"...and that's a wrap. Thanks for staying late, people," 

I heard the director's voice from the other side of the soundstage. I stood there with Justin's messenger bag on one arm, a bottle of water in one hand, and a black coffee in the other. Finally, finally, it was time to go home. I'd been there all day long and then some because this director on this particular movie set was finickier than most and because Justin hadn't "felt it" when he'd done a few of his scenes with Megan Fox. I wanted to raise my hand and interrupt and point out that maybe the reason he hadn't "felt it" was because he just wanted the excuse to kiss Megan Fox a few more times. I'd overheard him earlier that day talking with Trace in his dressing room about how her last name suited her and how it was a shame she was really committed to Brian Austin Green. Yet another time I wanted to interject and remind him that her commitment to Brian Austin Green was that of a marriage commitment and that as wonderful and as hot as Justin thought that he was, he probably wouldn't be able to woo her away any time soon.

I've seen it all too much, being the Personal Assistant to Justin Timberlake. Or, as my best friend Michelle refers to him, "the asshole." But Michelle's just mad because Justin wouldn't let me have a day off to join her at a spa in Vegas for her birthday. I don't know why she was surprised at that. I've been his PA for almost two years now and he's never really been the generous, let-you-off-for-your-best-friend's-birthday kind of boss. Justin is one of the most sought after celebrities in the world right now, but he knows that and it's the part of him knowing how wonderful he is that kind of pisses me off sometimes because I feel like he kind of forgets the way the rest of the world really is. He also is super touchy about the "other" Justin (Bieber) and I think he's secretly afraid that J-Biebs is going to be more popular than him. Which, in a way, is probably true. My fourteen-year-old cousin, Kayla, has no idea who Justin Timberlake really is and her wall is plastered with the Biebs. I don't ever bring this up in conversation with Justin. I figure since he probably doesn't even know I have a cousin named Kayla, he wouldn't be interested with what celebrity was on her wall.

I've been to countless openings for charities, malls, a small island once. I've gotten tickets to concerts most people would kill for, - front row at Mumford and Sons last year - designer clothes for parties, red carpet events, and movie premieres. From the outside, most of my friends would kill to have the lifestyle that I do.

Unfortunately, they also know what an asshole Justin is and they know what I have to put up with most of the time. I think he appreciates me and what I do, but most of the time he's talking with Trace, his best friend, who also is supposed to be his other PA, but really he just hangs around and I do all of the work. 

"Water?" Justin barely looks at me when he approaches. He's still focusing on Megan Fox, who's just gone into her dressing room. I hand him his water and he sips it, then looks back at me. "What did you think, Marli? Pretty good, right? They say this movie is gonna get some Oscar buzz." They are clearly out of their minds if they think that any movie Megan Fox is in is Oscar worthy, I think to myself. The movie is an action movie and from what I can gather, it's about a guy who owns a motorcycle shop and has no idea that some terrorist group has targeted him and has planted a bomb not far from the shop. Megan's character is how they are luring him into their trap. Or something like that. To be honest, it looks like a ridiculous film to me and I've just kind of nodded and agreed with Justin whenever he's brought it up in conversation. I think he took it because he tends to get paranoid if his agent isn't calling him everyday with something new to do. He couldn't believe it when Ryan Gosling was cast in The Place Beyond the Pines and griped for days about how that role would have been perfect for him. When I told Michelle she just laughed out loud and said, "No, it wouldn't have. Ryan can act. Justin plays himself!" Oh, if Justin only knew the things that were said behind his back. He'd probably forbid me to be friends with Michelle.

We start walking towards the awaiting limo. Trace and Justin are ahead of me talking about some club opening that they're going to later that night. That's when I'm suddenly reminded of the phone call from Justin's manager earlier that day. He is trying to pester me to have a huge Christmas party at Justin's Hollywood Hills home. His manager doesn't seem to understand that Justin hates Christmas. He'll get a tree put up and decorate, but he tries to avoid Christmas parties or anything like that. Yes, that's yet another thing that people don't know about Justin. Oh, the fronts he can put on! Michelle is wrong. Justin is a great actor when he's not on screen.

"So," Justin says to me, as we are getting seated in the limo. He and Trace take their spot in the seat in front of the back window and I take my place across from them. Justin reaches into the cooler next to him and pulls out a beer. "Anything for me?" he takes a gulp of beer and waits as I pull out my iPhone and look at my recent notes from the day. 

"Well, there's that William Rast opening in San Francisco next week," I start off. Justin just nods and then stares at me blankly. "Are you going? I need to call their manager back and let him know. It's kind of a big deal..." I trail off as I see Justin and Trace smirking at each other. Ok, so that's obviously a 'no'. 

"Marli, you know I'm too busy to go to that opening! For crying out loud I've got a movie I'm filming and they've asked me to record a song for the soundtrack," Justin answers me as if I'm a child begging for candy at a candy shop. 

"Really, dude? That's great about the song!" Trace pipes up. 

"Yeah. I don't know when I'll find time. But I might see if Nicki Minaj might be interested in going in with me," and for about the next five minutes all the conversation is about is Justin and his song for the soundtrack. I'm physically trying not to let myself roll my eyes. 

"So," I clear my throat, after he starts talking about how well he raps and how fun it would be if he and Nicki rapped together instead of sang. "I'll call the manager at the new store and tell him you can't make it. Next, a producer in London called and wanted to know if you would be interested in a role in Chicago on the West End?"

"Broadway musical? No way. Leave that to Joey," Justin scoffed. I wanted to point out that it was a West End musical and not Broadway, but again, there are just some times where it's best to keep one's mouth shut. He sighed as if bored.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Max called and wants you to put on a Christmas party at your home -"

"Hell no," Justin snaps. "Did you tell him Christmas is a bunch of bull shit and that I don't have time for it?"

I swallow hard so as to resist the urge to yell back at him, "No, I didn't, asshole. But if you'd like to, I can call him up right now!" I clear my throat again. "No. No, I didn't. I told him I'd talk to you first."

"Marli, you're a smart girl. You should know by this time that I hate Christmas hoopla and shit. I'm not throwing one and..." I let him his voice trail off. God, I hate when he patronizes me. 

"Maybe you should, dude," Trace says. "It'll bring you good publicity and you need that right now. It's been a while since your last movie and this one doesn't come out til next fall. You could invite your friends but then invite the A-listers."

Justin sighs and then looks at me. "Fine. Start making up the list and tell Max I'm in."

TWO DAYS LATERThe thing about making up a celebrity Christmas party list without the help of the celebrity giving the party is that you never know who to invite, who to leave off, and who to not even think about putting on the list. Sitting at my desk in the office at Justin's house, I'm swamped with past emails, invitations, and Christmas cards to see who gets the OK and who doesn't. The only thing remotely helping out is that I've got a glass of white wine and put on Josh Groban's Christmas album, though I don't know if it's helping or not because now I'd really like to invite Josh Groban. I search through anything that might lend a clue as to whether or not he and Justin are even friends. Oh, why the hell not? It's Christmas and it's a Christmas party for A-listers. Justin has to approve and why wouldn't he approve Josh Groban? There. Settled. Josh Groban is invited to Justin's Timberlake Tinsel and Light Party. That's the name his party planner, Margaret picked for it. I think it sounds like a girly theme, but I don't dare mention that to Margaret. She's in charge of decorating the house, the caterers, and everything else. I just have to make up a huge list and see to it that my boss approves.

To give Justin some credit, he has jotted down a few names on a piece of paper and handed it to me in a rush before he left to play golf this morning. I look over it and immediately make a face at the first names listed:Kim Kardashian & Kanye West.

Ugh. Really? Really? Sighing, I type it into my Excel File, aptly titled "AP" for "Asshole's Party." If he ever found it I'd just tell him it was the abbreviation for "A Party", but since Justin hardly steps foot in my office, he'll never see it anyway. Next on the list is JC Chasez, Lance Bass, then he's printed "if there's room, invite Joey and Chris, but they're in Orlando". Here's another surprise for you. Justin is friends with JC and Lance but only because those two are the only ones from Nsync who seem to keep popping up in the news. Joey does as well, as I've often reminded him, but sometimes I think Joey steals the spotlight whenever he and Justin are at a party together. And Chris might as well have fallen off the face of the earth because it's rare that he's ever around L.A. anymore. 

After an hour of putting people into the invite list, I take a look at it. Will Ferrell, Ashton Kutcher, Mila Kunis, Jennifer Aniston, Justin Lawrence, Jennifer Lawrence (although Justin had her listed as "the girl who plays Katniss Everdeen"), Emma Stone, Andrew Garfield, Ryan Gosling, Ellen Degeneres, Portia DeRossi, all of the Kardashians (he had them listed way down at the bottom as "Kim's whole family"), Tobey Maguire, Leonardo DiCaprio (yeah right, like he'll show up, is my immediate thought), George Clooney (see note on previous guest), Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Anne Hathaway, Josh Groban, Kim Kardashian, Kanye West, JC Chasez, Lance Bass, Joey Fatone, Chris Kirkpatrick (I added them anyway. I mean, he's got Leonardo DiCaprio down as a guest. He might as well have people who might actually come), Ashlee Simpson, John Mayer, Katy Perry.....my eyes start to hurt as I continue reading. And I'm not even finished with it. He still has a whole email account he wants me to go through. 

I hear the door open downstairs and emerge out of my office to see Justin coming in with his golf bags in tow. I can tell he's in a good mood and must have won his round because he's got a smile on his face and he's laughing loudly on his phone. He sees me, nods, and then goes into the living room. I usually take that as a sign that he doesn't need me, so I go back into the office. Five minutes later, my iPhone vibrates. He's texted me. From downstairs. Wow, I didn't realize a whole set of stairs prevents him from actually speaking to me face to face. But I should be used to this now. I look at the text How's the list?

Been working most of the day. Do you want to see it?

 Sure. And ask Danelle to make me a sandwich on your way.

Danelle is Justin's housekeeper and cook. She's been with him since the start of his solo career and is an older woman from Costa Rica. She has a thick Spanish accent and when she says "Mr. Justin" it sounds like "Mr. Yustin." I love Danelle and she and I get along great. Danelle is in Justin's massively huge master suite. It takes up the entire third floor of the house. When I walk up the next flight of stairs, Danelle is making Justin's bed and jumps in surprise when she sees me enter. Then again, Danelle startles easily. Once when she was putting towels away in one of the guest bathrooms, I came in and startled her so bad she threw the towels in the air and they landed in the bucket of Mr. Clean. 

"Hi. Sorry to barge in," I begin, "Justin wants a sandwich."

Danelle nods and finishes tucking in the top sheet on his bed. I can't help but gaze at how large that bed is. I don't know where he ordered it from because I have never seen a bed so huge before in my life. 

"Coming up, Miss Marli," Danelle smiles at me and I exit, heading down to the first floor. Justin is sprawled on his couch, aimlessly flipping through TV channels with the remote in one hand and his other hand texting on his phone. 

"Hi," I greet him, coming in and sitting across from him on the ottoman. "I have the list if-"

Justin puts a the remote up as if to silence me and finishes his text. He puts his phone down, sits up a little and looks at me. "Well?"

"Do you want me to read off the names, then?" I ask, immediately regretting my question. Of course he does. He's certainly not going to make the effort of reading it himself. I wait for the sarcasm or patronizing to ensue, but Justin just nods.

"Okay," I start off, "Will Ferrell, Kim and Kanye, Ashton Kutcher..." it takes me about fifteen minutes to finish the entire list. I save Josh Groban next to last. When Justin hears it, he raises an eyebrow and looks at me, questioningly. 

"Josh Groban?!" he looks at me as if I've put down someone awful. "I don't know him."

"Well, yes, but he's an A-lister and-"

I can see Justin smirking and feel my face turning red. He knows. He knows I've added Josh Groban for my own self. "Fine, Marli. Go on."

"Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner. Those are the last two on the list," I finish, putting it down next to me. "Sound good?"

Justin sits up and suddenly looks at me with interest. Usually when he does this, he has some important project for me. Like his dry cleaning. Or picking up a tux from Barney's. "Marli, why do you think people are so all about Christmas?" he asks. 
Because it's a worldwide holiday, maybe? Because everyone usually gets some sort of Christmasy spirit?

Because what other day of the year lets you put up a random tree in your house, filled with things you've been wanting for at least the last six months to a year? I clear my throat, "Um, well, erm, I guess because it's just a fun time of the year. Family seems closer, friends seem closer, there's traveling, the presents, Baby Jesus, and there's just that spirit in the air..."I start to trail off because Justin's eyes look glazed over. "Sorry, you asked. I'm just telling you."

He shakes his head at me. "No, it's not that. I guess I just get tired of all of it. It's all commercialism and it's stupid,"

Says the guy in the designer jeans, I think to myself. 

"I just wish it were simple," he finishes his thought and looks at me and for a split second we lock eyes. I break away and then Justin clears his throat and does the same. "Just simple."

"Well," I begin to twirl a piece of brown hair around my finger, nervously. "Well, I don't think that means you have to be so hateful about it. I mean, yes, itis commercialized and people do go all out. But I think, for the most part, everyone's heart is in the right place." I glance at him again and he's looking at me with that same look he had when we locked eyes. Or it's probably just my imagination. I mean, yes, Justin is handsome, I'm not going to pretend I don't notice. But he's never once looked at me the way he has been in these last five minutes. 

He breaks his gaze and shakes out of whatever trance he was just in. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. We'll do this Christmas party and I'll pretend to be all about it. Go on and check my Gmail account when you get upstairs. And ask Danelle about my sandwich again. Oh and can you text me Christina's email. She wanted me to help her out on The Voice next season and I forgot to get back to her." Well, that moment, that whatever that was, certainly ended and he was back to the Justin I had grown accustomed to. And it was probably my imagination, like I said. 

**

"This," Michelle hands me a one-shouldered red dress that hits just at my thigh. "This is it. This is what you should wear for the Christmas party." We're at her house the day before the party. She's laid out every outfit imaginable on her bed, we've got a bottle of wine sitting on her dresser, and the She and Him Christmas album playing on Spotify. 

"You forget. The party is not for me. I'm his assistant. I'll be lucky if I'm even seen," I remind her. Michelle seems to think that every event Justin goes to or has that I'm his unofficial date. She was really confused last year the Oscars when I wasn't on his arm on the red carpet. I've tried to explain to her how it works, but I might as well give up now. 

"That doesn't matter! Do you realize who all will be there? I mean, you said you invited Leonardo DiCaprio!" See what I mean? I didn't invite them. Justin did. 

"It's not my party, Michelle," I sigh and put the dress back in her closet. "And I'm still confused as to why DiCaprio was invited. Also, he tends to date women a lot younger than he is and-"

Michelle has grown bored and isn't listening to me because she's gone into her closet and I can hear her rooting around for yet another party outfit option. She comes out with a simplified version of the red dress, except this one's green and a little longer. It's strapless and might very well work. "Here," she tosses the dress to me. "I think this is perfect." I think she's right. Justin will love it. Wait! What in the world have I even just let myself think? Who cares what Justin thinks about it?! 

"So, Justin got a little weird the other day," I casually say to Michelle as we're ridding her bed of her clothes and putting them back in the closet. 

"Well, that's not surprising," Michelle scoffs. "He is weird. But what happened?" Michelle is always up for gossip. Especially involving Justin. Or any celebrity for that matter. 

"Well, so I was running over the Christmas invite list with him and I dunno, all the sudden we like, locked eyes or something. And then he was looking at me really intently for a second," I look at Michelle, whose shaking her head at me.

"Really, Marli. Don't start falling for your boss!" she puts the red dress back on its hanger. "And besides, it was for like, what, a second? You can't base anything on that."

"I know," I reply, a little defensively. "I just, well, he's never even given me the time of day and-"

Michelle sighs and raises an eyebrow at me. "Marli, he's a charmer."

Well, she's right about that. He was probably just trying to charm me into eventually doing something for him. I shouldn't be surprised about that. "Yeah, your'e right." I drop the subject and we eventually finish off two bottles of wine and end the evening ridiculously dancing around the living room and singing along with She and Him.

The night of a party like the one Justin's throwing is always chaotic. But it's the kind of chaotic I like. The kitchen is filled with caterers. Margaret has an earpiece in her ear and is barking orders left and right. The kitchen is basically the staging area and it's my job to go back and forth and check to see if everything is meshing well together or not. It's been about two hours since everyone has arrived and they're all out on the back patio by the pool getting drunk and mingling. Or mingling and getting drunk. Whichever way you look at it, they're having a good time. I'm constantly in and out of the kitchen and the living room. No one's paid attention to me, but I know Michelle would be dying right now if she saw the people who were here. JC and Lance showed up, Joey and Chris didn't, DiCaprio didn't show and neither did Clooney (big shock there), but Josh Groban did and I overheard Justin telling him that his assistant was a fan, which nearly blew me over. Justin has never cared once about who I was a fan of. 

He hasn't even seen me, but I can't help but wonder if he'd even notice that I got my hair done. I know, I know I'm not supposed to even care what he thinks but I swear, every time I think about that little incident in the living room, my mind wanders and earlier in the week I was imagining us, well, quite intimate. 
This is not supposed to happen, by the way. I've told myself this from the beginning. Still, I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror and can't help but think that I do actually look quite nice. The dress fits me in all the right places, my hair is up in a simple, but elegant up-do, and I took extra time with my make-up tonight. If anything, there are several other single males here that might need some eye candy. That is if the Kardashian sisters don't stop trying to steal the spotlight from everyone. Even each other. The last time I went outside, Khloe and Kim were arguing over a karaoke contest by the pool. 

"Excuse me. Miss?" calls a voice. I look over and see Paris Hilton, who somehow weasled her way into this party. She wasn't originally invited. But I guess it's been the talk of Hollywood, this party, because she called Justin up on his cell phone and wanted to know where her invitation was. He lied and said a lot of them had gotten lost in the mail and that of course she could come.

"Yes?" I turn on one of the most fake smiles I can muster.

 "There's no more champagne. Can you get me one? Now?" Paris is leaning against some gorgeous male model who I swear I've seen before in a Calvin Klein underwear ad. 

"Yes, I'll just let the kitchen know," I head back into the kitchen and Margaret is yelling at someone to hurry up with the stuffed mushrooms and sushi rolls. 

"No more champagne," I quickly tell her. Margaret gives me a quick nod, goes to the refrigerator and hands me a bottle of Moet. "Take it out to the bar." I do as I'm told, even though waitressing and bar tending aren't exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Nevertheless...

Outside is still maddening. I'm making my way through the hoards of celebrities and accidentally step on Emma Stone's foot. I apologize profusely and she just laughs and shakes her head. "Stop and don't worry about it. It's fine!" she assures me. I like Emma Stone. Maybe I should tell Justin to have her and Andrew over more often, I think to myself. I finally make my way to the bar and drop off the bottle of champagne, but not before Paris sees me again and literally runs over to me, demanding her glass of champagne.

"There's a brand new bottle at the bar-" I start to explain, but she just rolls her eyes at me and gives me a look of death.

"I meant for you to bring me a glass of champagne. Not go get an entire bottle. God!" Paris brushes past me and I see her bat her eyes at the bartender. Oh for crying out loud! 

On my way back inside, I meet Justin coming outside with Trace. He smiles at me and I smile back. For an instant, I see Trace smirking, or so I think. What the hell is going on? Seriously, all of this is my stupid imagination.

"Wow, Marli. You-you look fantastic," Justin surveys me up and down. "How's the party looking?" He quickly changes the subject after I catch him lingering at my cleavage, which I do have to say looks quite nice in this green dress! 

"Great. Everyone's having a great time. I think they're going to be here for a while," I tell him. I'm just about to go back inside, when Justin pulls my arm and gently forces me back outside. 

"Take the night off, Marli. You look too nice to be working right now. Besides, I think Margaret has everything under control," Justin's giving me that look again. I'm wondering if there's some sort of weed in the brownie mud pie that one of the caterers made. Justin's never, ever told me to take the night off for anything. 
Do not let your imagination run away with you. This is my mantra. This has to be my mantra or else I will go crazy. 

Also, why is Justin being so nice? Seriously, I must speak to the caterer. It's fine if they do pot on their own time, but they don't need to be putting it into their desserts for goodness sake! I'm still standing there with a perplexed expression and look up to see Justin and Trace looking at me, bemused.

"You coming?" Justin asks, and I can swear his eyes are looking right into mine again. What the hell? What. the. hell?

"Ah, um, yeah. Sure," I stammer and follow him and Trace around the pool. He starts introducing me to different people and I'm trying to be as professional as possible. He's just introducing me and Trace as his PAs and a lot of women are complimenting me on my dress. I cannot wait to tell Michelle. When she finds out Christina Aguilera told me that my green dress was amazing, she will die! The Kardashians are doing their karaoke bit and Justin, Trace, and I stand back and watch in amusement with everyone else. Suddenly, I start to wonder if Justin only invited them for entertainment purposes? Because they are doing that for sure. And it's free. Sneaky, Timberlake. I think to myself. But well done, too.

By midnight the party is still going strong. All of the Kardashians are drunk by now, so it's been even more entertaining. Paris Hilton is making out with the hot Calvin Klein model (which I was right about, because I overheard Anne Hathaway and Rachel McAdams gossiping about them), Ben Affleck, Tobey Maguire, and JC Chasez have rounded up people to play poker on the patio deck table, and Justin is taking it all in from the bar. I haven't really left his side since he told me to have the night off. I guess it's habit. I also guess it's because he looks really good tonight. And I can't shake that feeling that he keeps glancing over at me. Trace left about fifteen minutes ago with Katy Perry and John Mayer, who I heard were starting a game of strip Monopoly in the game room upstairs with a few other guests. Christmas music is blaring over the pool and the bar. It's a great party.

I look over at Justin and catch him staring at me. So I stare right back and then sigh, shaking my head. "Justin, what is up with you?" I hear myself asking. Or I guess it's the four glasses of Pinot Gris that's asking. "Did you smoke something before the party?" I tend to have a habit of speaking before thinking when I'm drunk. No, tipsy. I'm not drunk. I'm not drunk because that would be unprofessional and I'm not an unprofessional PA. 

Justin walks over to me and stands really close. Really close. So close that I can smell his recently washed shirt he's wearing. And his cologne. And it smells really nice. I look up at him and he just smiles as though I've caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Marli," he's almost whispering my name and the music's so loud and I'm so, um, tipsy, that I can barely hear him. He realizes how loud it suddenly is and pulls me quickly inside and into his home office downstairs. I'm suddenly aware of how loud it was outside because the silence is nearly deafening now. "Look, lately, I guess I've just looked at you differently."

Lately? Well, yes, fairly lately, I think to myself. It was really only two weeks ago when he was so rude to me on the way home from the movie set. 

"You put up with a lot of my shit," he continues.

Truth.

"And, I don't know, I think I'd just really like to get to know who you really are. I mean, other than Marli Resler, Personal Assistant," suddenly he's moved right in front of me and his finger is gently pulling a loose piece of my hair. Is this for real? Is he for real? Is this a dream? I don't know which question to ask first. My stomach feels as if it's going to explode from nerves or butterflies or whatever's going on down there. And my head is spinning -yes, from the wine, I know, but also from him. 

"I-I really, I don't know..." I'm stammering and stuttering so hard right now that I can't think of a decent sentence. "Justin, I-I think I'm speechless!" I finally blurt and he chuckles at me. I look up at him and suddenly realize why he makes so many women swoon. He is swoonable, that's for sure. "Are you sure this isn't the wine speaking?" I hear myself ask.

Justin shakes his head and laughs out loud. "No, Marli. That was you that drank that whole bottle of Pinot," Well, he's got me there."I know I've been an ass. But remember that little talk we had in the living room? It was then that I realized just how much of an ass I've been. Yeah, I don't like the Christmas commercialism and all that, but tonight's been so fun. And getting to walk around with you, it almost felt...well, I haven't felt that way in a while." I want to open my mouth to say something but I can't. I'm literally frozen. "So, what do you say? Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

Holy. Shit. Michelle is going to die when I call her tonight.

I manage to smile and even with all the alcohol in me, I force myself not to let out a huge girlish, teenage giggle. "I'd like that a lot," I finally say. Justin smiles and plants a kiss on my lips. It's soft but sweet and I do my best not to start kissing him back because there's a party outside and he's the host and how will it look if he's caught making out with his PA in his office? 

By three a.m., everyone's trickling out. The game of poker was won by JC, strip Monopoly basically left Ashlee Simpson with all of her clothes, much to Trace's dismay, who was humiliated because he lost all of his. The caterers pack up, the DJ as well, and soon the house is empty. I haven't had anything to drink since those glasses of wine and when I go back to the kitchen just to make sure everything is in order, Justin meets me there with a bottle of leftover Pinot Gris and two wine glasses. 

"I figured we could have one last drink," he says, and heads out of the kitchen. I follow him, only to be led up both flights of stairs and into his bedroom. It's just a drink, Marli, I'm telling myself. You're not going to do anything else because it's just a drink. But secretly, I'm glad I shaved my legs this afternoon. We sit on the edge of his bed and he pours us two glasses. 

"Did you have fun?" I venture to ask, after I sip my wine. 

Justin nodded. "I think I might do this again next year," he edges closer to me and soon his hand is resting on my leg. I feel my spine go all tingly, but manage to sip my wine again without dropping the glass. "Did you have fun?"

"I did," I reply. "It was nice to walk around with you."

Justin just nods again and puts his glass down. We're staring at each other and I know, I know, what's going to happen next. He kisses me and pulls me towards him and soon I'm feeling his hands on my zipper and then my dress is sliding off and oh. my. god. does he know what he's doing! 

Maybe he is wonderful. 

I guess I'm biased now, though, I suppose.