“That's it! I'm so done with men!” Libby shouted as she burst into Clare's office that morning, slamming the door closed behind her with such force the window rattled. Clare glanced up from her laptop screen and grimaced. She'd long suspected that Libby might one day have the door off its hinges, but she certainly didn't want it to be today.

Clare continued to watch as Libby flopped down onto the sofa near the window, letting out a huff as she folded her arms across her chest. She pouted and met Clare's eyes, her own ablaze with indignation, letting her declaration hang in the air until Clare said something in response.

“What's wrong?” Clare asked, saving the word processor document she'd been working on and pushing down the top of her laptop so she could offer Libby her full attention. She was up to her elbows in work, but that was no different from any other day. Her role as the head of the *NSYNC fan club kept her busy, but she loved her job and wouldn't have had it any other way.

“The same old crap,” Libby replied. “My life is a disaster. Nothing ever goes right for me. I hate my stupid life.” She forcefully pulled a cushion out from underneath her and squeezed it against her chest, tucking her chin into the fabric as she glanced over the top at Clare with sad, green eyes. Her next words were muttered into the cushion, but held little trace of her previous anger. “Why doesn't anything ever go right for me, Clare?” she whined.

Clare wanted to point out that compared to most of the population she was pretty well off. She had a job she loved, a car she could afford, she lived in Orlando, Florida; one of the most desirable locations in the continental US, had a close group of friends that loved her and shared an apartment with Clare not far from the beach. Overall, things were looking pretty good for the eighteen year old. She realised it would be a mistake to mention any of this, and so she avoided the question completely. Libby wanted someone to listen to her as she unburdened her troubles and didn't need an actual answer.

“Are we talking about anything or anyone specific?” she asked as tactfully as she could. Libby gave the cushion another tight squeeze and huffed once more.

“Maybe,” she answered evasively. “Maybe it's everyone. Maybe I just hate everyone and everything right now...”

As she said this, a young man wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie entered the room carrying a piece of paper in his right hand. He smiled warmly at Clare before noticing Libby on the couch. His eyes scanned the young woman's face, but when she refused to meet his eyes he glanced back at Clare with one eyebrow raised in question.

“'Sup ladies?” he said, his blue eyes flicking back to Libby. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” said Libby quickly.

“No,” said Clare, shooting her friend a look. Justin glanced between the two of them, feeling very much out of the loop.

“Libby's having a bad day,” Clare explained as she reached out to accept the piece of paper he held out to her. His eyes once again flicked over to Libby and a concerned frown appeared across his previously smooth brow.

“Why? What's wrong?”

Libby avoided his eyes and began picking at the cushion's frill with her fingernail, her silence speaking volumes. Justin watched her for a moment before his mouth pulled up at one side and a cynical smirk appeared on his face. “Is this about that loser boyfriend of yours?” he asked, knowing full well that it was. “'Cause I've already told you what to do about that. You need to get rid of him and find someone who'll treat you with respect.”

Libby uttered a grunt of annoyance and rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, you keep saying.”

“Yeah, I keep saying, and you keep ignoring me.” Libby continued picking at the cushion frill but glanced up at him through her lashes. “I'm serious,” he said, ignoring her attempts to distract him. “That guy is bad news, Libby. You'd be better off without him.”

“You say that about everyone.”

“That's because all the men you date are jerks.”

“That's because all men are jerks!” Libby retaliated, her voice rising an octave. She always got defensive when he made sweeping statements about her love life. It wasn't as if he was qualified to offer her such advice - he regularly swapped girlfriends.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Clare said, waving the piece of paper in Justin's direction, “but what is this? Where did you get it?”

“Johnny's office,” he said. “I was on my way through and offered to drop it off for him. It's the week's meeting schedules or somethin'.” He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Libby, who was still scowling at him. “Although now I'm here I'm not sure why I bothered.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Clare said. “He could've just emailed it to me.”

“It's no trouble,” Justin said, flashing her a crooked smile. “Anything for you, Clare.” Libby poked her tongue out behind his back and pouted, making Clare smile. She could be a complete professional at work, but when it came to Justin her professionalism went straight out the window.

“See, Libs?” Clare said with a grin, “Not all men are bad.”

Justin turned his head to glance at Libby but she refused to meet his eyes. “I think the jury's still out on that one,” she muttered into the cushion.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Libby's mood didn't improve, so Justin didn't stick around long. He made his excuses and left, carrying a frown with him from his exchange with Libby. Clare suspected it wouldn't be the last time the subject of boyfriends would be mentioned. Something told her his brotherly advice had more to do with the green-eyed monster than anything else.

“I don't know why he's always moaning about my boyfriends,” Libby muttered, still sulking. “It's not like he ever bothers to get to know them.” She glanced out of the window at the brilliant blue sky and let out a little sigh.

“He doesn't like the way they treat you,” Clare said, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen as she finished her paragraph, her fingers flying over the keys in a crescendo of taps. She hit full stop and glanced over at Libby. “I can't say I blame him. You have a habit of falling for the most ridiculous men.”

Libby's smile broke and Clare detected a ever so slight blush on her cheeks. “I know,” she admitted sheepishly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

“Then why give Jay such a hard time about it? You know he's only trying to protect you.”

“He's over-protective. It annoys me. He flounces in here like he owns the place—”

“Libby, come on. That's hardly true.”

“—barking orders like he's the boss of me. Telling me who I can and can't be interested in.” She noticed Clare's smirk and became more irritated, continuing her tirade with renewed vigour. “Seriously! Why does he have to be in here every five minutes? Doesn't he have anything better to do?”

Clare let out a snort of laughter and said, incredulously, “Are you seriously complaining he's around too much? Libby, come on...”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because it sounds so ridiculous! Last week you were on the brink of tears because he cancelled plans to hang out with you, and now you're moaning you're seeing too much of him?” She shook her head and chuckled. “Don't you guys have plans tonight?”

Libby sucked on her bottom lip. “Er, yeah,” she said. “It's Tuesday. Pizza night.”

“So he's coming over to eat pizza and watch movies with you?”

“Yeah...”

Clare shook her head and sniggered. “You two make me laugh. You're the most coupley non-couple I've ever known. Next you'll be telling me he's moving in and sharing your room, but you're still,” she quoted with her fingers, “just friends.”

“We're are just friends,” Libby said defensively, her eyes flicking nervously to the doorway as her cheeks turned a bright red.

“It's okay, Lib. He's gone. You can drop the facade now.”

“It's not a facade,” Libby objected. “We are friends.”

Clare smirked again. “Friends,” she repeated, shooting Libby a knowing look. “Officially you're friends, yeah, but I know as well as you do that you'd much rather not be friends...” Libby pouted at her mentioning of the subject but couldn't deny Clare was right.

“It's okay to admit it,” Clare said gently. “I know you like to pretend at work but you don't have to pretend around me. I don't really see why you feel you have to pretend around Justin either. This love-hate relationship you try to maintain is pure fantasy.”

Libby met Clare's eyes and swallowed hard. It was difficult hearing the truth laid so plainly before her, and Clare's words almost made her want to cry. It was true, pretending all the time was exhausting.

“I know it's not easy,” Clare said, seeing the slight wobble in Libby's chin. “And I know it's not all you. I'm certain he's pretending too.” Her eyes flicked back to her laptop which had fallen into a dormant state, and she nudged a few keys with her fingertips to make it stir back to life. The unfinished document that appeared on the screen only served to remind her of all the work she wasn't getting done.

“I'm sure he's not pretending,” Libby said, her voice forlorn. “It'd be obvious by now. He'd have said something.”

“You don't know that,” Clare pointed out.

“I'm sure of it. 'Sides, what's the point? You know as well as I do that a relationship between us would never work out.”

“Why not?” Clare demanded, her brow furrowing. She despised self-pity, especially when it was used as a cover for fear. There was no definitive reason why Justin and Libby couldn't be happy together, and Libby knew it as well as she.

“Because he's a pop star and I work for his label,” Libby said. “Because I'm a nobody and he's a celebrity. Because he's not supposed to date anyone he works with. Because—”

“—Because you have loads in common?” Clare interrupted. “Because you share the same sense of humour? Because you're as thick as thieves when you're together and you mope around when you're apart?”

“I don't mope.”

“You're moping right now! You spent five months moping when he went on tour last year.”

“That's different...”

“It's not different at all. Libs, don't spend your life putting obstacles in your way that aren't there. If you like him, go for it. Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?”

Libby met her eyes and raised an eyebrow. It was a bit rich hearing Clare tell her to risk it all with Justin when she'd done absolutely nothing about her feelings for JC. She wanted to point this out, but Clare's expression warned her not to. It was clear she was finished with the conversation.

Taking the hint, Libby stood and made her way back to her office. Clare's words had left her with a lot to think about.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was lunch time, and somewhere in the depths of the communal fridge Clare's home-made salad pot was waiting for her, but, as usual, someone had pushed it aside to make room for a foot-long spaghetti meatball sub that was dripping marinara sauce all over the once-clean shelf. Clare didn't need a crystal ball to know who the culprit was.

Joseph Fatone.

She was just about to suck in a deep breath and holler his name when a tingle when down her spine and a familiar voice spoke close to her ear.

“Salad again, huh?”

Clare glanced over her shoulder to find a smirking JC standing very close behind her. She nervously reached up to brush some hair out of her eyes and smiled, trying to conceal how his abrupt arrival had affected her. She couldn't help thinking that only moments before she'd been on her hands and knees, searching through the refrigerator for her lunch, and what he might've witnessed had he been lurking behind her the whole time. She had no intention of bending over again with him standing so close, so she shut the fridge door and turned around to face him, a teasing smile on her lips.

“You know, for someone who relies on their face to help their career, you're pretty careless with yours.”

“Whaddya mean?” he asked, moving aside so he could lean against the kitchen counter and watch her, his grin firmly planted on his face.

“You always assume when you creep up behind me that I won't turn around and punch you in the face.”

JC snorted, unfazed by her threats. “It's a risk I'm willing to take,” he said, shrugging. “But seriously, what's with the salad? That's gotta be your third in as many days.”

“Jeez. What are you, food police?”

“Just interested,” he said. “Making conversation.”

“About salad,” Clare quipped, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “Mr. Smooth strikes again.”

“You didn't reply to my emails,” JC said, unaffected by her teasing.

“That's because I've been busy, Joshua. You know, working? Remember that?”

“I've been working,” he said, reaching out to take an apple from the fruit bowl that sat next to the microwave. It was kept perpetually full for when the members of *NSYNC, and the other groups that spent time at the compound, felt the need for a snack. Clare, needless to say, was not encouraged to make use of this particular facility. She and Libby were allowed to use the pool, outdoor basketball and volleyball courts, bowling alley and movie theatre, but only outside of work hours. “I've been in the studio all morning.”

“Really?” Clare said. “Jay didn't say anything when he popped in.”

“Justin wasn't involved. It was just me running over a few things I've been working on. But don't try to change the subject...”

Clare chuckled. “Your emails?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You want an answer?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You realise most people don't go to the trouble of sending out formal invitations to a night out? You could just leave a post-it note on my desk, or send a simple text.”

“I'm one of a kind,” JC said with a grin. “Old school.”

“You can say that again. But to answer your question yes we'll be there. Me and Libby are definitely up for a night out.”

“Awesome,” JC said before taking another big bite of his apple. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, a very evident twinkle lighting up what were already very attractive deep blue eyes. “You can get back to your salad now. Top right behind the OJ. I moved it so it wouldn't get covered in sauce.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

For Clare, the rest of the afternoon seemed to drag even with the crazy amount of work she had to do. Without any further interruptions she was able to get a lot done, until around three o'clock when a bored looking Chris Kirkpatrick sauntered into her office. Clare narrowed her eyes and let out a groan as he came to peer over her shoulder at her computer screen, half perching on the edge of her desk as he did so. He seemed oblivious to her annoyance, which was just another indication she needed to get a lock fitted on her door.

“Oh, God. What?”

“Whatcha doin'?”

“I'm trying to so some work,” Clare snapped. “I seem to be the only one today.”

“Quiet day,” he said, reading the document she'd been working on line by line. Clare pulled a face and unsuccessfully tried to block his view with her hand. It wasn't anything private, but that wasn't the point.

“Do you mind?”

He smirked. “Not particularly.”

Clare folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. She wasn't going to let him sit there watching her work while he did nothing, it was too distracting. “Did you have a reason for wandering in here?” she asked a little abrasively. “Cause if not...”

Chris raised his eyebrows at the challenge in her voice. “I just thought I'd come say hello,” he said, reaching out to fiddle with the pot of pens she kept on her desk. Clare watched him, her curiosity increasing with each passing moment and her eyes narrowed once again. He was up to something.

“Well, job done. Now, goodbye.” He cleared his throat, and his dark eyes met hers properly for the first time.

“Actually, there might've been something,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clare waited, but nothing came. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What was the thing?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat and glanced off towards the window. “I was just wondering if you knew when Jamie's gonna be back.” Clare blinked in surprise. Jamie? As in assistant tour manager Jamie?

“Er, day after tomorrow I think,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. Feeling her eyes on his face, he deliberately avoided her gaze, which only added to her intrigue. “Why do you ask?”

Chris shrugged and continued staring out of the window. “I have a tour related inquiry.”

I bet you do, Clare thought with a giggle. Tour related, my ass.

“Well I guess it'll have to wait another couple of days then,” she said, failing to get a grip on her amusement. Chris glanced at her hearing the laughter in her voice and his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, shut up! You're such a child sometimes. Grow up.” He stood and turned to leave, the only sign of his embarrassment the slight reddening of the tips of his ears. Clare burst out laughing at his defensive tone.

“You grow up!” she called after him. “And take your work related inquiries with you.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Justin was feeling sorry for himself.

“I don't get women,” he said as he bounced the basketball onto the court several times before sending it flying through the air towards the basket. Lance and Joey watched it flash through the net as Justin smiled triumphantly.

“That's the understatement of the year,” Joey said as he went to collect the ball for his turn.

Justin ignored him. “It's like whenever they're having a bad day they think it's okay to just take it out on you,” he said, turning to Lance.

“Who're we talking about?” Lance asked as Joey made a run up to the net but still managed to completely miss the target. He brushed it off with a quick jog back to the sideline and tossed the ball at Lance.

“Libby,” Joey said with a nod of his head towards the glum expression on Justin's face. “It's always about Libby.”

“Maybe you just have one of those faces?” Lance teased as he tossed the ball towards the net. It bounced off the backboard and went through the basket with a flourish.

Joey snorted a laugh and pretended to regard Justin carefully, his hand at his chin, his dark eyes scanning Justin's exasperated face. “He's right, you might just have one of those faces. How opposed are you to plastic surgery?”

“I was actually being serious,” Justin snapped, crossing the court to collect the ball from where it had bounced away from the net. He picked it up and glowered over his shoulder at Joey before using all of his 6'1” frame to send the ball into the basket. He landed back on his feet as gracefully and controlled as any professional ball player. “It's like I have the words punch bag written across my forehead that sends their bitchy hormones into overdrive.”

“Them?” Lance asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Joey smiled and mouthed Libby's name from behind the safety of Justin's back. He dramatically clutched his hands to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes to make Lance laugh.

“I'm guessing it's probably because she likes you,” Joey said when Justin turned to him and narrowed his eyes. “Women are like that, man, I'm telling you. If they can't tell you directly how they feel they just make your life miserable. That's how my Lisa managed to wear me down.”

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If I remember rightly, it was you who had to do all the chasin'.”

“She doesn't like me,” Justin said with a dismissive roll of his eyes. He was already beginning to wish he hadn't mentioned anything. Joey was okay to talk to on a one-to-one basis, but with an audience he turned into a one-man show. And not a particularly funny one.

“Then maybe she's just a—“

“Don't you dare,” Justin snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “Don't you say what I think you're gonna to say.”

“I think you do have feelings for her,” Lance said as Joey openly laughed at Justin's expression. “Why else would you be so defensive? You're always acting like her big brother, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one's looking.”

Justin muttered something unintelligible under his breath and held his hand out for the ball. When Joey didn't immediately return it to him, he clicked his fingers impatiently. “We're friends,” he said. “That's all.”

“Hmm...” said Joey with a smile, sending the ball towards him in a chorus of bounces. Even Lance sniggered and shook his head. “Where have I heard that before...?”

~~~~~*~~~~~

The first thing Clare heard when she got back from work that evening was Libby loudly ordering Justin to remove his foot from the couch. She shrugged out of her coat and dropped her keys onto the cabinet by the front door, removing her boots without bothering to untie the laces first. They fell onto the floor in a heavy clump and she kicked them out of the way, feeling too tired to pick them up and put them away properly.

As Justin's gurgling laughter filled the apartment, Clare remembered Libby's earlier mention of pizza night and she rolled her eyes. Being surrounded by Justin and Libby's unrequited sexual tension was exhausting, and she tended to spend the evening in her room whenever he was around. She'd do anything to avoid turning into the dreaded third wheel.

“Are you aware you have sauce on your face?” she asked Libby as she walked into the living room and leaned over the back of the sofa, squinting at the TV to try to identify the movie they were watching. It looked like some kind of horror movie, although it was hard to tell from the action on the screen. Justin's choice she suspected.

Libby looked accusingly at Justin and rubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “It better not be in my hair, Timberlake.”

“Or all over my sofa,” Clare added as she glanced at the younger man. He met her eyes and smirked apologetically but soon went back to laughing at Libby.

“It looks good,” he said, dodging out the way as one of her fists came hurtling towards him. She missed by quite a distance and he childishly stuck out his tongue to mock her. “Ha, ha. Missed!”

“No violence,” Clare said as Libby took another sweeping aim at him. “Can you two be trusted not to take chunks out of each other if I go work in my room?”

Libby glanced over the top of the sofa at Clare and dropped her hands to her side, initiating a temporary cease-fire. “You've got more to do?”

Clare nodded and let out a yawn. “Loads,” she said, “but before you ask, no I don't need any help.” She reached over the back of the couch and just managed to grasp the end of a slice of pizza, cradling it with her hand as she brought it to her mouth. “But I am going to steal some of your pizza.” She took a bite and walked back out of the room, leaving them to their own devices.

“You realise I'm going to have to get you back for putting sauce in my hair,” Libby said once they'd heard Clare's bedroom door click shut.

“It's not in your hair. It's on your face.”

“Same difference,” she said, reaching for a particularly cheesy slice of pizza that bent in half as soon as she picked it up. She took a huge bite and grinned at Justin, who was watching her with his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I still don't get how you can eat pineapple on pizza,” he said, glancing at his cheesy meat feast with extra pepperoni. A man's pizza, as he put it. There were many foods he considered suitable for pizza, but fruit wasn't one of them.

“It's delicious!” Libby said through a mouthful of stringy cheese. “You're just a weirdo for not liking it.”

“Self preservation,” he said, reaching out to poke her on the chin and make her giggle. Libby pushed the last of her slice into her mouth and grinned at him, her full cheeks billowing out at the sides. “You look like a hamster,” he said, his eyes flicking back to the TV screen and the long forgotten movie. He couldn't appear to be too absorbed in her, even though he was struggling to keep his eyes away from her face for more than a few seconds. “Did you hear we're going clubbing tomorrow night?”

“Are we? That's news to me.”

“You're not coming?”

“I didn't say that. It's just the first I've heard about it.”

“You need to check your email more often. JC sent at least a handful of emails about it today alone.”

“Argh,” Libby said with a roll of her eyes. She shuffled around on the sofa to get more comfortable and reached for the glass of soda on the floor by her feet. “That's probably why I've been avoiding checking my email. 'Sides, I've been too busy working on the website to have time to check email. It's been one of those weeks so far.”

“Need any help?”

“No, you're okay, thanks. It's not difficult, I just have to keep plodding on and get it done. It's tricky trying to fit it all in while studying, not to mention everything else.”

“Everything else being...?”

Libby let out a sigh and picked at her sleeve, avoiding his eyes. “Oh, you know...”

“Not unless you tell me,” he said. He reached out and nudged her affectionately on the shoulder, making her laugh and shove him back playfully. “Come on, tell me. What's up?”

“Oh, just the end of yet another promising relationship,” she muttered under her breath. “I got dumped again.” Justin shook his head, a plethora of emotions crossing his face before he met her eyes.

“Couldn't have been that promising then,” he said.

“Gee, thanks,” Libby muttered, placing her glass back on the floor. “I'm actually pretty upset about it.” Justin let out an almost irritated sounding sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Why? That guy was a complete jerk. He treated you like crap and made you miserable. How can you be sad it's over?” Libby didn't know what to say. How could she put it into words to him of all people? She swallowed a couple of times and realised he was staring at her, waiting for her response.

“I dunno,” she said. “I guess I'm just disappointed to have put in all that effort and it still didn't work out.”

“If you're the only person putting the effort in, it's not a relationship worth bothering with,” Justin said matter-of-factly. “And if it's a relationship that's making you unhappy, you shouldn't be in it.”

“Easy for you to say. You could have a new girlfriend every week if you wanted to. Women practically throw themselves at you.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That's not true,” he said.

“Yes, it is!” Libby said with a shrill laugh. “Believe me, I get the emails to prove it. Every day I have to read tonnes of fan mail with women declaring their love for you. And you wonder why I don't make checking email a priority.”

“Well, perhaps unlike you I'm a little choosier about who I date,” he said, ignoring her smirk. His blue eyes scanned over to the TV and back. “I'm serious,” he said when he detected the bubble of laughter about to burst out of her. She enjoyed making him squirm when she mentioned his fans. He still hadn't quite adapted to the idea of being adored by millions of women, and Libby wasn't sure he ever would. “You should be choosier. It'd save you from getting hurt.”

The smile dropped from Libby's face and she, too, glanced at the TV. He had a point but how could she tell him the only reason she wasn't choosy about who she dated was because she didn't think the person she liked would ever be interested. She was stuck firmly in the friend zone.

Justin continued watching her, waiting to see if his words would actually sink in this time. They'd had this conversation a hundred times before, and each time it'd seem as though she'd finally taken on board what he'd said, only for her to go out and start a relationship with the first guy who smiled at her. It was infuriating, and he understood part of that was because he hated seeing her hurt; because hurt she always got. In no time they'd be back on the couch with him consoling her, telling her to be more choosy and her nodding along with tears in her eyes.

“Seriously, Libs. Find someone who can't believe how lucky they are to be with you.” Libby gave him a weak smile and swallowed hard, self-consciously glancing down at her pizza sauce stained hoodie and jeans. She couldn't look him in the eye when he said things like that. It felt like he'd be able to see right through her and the thought was terrifying. “Okay,” she said, giving a little nod. “I'll look out for that.”

“Good. That's what I wanna hear.”

And he meant it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

~~~~~*~~~~~

The girls were nearly always late for meeting the guys at the club. Clare put it down to the fact that she and Libby had further to travel from their apartment to downtown Orlando, whereas the guys, minus Justin and Lance, shared a house in the area so could practically walk there if needed. But the real reason was because Libby was indecisive. She'd spend hours examining every item in her wardrobe, debating the perks of wearing this with that, or those pants with that top before Clare had to remind her her, often not that gently, that she'd leave without her if she didn't get a hustle on. That usually did the trick.

The worst thing about rushing Libby was having to deal with her crisis of confidence when she thought she'd forgotten something in her haste. It happened as they were rushing towards the entrance of the club through the masses of bodies waiting in line on the sidewalk. Fortunately, JC was usually pretty good at leaving their names at the door so they didn't have to queue for admission like the majority of people. It was one of the perks of working with so-called 'celebrities'.

“My phone...?” Libby called as she hurried along after Clare, who was already five or six steps ahead of her.

“In your purse.”

“Keys?”

“What do you need your keys for? I've got mine.”

That seemed to satisfy Libby for a second until she thought of something else.

“What if I leave before you?”

Clare groaned. She really wasn't in the mood for this.

“Then you take mine,” she shouted back, not even turning her head to see if Libby had heard. “Come on, Libs, we're nearly there.”

Libby stumbled forward, her heel getting caught in the crack between two concrete slabs and she reached out a hand to steady herself, not caring who, or what, she grasped onto. Clare continued power walking to the entrance, oblivious to the fact her friend had fallen behind until she happened to glance over her shoulder and found her gone.

“Libs?” Clare called as she tilted forward onto her tiptoes and scanned the heads of the crowd for signs of her friend. “Libby, are you there?”

Nothing.

Frowning, Clare reluctantly stepped away from her spot beside the rapidly forming entrance line and backtracked along the sidewalk. She called Libby's name again but didn't receive a reply until she was at least fifty yards away from the entrance.

“Here,” a weak voice called to her, which Clare recognised at once. Her head snapped around and she frowned irritably.

“What are you doing?”

“He's here,” Libby said, her eyes filling with tears. “Dan's here.”

Clare followed Libby's gaze to a rowdy circle of people standing nearby, some smoking, some drinking and spotted Libby's ex leaning up against the building with a leggy brunette entangled in his arms. Now and then he'd turn his head and nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck, making her throw her head back and laugh.

Clare heard Libby inhale noisily by her side. “Libs...”

“Don't say anything,” Libby said, fighting back a sob. “Please don't say anything.”

“Come with me,” Clare said, gently pulling on her friend's arm. “Josh will have left our names at the door. Come inside, don't stand here watching.”

“I can't,” Libby said as a tear made tracks down the side of her nose.

“You can't stay here. The guys are waiting for us inside.”

“I don't care. I don't want to be here anymore. I just wanna go home.”

“But Libs...”

“I'm serious, Clare. I want to go home.”

“Okay. Fine. Give me five minutes to find JC and tell him what's happened and then we'll leave, okay?” Clare's eyes scanned over Libby's face, which was gradually growing paler by the second. “You stay here while I go find him.”

Libby nodded as the tears continued to pour silently down her face. As far as she was concerned, the evening was over.

~~~~~*~~~~~

JC was such a creature of habit Clare knew exactly where to look to find him. As she suspected, he was standing with Justin at the far back of the club, beer in hand, a lopsided grin on his face as he watched the sea of people moving about on the dance floor. She hurried towards him, slightly out of breath, and didn't stop until she'd caught his eye and secured his attention.

“Hey,” she stammered as she reached his side and offered a brief smile of acknowledgement to Justin. “I'm sorry, I'm not staying. Something's upset Libby and we're gonna head home.” She tried to keep the disappointment, and if she was honest with herself, frustration, out of her voice, but it was pointless as JC could see it in her eyes.

“What's happened?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer and gazing at her over the top of the glass.

Clare hesitated, not sure whether it was really her place to unload the story onto JC. Libby would no doubt be embarrassed by the situation, which was probably why she was so eager to get home. “She's upset...” she repeated, avoiding both his and Justin's eyes. When he'd heard Libby's name mentioned, Justin had taken a step towards her, and had fixed her with his clear blue eyes as though that alone might force the information out of her.

Clare couldn't meet his eyes when he looked at her like that. She took a deep breath and let it out in a jumble of words. “She bumped into Dan outside,” she said, flicking her eyes up to read JC's reaction. “He was with someone else.”

Justin's eyes immediately narrowed. “Where is she? You left her out there alone?”

Clare's back prickled at the accusation in his voice. “She wouldn't come inside,” she said a little snippily. “I told her I'd come and tell you what's going on and then go back and find her.”

JC glanced at Justin's tense face and then back at Clare. “Do you really have to go?” he asked. “You just got here...”

Clare let out a huff. JC had summed up her feelings completely. “She said she can't face anyone. She's embarrassed and can't handle the thought of spending the evening in the same place as him. I can't say I blame her for that.”

“You can't talk her round?” JC suggested. “Get her to stay a little while? Maybe she'll feel better after a little while. After she's had a drink--”

“Not drinking,” Clare reminded him and JC nodded as he remembered that Libby was under 21.

“She's made up her mind. You know how stubborn she is.”

“Maybe I could talk to her?” Justin suggested, jumping back into the conversation. “I might be able to change her mind.”

JC nodded and a hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he watched for Clare's answer. It sounded like a pretty good plan to him.

Yeah, or you might make it worse, Clare thought. “I don't know, Justin...”

“At least let me try. What's the worst that could happen? It'd give you time to have a drink and catch your breath. I know you don't wanna be going home just yet.”

JC nodded. “He's right, Clare. You know Libby listens to him.”

Clare's nose crinkled as she debated the idea. Sure, Justin did have influence with Libby, but it was only 50-50 whether she would listen to him. Clare knew her friend well enough to sense when the window for negotiation had closed, and she'd recognised it on her friend's face.

“Fine,” she said. “Just don't blame me if she doesn't want to talk. I'm warning you, she's not in a good mood.”

“I'm sure I can handle it,” Justin said with a snort. “Keep your eyes on the doorway. I guarantee she'll be walking through it with me in a few minutes.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was so busy out on the sidewalk it took Justin a few seconds of searching before he spotted Libby. She had her back pressed up against the external wall of the building and her head tucked down so low her chin was almost resting against her chest. It was clear she was trying to remain inconspicuous, despite the tears flowing freely and silently down her cheeks.

Once he'd reached her side, he stood there in silence. The carefully chosen words he'd prepared to say eluded him at the crucial moment and he ended up stumbling into conversation like a nervous schoolboy.

“Whatcha doin' out here?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately cheerful even though he felt anything but. He always hated to see her cry, but more than that he hated the effect it had on him. Making him want to punch something, or someone.

Libby shot him a sideways glance and wiped away a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She'd been expecting Clare, and was surprised to see him instead. “Hiding,” she said in a thick voice.

Justin nodded and stared ahead at the cars on the busy avenue. He knew she'd feel uncomfortable about crying in front of him and didn't want to make it look as though he was staring. “You should come inside,” he said after a pause. “Have fun with your friends and show him what he's missin'.”

Libby let out an angry snort. “Show him what he's obviously not missing, you mean?” she snapped, her tears continuing to fall. She looked up into his eyes as her chin continued to quiver. “It's been two days. Two days and he's already forgotten about me.” Unable to hold his gaze she dropped her eyes to the floor and let out a small sob. “We dated for three months!”

Justin looked at her and felt an ache begin to form inside his chest. He couldn't bear seeing her like this. This wasn't like her getting tearful on the sofa the other night. This was something else. There was a wound inside her, an injury that he couldn't take away. A lecture on choosing the right partner wasn't going to make this right.

His heart wanted him to tell her that she was completely unforgettable. That she was worth ten times more than any other woman, but he couldn't form the words, and even if he had they'd have sounded too cliché.

He spent so long debating what he should say that it was a good few minutes before he said anything, during which Libby felt her insides clench with anxiety. He hadn't rushed to correct her, or assure her that she was wrong, which only served to convince her that she was worthless.

Fortunately, Justin managed to form words before she allowed herself to completely wallow in self-pity.

“He's an asshole.”

Libby smiled weakly, her shoulder's slumping in relief. She turned her head and looked at him with wide, watery eyes. She so badly wanted to believe him that she didn't care how desperate she looked. “Really?”

Justin cracked a smile and held her gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

They both stood side by side for another few minutes before either of them spoke again. And instead of feeling uncomfortable, Libby found that having him near felt surprisingly reassuring and comforting. She shuffled a little closer and he instinctively reached out an arm, inviting her into his embrace.

Libby didn't need any more encouragement.

“I can't believe he's found someone new so quickly,” she said quietly, her voice muffled by his t'shirt and he had to ask her to repeat it a few times before he understood. “I was thinking that in a few days it'd blow over and we'd get back together, you know?”

Justin averted his face so she couldn't see him roll his eyes. She could be so clueless sometimes. Even with the evidence before her, she still didn't want to believe the truth. He put it down to the fact she had such a good heart, but it could be infuriating sometimes.

“I guess he just went straight out and found the next bimbo. Libby 2.0.”

“You're not a bimbo,” Justin said, giving her a fond squeeze but Libby wouldn't meet his eyes and she shook her head firmly in disagreement.

Justin reached out and cupped her chin with his spare hand, forcing her to look up at him. She met his eyes and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it hard so she wouldn't start crying again. She looked like a fragile little doll, and the sadness in her eyes made him swallow hard. “Listen to me, you're not a bimbo.”

“I'm not smart,” she said. “A smart person would've seen he was trouble from the get-go. I'd heard the rumours about him, but I chose to ignore them. I guess I thought he'd be different with me.”

Justin sucked in air through his teeth and grimaced, but his accompanying smirk was teasing. “It's dangerous to want to change someone, Libs.”

“I know,” Libby agreed, leaning into his shoulder. He was warm and she felt comforted just by the way his arm was wrapped around her waist. “But relationships are supposed to change you, aren't they? Make you a better person? That's what I meant. I thought I'd be able to change him with love.”

Justin wanted to say that she was wasting her time thinking a loser like her ex would ever want to change – why would he? He'd clearly found a way of getting his cake and eating it, too – but he didn't think it'd be well received. He also wanted to say that he'd be more than willing to let her try to change him with love, but the very idea caused his heart to splutter and his chest to tighten up. As much as he wished things were different, he knew he wasn't ready to even broach the idea of discussing his feelings with her. He wasn't sure he understood them yet.

Libby nuzzled into his chest, completely unaware of the emotions it stirred up in him. “Thanks, J,” she said, brushing away the last of her tears. “Thanks for coming and checking on me.”

“You don't have to thank me,” he said, his voice a little off.

“Still, I want you to know I appreciate it,” she said, dipping head head and staring at her sneakers. “I know I give you a hard time about it, but I'm grateful you look out for me.”

Justin cleared this throat. “Are you okay now? Do you still want to leave?”

Libby's eyes trailed to the doorway and the long line of people still queuing in front of the building. She hesitated, chewing down on her bottom lip. “I dunno...” she said, debating. “I'm not sure I can face him.”

“You don't have to. Just walk past him with your head high.”

“Yeah, that's what I mean. I don't think I can do that. I'm scared I'm gonna take one look at him and start crying again.”

Justin removed his arm from around her shoulders and offered her his outstretched hand instead. “Come on,” he said as Libby eyed his hand cautiously. “I promise you, you can do this.” He fixed her with his clear blue eyes and raised his eyebrows, hoping he was offering the right amount of assurance without coming across as creepy.

Libby chewed down once more on her bottom lip and tentatively reached for his hand.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The first few steps into the building were awful, but Justin's warm hand around hers did make Libby feel better. He had that effect on her – making even the worst situation seem somewhat bearable. When he felt her steps faltering beside him, he met her eyes and winked, giving her hand a comforting squeeze that assured her he was still there, that he cared and that she could do it. Her confidence surging with just that small gesture, she lifted her chin and allowed him to steer her back to their group of friends without once feeling the need to look for Dan and his latest conquest in the crowd.

Once surrounded by familiar faces, Justin reluctantly let go of her hand, letting Clare step into the space between them as she came forward to check her friend was okay. He smiled fondly as Libby dipped her head and let out a shaky breath, noticing just how anxious she really had been about facing them all again. He was glad he'd been the one to help her face her fears, and a familiar warm feeling flooded his veins.

She was quite a girl.

He watched her for a few more seconds before breaking away from the group without a word. In his mind was a very real conflict between head and heart, and it would require all of his concentration to process.

He headed off to the bar.

~~~~~*~~~~~

~~~~~*~~~~~

It didn't matter that he was underage, Justin knew he looked old enough to pull off ordering a drink from the bar. He'd deliberately not shaved for the last few days knowing that his two-day beard made him look older and more sophisticated, which was always a bonus when he was out socially. Generally as long as he was clean shaven for public appearances, no one cared what he looked like the rest of the time.

He couldn't have known how grateful he'd be for this decision till he was face to face with the bartender ordering a double shot of Jack Daniels. Fortunately, the man barely gave him the once over before going to prepare his drink, and Justin smirked at his good fortune. With any luck he'd get the chance to drink it before one of his 'big brothers' intervened on his behalf. He knew they had his best interests at heart, but it irked him how much they seemed to enjoy treating him as the baby of the group.

Even if it was technically true.

He sank down onto one of the empty barstools and leaned his elbows on the wooden counter, hunching his shoulders as he waited for the bartender to return. He had his money ready in his hand, and as he balled his fingers up into a fist he felt the dollars press into his palm. It hurt, but in a good way, and he continued to squeeze until temporary purple bruises began to form. As he uncurled his hand and stared at the purple and white marks, his blood bought the blush back to his skin.

The bartender was taking too long and he was starting to get annoyed.

He glanced over his shoulder at his group of friends, his eyes automatically fixing on Libby out of habit. She was seated at the table beside Clare, and although she appeared to be engaged in conversation, he could tell even from this distance that she wasn't really listening to whatever was being said. Occasionally her eyes would dart out to the side with a far off look and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realised she wasn't looking for him.

“Double Jack,” the bartender barked at him over the thumping music, and Justin turned and emptied the contents of his hand into the man's outstretched palm. It was the correct change, but the bartender didn't even bother to count it. He simply gave a brief shrug and headed off to the other side of the bar to take the next order. Justin followed him with his eyes before grasping the small glass in his hand and sliding around on the stool to face his table of friends once again.

Fixing his eyes on Libby's small frame, he lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one, wincing as the whiskey burned its way down his throat and set alight to his stomach. After a few seconds the fire subsided to a warm glow and he smiled at the comforting feeling.

So that's why people drink.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Despite his usual sixth sense for knowing when trouble was brewing, it took JC far longer to realise Justin was absent from the group than it normally would've. He was used to doing a casual head count when they were out professionally in public, something that'd crossed over into his private life, too, but with the distraction of the bustling crowd, the loud music and what had happened with Libby, he'd not thought about it in a while.

He gave Justin the benefit of the doubt, allowing him a polite amount of time to return before he sent out a search party -- after all, he could've wandered off to use the restrooms or to dance, although he highly doubted it -- but when he didn't return within ten minutes, JC knew it was time to start taking his absence seriously.

He was shocked to find him at the bar. Even more so when he spotted the empty glass by his side. He couldn't be sure, but it looked suspiciously like there was a trace of whiskey lingering at the bottom. It was Justin's expression, however, that caused him the most concern, and as he hovered by his shoulder, JC eyed his friend cautiously, unsure how to even begin what would doubtless become an awkward conversation.

He wasn't good at these kind of chats. His strong paternal instincts weren't suited to the subtle approach that the situation required. Chris' quirky sense of humor was much better at getting information out of Justin without raising his suspicions or defences. He usually managed to achieve the exact opposite.

“What's goin' on man?” he said, trying his best to keep the judgemental tone out of his voice. Justin grunted something unintelligible in reply and flicked his eyes down to stare at his feet.

JC glanced again at the drink and then at the side of Justin's face. It was an expressionless mask and impossible to read.

“You're... drinking?”

“I had one drink,” Justin said, his voice edgy. “One.” He glanced up and narrowed his eyes at JC. “What? You wanna report me to the cops?” He let out a huff and scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the metal legs of the barstool, sticking out his bottom lip like a pouting child.

JC let out a resigned sigh. There really was no easy way to do this. “Are you gonna tell me what's bothering you?” he asked, but Justin merely grunted again as his eyes flicked over to their table of friends.

JC followed his gaze and a lightbulb went off in his mind. He was no Sherlock Holmes, but he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“It's Libby,” Justin said, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a frown. “The whole thing's just got to me.”

“Okay...”

“She's really hurt about this loser breaking up with her,” Justin continued, raising his head to stare out across the crowd of people on the dance floor. His gaze was distant, unfocused, and when he spoke it was more to himself than to JC. “More upset than I'd realised.”

“That's understandable,” JC said, choosing his words carefully. “She's not had many boyfriends. She's bound to take a breakup hard.”

Justin's eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw tensed. “He dumped her. He dumped her yesterday and now he's here sucking face with someone else.” He turned his head to meet JC's eyes to see if he was as affected by the news as he was. “He broke her heart. Like, for real. I mean, why? Why do that?”

JC didn't have the answer. He didn't understand it either so he simply shrugged. Libby was a nice girl, a little immature for her age maybe, but what eighteen year old wasn't? She certainly didn't deserve the way she'd been treated, but it was something nearly everyone experienced at one time or another. It was tough to learn that love was a risky game and you didn't always come out a winner.

“If he didn't want to be with her then why not let her down gently? Why do something like this to make her feel like crap?”

“To be fair, he probably didn't know she'd be here tonight...”

Justin's gaze flashed to JC, his eyes ablaze at what he considered to be defence of Libby's ex. He'd expected it to be a given that JC would take his, or rather, Libby's, point of view. “Are you defending him?” he demanded.

“Of course not. I'm just saying he's acting to type by doing all this. Unfortunately, it's what guys like him do.”

Justin grumbled something under his breath that JC didn't catch.

“What did you say?”

“I said, 'it's about time someone taught him a lesson'.”

JC rolled his eyes. “She's a big girl, Justin. She'll get over it.”

“She shouldn't have to get over it,” Justin snapped back. “Someone ought to teach him a lesson. He shouldn't get away with this, man.”

“J, come on...” JC said, reaching out to place a placating hand on his shoulder. He was getting agitated and it wasn't like him. The alcohol in his system was obviously clouding his judgement, although JC doubted he'd had that much to drink. “Calm down.”

“I can't calm down. You think it's okay for him to be out there treating people this way? If it wasn't Libby it'd be someone else. Imagine he was doing this to your sister, how would you feel about him then?”

Yeah, but she's not my sister, JC nearly said – nearly – but managed to hold his tongue at the last minute. He naturally felt protective over his female friends, but he also had a steady head on his shoulders that prevented him from rushing in when his help wasn't needed. Libby would get over her hurt soon enough, and JC knew confronting the guy wouldn't do anyone any good.

“Justin, I'm tellin' you, you need to calm down.”

“And I'm tellin' you I'm not going to,” he seethed, rising from his seat in a rush. His eyes searched the crowd as JC reached out to grasp his jacket hem or sleeve to hold him back.

“Wait, J! Think about this...”

Justin pulled his arm roughly out of JC's hand and turned on him. “I don't need to think. Let go of me.”

“You need to get it together. What good will rushing in and confronting him do? Do you even know what you're going to say? You'll just make things worse and Libby won't thank you for that.”

“I can't do nothing,” Justin growled. “You can stay here and take the high-road if you like, but I'm going to act.” He turned on his heels and stormed off towards the dance floor, leaving JC with the feeling of wanting to punch someone.

“You'll only make it worse!” he shouted after him, but if Justin heard, he pretended not to.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was the shouting that got Clare's attention, and the fact that suddenly they seemed to be the only people not rushing to the middle of the dance floor where someone, or something, was drawing a large crowd. Despite the music still pounding away at an almost painful volume, she could hear raised voices and the occasional pained gasp, and her eyes instinctively settled on the one face she usually looked to for reassurance – Chris, who'd wandered back to the group after hearing about Libby's incident outside the club. He met her eyes and she could tell at once what he was thinking even though he didn't utter a word. There were two very obvious faces missing from their group, and like her he seemed to be wondering if the two instances were related. Wondering, but also dreading.

“Where's Justin?” Chris asked, turning to Joey who was mid-conversation with Lance. The two men seemed oblivious to what was happening around them and Chris had to nudge Joey rather pointedly on the elbow before he got his full attention. “Justin,” he repeated slowly, enunciating the word in case Joey couldn't hear over the music. “When did you last see him?”

Joey looked confused and his eyes flicked over to Libby's pale face. “Er... a while?”

Chris turned to Lance. “And you?”

“Same,” Lance said. “I haven't seen him recently if that's what you mean.”

“That's what I mean,” Chris said, his jaw clenching. “We need to go look for him.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Chris didn't arrive a moment too soon as far as JC was concerned. He'd done all he could to try to separate Justin from the fray, but there was only so much he could do on his own. He'd managed to somehow get a hold on Justin's arms, pinning them tightly behind his back, but as the crowd continued to jeer at his involvement, JC knew it was only a matter of time before Justin managed to break free of his grasp. He was surprisingly strong for a teenager.

“I need help,” he shouted as he met Chris's eyes, noting the panic there as the older man surveyed the scene. There was blood everywhere - fortunately, not Justin's - the result of him having given Dan a bloody nose, and JC knew it would only be a matter of time before the tables turned, unless he found a way of diffusing the situation.

“What the fuck?” Chris shouted, rushing to his side and using his body weight to pull Justin back out of Dan's face. “What the fuck's going on?”

Justin struggled against them, seeming completely unaware of who or what was restraining him. He surged forward again, pulling his right arm forwards to strike another blow in Dan's face, but JC had anticipated his next move. He rocked backwards onto his heels and gritted his teeth, yanking Justin roughly to the side in a move that almost sent him on his ass.

“Justin! Stop!” He bellowed in his face, standing between the two men and holding up his palms to prevent him rushing forward again. Justin blinked several times and lifted a hand to press tenderly at his rapidly swelling eye. Already he was having trouble seeing out of it.

“What happened?” Chris asked again as the crowd started to lose interest, sensing an end to the confrontation. They started to dissipate taking their laughter and jeering encouragement with them, much to the relief of JC. He'd been dreading someone recognising them and this little incident ending up in the entertainment section of the morning's papers.

“Idiot decided to confront Libby's ex,” he explained as he scowled at Justin, “and got a black eye for his troubles.”

“Shit!” Chris swore, partly for Justin and partly for the group. He grabbed the young man's shoulders and pulled him into the light so he could get a better look at the injury. It was puffy and he was visibly squinting but it didn't look too bad - yet. How they would explain away a black eye he had no idea, and the thought made him reach out and cuff Justin around the back of the head, receiving a glare from the youngster who reached out and shoved him back.

“Don't hit me,” Justin said, reaching up to dab at his eye again with the back of his fingers. The pressure made his skin feel as though it were on fire, and a watery tear escaped, much to his horror.

“Oh, so you have no problem saying that to me,” Chris said with a snort, glancing over his shoulder at Dan who was still scowling at Justin as the brunette fussed around him. Clearly he had no intention of approaching now the odds were no longer in his favour. “Why didn't you say it to him?”

Justin shrugged and stared down at his feet.

What was he supposed to say to that?

~~~~~*~~~~~

“What's happened?” Libby asked Clare, her worried eyes enormous in her pale face. She reached out and grasped Clare's forearms, her grip tight but her hands visibly shaking. “Where's Justin? Where's JC?”

“I don't know,” Clare said, searching for a familiar face in the crowd. It'd been her idea for her and Libby to stay at the table while the men went looking for Justin, but that'd left them completely out of the loop. She'd expected one of them to have returned by now, and their absence only added to her concern. It didn't help that Libby was freaking out either. “We just gotta stay calm,” she repeated over and over, although she had no idea how.

“I have to go look for him,” Libby said, turning to Clare for assurance as she got to her feet. She couldn't sit at the table any longer, her toes tapping anxiously on the floor and her fingers drumming an anxious pattern on the table top. She had to do something or she was going to go crazy.

“There are already four people out looking for him,” Clare pointed out, her brow furrowing. The last thing she needed was for Libby to get lost in the crowd. “What makes you think you'll be able to find him any quicker? I'm telling you, we're better off staying here.”

“I can't just do nothing.”

Clare let out a huff. “We're not doing nothing. We're waiting.”

“I can't wait any more. I'm going crazy sitting here.”

Clare squinted her eyes into the near darkness and just made out the shape of JC heading back towards them. A relieved smile lit up her face and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. “You're probably worrying about nothing. Look, here comes Josh...”

Libby's eyes shot over to where Clare was looking and she sucked in a shocked gasp as her eyes focused on the sight in front of her. It wasn't JC she was looking at but a slightly hobbling Justin who was two or three paces behind him, his hand clutched to the side of his face, and the front of his t'shirt stained with drying blood.

“Oh, my God,” she muttered, her hands beginning to shake once again. Her stomach churned at the sight of him and she reached out to steady herself on the nearest chair's back. Worrying about nothing, my ass.

Clare was up and out of her seat in an instant, rushing forward to meet the two men. “What happened?” she gasped as Justin came to a stop at the table and glanced sideways at Libby. She was staring at him, her mouth hanging open in a wide Oh, her face even paler than it had been moments before. She reached up and pressed a finger against his hand causing him to grimace and let out a small hiss. He wasn't ready to show her the damage Dan had done to his face, but he suspected that trying to conceal it had only drawn more attention to his injury.

“He got into a fight,” JC said through gritted teeth, still barely able to believe it himself.

“With who?” Clare demanded, unsure whether she should be furious with Justin or the other guy. She watched as Libby came round to his side and gently pulled on his fingers until he took his hand away, letting her see his injury in its full glory. Her hands flew to her mouth and she stared at him in shock.

“What happened to you?” she asked, her voice barely audible. Justin gave a careless shrug, but his eyes began to tear at her expression. He brushed it off as though it were merely a consequence of the pain and cleared his throat gruffly. He did not want to cry in front of her, despite the pit of agony he was in. Who knew getting a black eye was so painful? Maybe if he'd known he'd have paid a little more attention to JC's warning.

“It's nothin',” he muttered, avoiding her eyes until he had a stronger grip on his emotions.

“It's not nothing,” Clare contradicted. “The whole side of your face is swelling up. Who did this to you Justin?”

“Let's not go into that,” JC said, eyeing Libby cautiously. She'd been through enough this evening as it was. He suspected the truth would come out at some point, but now didn't seem the right time to discuss it. “I'm sure he's learned his lesson.”

“Whose learned their lesson?” Libby demanded, her eyes still fixed on Justin's wounded face.

“He means me,” Justin said, glancing at JC who nodded back, his eyes revealing everything he couldn't say out loud. The underage drinking had been one thing, but fighting was something he couldn't pass off as merely a consequence of teenage hormones. Not only had Justin endangered himself but the reputation of the group as well, and that was something he took very seriously.

“What was the lesson? Why you shouldn't let yourself get punched in the face?” Clare teased, only half-joking as she let out a shaky breath. “I'm surprised to hear you didn't already know that. You could've been really hurt, you doofus.”

“Believe me, this is no picnic,” Justin said, pointing at his eye.

“You're lucky it wasn't worse,” Clare replied, looking at his blood stained shirt - the sight of it made her stomach turn. For the first time she realised that there were still three members of the group missing, and she glanced over Justin's shoulder expecting to see them hanging around in the background. “Where's everyone else?”

“Getting drinks,” JC said.

“We're not leaving?” Libby asked, placing a comforting hand over Justin's arm as he dabbed at his watery eye. It was almost completely closed now and she could tell by the grimace on his face that the pain was bothering him much more than he was letting on. She glanced at JC and then Clare before her eyes travelled back to Justin's face. “Justin shouldn't be here, he needs medical attention.”

“It's not that bad,” JC grumbled, still feeling resentful towards his bandmate. He couldn't stop thinking about how the night might've ended had he not found Justin in time. The moment the crowd had parted in front of him to reveal Justin squaring up to the older man was imprinted in his memory, and he still felt sick at the thought of it.

“I'm not asking,” Libby snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. “I'm telling you. He shouldn't be here.”

Clare studied Justin's face, and then the stubborn expression on Libby's. She'd seen that look before and knew there was no messing with it. Right or wrong, Libby was going to get her way.

“She might have a point Josh...” she muttered gently.

JC let out a resigned sigh and looked Clare straight in the eye. “I don't know what to do,” he said, sinking into the nearest chair and running his hands through his hair. The adrenaline surge he'd experienced tearing Justin away from the fight had run out, and he was beginning to feel the effects. All of a sudden he just didn't have the energy for anything, especially arguing a point with Libby. “If you think it's best...”

“I do,” Libby said, turning to Justin and reaching for his hand. “Do you wanna go home?” she asked gently, giving his fingers a squeeze. Her eyes were clouded with concern, so much so he could barely meet her gaze. Would she be so concerned for his welfare if she knew who he'd gotten into a fight with, and why? He tried not to grimace. He didn't want to go home. He could only imagine how his mother would react if he turned up at the house they shared with a black eye and covered in someone else's blood. He'd probably be hauled back to Tennessee in a heartbeat to face the wrath of his grandparents.

Perhaps he'd be better off crashing at Joey, Chris and JC's so he could get his story together before having to explain himself to his mother? It would give him an opportunity to talk things through with his band-mates, too. Only JC was being up front about it, but he could tell they were all pissed at him, especially Chris, who'd had to take a walk outside just to calm down. In fact, they were still waiting for him to return.

Sensing his hesitation, Libby let her mouth run away with her. “You can always stay at ours,” she offered, and as an afterthought glanced sideways at her room-mate for confirmation. “He can, right Clare?”

“I... Er...”

“You can stay at ours,” Libby assured Justin, turning back around to smile sweetly at him. If she was aware of Clare's hesitation, she wasn't going to let it alter her plans. Her mind was already made up. Justin nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. She was like a completely different person, taking charge and not accepting no for an answer. It was a little intimidating. “I'll look after you J,” she said softly, reaching out to give his hand another squeeze.

JC glanced sideways at Clare, his eyebrows raised in question and she discreetly shook her head, promising with her eyes to explain it to him later.

For Justin, Libby's offer sounded like one he couldn't refuse. “Okay,” he said, trying not to break into a grin. “If you insist.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

~~~~~*~~~~~

“We've not got any steak but we've got frozen peas,” Libby called from the direction of the kitchen as she rifled through the freezer section of her and Clare's American style refrigerator. Justin heard her let out a low huff before she added, “Will that do?”

He shrugged and grunted a unintelligible reply as he lay back on the couch, resting his head against the pile of cushions Libby had assembled around him to keep him comfortable. He couldn't deny that having her look after him almost made up for the pain he was experiencing from his swollen face.

Almost.

They'd taken a cab to her apartment, the journey being spent with him offering muttered grunts to her frantic questioning. Was he okay? Was he in a lot of pain? Should she take him to the emergency room? So far she hadn't grilled him about how he'd gotten himself into such a state, but he knew it was coming. He could see the curiosity in her eyes and the unspoken questions she was fighting against, and every time she opened her mouth he tensed, waiting for the inevitable.

“I don't know if it'll work as well, but it's worth a try, right?” She muttered as she entered the room carrying a bag of frozen peas in one hand and a packet of painkillers in the other. Justin didn't have the heart to tell her he'd already taken some that Joey had slipped to him on their way out of the club. Joey was no stranger to a black eye – he kept an emergency kit on him, just in case.

Libby walked around the perimeter of the couch and sat down beside Justin's outstretched legs. She gave the bag of peas a few squeezes to evenly distribute the contents before reaching out to tenderly place it against his bad eye. Justin fought back an expletive as the cold sent his nerve endings into a frenzy, and he squeezed his good eye shut and gritted his teeth against the pain. Whatever good Libby thought the cold would do, he wasn't sure it was working.

“Sorry,” she said as she lifted the bag away from his face and grimaced at his pained expression. “Does that hurt?”

He glowered at her with his good eye. “What gave you that impression?” he quipped sarcastically.

Libby's mouth twitched, but she managed to rein it in before it spread into a full-blown grin. Which was fortunate as Justin wasn't in the mood to be laughed at. She watched him, leaning back slightly in her seat, regarding him with barely concealed concern, and it wasn't long before she was uttering the words he'd been anticipating since they'd left the club.

“Who did this to you?”

He hesitated, wishing he'd taken some time to plan an answer to that question. In the end he just muttered a 'huh?' and avoided her eyes. The painkillers were starting to kick in and he could feel the edges of everything softening, particularly his usually sharp wit. He wasn't in a good place to discuss this right now. Not without getting himself into a heap of trouble that is.

“Don't pretend you didn't hear me, Justin. Who did this?”

He glanced at her sheepishly and could tell at once by her expression that he was in trouble. Deep trouble. Now she'd tended to his wounds – or so she thought – she'd moved onto stage two – interrogation – and he knew that nothing but the truth would ease her curiosity. If only she didn't know him so well then he'd be able to make up some bullshit lie for her to swallow. But he knew she could always tell when he was lying. Dammit. Still it was worth a try... and so he mumbled the first thing that came into his head. Which was never a good move.

“Stuff like this happens in a club when it's packed,” he muttered lamely. “You know, people are dancing and you can easily get someone's elbow in your face...”

Libby narrowed her eyes. She wasn't buying that for a minute.

“Yeah. But that's not what happened to you, is it. Where did the blood come from?”

“Eh?”

“The blood that's soaked into your shirt.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of his chest to emphasise her point. “If it's not your blood then it has to have come from someone else. Who's is it?”

Justin stammered and glanced down at his t'shirt. He was a mess. He'd forgotten that he looked as though he'd just come from a crime zone. “I...er...”

“You got into a fight,” Libby said, no element of a question in her words. She stared at him with a burning gaze that demanded the truth. It was so intense he had to look away at the floor, the coffee table, the blank screen of the TV. Anywhere to get away from those flashing green eyes. “That's what happened,” she continued. “You got into a fight, was pulled out of it by your boys and now you're pretending like it never happened.”

Justin's eyes widened. How did she know? “I... I guess I'm not as good at--”

“Lying?” Libby demanded, interrupting him in a biting tone. “Not to me, no. I'm not stupid. I can tell when you're not being honest with me.”

Justin sighed. This is why he hadn't been honest with her. He couldn't handle the judgement in her voice... on her face. He knew what he'd done had been wrong, and now he had to re-live it once again through her reaction. It was painful. Painfully uncomfortable. Not to mention he had absolutely no idea how to go about telling her what had happened. Not without completely opening himself up to her, and there was no way that was going to happen.

“I saw JC's face when he went to find you,” she explained, finally dropping the now lukewarm peas onto the nearby coffee table. They landed with a watery splat. “I heard people talking about an argument, and when everyone left the table with these tense expressions I knew you were somehow involved.” She paused, taking time to formulate her next words. She couldn't just blurt it out. She wasn't one-hundred percent sure that her gut instincts were right, and oh, how embarrassed she'd be if she were wrong. “What happened? Please, just tell me the truth.”

Justin stared at her, unsure of how to proceed. Did she really want to hear it? And was he prepared to tell it?

“I... I'm sorry,” he stammered and her brow furrowed. She hadn't been expecting that, but it confirmed her suspicions. She knew now that it was Dan he'd gotten into an argument with, and the truth made her stomach turn over.

“Why are you sorry?”

Justin hesitated, trying to get a read on her mood. “Because it was stupid, and I know you're gonna get mad.”

“Do you?” she asked, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth like she always did when she was nervous. “Are you sure?”

He had been. Until now. “I... er... yeah.” His eyes scanned her face, surprised by the change in her. She'd lost all her fire and now looked a little... scared. Was that the right word? He couldn't get a read on her. “Are you? Mad, I mean.”

Libby's eyes dropped to her lap and to her fingers, which were tightly wound around each other. She twisted her wrist and her painted nails flashed in the dim lighting. Justin couldn't tell whether they were a dark burgundy or midnight blue, but either way he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from them. It was better than looking at her anxious, sad face.

“I'm upset that you're hurt,” she answered eventually. “Especially if it's because of me. And I'm worried you've caused trouble for yourself with the rest of the group--”

“It's not because of you,” he said sharply, and Libby's eyes flicked to his face. Dammit, he thought. Stupid painkillers giving my mouth free-reign.

“It's not?” she asked in a weak voice.

“Not directly, no.”

Internally he cringed at the bite in his words. He didn't mean to sound so edgy. He hoped she'd take it the right way – assume it was because he was in pain, not because he was trying his best to keep his defences up. To stop her knocking down the last of his protective barriers and capturing his carefully guarded heart.

Libby's face hardened and he could see the confusion in her eyes. “So, what, you're just starting fights in nightclubs now?”

He snorted a laugh, trying his best to get her off the scent. He couldn't allow her to see his weakness, of that he was convinced. Even if it meant lying to her face, he had to do it. Tonight was not the night to let his guard down, to give her a glimpse of the way he felt about her. Bullshitting was the only option.

“I meant it's not directly about you. It's more the principle of it.”

Libby's eyes narrowed and she stared at him incredulously. Only a moment or two ago he'd been completely honest with her – or so she'd thought – and now he was back to playing a role just to cover for his pride? She didn't know how to react, but she couldn't deny that it hurt to see him be so phony around her. She thought he had more respect for her than that.

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying I would have done it for any one of you girls. For you, for Clare, for Lisa... You're all like family to me. Like sisters. I wouldn't stand by and let anyone treat any of my family that way. That's why I stepped in.”

Libby bit down hard on her bottom lip as she continued to stare at him, demanding he look her in the eye when he spoke, but of course he didn't. He couldn't. His eyes jumped from the pattern on the sofa to the pile of magazines at the foot of the coffee table, even at one point to the ceiling. At no time did he meet her eyeline, and that's how she knew for sure he was lying.

What hurt the most was that he felt he needed to.

“Like sisters,” she repeated, almost letting out a little snort of disbelief at the idea. Sure, they weren't lovers, but there was too much sexual tension between them for him to try to pass her off as his little sister. The idea was ridiculous, and frankly insulting. She lifted herself off the sofa and reached for the bag of peas, anything to keep her hands busy. As she rose, his eyes flicked to her face, but this time it was she who couldn't look him in the eye. “Well then, I guess I should say thanks, bro, for standing up for me. Now, it's late... so I'm going to go to bed.”

Justin's expression turned to one of mild panic. He hadn't expected her to get up and leave. Naively, he'd assumed that they'd continue to talk it out. That he'd be able to hint at his feelings without actually having to say the words. He'd hoped she'd just know what it was he was unable to say, and that they'd be able to carry on as though nothing had happened. Was that really too much to ask?

“Libby...” He called her name but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead she made her way to the doorway, busying herself by checking the answer machine was on on the nearby phone. Justin stared at her back, willing himself to say something, anything, to stop her from walking away, but he found himself completely lost for words.

“There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you need it,” she mumbled, still keeping her back turned to him. Still pretending she was fine. “Towels are in the hamper next to the sink. Clare'll probably be home some time after two but she knows you're here so she won't disturb you.”

Justin opened his mouth one final time, but Libby walked out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. He waited a few minutes just in case she returned, but when he saw the light in the hallway switch off he knew she wasn't coming back. He sunk back into the cushions and let out a disappointed sigh.

That could've gone better.

He lay there wide awake for hours wondering how he'd managed to make such a mess of things. Perhaps facing his mother's wrath at home would've been the wiser decision. At least she loved him unconditionally. She'd be angry with him, sure, but she'd still take care of him while he was hurting and tell him that she loved him.

At the rate he was going, he wondered if she'd be the only one who ever would.

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