replied.

"I know, sir."

"It will be long hours, and I have to warn you I'm not the easiest person to be around when I'm working under a deadline."

"I understand."

Mr. Walker sat, looking at me for a moment.  I could see him mentally pitting me against the other applicants he'd seen today.  I prayed I'd made a good enough impression.  Finally, he leaned forward and stood.  "Thank you for your time, Ms. Michaels." He said, indicating the end of the interview.  I stood, gathering my purse and the notebook I had brought with me.  "I will be making my decision by close of business tomorrow.  We have a big campaign starting up in two weeks and I need whoever I hire to be able to hit the ground running."

"Of course." I nodded.  "I understand."

He held out his hand as he walked around his desk.  I shook i and smiled.  "Thank you, Mr. Walker.  I look forward to hearing from you."

He opened his office door, directed me how to get back to the lobby, and I left--hoping and praying this was the open window I had spent the last six months looking for.  It wasn't in the music business, but at least it was a step forward.  And who knew?  Maybe the big campaign Mr. Walker was starting would be really interesting and fun.  If nothing else, I knew this opportunity would help me get where I wanted to go.  

As I drove home, I made sure my phone's ringer was on and turned it up.  I wasn't going to take a chance at missing Mr. Walker's call.  

Please let him call.

A twist of fate makes life worthwhile,

you are gold and silver

I said I wasn't going to lose my head,

but then pop! goes my heart.

As I drove back across town toward my apartment, my stomach loudly reminded me of my promise to feed it.  Luckily I had a long time to decide what I wanted to eat.  I groaned as I came up to a wall of brake lights on the 101.  My car came to a stop and I slipped my feet out of my heels.  It looked like I was going to be here for a while.  As traffic crawled forward, I considered trying to exit and try my luck with the surface streets, but eventually gave up when no one would let me over.  California traffic was legendary and I had quickly learned, upon moving here, that if I were going to survive, I was going to have to learn patience.  I flipped through radio stations until I found one not on commercial break and turned it up as a song I liked came on.  Heedless of the other cars around me, I began to sing along.  

Finally, almost an hour later, I was at my exit and able to leave the mess that was the 101.  As I drove toward home, I pulled into the parking lot of my favorite grocery store.  I had debated with myself whether to stop and get something for dinner, or to just make due with what I had at home.  Making a promise to myself not to buy anything unless it was on sale, I decided to stop and see if something caught my eye.  Plus, I was out of wine and, after stressing all day about my interview, I was going to need a glass when I got home.  

Slipping my feet back into my heels, I grabbed my purse and made my way inside.  I grabbed a basket-knowing it was a lot less likely I would buy a lot if I only had a basket instead of a cart-and began to wander the store.  I know it's bad to just wander-especially when you're hungry-but I didn't really know what I was in the mood for.  I picked up a few basics: a loaf of bread, a couple apples, peanut butter, and some whole wheat pasta.  I stopped at the bakery for a few moments, deliberating whether or not to buy a cupcake.  The decision was quickly made when I noticed they had one red velvet cupcake left.  Aside from coffee and wine, cupcakes are one of my biggest weaknesses.  It was a wonder I didn't weigh three hundred pounds!  I'd never been a huge gym rat and I knew my eating habits left a lot to be desired most of the time.  I really needed to start being more conscious of what I ate.

After I finished this cupcake.

Nothing else caught my eye as I began making my way over to the wine section.  "Wine and a cupcake for dinner it is." I declared under my breath.  

Reaching for the bottle of Souvion Vouvray I'd had my taste buds set on all day, I was startled when my fingers met those of someone else.  "I'm sorry." I apologized as I pulled back quickly.  

"Go for it." A masculine chuckle met my ears.  

I looked up and felt my jaw drop.  

When I decided to move to L.A., I told myself I would remain cool, calm, and collected if and when I ever ran into someone famous.  Up until now I'd been able to follow my directive because, up until now, I hadn't seen or run into anyone.  

Six months.

Six months of living in the stars' backyard and he is the first celebrity I have a run-in with?   In the grocery store??

I was aware I was standing there, looking like a complete idiot, as I continued to start at him.  My mouth was still open in surprise but my brain had quit working and I couldn't close it.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't blink.  I couldn't breathe.  The man I have been in love with for longer than I can remember was standing a foot away from me.  The man I had fantasized about almost my entire life had touched me!  My fingers still burned from our brief contact.  It was a miracle I was still in an upright position.  

He looked amazing and I was supremely glad I had come shopping still dressed up from m interview instead of in my usual grocery shopping attire.  It was hard to make a good impression on the man you've been referring to as "the man I'm going to marry" since you were fifteen, when you were wearing sweats and a t-shirt.  I watched his blue eyes flick quickly over me and felt a small thrill at the approval I read there when they returned to mine.  The brief moment his eyes had left mine allowed me to break the spell.  I closed my mouth, and gave myself a mental slap.  

This was my chance.  

Since the day I had taken notice of this man, when we were both just children, I have been waiting and praying for this moment.  I was never going to get another chance at making a good first impression.  So far, all I'd done was stare at him like a trout with my mouth hanging open.  Time to show him why we were destined to be together.  

"I'm sorry." I put on my best smile.  "I don't usually stare so rudely at men I run into at the grocery story."

"Just women, then?" His lips twitched as if he were holding back a smile.

"No." I couldn't help laughing.  "I try not to stare at anyone.  You just caught me off guard."

"You did seem to be in your own world." He replied.  I felt my brows pull down slightly in confusion at his remark.  "I saw you over there." He gestured with his chin back behind me.  I turned briefly to look over my shoulder at the bakery counter.  "Apparently," he continued.  "Choosing that cupcake was a matter of life or death." He chuckled.

My heart skipped at the familiar sound of his laugh even as heat stole across my face.  The fact that he'd seen me--that he'd taken notice of me--made me want to squeal like a teenie at a Justin Bieber concert.  I laughed nervously.  

"It's...it's been a long day." I explained.

"Hey," he shrugged and shook his head.  "You don't need to explain anything to me.  I'm just glad to see there's at least one girl left who's not afraid of a little sugar and some carbs." He winked at me.  

He winked at me!

Why was I not a puddle on the floor?

"Life's too short," I replied.  "To not enjoy the good stuff."

"Amen." His blue eyes sparkled appreciatively.  

"I see that you know at least some of that good stuff." I said as I reached to finally pick up the bottle of wine I had originally been after.  I held it up to him.

"It's one of my favorites." He nodded.  "And obviously yours, too."

I nodded and smiled as I placed the bottle in my basket.  An awkward silence fell then between us.  You know the one: you don't want the conversation to end, but you can't for the life of you think of something else to say.  In desperation I reached into my purse for a pen.  After he placed a bottle of wine in his own basket, I stepped toward him and took his hand.  Pushing through the butterflies swarming my from inside and the goosebumps engulfing me from the outside, I turned his hand over and began to write.  

What was I doing?

His skin was warm and my fingers wanted nothing more than to slide between his own--to test what I had always suspected.  That we were a perfect fit.  

What was I doing?

I swallowed back the sudden moisture that filled my mouth as the heady scent of his musky cologne or aftershave surrounded me.  

What was I doing?

"If you ever want someone to share a glass with," I said, glancing up at him as I finished writing my number on his palm.  "Give me a call."

Before I could regret my impulsive behavior I put the cap back on my pen, slipped in into my purse, and walked away.  

What the hell did I just do?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I watched as she walked away.  

My hand remained held out--in the position she'd left it in--as she disappeared around the end of the aisle.  Much like she had been frozen when I spoke to her, I was frozen at her parting words.  I looked down at the numbers scrawled across my palm.  She had balls, I had to give her that.  I felt a smile tugging at my lips.  Giving into it, I grinned like a fool as I forced myself to move.  

You would think I'd be used to beautiful women throwing themselves at me.  

I wasn't sure what it was about her that had grabbed my attention, but something had.  I had hoped she hadn't noticed me following her--discretely--but, like I'd told her, I knew she had been distracted.  I had started tailing her from the produce section, but she hadn't really been paying attention to her surroundings while she shopped.  I had wanted to ask her what was bothering her.  Arranging a "meeting" in the wine aisle had been an opportunity I couldn't pass up.  

It had been longer than I cared to admit since I had felt this sudden interest in a girl.  

Since the whole blow up and media frenzy surrounding the relationship I'd been in the last four years, the engagement (which had never been publicly confirmed, and which I was still trying to figure out who had leaned the information about), to her then publicly dumping me last month and quickly moving on, I had been living in my own personal hell.  But no one knew.  

Why?  Because I put on one hell of a show.  It was what I did.  It was who I was and what I'd done my whole life.  I was a performer.  I was currently giving the biggest performance of my life and I was exhausted.  No one knew how much work it took to look so carefree and unaffected by everything that had happened.  I played it up.  I was single and living the life: parties, clubs, movie premiers, and always arriving by myself.  I was careful to never spend any significant amount of time with any one girl to avoid the gossip and speculation.  I was young and free.  Why would I tie myself down in another relationship so soon?

I looked down at the number written on my palm.  I could still feel the warmth of her fingers as they'd wrapped around my wrist while she'd stepped up next to me.  The exotic scent of her perfume had made my mouth water and I had involuntarily close my eyes as I had inhaled.  I missed it.  I missed the smell and feel of a beautiful woman in my arms.  My body had reacted quickly, and almost painfully, to the curvy blond who had caught my eye.  It reminded me of what I had been missing.  Her offer seduced me--called out to the lonely corner of my soul.  I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to resist.  

Why did I want to resist?

I questioned myself as I paid for my groceries and left.  She was hot and obviously into me.  They were all into me, I thought with a roll of my eyes.  Jess, I had thought, was different.  We'd been together so long and, even though I knew I hadn't treated her the way I should the whole time--we had been good together.  But, just like all the others, she was quick to leave when a better offer came along.  What was better than marrying me?

I knew it was an arrogant thought, but really?  There weren't that many guys out there who were doing as good as I was.  I could retire tomorrow to some remote, exotic location, and still die with billions left over.  

I sighed as I slid behind the wheel of my Audi.  Slumping down in the seat I started the car and looked at the phone number on my palm again.  My mind flashed through the scenario of calling her.  She would come over.  We would have a glass or two of wine.  I would turn on the charm and she'd fall for it like they all did.  I would slake my body's hunger by losing myself in her curves then send her on her merry way with bragging rights.  She could say she'd slept with one of the biggest stars in the world, and I would go back to my sad, lonely, pathetic existence.  

She didn't deserve that.

She didn't deserve to be treated like a whore.  Yes, I had used women like that in the past.  I wasn't proud of it and I knew the devil was keeping a seat warm for me in hell for it.  I knew I didn't even know the girl, but my my mama raised me better than that and she would tan my hide if she knew the path my thoughts had just taken.  

With my mind set, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home.  I wasn't going to call.  I knew where it would lead and, no matter my body's craving, I was going to resist.  That had been the final breaking point between me and Jess: my inability to deny my cravings.  

"You can't help it!" She exclaimed angrily, tears filling her eyes.  "It's just who you are.  You'll never stop.  You'll never stop and you can't say no and I can't do it anymore."

It was the pitfall of my chosen career.  A lifetime of being catered to, never being told no.  It was a habit that had become so ingrained it was almost impossible to break.  It was hard to ignore the siren call of instant gratification.  

But I was determined to prove her wrong.  

I could say no.  I could show her, and everyone else who didn't believe me, that I did, in fact, have self-control.  This blond, tempting as she was, was just that-a temptation.  I would never see her again.  I would was her number off as soon as I got home and everything would continue on as normal.

Self-control: 1

Temptation: 0

I just keep going round and round

And round in circles, keep on tumbling down

I couldn't sleep.

For the past six hours I had been replaying that encounter I'd had at the grocery story.  Varying degrees of astonishment, horror, and anxiety had been plaguing me since I'd left him standing there with my phone number hastily written on his hand.  I mean, who did that?  Who wrote their phone number on the hand of the celebrity they've been in love with half their life?  Me.  That's who. 

I still couldn't believe I'd done it.  It was like somebody else had possessed my body in those few moments and forced me to do something I would never had done otherwise.  I was amazed at my brazen attitude.  I was horrified of what he thought of me for doing it, and I was so nervous I hadn't even been able to eat that damn cupcake for fear that he would actually call me.  What was I going to say?  How in the world do you come back from something like that?  Would we just laugh it off, or had I forever ruined whatever chance I might have had with him?

I groaned as I finally flung my covers back and got out of bed.  I knew I wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight.  The one good thing about the evening's events: I was no longer stressed about how my interview had gone.  I made my way down the hall to the kitchen.  Making myself a cup of chamomile tea I opened the sliding down out to my third floor balcony and slipped outside.  I sat down in the low, wicker chair I kept out there, pulled my feet up beneath me, and closed my eyes.  Lifting the mug in my hands, I inhaled slowly letting the fragrant steam calm my senses as the sounds of the city surrounding me filled my ears.  I took a sip of the warm liquid and opened my eyes.  The lights of downtown twinkled.  It was a sight I had fallen in love with my first night here. 

I let my mind and body relax as I continued to sip my tea and just enjoyed the moment.  I found myself offering up a prayer, asking for some guidance.  Was I doing the right thing?  Was this truly where I was supposed to be, or was I just being stubborn and prideful?  Maybe I just needed to admit defeat and go home. 

I sat, holding my tea mug with both hands close to my face and staring out into the night.  I hoped Mr. Walker called me tomorrow.  I was afraid of what it would mean if he didn't.  I felt like this was my last chance.  All my hopes were resting on this job. 

Maybe Justin could give me a job.

I laughed out loud at the ridiculous thought.  Why in the world would Justin Timberlake want to give a crazy fan, who had attacked him at the grocery store, a job?  I set my mug down on the small table beside my chair and scrubbed my hands over my face.  Forget about him.  I told myself.  If he were going to call me, he would have done it by now.  You had your chance.  Obviously we weren't perfect for each other, or he wouldn't have wasted any time taking me up on my offer.  He was probably enjoying that bottle of wine with someone else right now. 

I groaned at the thought of another woman sharing "our" bottle of wine with him. 

That run-in we'd had was not helping the crazy attraction I'd always had for the guy.  The fantasies I'd harbored since junior high suddenly took on a life of their own.  It was one thing to dream about someone you'd never met, and knew you probably never would.  It was quite another when you did meet him and he turned out to be just as irresistibly delicious as you always knew he would be.

I groaned and drug myself up, out of the chair, and back inside.  I had to try and force all these thoughts from my head and get some sleep.  Four am was going to be here before I knew it and I would be having to get up for my morning shift.  Somehow I had to just let everything go.  There was nothing I could do about either situation I was currently stressing out about.  They were both over and done with.  I couldn't take anything back.  I just had to live with the consequences either way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will never believe who just came through the drive-thru!"

I groaned as April, one of the barristas I worked with exclaimed as I drug myself into the store the next morning.  My plans to put my thoughts and stress aside and get some sleep didn't work.  I tossed and turned until my alarm went off forty-five minutes ago.  It was going to be a long day. 

"Who?" I asked, as I poured myself a cup of our house blend.  I took a sip, then closed my eyes and inhaled the steam hoping the caffeine kicked in quickly.

"JC Chazez." April squealed.  "You know, the guy from NSYNC?"

 You'll never guess who I ran into at the grocery store last night.  I thought. 

"I've been working here for two weeks, and this is my first star encounter!" April continued excitedly.  "I love him.  I can't believe I actually served him coffee!"

I struggled not to let my irritation with the girl show as she continued to gush about her encounter.  Don't get me wrong, I thought April was adorable, and we actually got along great, but her perky personality was just grating this morning after my sleepless night.  Plus, she was like eight when NSYNC was big.  JC was at least twenty years older than she was.  At least Justin and I were only separated by four.  I think, of the two of us, my celebrity dream was the most likely to come true. 

"That's awesome." I offered as I put on my apron and clocked in. 

"I know I'm being ridiculous." April admitted.  "I just can't get over it though."

"What are you going to do when you meet an actual star?" I mumbled under my breath.  Luckily April didn't hear me.  She was still too dazzled and I felt bad about dissing JC, but I mean, come on.  If April was freaking out over meeting JC, what would she do when someone came through the drive thru that was actually still in the spotlight? 

Like you have room to judge.  My conscience nagged.  She wouldn't have stood there like a babbling idiot and offer herself to the man like a slut.

I sighed as I took another sip of my coffee, put on the headset, took my spot at the window and forced a smile.  "Good morning!  Welcome to Starbucks.  What can we make for you?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Self-control sucks. 

There was a very good reason why I haven't practiced it for the last thirty-one years. 

My eyes strayed to the napkin on the counter beside me.  I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a swig of the water in it.  The numbers screamed up at me.  I couldn't figure it out.  Why was I so obsessed over this girl?  I mean, yeah, she was hot but I saw how girls every day.  Why was this one different?  What made her so special?

I had come home last night with every intention of washing her number off my hand.  I had my hand on the soap dispenser and everything, but when it came to the actual scrubbing, I couldn't do it.  I thought of those legs of hers and reached for a pen instead.  I copied the numbers down and there they sat. 

Staring at me. 

Taunting me. 

Every time I went to call her, though, all I could hear was Jessica's voice in my head.  Our last fight continued to echo in my head.  Her accusations didn't hurt because I knew they were true.  But I had never been able to resist a challenge.  When Jess had stated I'd never be able to say ‘no,' she'd unwittingly thrown down the gauntlet.

Immediately, my determination and resistance was being questioned.  I could see my ex in my mind's eye-the hurt, the anger, the disbelief when I declared hotly I would prove her wrong.  No one told me what I could and couldn't do.

My eyes wandered over to the ring laying on the counter beside the napkin.  I picked up the platinum band as I leaned back against the cupboards.  The five carat diamond winked at me as sunlight from an open window hit it.  A strange sense of....something fell over me.  I couldn't put my finger on the emotion I was feeling but I was suddenly very aware of how quiet my house was.  The silence was deafening. 

I had become accustomed to the sounds of having someone else around and was still having a hard time adjusting back to the solitude.  Jess and I had been together for four years-a lifetime in my line of work.  We'd had our ups and downs like any other couple, but I had honestly thought we'd be together forever.  It wasn't until she left-threw my ring back at me and stormed out the door-that I had begun to question things. 

I wasn't sure anymore if Jess and I had stayed together out of love or just because it had become a habit.  I told myself if I had really, truly loved her, I would have quit doing the things I know she hated-the drugs, the women, the parties.  Deep down, however, I wondered if I would be able to survive this self-imposed exile.  Was I truly capable of stopping?  Could I really change or was it too late?  Could I show Jess and the world another side of the pop phenomenon they all thought they knew, or was this it? 

Maybe this was just who I was and there was no changing it.  Maybe I should just accept I would be alone-forever incapable of having a girlfriend, a fiancé, a wife.  Maybe I was incapable of settling down, of changing and committing completely to one woman. 

I turned and tossed the ring back on the counter with a frustrated sigh.  It landed on the napkin with cupcake girl's number on it.  Maybe I should just give in and call her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

My phone rang as I was leaning work that afternoon.  My heart immediately leapt into my throat and I felt sick to my stomach.  The number showing wasn't one I knew and I debated answering.  It could be Mr. Walker offering me the job.  It could also be someone from the company calling to tell me the postion had been filled and not by me.  It could be Justin. 

Please don't let it be Justin, I found myself praying.  I wasn't ready for that phone call yet. 

It could just be a telemarketer or a wrong number. 

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and answered the phone.  "Hello?" I asked, forcing all nervousness from my voice and pasting a smile on my face. 

"Ms. Michaels?"  A masculine voice asked.

It wasn't Justin.  He didn't know my name.  I breathed a sigh of relief even as I felt a slight sting of disappointment.  

"Yes."

"Jordan Walker." He identified myself and I held my breath.

"Hell, Mr. Walker." I smiled, biting my bottom lip as I waited anxiously for the ax to fall.

"I'm calling to offer you a job."

I sank unsteadily into one of the chairs outside the store.  I laid my arm and head down onto a table and felt tears begin to fill my eyes.  Thank you.  I prayed in gratitude.   "Mr. Walker," I began, my voice thick with emotion.  I swallowed and cleared my voice.  "Thank you.  You don't know how much this means to me."

"Don't make me regret my choice, Ms. Michaels." He replied.  I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

"I won't, sir.  I promise."  I shook my head as I sat up and brushed the tears from my face.  He gave me my starting day and time to be at the office.  We discussed my salary and benefits briefly with the understanding I would get a further briefing from HR on my first day.  When I ended the call I jumped up and began dancing around excitedly.  I got more than a few looks from people walking by but I didn't care.  I finally had my job!

It's gonna be a better day

I think I'm gonna be okay...

I've been down so low, nowhere but up to go.

It's gonna be a better day

Two weeks later...      

            What I hadn't counted on when I embarked on this whole "mastering my urges" thing, were the withdrawal symptoms.  I admit, I didn't quit the pot right away because I didn't see how that was really hindering me, or contributing to my other poor choices.  Then, after I woke up one night after a night out at the clubs with two girls I didn't know or remember, I realized it was obviously a bigger contributor than I thought.  In order to do what I'd told Jess I would do, I had to quit everything. 

            I had sworn, to myself and everyone who harped on me for smoking, that I only did it recreationally.  I wasn't addicted.  I could stop whenever I wanted. 

            How many addicts said the same thing?

            Now I had to be honest with myself and it was brutal.  I had fallen into one of the other pitfalls of fame and was now having to claw my way out.  The relaxation and the heightening of my senses were feelings I had experienced my first time and each time the sensations amplified.  The best result from it, however, was my music.  Whenever I was high, the music just flowed from me.  Every note seemed to increase the euphoria I felt and I melted into it.  People would be surprised to learn just how many of those chart topping songs of mine they loved had been written and recorded while I was stoned.

            Or not.

            I would probably be the one surprised, to realize how many people knew about-or suspected-my drug use. 

            I growled and stood, shoving my hands into my short hair.  I began pacing.  I pulled at my hair.  This was crazy.  All I could think about was lighting up.  I tried to sit down and work on some music, but nothing sounded right.  Nothing felt right.  All I needed was just a small hit-just enough to get a buzz. 

            But I couldn't. 

            I wouldn't. 

            My appetite was gone.  I hadn't been able to sleep the last three days.  My head was pounding and every little thing seemed to bug the hell out of me.  I was irritable with everyone and no one wanted to be around me.  With another growl of frustration I grabbed my keys and left the house.  The walls felt like they were closing in on me.  I had to get out. 

            Slipping behind the wheel of my Audi, I tore down the drive way and out of my neighborhood.  I didn't know if it was really the best decision for me to be driving right now, but I had to do something to get my mind off what I couldn't have.  Why was it, you never thought about, or craved something until it was taken away and you knew you would never be able to have it again?  I could go weeks without lighting up, but right now....I would give anything just to be in the same room with someone who was.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Taking off my apron, I clocked out for the last time.  A felt a rush of nerves.  Was I doing the right thing?  What if I wasn't any good at marketing?  Getting all A's in school didn't mean I knew what I was doing.  Writing papers for my professor was entirely different than designing an actual honest-to-God marketing campaign.  Making coffee, I knew how to do.  I could make a Frappuccino better than anyone here.  Maybe I should just stay.  I could tell my manager that I'd changed my mind-or that the offer had fallen through.  This was a good job.  Yeah, the hours kind of sucked, but with the country's love of coffee there was no chance of Starbuck's going under.  I would have a job as long as I kept making the best damn coffee I could. 

            What am I doing?  I thought.  I was doing it again.  I was letting my fears get the better of me.  Why was it, whenever I made a decision and took a leap, I was immediately consumed with doubt?  I closed my eyes and prayed.  I needed strength.  I needed some reassurance.  Am I doing the right thing? 

            I waited, but nothing happened.  Deciding to take that as a good sign, I grabbed my purse and left.  If I was doing the wrong thing, God would tell me, right? 

            "See you tonight!" April said as I walked toward the front door.

            "See ya!"  I waved with a smile as I looked at her over my shoulder.  Pushing open the door I was startled as I ran into a man on his way in.  "I'm sorry!"  I said, trying to step out of his way.  I looked up and stopped dead in my tracks.  The scruffy bead and red knit cap made him look like a homeless man, but those electric blue eyes of his made everything inside me turn to jelly.  "Justin."

            "Cupcake girl!"  His face lit up in a knee-melting grin.  My heart skipped several breaths and I was finding it hard to breathe.  His eyes flicked over my shoulder.  "I see we have the same taste in coffee as we do in wine."

            I felt my lips lift into smile.  "I work here." I said.  "Or I did." I corrected myself.

            "Did you quit or get fired?" He questioned, neither of us moving from our spot in front of the door and neither of us caring.

            "I quit.  I...got another job.  Today was my last day here."

            "A better job?" He questioned.

            "Yes." I nodded, my smile widening.  I couldn't believe I was actually standing here having this conversation with this man.  Justin Timberlake.  Was I really standing outside Starbucks, talking to him like he was a normal person?  Where was the hyperventilating, screaming, quivering, crying, inner teenager that always gave me away when I met celebrities? 

            "Sounds like we need to celebrate, then." He exclaimed.

            "We?"

            "Have you had lunch yet?" He asked.

            "No..." I shook my head.  Was he seriously suggesting what I thought he was?

            "Then let's go!"

            Apparantly he was. 

            "Uhm...no..." I shook my head.  "It's okay.  Uhm...you don't--"

            "I'm starving." He explained.  "And I hate to eat alone."  His blue eyes pleaded with me and I was helpless to resist. 

            "O-okay."  I tucked some hair behind my ear.  "Where...where do you want to do?"

            He scrunched up his face for a moment and turned to look back behind him.  When he turned back to me there was a sparkle in his eyes that made me more than a little quivery inside.  I wanted to pinch myself-to make sure this was really happening-but I didn't.  I didn't want to find out that this was all just a dream.

            "Do you trust me?" He asked.

            "No." I laughed.  He looked instantly hurt.  "I don't know you!" I exclaimed, still laughing.

            "Everyone knows me." He replied.

            Wow.  Cocky much?  I thought.

            "Are you telling me, you don't know who I am?" He questioned.

            "Of course I know who you are." I said.  "I'm not an idiot.  What I meant was...I don't know you.  All I know is the image.  What if..." I shrugged and chuckled. 

            "What if?" He nudged.

            "What if...you're just..."  I paused, not really sure what I was afraid of.  That this was a joke?  "You know what?"  I shook my head, pushing the questions away.  "Nevermind." 

            He continued to watch me with questioning blue eyes. 

            "Let's go." I said with a smile.  If Mr. Sexyback wanted me to have lunch with him, who was I to tell him no?  Even if this all turned out to just be a dream, I was going to enjoy every second of it.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~

            I watched her from across the table-a small smile on my face.  I couldn't help it.  She was beautiful.  My eyes followed as she brought a forkful of the salad she'd ordered to her mouth and found myself envious of the fork for being able to touch her lips.  I wondered what they felt like then shook the thought away and looked down at my sandwich.  I still wasn't sure what had possessed me to do what I'd done and invite her to lunch.  All I knew was I didn't want to see her walk away from me again. 

            "This place is great!"

            I looked up at Lauren's exclamation.  We had finally introduced ourselves after she'd accepted my invitation.  It was nice to finally have a name to put with her face, but I was still partial to calling her "Cupcake Girl."  I watched as she looked around at the shopping center around us.  We'd chosen to eat outside on the patio-enjoying the beautiful Southern California weather.   The Farmer's Market had a lot of great shops and restaurants.  When she asked me where I wanted to go for lunch I immediately thought of this café.  Not only did they have great food, but I also had a sneaking suspicion that Lauren would love it here.  I wasn't sure what it was that told me that, but I smiled to see I was right.  Her green eyes sparkled happily as she continued to look around with a smile on her face. 

            "Yeah, it is." I acknowledged as I looked around briefly.  Mostly, I was on the lookout for the paps-I didn't want them to find us.  The quickest way to ruin a good day was to find a camera shoved in your face.  "I can't believe you've never been here.  How long have you lived here?"

            "Six months." She said, taking another bite.  "But I really haven't had a whole lot of time to explore."

            "That's a shame.  There are a lot of great places to go and things to do here."

            "How'd you find this place?" She asked.

            "Jess..." I paused as my heart gave a painful little kick.  Lauren gave me a sympathetic look.

            "Sorry." She apologized.  "I know how it feels."

            "You've been dumped by your fiancé before?" I asked, the words coming out with a little more bite than I expected. 

            "No." She shook her head.  "I've been through bad break ups, yes, but I haven't ever been engaged before."  She smiled apologetically and I felt bad for snapping at her.  "So tell me what other sights I've missed the last six months of living here." She said, trying to change the subject.  "What do I need to catch up on?"

            I told her about some of my favorite places and things to do in and around LA.  I laughed when she reached into her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen.  "What are you doing?"  I asked as she began writing.

            "Making a list." She grinned as she looked up at me then continued making a list.  "I definitely want to do that hike up Runyon Canyon you were talking about, and I need to go to Universal Studios and..."

            I tuned out as she continued talking.  I had caught a familiar odor waft over us as a group of teenagers walked past the patio.  The monster I thought had been tamed by lunch and conversation with a beautiful woman came roaring back to life.  My eyes sought out the one with the joint.  Finding him, I battled to stay where I was.  I watched the kid take a drag and felt myself mimicking the cadence of his breathing.  This was ridiculous.  I could almost feel the effects of the drug on my system.  One puff and I'd be able to calm the anxiety that had been taking me over the last couple days.  One hit and I'd be able to clear my head.  One hit and maybe I'd finally be able to sleep again. 

            "You're pathetic."

            Jess's voice came to mind, giving me a mental slap, and I clenched my hand into a fist on the table.  I closed my eyes-fighting to remain in control. 

            I don't know how long I sat there, trying to put my demon back in his cage but I startled when I felt a warm hand slide over mine.  My eyes popped open and met Lauren's.  I felt ashamed-more ashamed than all those times Jess had caught me actually smoking, or that one time my mother had caught me with that hooker.  I didn't want this girl to know what kind of man I really was.  She didn't know how true her statement had been about not knowing me.  Only one person beside me did.  And she had walked away. 

            "Are you okay?" She asked quietly. 

            "Yeah."  I lied.  I saw her eyes move over to the same group of kids I had been watching earlier.  I felt like crawling into a hole in the ground when I saw understanding dawn.    

            She knew.

            "How long have you been trying to quit?" She asked. 

            "Three days." I admitted, keeping my eyes on the table. 

            "They say the third day is always the hardest, no matter what habit you're trying to start or break."  Her fingers tightened slightly on mine and I looked over at where her hand was resting on top of mine.  We were both quiet for a few moments.  I wanted to know what she was thinking, but was afraid to ask.  I knew if it came out that she was disappointed in me I wouldn't be able to take it.  How did her opinion get to mean so much to me?  I barely knew her! 

            "Do you want to do something this afternoon that will take you mind off the cravings?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.  I looked up at her, curious.

            "Depends on what this ‘something' is." I grinned, feeling impish. 

            Her cheeks pinked slightly. "Not that." She shook her head.  "At least not yet."

            I laughed.  "I like you, Cupcake Girl."

            She smiled.  "I need to buy some more professional clothes for my new job." She said.  "I've never been really good at picking out what looks good on me.  I could use a second opinion.  You interested?"

            I couldn't help as my grin widened into a smile.  She wanted to spend more time with me, even after learning about one of my many, many flaws.  I signaled for the waiter.  "Let's go."

I know you see me watching you

And I see you watching me...

Temptation is callin'

I be wantin' you so bad I could cry

            I couldn't believe I had asked and he had said yes.  Was I really going clothes shopping with Justin Timberlake?  When had my life turned into a fan fiction story?  I laughed to myself as Justin paid for lunch and we left. 

            "Where do you want to go?" He asked as we left the patio.  He slipped his sunglasses on and looked over at me. 

            I looked around.  "I didn't really have a specific place in mind." I answered.   "Can we just wander around for a little bit?"  I was anxious to explore this new place and find out what other delightful secrets it possessed. 

            "Lead the way." Justin put his arm out. 

            Deciding to turn left, I began to walk.  Justin fell in step beside me and I felt a sense of giddiness bubble up inside me.  We window shopped for a little while, talking and laughing as if we had been friends our whole lives.  The fact that he was a world famous celebrity, and my nervousness being so close to the man I had been lusting after almost my whole life, slowly disappeared as I got to know him. 

            I smiled as I saw the tension that had had him completely seized up during lunch begin to relax.  I had been more than a little worried when his manner had changed so suddenly while we'd been eating.  At first I had thought he had suddenly come to his senses and regretted his decision to have lunch with me.  I wouldn't have blamed him in the least for finally walking up to the fact that I had no business being anywhere near him.  Then I had realized what was going on and sympathized with him. 

            Trying to break a habit or addiction was always rough.  I wanted to help if I could.  I hadn't really expected him to agree to go clothes shopping with me.  I had put out the offer, mostly as a joke-to get him laughing and his mind off his cravings.  He had jumped at the suggestion, though.  How could I tell him I had only been teasing? 

            After a few more moments, I was planning on making some excuse about having to go home then I'd stop by the mall on my way home.  As much fun as I was having with him, I hated clothes shopping alone.  There was no way I was really ready for the embarrassment and torture of trying on clothes with one of the hottest and well-known celebrities in the world. 

            "I think you should try that on."

            Justin's voice pulled me from my thoughts.  I looked around and saw he had stopped in front of one of the only clothes stores at the Farmer's Market.  I then looked at what he had seen.  I laughed. 

            "Not really work appropriate." I replied, eyeing the mannequin modeling the short shorts and low-cut sequined top. 

            "Depends on what it is you do for work." He countered with an impish grin and a mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes. 

            I shook my head.  "I'm a marketing major, Justin."  I told him.  "I'm going to be the assistant to a successful ad exec downtown.  I can't really show up Monday morning looking like a hoochie mama."

            "I don't know," he cocked his head to the side as he looked at the mannequin and then back at me.  "That outfit would inspire me, if I saw you in it.  Isn't that the goal of marketing?  Inspiration?"

               Again, I laughed.  "You're...no.  Just...no.  That outfit might work for the club tonight, but not for work."

            "What club tonight?" He looked at me in interest. 

            "Some of the girls at the coffee shop want to get together tonight for a farewell party." I explained.  "I'm meeting them at nine."

            "Well then," he said as he turned and we began walking again.  "we need to find you a club outfit and some ‘appropriate' work clothes.  Let's head over across the street," he pointed over at the bigger shopping area of The Grove.

            "Okay." I adjusted my purse on my shoulder and followed him across the street. 

            We spent the next couple hours going into several stores.  I found an adorable peach colored, knee-length dress, a couple classic button-down shirts, a new pair of slacks, and a beautiful purple floral faux-wrap top that was on clearance.  I felt great about my purchases and was about to insist that I had taken up too much of his day and needed to go home, when he pulled an article off a rack we passed and stopped. 

            He turned to me, holding it up and I shook my head. 

            "No."

            "Try it." He insisted, holding out the small scrap of animal-printed material.  "You said you needed a club outfit."  He reminded me.

            "No I didn't!" I laughed.  "You decided I needed a club outfit.  I don't.  I can wear something I already have.  I--"

            "Try it on." He said, taking the bags in my hands from me and shoving the dress at me. 

            I opened my mouth object again, but he shushed me and all but pushed me into a fitting room.  I stood in the small space for a moment then looked down at the fabric in my hands.  "Is this a dress?" I asked, looking at the material in shock.  "There's no way I'm--"

            "Put it on, Lauren."

            Justin's voice came through the curtain and I scowled at him, even though he couldn't see me.  I huffed then hung the dress up on the wall hook.  Eyeing it warily I began to strip.  I turned my back to the mirror as I shimmied into the tube dress then took a deep breath.  I closed my eyes and turned around to face my reflection. 

            My jaw dropped when I saw the scrap (and it was a scrap) of fabric I had on.  I tugged at the hem that was barely mid-thigh then tugged up the top when that revealed even more of my chest than was already on display. 

            "I knew you'd look sensational."

            I let out a squeak in surprise and tried to cover myself up as Justin suddenly slipped into the room with me.  "What are you doing?  Get out!"  I exclaimed. 

            "No way."  He shook his head.  He reached out and took a hold of both my hands-pulling my arms away from my body.  His eyes ran over me and I felt my cheeks warm.  I had never shown this much skin before and I was extremely uncomfortable.  Like any girl, there were always things I didn't like about my body, but I'd never been more aware of my flaws than I was at this moment.   

            "Justin..."

            "You're buying this dress." He stated firmly, cutting me off.  "You look incredible!"

            "Are you crazy?" I argued.  "Nobody wants to see me in this thing!"

            "Have you looked at yourself?" He questioned, giving me a look of disbelief.  "Girl, you're a knockout!  Turn around," he said, keeping a hold of my hand as he twirled me around once again to look in the mirror. 

            "It's too short." I said, tugging at the hem again.

            "Stop." Justin put his hand over mine, trapping it against my thigh.  He spoke quietly, but forcefully in my ear.  Goosebumps immediately rushed over me at the warmth of his hand on my leg and his breath on my neck.  I swallowed and fought the urge to pass out.     "If anything," he continued-totally unaware of the powerful effect he was having on me at the moment.  "It could be shorter and you'd still be breathtaking."

            "Any shorter," I teased, proud of the steady quality of my voice-completely belaying my scattered brain and emotions.  "And I'm right back being that hoochie mama you wanted me to be earlier in those short shorts and sequined top."

            He chuckled-the sound causing delightful shivers to skirt across my shoulders and down my spine.  Those perfect lips of his lifted into a smile as our eyes met in the mirror.  Time seemed to stand still for a few moments and my heart beat wildly in my chest at the blatant sexual hunger I saw in his eyes directed at me.  At me!  This could not be happening.  This whole day had to be some sort of fantastic dream.  Any minute now I was going to wake up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

            I didn't understand why she couldn't see how absolutely gorgeous she was.  Taking even more liberty than I already had, I reached up and tugged her hair out of the ponytail she'd put it up in a few hours ago.  I watched as he long blond hair fell around her shoulders and down her back-hunger licking at every nerve ending in my body.  I wanted to sink my hands into her loose curls as I drew her incredible body against my own. 

            She was different than a lot of the women I associated with.  One of the biggest disservices that had ever been done to the human race was when the media decided to convince woman that their natural curviness was unattractive.  To me-and to most hot-blooded males I knew-there was nothing better than being able to wrap your arms around a succulently voluptuous woman and lose yourself within her curves.  Unfortunately, there were too many nowadays who were starving themselves and doing real harm to their bodies and minds in order to achieve the world's standard of beauty.  The straight, rail-thin, waifs I saw walking around town all the time did absolutely nothing for me.  Give me a woman who was warm and soft in all the right places and I was a goner. 

            Lauren had no idea how badly I wanted her right now. 

            My thumb brushed lightly against the skin just below the dress's short hemline.  She shivered slightly sending a bolt of lust through me.  A few months ago I wouldn't have thought twice about pushing her back against the mirror for a quickie.  The mental image that flashed in my head of Lauren's legs wrapped around my waist as I sank into her-her head thrown back in surrender as I devoured her neck-almost made my knees buckle at it's intensity.

            The danger of being caught only added fuel to the fire raging within me and I struggled against making my fantasy a reality.

            But, like always, Jessica's heated and angry words slapped the thought from my mind at the last moment.  With herculean effort I tore my hand away from her and stepped back.  Without a word I left the fitting room, only making it a few steps before I sank back against the wall.  I closed my eyes-my hands fisted at my sides-as I struggled to get my thoughts and breathing under control.  Thankfully there were only a few other shoppers in the store and nobody else back in the fitting room area as I fought to deflate my body's almost painful reaction to seeing Lauren in that dress. 

            Kittens.  I thought.  Lots of fluffy kittens.  Trying to conjure up the most unromantic mental image I could think of.  It didn't work.  I tried thinking of every ugly person I knew, hoping one of them would help relieve me of my current condition.   I could hear Lauren getting dressed just a few feet away and my thoughts stubbornly went back to how much I wanted to...

            The curtain moved and I panicked. 

            I didn't want her to come out and find me in this position. 

            As a last ditch effort I thought of my grandmother.  The disapproving look I knew she'd give me if she saw me right now and knew what I wanted to do, successfully succeeded in wilting my desire enough so that I was able to straighten up when Lauren finally emerged from the dressing room.  I was still uncomfortable, but able to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary.   She gave me a penetrating look and I fought not to squirm under her gaze.  Or look down to see if my "problem" wasn't as under control as I thought it was. 

            "I'll make you a deal." She said finally, breaking the silence between us and blessedly giving me something to concentrate other than my traitorous body.   "I'll buy the dress if you'll do something for me."

            My thoughts were once again back in the dressing room and quickly running through every scenario I could think of involving me and her.

            "I want you to come with me tonight." She said, pulling me from my thoughts.

            "What?"  I was taken back.  Though I had secretly wanted to, ever since she'd mentioned her plans for the evening, I hadn't been able to think of a way to get myself an invite.

            "Unless you already have plans." She continued.

            "I don't." I assured her.  "I was just...uh...okay." I smiled and held out my hand.  "It's a deal."

            She slid her hand into mine and we shook. 

            "But only if you actually wear the dress tonight." I countered.  "Not just buy it.  Deal?"

            She looked at me for a moment, her hand still in mine, and then finally nodded. 

            "Deal."