So I readjusted the placement of my furniture. I think that I was just fidgeting at first, but then my couches and television stand and coffee table all became more meaningful. When I woke up this morning, anticipating Justin's arrival, I figured that it was a new day. Yes, my heart was still a bit more jumpy than it would've been if any other friend of mine was coming to visit, but I told myself that things were different and to not get my hopes all up about his little vacationing period. He missed me as a friend and was just stressed out about his 'new' old life and needed a breather. There was no need to go jumping to conclusions and imagining that he was somehow going to magically change his mind about everything and just stay with me.

Even though I knew that would never happen, I went to sleep with the thought of him confessing that he was done with Jessica and I never slept better. I didn't feel guilty either. I felt that he wasn't happy and if he needed to leave her to feel better, why the guilt? Then I stopped myself from entertaining the idea too much. I didn't want to set myself up for extreme disappointment. It was just a friendly visit after a month of separation. He was my friend, a part of my Matthew, and there was so much more to him now that I needed to learn.

I concluded that that's what his vacation would be about: getting to know Justin Timberlake. It was weird to know that the former 'Nsyncer was going to be here. Now that he actually was him and knew it, he seemed almost like a stranger. I became self-conscious about my small home and my ghetto ass neighborhood. I worried that he'd change his mind the moment he reached North Philly, thinking to himself Why am I going to this hood to see this meaningless female? and head off to Barbados instead. I frowned, told myself that he would at least call and make something up, and then sighed. I was just sitting, waiting, and wishing he'd hurry. His flight landed about half an hour ago and he said he was on his way.

As badly as I wanted to see him, my stomach was in nervous knots that made me almost want to call him up and tell him nevermind. I spent way too much time trying to decide on an outfit and I spent even more time trying to deal with my hair and make up. I decided that lip gloss and mascara was enough, with just a hint of concealer to hide the circles beneath my eyes that grew deeper over the last month. I wore a white tank, a yellow cardigan, and a pair of dark blue jeans that made my ass look fabulous. My hair was up in a ponytail and white pearl earrings dotted the tips of my earlobes. It was a simple look that didn't seem like it killed me to put together. It was also warm and bright so I'd look like I was always happy instead of wallowing in my sorrows until I called him three days ago (and he called me everyday afterward).

I looked so at ease I almost fooled myself into thinking that I was as I got up impatiently and walked into the kitchen to make sure the table was set. The romaine lettuce was cut and clean in a big bowl in the fridge, the cheese and dressing beside it. The chicken was being kept warm on the stove. Forks and plates were white, silver, and clean. Everything was spotless, like the rest of my house. Bob was eating in the corner and seemed at ease despite all the crazy moving about and undressing and redressing he witnessed. I guess he long concluded I was crazy and nothing I did phased the poor thing anymore. I furrowed my brows and pondered for a moment if I was crazy. I was letting Justin stay here without a second thought. Being away from him killed me, but seeing his face everyday, knowing that I could never have him, just might be worse.

But then the doorbell sounded and I knew it was too late to rethink my decision. The way my heart leapt in my chest told me that I wouldn't have rethought anyway because I was excited to see the man, even if it tore me apart. I took a deep breath as I walked into the living area. I stopped two feet from the door and waited for a moment, trying to will myself not to cry, scream, jump for joy, or get angry. I couldn't put a finger on any of my emotions, but my mind settled the moment my hand touched the knob and unlocked the latches.

A breeze came in and Bob meowed. I hadn't noticed he followed, but I didn't care. I had a much more brilliant sight in front of me. A six foot, one inch tall man with dark shades on to block out the sun that was breaking through the clouds after so many rainy days. He seemed so perfect in his tan jacket and gray hoodie. His dark blue jeans reminded me of my own and his fresh white Nike's looked like they were just taken out of the box. He had trimmed his hair, but it was still the Justified look that I love.

He smirked for a moment as he looked me over as well before finally breaking out into a full blown grin, white teeth all aligned perfectly. "You look great."

"Ditto," I replied, finally taking notice of the huge black man behind him. Justin must've noticed my face because he chuckled before gestured behind him nonchalantly.

"This is Tiny," he introduced as the man nodded his hello. I waved before looking back at Justin.

"Well, come in," I stepped aside, trying to think of any extra food I might have. I had only made enough for two. I didn't even consider that Justin would bring a bodyguard. Was he staying here too?

"Well, Tiny's not staying," Justin said, taking the duffle bag from the large man's shoulder and placing it on his own, "He's just making sure I get to where I say I am."

"Well, you do have the tendency to run away," Tiny joked and I laughed lightly with the two men in front of me.

"Whatever, man," Justin brushed off, grabbing another piece of luggage from Tiny, "I'll call you when I leave."

"You call me when you step a toe outside of this door," Tiny stated firmly, "Don't try and walk these streets without me."

"Tiny, please," Justin whined, like he was being nagged by his mother, "I got this, man. This isn't my first time here."

"I don't care," Tiny said, "If I catch you out in the street, I'm kickin' yo ass and takin' you home, got it?" Justin rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Got it." I smiled softly. It was funny to watch the employee school his employer. I didn't know a bodyguard could talk to the celebrity that way. Wasn't it his job to kiss his ass like everybody else? Justin seemed annoyed as Tiny continued to preach about safety and how serious he was about Justin calling him. He jokingly told me to put up the bat signal if Justin tried to escape and I laughed before we said our goodbyes.

"Tiny's funny," I commented once we were left alone. My stomach folded over.

"Yeah, he's a freakin' comedian," Justin said with a swift roll of his eyes, "He's been like that since I was fifteen. That man cannot learn to let me breathe."

"Damn, that long?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"He was there since I first got big with 'Nsync in Germany," he explained, "He's a good man."

"Seems like it," I said before silence settled over us. Justin took that moment to place his bags on the floor beside the couch. I turned and watched him awkwardly before he straightened and stared back at me.

"So..." he began, rocking on his heels, "This is sufficiently awkward."

"I wouldn't say...awkward," I dumbly argued, "Just... different."

"Yeah, like your living room," he said, taking a thoughtful look around before nodding in approval, "It looks nice."

"Thanks," I smiled, "Thought I'd change it up. I figured that since -" I cut myself off. "Nevermind, it sounds stupid now."

"No, no," Justin smirked, "You have to finish now. You already started." I rolled my eyes and looked at the zipper of his jacket.

"I just thought that since you left, nothing around here changed. I kept it all in the same spot, but now... things are different, so I figured that I'd change the room around to bring about a new... aura. I don't know. It sounds better in my head."

"No, I get it," Justin said simply, "New me, new room." He glanced behind him at the sofa and smiled. "Same comfy couch though." I smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, that thing's not going anywhere," I assured, "Stuck with me through college."

"Good times," he mumbled more to himself than me and my mind ran through every movie night and talk and make out session we had on that damn couch. It seemed so long ago, but the memories were sharp and evident. I could almost feel his lips pressing against mine. I bit my bottom lip nervously as I glanced up from the sofa I had subconsciously began staring at and realized Justin was watching me.

"I spaced," I said sheepishly, "My bad."

"It's cool," Justin waved off, "I just asked what you were cooking. It smells good."

"It's just some chicken for the Ceasar salad," I explained, "Are you hungry?" I was already turning to walk to the kitchen and Justin was trailing behind.

"I could eat." He stopped in the dining area to hang up his coat as I made my way into the kitchen. I hurriedly walked to the fridge and grabbed the lettuce, cheese, and dressing. I placed everything onto the table before grabbing a bowl to place the warm chicken in. I placed that onto the table as well when I finished. Justin was standing at the entrance of the kitchen and I jumped when I saw him there.

"Why are you just standing there?" I asked aloud and he shrugged.

"I was waiting for you to... I don't know," he laughed at himself, "I don't know what I'm allowed to do."

"You're allowed to do whatever you want," I said, "Don't be a stranger." It was easier said than done and Justin knew I was trying to sound nonchalant despite the awkwardness. He nodded and walked further into the kitchen. I took in his baby blue sweater and the white dress shirt underneath. I took in how it fit nicely on his body. I thought about the six pack that was underneath the stylish materials. I missed Matthew's t-shirt and sweats, but Justin's dressy casual attire was appealing as well as he took his seat. I had to clear my throat to make a distraction for myself. I needed to snap out of it.

"This looks good," Justin commented as I set up his plate. I felt like a housewife, tending to her husband. The thought only made me frown deeper.

"Thanks," I said softly. Justin glanced up at me with a bit of concern and I turned my eyes away to grab the cheese. "Parm?" He nodded and I sprinkled before I sat down and passed him the chicken. We ate our salads in silence for a while, the lettuce crunching and the water sipping. It was deafening and made me queasy.

"What's wrong with us?" Justin asked suddenly before laughing, "We're really bad with this in-person thing."

"I know," I agreed, smiling and shaking my head. "This is bad." I laughed, suddenly finding it funny. Justin smiled at me and nodded.

"I think that this is going to be a very silent vacation unless we get on this awkward thing," he said, "It shouldn't be so hard to be around you. We talk fine on the phone, but I guess actually having you here..."

"Yeah," I agreed, "It's a lot harder to look you in the eyes than I realized." My heart dropped a little as Justin pouted and nodded.

"Is it too soon?" he asked innocently, holding my gaze against my will. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," I dismissed quickly, "No... I want you here, but... you know... You're different now."

"I'm not," he argued, "I'm still me."

"You have a whole lotta you I haven't gotten to know yet," I retorted, "I know the Matthew, but the Justin Timberlake guy is new to me."

"Justin Timberlake's not that great," he said, "You should know that better than anyone."

"Actually, I wouldn't know a thing."

"You had me as Matthew, right?" Justin said, "Well that's me. That's who I am in a nutshell. You got the better part of me."

"Matthew didn't wear sweaters and dress shirts," I told him, "Matthew didn't need bodyguards and Matthew never wore cologne." I noticed that his smell was a sweeter pine than Matthew's and I knew it was tainted with cologne.

"Do I stink or something?" Justin's face grew a pink shade and I shook my head.

"No, it doesn't," I assured, "It's all just so new to me. I'm nervous around Justin Timberlake. I can't talk to Justin Timberlake. I don't know Justin Timberlake -"

"Which is exactly why Justin Timberlake is the worst side of me."

"Justin Timberlake seems pretty cool," I gently spoke, "I think I'd like him."

"I dunno if you will..."

"But you are him." He shrugged childishly, picking at his unfinished salad. "I can't imagine... a bad side of you."

"It was just easier when I wasn't him. No drama, or past," he mumbled, "I didn't have cameras in my face or bodyguards on my ass or people asking me a million questions about dumb shit like my favorite drink or color." He rolled his eyes.

"Well... that's what you've always done, right?" I asked in confusion. The boy was rich, famous, and talented. If I could have that, I'd tell somebody my favorite drink or color. It didn't seem so bad to have a picture taken, especially if you looked as good as he did.

"It gets really old, really fast." He took a bite of his salad and swallowed. "Tiny and I had to outrun the damn Paps at the airport. They weren't as bad as LA though. By the time we got halfway down the Roosevelt Boulevard, we lost them."

"Good," I said simply, not knowing how else to comment. I stared at my plate and I felt his eyes still on me. I tried not to look up. I wasn't as good with the staring as he was.

"I don't mean to sound like a crybaby about this stuff. I know that I have a lot and I should be grateful - which I am - but sometimes..." He trailed off and I looked up to see he was still staring. Now I had been caught and couldn't turn my head.

"Sometimes what?" I inquired after a moment. He shrugged again and looked down at his plate.

"Sometimes... I wish I were just normal."

"You are normal, man," I smiled lightly, "You don't have three heads."

"You'd think I did the way people scream or take pictures or follow me around, always wondering and curious and waiting for me to do anything. I can't even cough without US Weekly reporting I have a case of SARS or something." I laughed out loud and he fought his own smile before finally chuckling along with me. "I'm glad that SARS is funny to you."

"Shut up," I joked, giving him a playful shove, "I guess it's just funny because it's true. I read some of those tabloids and they are ridiculous."

"Ugh," Justin groaned, "Don't read that mess."

"I was in line at the market," I explained, "I didn't actually buy them."

"Well, that's comforting, I guess," Justin smirked, "But what I meant by the normal thing is that... I just want to be able to do what I want, when I want, wherever I want with whoever I want, ya know? I can't curse people out because I'll look like a drug addicted Disney kid gone wrong. I can't talk to another woman in public who isn't family because I'm all of a sudden having an affair or I'm the father of our love child. Or I'm gay now because Lance is gay which means all of 'Nsync has to be gay."

"The synchronized dancing and leather pants didn't help either," I added and he laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, that didn't help," he agreed, "But you know what I'm saying, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I can understand where you're coming from," I told him, "But... It comes with the territory, right? I mean, you get a mansion and ten cars out of it."

"I only have eight cars," Justin corrected and I raised a brow. "What?"

"You have a eight cars?" He nodded without a hint of sarcasm. "Why the hell do you need eight cars?" He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by my question.

"They're all nice," he shrugged. "I drive them all from time to time. And Trace burrows."

"It must be nice," I said, shaking my head in disbelief, "I don't think I'd know what to do if I could buy eight cars." I laughed a little. "That's Oprah money."

"That's chump change compared to Oprah," Justin smiled, "It's great though. I know that material things aren't everything though. I know that there's so much more to be grateful for, even if you don't have much. I learned that from you."

I rolled my eyes, freigning insult. "Well, damn, I didn't know I had so little," I said, "I thought I was doing okay for myself." Justin's cheeks turned rosey and I realized I liked making him blush.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it offensively," I raised a brow and he stammered on, "I - I meant that...that you don't have eight cars. Hell, your Buick barely got around, but it was great being here with you. It was nice knowing that I didn't have to buy you all these expensive things. You were the one buying things for me. What you have isn't a mansion, but it's yours and at least you know that you're the only reason why people love you. You and who you are as a person, not a celebrity, is what gets you hours at work and gets you the friends that you have. People aren't smiling at you or joking around with you because they have to. They do it just 'cause, ya know?"

"I don't get why you sound so sad," I pouted, "I mean, I get that there are some shallow-ass gold diggers just waiting to get in on your life, but you are really popular. You're singin' some hook or chorus on everybody's songs."

"That's music," he brushed off, "That's work. You know how you have co-workers that you talk to, but you wouldn't necessarily invite out to dinner on the regular?" I nodded. "Well, that pretty much sums up my whole social circle. I got friends back home and that's really about it. Even half of them have sold me out. If I didn't have such a great family... I don't know, things would be a lot more lonely."

"Well," I began, feeling bad for the sad man before me. "I hope you know that I'm your friend. A real, invite you for dinner, sleepover anytime, eat all my food for free friend." He chuckled and I smiled at him softly before I watched as he glanced down at my hand. It took only a second, but his hand seemed to move so slowly and hesitantly before laying on top of mine. He gave my fingers a squeeze and a chill shook me. I glanced up at him to see if he felt it, but he only smirked in my direction with shy eyes.

"I know that," he said, "And I know you hate compliments and stuff, but I really think you're amazing for being so different. I can trust you. I do trust. That's a lot for me to say and feel, and I can only hope it's mutual."

"I trust you," I assured, too quickly. He smiled.

"Good," he told me before his thumb brushed over my skin. I tried to act like it didn't phase me, but I just wanted to kiss him as he sat across from me, looking like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "I've got something for you." I blinked, trying to catch his said words.

"What?" He let go of my hand and I was so saddened that it shocked me before he stood and left the room. The moment he was gone, I let out a breath and rolled my eyes. I was being ridiculous. I needed to relax. Don't be stupid, girl. Stop it now, I told myself over and over, but my heart was beating at an uncontrollable pace. I couldn't help how I felt, and it was making me sick.

"Close your eyes," Justin called from the dining room. I did as told without hesitation. "You closed them?" he asked and I nodded before realizing he couldn't see me.

"They're closed," I assured before I heard his slow, careful steps. I squeezed my eyes tightly to try and keep my excitement down. I don't know why I was so excited. What else could he possibly give me? "Okay... open."

"What are those?" I asked, staring at the dark blue jeans he held up in outstretched arms with such pride on his smiling face.

"These are William Rast jeans," he told me, "Made to fit curveous women with .... noticable asses to match. It's a new line of jeans now. I talked to Trace about it, so we're going to make them stretch, since you always complained about jeans without stretch and they'll come in petite, regular, and long. Plus we're making them range from sizes 0 to 22." He waited, I blinked. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Why do you remember everything I bitch about?" I asked and he shrugged.

"I dunno," he smiled, "You inspire me, I guess." My heart quivered. Yes, quivered, and he didn't even say much. Then again, a man has never been 'inspired' by me before. I shook my head and smiled.

"Well, in that case, let me have my jeans." I stood to retrieve them, but he yanked them back before I could touch the fabric.

"There's a catch though," he said with a playful glint in his eyes. I cautiously watched him as if he were going to attack at any moment.

"What?" I inquired and he smiled.

"I want you to be our ad girl," he grinned and I furrowed my brows.

"You want me to be your what?"

"Look, we have this whole 'real women' idea going on," he began excitedly, "We're going to have these commercials and ads featuring real, beautiful women who are going to complain about the average jeans they wear, like you and the whole stretch thing. Then you'll wear these bad boys and say 'William Rast understands me' or something like that and BAM! We sell out."

"Like...seriously?" I asked dumbly and he nodded.

"Aren't you excited?" I furrowed my brows. "No?" He looked so disappointed, but I couldn't change my face. Ad girl? For William Rast? Justin Timberlake's jean company? T.V.? Millions of people looking at me?

"I don't exactly want to be the 'it' girl for William Rast."

"Why not?" he complained, "I thought you'd be down for this."

"Why would I be down for this?"

"Because I'm going to pay you and you'll get free stuff. Photoshoots and stuff... Fun?" I shook my head no and he sighed. "Come on... I can put Clare in the commercials too." I knew Clarissa would jump at the chance to be on television, but I was not down for the public.

"I don't know..." I mumbled, "Let me think about it." He pouted, but nodded.

"Okay... I guess," he sadly replied, "But here." He handed me the jeans and checked them out. The tan stitching of the WR was nice and the fabric stretched. The lining was smoother than normal jeans and I held them up to my waist.

"They'll fit," I announced.

"I remember your size." I raised a brow.

"How is that anyway?" I asked, "I never told you what size I wear."

"I had a lot of time on my hands, sitting around... I had to do something."

"You looked through my clothes, weirdo?" He laughed.

"No..." I raised brow and he turned away. "Anyhoot, what are we doing today?"

"Smooth subject change," I teased, "But I was thinking Scrabble and movies. I didn't really plan on going out, but if you want-"

"No, insides fine," Justin told me.

"But you're dressed so nicely," I complimented and he shrugged.

"It's just the dress shirt," he mumbled self-consciously, "Is it too much? I just didn't know what to wear..."

"No, it's fine," I assured.

"Are you sure? The sweater's too much, right? Too much blue?" I laughed and shook my head.

"Are you sure you're not gay?" I asked and gave me a bored look.

"Where's the Scrabble?" he asked as I laughed.

"Way to avoid the issue."

"You're an ass," he smiled, "Always trying to get on me. Damn, you couldn't even give me twenty-four hours of a tease-free day."

"I'm sorry, you're just an easy target," I said, beginning to clear the table.

"Fine, then I'll just go home," he whined, helping me clean up. I bumped him with my hip playfully as he smiled to himself.

"You ain't going anywhere," I joked, "Not until you finish these dishes."

"Oh, that's what it is?" I nodded before he chucked a piece of lettuce at me. We laughed when I failed to block it and it stuck to the side of my face.

"Asshole," I said, throwing a piece of chicken at him. Of course, he caught it before it could stain his Ralph Lauren sweater, popping it into his mouth greedily.

"Don't ever throw food at mean, it's pointless," he told me, "I love food too much to let it go to waste." I shook my head, piling up the plates.

"Then you'll love cleaning up plates for food," I said, handing them all to him. He reluctantly took them from my hands.

"I'm a guest, you know," he complained, "This is against the rules."

"You're not a guest," I corrected, "You're a eat my food for free and then wash the dishes kinda friend." He playfully rolled his eyes before I slauntered out of the kitchen, smiling to myself.

My heart was too excited. I forgot about Justin and his fancy sweaters and for a moment, I had Matthew. This vacation was certainly looking up.

------------------------

The day went by quickly and we had finished watching 'Knocked Up' before one that morning. It was dark and cold downstairs as the blue screen appeared and Justin placed the DVD back into its case. I stretched and yawned as he sat down beside me on the sofa.

"You got work tomorrow?" he asked and I shook my head.

"I switched some shifts to get the next three days off," I said, "It's only reasonable."

"I guess, but you didn't have to do that for me," Justin said.

"It gives me three days of freedom in a row and then I have a mid-shift Thursday and an early shift Friday. It all works out fine." He nodded before we grew silent. The sleeping part I didn't really want to discuss. I, of course, wanted him to be upstairs with me, but during the entire course of the day, he made no effort to put his bags upstairs. I didn't want to be the one to ask and he didn't want to be the one to ask either.

"So... you going to bed now?" I shrugged.

"I could sleep," I said before quickly adding. "Need help with your bags?" He looked at his luggage and then back at me.

"Umm..." he shrugged. "I think they're fine down here, ya know? Easier in case I need something in the middle of the night."

"Well, it'll be kinda hard then, wouldn't it? Your bags will be all the way down here and you'd have to get up and walk downstairs to them." That was direct enough and he shrugged again.

"I didn't think I was sleeping upstairs tonight," he said, "I don't mind the couch."

"I'm not going to let you sleep down here," I argued, "It's too uncomfortable, remember?"

"Well, I'm healed up, so I can deal." I felt my spirits dropping down.

"You seriously want to sleep down here?" And not upstairs with me? I wanted to add.

"I just think that... It's...better...ya know?" I wanted to tell him I didn't know at all, but I paused and nodded.

"If that's what you want." I waited and he just nodded before I gave up and stood.

"Well...goodnight," Justin told me, standing up as well. We stood for a moment, the awkwardness from earlier back full force. I didn't know what to do. I wanted a hug, but a part of me was mad and embarrassed by his subtle rejection. Then I was mad at myself for thinking he'd be willing to jump into bed with me, especially so soon, even if we were just sleeping.

"Goodnight," I replied quickly before he gave me a brief, one-armed hug. It was nothing compared to the warm bear ones Matthew always buried my entire being in. It was hard to believe that it was that same body that could hold me so fully.

I jogged up the stairs and walked to my bedroom, leaving the door unlocked with the false hope that he'd come upstairs and lay with me. I was such a loser and I was sure Justin decided it was 'better' to sleep alone downstairs in fear that my crazy, desperate self would attempt to rape him in his sleep.

A million thoughts ran through my mind, just like the first day he slept on that couch. This time, however, I didn't fear robbery. Instead, I feared that he was silently packing and sneaking out of the house. I tried to clear my head, but it would not shut up. I knew that sleep was too far gone and it was going to be one of those nights.