I stayed in bed for a very long time, trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation with Justin. I sighed when my stomach growled, sad that there surely would be no breakfast in bed. Not the way Justin gave me the cold shoulder on the way home and when he mumbled goodnight after I stood by the stairs and told him to sleep well. He didn't even tell me to feel better, even though I doubted he believed my illness/tired story.

I shook my head, remembering the subtle hurt on his face when I removed his approaching hand to his side when he tried to touch my forehead to check my temperature. I was sorry for that, it was rude, but I'm glad I didn't let him touch me. My body could only sustain so much torture before it would give way and keel over.

Maybe I was dramatizing the situation, but last night had been bearable until I realized how completely unbearable and embarrassing it was. There I stood, all over downtown with Justin Timberlake chasing and teasing and eating ice cream with me, pretending that it was a date in my head and pushing back any thought of his miscarrying fiance back at home, being ignored as we waited on our dinner.

I wished, very much so, that I could push away the newly developed guilt I felt for that, knowing that I missed Justin even when he was here, so to be blatantly ignored when all I wanted was a moment of his voice even hurt me. And to think it was directed at the one woman I should want to inflict pain on. But I didn't want to think like that. Why should really be mad at her? Justin had told her forgiveness was possible and, had I been her, I wouldn't have let him out of my sight in fear of losing him again. She was much more understanding and willing in the way she let him go so soon after she got him back. I would've pleaded for more time together before he fled away, but she loved him enough to let him go and trust his word that he'd return.

Damn, she even beat me in her level of maturity.

I grimaced and my stomach howled in agony at the tremendous amount of hunger digging into my gut. My mental stubbornness was then shifted as my natural survival instincts kicked in and forced to me get up and find food. Food that was downstairs in the kitchen that I would have to get to by going through Justin. I stood at the door, hesitation overshadowing my hunger for just a minute before I was on the go again. I made a short stop at the bathroom to brush and wash my face before bunning up my hair in a more presentable fashion. I still looked like shit on a stick, but it was enough to prevent Justin from screaming in horror when he saw my wretched morning face.

I moved like a slouth down the stairs, creeping even as my stomach moaned, and watched as the view of my trusty brown couch became clearer...And empty. I frowned, a part of me sad that I couldn't see his angelic face, until I heard some clattering in the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, slauntering toward the smell of bacon and eggs now hitting my senses. My stomach lurched me forward and my hesitation was soon forgotten as the thought of eating clouded my mind.

I still had butterflies once I reached the open entrance and his back was to me as he worked the stove. He wore some red checkered boxers and a white muscle shirt that did him justice, even from behind. He seemed to be concentrating and I didn't want to give him a heart attack, so I yawned lightly to ease him into the fact that I was there. His body visibly tensed and then relaxed as he gave me a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Afternoon," he greeted tiredly. I apparently wasn't the only one who missed out on a good amount of rest. I felt more guilty. He must've been wondering what the hell my problem was. As amazing as I thought Justin could be, he was still just a man, and like all men, he could be so obtuse when something was clearly evident.

"Good afternoon," I mumbled, almost unintelligible as I walked over to the fridge. A carton of OJ stared back at me and I grabbed it. I kicked the fridge closed and grabbed a glass from the dish holder. I poured myself half a cup and gulped it down before filling it up again. I felt awkward in my own house and it made me more uncomfortable.

"Do you feel better?" Justin asked, breaking the silence as he turned off the stove and walked over to grab big plate on the counter beside him that I didn't notice had eggs on it already. He pushed them aside and laid paper towel on the side. He placed the bacon he finished on the paper towel and walked over to the table with the plate perfectly balanced in one hand, two forks in the other. He placed everything down and took a seat before I even thought to answer. He looked up at me expectantly. I shrugged.

"I guess," I mumbled. He nodded and gestured toward the chair across from him.

"You eating?" he asked. I shrugged again and turned to the dish holder to grab two plates. He took one from my hands as I took a seat. The chair squeaked as I did so and I snorted a brief, unnecessary laugh out of nervousness as I scooped some eggs onto my plate. Justin picked at the bacon and then we rotated. I stared at everything but his face as I squeezed some ketchup onto my food and began to eat slowly, trying to chew too loud. I didn't want to bring attention to myself even though I was the only one with him in the room. I didn't want to talk and say the wrong thing.

"I spoke to Jess last night." I flinched a little at the sudden voice and at the mention of her name from his mouth. It sounded like such a dirty word when he said.

"Yeah?" I said, bravely looking up at his face. He was looking down at his eggs as he spoke.

"We talked for a long time," he told me, "I barely slept." Another bruise for my ego. Why was I so bothered rather than relieved that it was her, rather than thoughts of me, that kept him up all night? I looked down at my eggs and tried not to look disappointed.

"That's good," I said as calmly as possible, "She doin' alright?"

"Yeah, she's good," he told me before he laughed. I looked up, confused and he waved me off. "Sorry, I just thought about something she said..." I looked back down and ate a piece of bacon. I didn't want to know what was so funny. I couldn't stand that she made him smile.

"Well, my freedom's over," I sighed, "I gotta work tomorrow." The subject change wasn't subtle and I hoped he got the hint.

"The midshift, right?" he inquired, moving along with me.

"Yep," I said, "You got any plans for when I'm gone?" I looked up again, he was staring into space thoughtfully.

"I dunno... I'm sure Mike's gonna be hanging out with his family. I guess I'll chill with them for awhile. But I gotta make a few calls to set up going back home."

"Back..home?" I asked dumbly and he looked over at me.

"I'm leaving tomorrow night," he looked down at his plate, "Maybe afternoon. I don't really know for sure yet."

"Oh," I said and he looked up at me and shrugged.

"I gotta go back sometime and I figured you'd be stuck working these next two days anyway..."

"Oh, no, it's fine, of course..." I said, smiling weakly, "I just thought you were staying a little longer, is all."

"I could, if you want," he said, but it didn't sound too sure, "I can just push back a couple things-"

"No, it's fine, Justin, please," I brushed off, "Go home."

"Well, shit, should I pack now?" he joked, smiling.

"Yes! Out!" I jokingly shooed him and we laughed for a moment.

"Visiting me in LA is still an open invitation, anytime." I wrinkled my nose and held his navy blue gaze.

"I'm not really feeling it," I sighed dramatically, "Rich, skinny, spoiled little Paris Hiltons running around and paps snapping their little cameras a mile a minute... I think I'll pass." He chuckled.

"You're so pessimistic," he whined, "There's beautiful weather, gorgeous beaches...."

"I can go to Jersey for beaches and the weather's just fine," I said, dismantling his argument.

"You're coming to LA," he stated firmly, "Mike will make you."

"Mike is not bullet proof," I said. Justin laughed.

"Oh, so you shoot people now?" he cackled, "What happened to you cutting bitches with your trusty little knife?"

"The knife wasn't scary enough," I joked, "I needed something with a little more...bang." He nudged me for my bad joke and smiled.

"Well, you're living quite the thug life, my little friend," he told me, "Even more reason to come to LA and leave that gangbangin' behind you."

"Sorry, but I have a reputation to hold up to." I stole a piece of bacon from the big plate and he snatched half of it off and ate it as I whimpered in protest.

"Thugs don't cry over bacon," he said, chewing happily, "You might wanna get on that." I rolled my eyes, stole some of his eggs in retailiation, and sat back, much more comfortable now.

"You're lucky I'm not really as gangsta as I should be," I told him, "Stealing my bacon like that would've cost you a cap in your non-existent ass."

"Well, we all can't have Beyonce booty protection," he laughed and I rolled my eyes, but smiled, "Besides, I got bodyguards. Mike would take you down before you even thought about it."

"Mike's not here now," I said, "You're an easy target, Timberlake. Don't push your luck."

"I'm shaking in my ankle socks," he trailed off, continuing his breakfast. We fell into a comfortable silence. I finished my food first and washed the dishes I had in the sink before he came up behind me and dropped his plate in the soapy water for me to wash. I glared over my shoulder at him and he offered me a smile before sashaying out of the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, finishing up what I was doing before meeting him in the living room.

The Christina's court show was on and we both watched as two cousins argued on the screen. It was weird to glance over and see him watching Christina's court. I knew that he was just Justin or Matthew or whatever, but at times, I couldn't help but see that Justin Timberlake was sitting on my sofa, sucking at a piece of bacon in his teeth, watching Christina's court in nothing but a muscle shirt and boxers. It was almost funny and I shook my head. How surreal it was to be in a position like this? Three months ago, I was a completely different person living a much simplier life until he came along and changed it.

I was still deciding on whether or not that was a good thing.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Justin asked, catching me looking at him, but I just pretended that I only turned when he spoke. He didn't seem like he was going to crack a joke about how I couldn't keep my eyes off him, so I nodded.

"Sure," I said, "What's up?"

"I dunno, but last night was a little weird," he told me, making me tense up. "I was a little confused about what happened. You seemed like you were mad at me or something."

"None of that was a question," I pointed out and he gave me a bored look.

"Fine, Sash, are you mad at me?"

"No," I answered quickly and he knitted his brows together in an unconvinced and annoyed scowl.

"It's okay if you are," he assured me, "Just let me know what I did wrong."

"It's nothing, Justin," I waved him off, "Seriously, you're worried about nothing."

"Are you sure?" he asked again, "Is this about the whole... Jessica thing?" I wanted to smack him for that. The whole Jessica thing? Was he talking about her not knowing I exist? Or was he referring to when he left me to be with her? Maybe the fact that instead of staying up all night worrying about me like I thought, he actually stayed up all night talking to her?

"You can't just lump everything into a 'Jessica thing'," I said with a sour look, "That's way too broad."

"So it is about Jessica then?"

"Justin, I was tired and annoyed-"

"By me?" he interrupted.

"Right now? Yes, very much so," I sighed and shook my head, "You are such a man sometimes and it kills me." I laughed and he shrugged, not getting the humor.

"Should I apologize for having a penis?" I laughed again and he cracked a smile.

"Maybe you should," I said, "Maybe if you didn't have a one, I'd be... I dunno, I'm babbling." Justin's smile disappeared as he reached up and smoothed my hair back. His hands rested at the nape of my neck momentarily before falling to his side. He shook his head sadly and glanced back at the television.

"I came back way too soon," he mumbled to himself, or maybe me, I couldn't tell.

"I'm fine, Justin, really, it's embarassing that you worry so much," I told him as strongly as possible. He gave me a sideways glance and then looked down at his lap.

"I can't help it," he said, "I'm a mess and I'm worrying about this mess I made with you and I'm worrying about the mess at home with Jessica..."

"You're not a mess," I defended, "And don't worry about me. Jessica is your top priority right now..."

"Stop doing that."

"What?" I asked, looking at him.

"Stop trying to be the bigger person," he said, "It's annoying and frustrating trying to right my wrongs when you're acting like I didn't do anything and you're great and all this other shit... If I were you, I'd at least be upset with me, if not completely pissed off and just sad."

"Well, you're not me, so..."

"Sash, I broke your heart when I got on that plane and I know it. I thought about it the whole flight and I think about it everyday. I would kick myself in the balls if that would make it better for you."

"Justin, please," I was recoiling on the inside. "I don't want to talk about this shit."

"Maybe that's the problem, maybe we do need to talk about it."

"Not today," I said, "Besides, there's no need. I can take care of myself without all these therapy sessions you're trying to conduct. I don't want to talk about feelings and sadness and anger or any of it because it'll pass like every other piece of bullshit life throws at you."

"It'll pass...." he mumbled before snorting in disbelief, "You're so stubborn."

"I've learned from the best," I shot back, pushing him playfully, "And stop it. Now." I pinched the tip of his nose.

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing the reddening area, "What the hell was that for?"

"That was for worrying," I said, "Every time you worry, I'm going to pinch you." He rubbed his nose and glared at me.

"Maybe I should go home today instead." I reached out and pinched his arm. He yelped.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked, rubbing his arm.

"That was for being an asshole," I informed him before smiling, "This is actually pretty fun." I pinched his knee and he slapped my hand away before pinching me back. I laughed, but it stung.

"How do you like it?" he asked, laughing as he poked my side and made me giggle. I slapped his hand away when he tried again.

"I'm gonna start punching if you don't stop it," I warned as I slapped another poke away. He rolled his eyes.

"You think you're so tough," he said, disregarding my threat as a meaningless statement. I raised brow.

"You wanna test your theory?" I challenged and he mocked my raised brow expression, exaggerating by pursing his lips and placing his hands on his waist. He rolled his eyes and smacked his lips before pretending flip hair over his shoulder. I was laughing before I could control myself.

"Don't laugh at me!" Justin said in a mock, feminine voice. He rolled his eyes again before laughing out loud himself. He was so silly and I loved it. We quieted down for a second and I sighed as he relaxed back into his causal stance.

"You're a weirdo," I teased, "A funny weirdo, but a weirdo nonetheless."

"Well, thanks, I guess," he chuckled, "But aside from physically abusing me and calling me names, how would you like to spend the day?" I pretended to think for a moment, tapping my chin as I weighed the imaginary options in front of me. Then I clapped my hands together in a false eureka moment and turned to him with a wide grin.

"I wanna go to Disney World!" I gushed and he laughed.

"Really?" he asked, just as excited. I nodded and laughed before he pulled out his phone. He was halfway through dialing before a realization hit me.

"Wait," I said to him, haulting his actions, "What are you doing?" He looked genuinely confused as he shrugged.

"I'm calling Mike," he told me simply, "He can probably get us to the airport in time to catch a flight to Florida. It'll be less than an hour flight from here, I'm sure."

"Justin, I was joking," I snorted a laugh, "Why would I seriously ask you to take me to Disney World? And more importantly, why are you seriously about to do it?" He looked down at the phone in his hands and a light blush colored his cheeks.

"Oh, I ..." he trailed off, "It's not that much to ask, ya know? So..l... just..." His cheeks were more red than before and he was officially embarassed by my questioning. I started to feel bad.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that," I said, "I mean, it's Disney World, ya know? It's a stretch for me, but I guess I gotta remember who I'm talking to...But thanks anyway."

"Sorry, I just get a little forgetful too," he laughed it off, "I gotta remember that you wouldn't even let me buy you water, let alone take you to Disney World. I got excited that you'd let me give you something big since you never let me give you anything."

"You bought me dinner last night," I reminded, "And ice cream."

"You got the cheapest thing on the menu," he pointed out, "And the ice cream was four bucks."

"That's a lot for a cone," I complained, "I'm about to pay you back." He rolled his eyes.

"You're annoying," he complained, "Always trying to give back what's being given to you."

"I'm sorry that I'm not a little moochin' gold digger," I said sarcastically, "I'll change my ways."

"That's what I like to hear," he retorted and I pinched him on the arm again. Another yelp and another pinch to my arm in retaliation. I pouted and he pouted, both of us in minor pain.

"I don't like this pinching thing anymore," I whined and he nodded in agreement.

"Truce?" he offered and I nodded before we shook hands. "Well, if we're skipping out on Disney World, what else is on the menu?"

"Hmm..." I looked around the room and shrugged, "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"I wanted to get a new guitar," he turned to me with an innocent smile, "Wanna go shopping?"

"I'd rather sit through a Teletubbies marathon, but since they don't have those, I guess I'll join you." He laughed before turning serious.

"Hey, don't they freak you out?" he asked, "Teletubbies, I mean. All running around in these bright colored onesies with bunny rabbits all over the place...just...weirds me out." I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, and where are their parents?"

He shrugged. "I don't know and I don't want to know. Could you imagine what they'd look like?"

"That's scarier than imagining how big Big Bird's mama is," I shivered.

"Why is Big Bird so damn big?" Justin pondered, "What kinda bird is he?"

"Better yet, why has he been six for the last thirty years?"

"He's six?!" Justin asked in disbelief, "Holy shit, I was thinking at least ten."

"Nope, six," I confirmed, "And elmo's three or something like that. He had a birthday." He nodded thoughtfully and then smirked.

"Why are we discussing Teletubbies and Sesame Street?" I smiled and shrugged.

"I don't know, but you know what else is scary?" He shook his head. "Boobahs."

"Boo-what?" he asked.

"Boobahs," I repeated, "They're this twisted little verision of Teletubbies. They are just creepy." He made a sour face.

"That sounds awful," Justin told me, "A twisted version of Teletubbies? As if that show wasn't demented enough."

"Now, if I had to choose between one episode of Boobahs and a marathon of Teletubbies, I'd choose the Teletubbies, hands down." Justin widened his eyes in shock.

"That bad?" I nodded and he shook his head. "That's terrible. How can they torture kids like that?"

"I don't know, but my nephew practically screams when Boobahs pop up on the television screen." He laughed and shook his head.

"You should write a letter of complaint," he smiled, "Alert the media about this traumatizing epidemic."

"I wish I could get it off air, but I don't think anybody cares that much."

"Probably not, but it'll make for an interesting tale," he said nonchalantly, "And don't think I forgot about shopping, sweetness. I'm still dragging you with me." I snapped my fingers and stomped my foot disappointedly, pretending to actually be upset.

"Damn it, so close," I complained, "If I had just held onto that Teletubbies story a little longer..."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Justin said dismissively, "Go get dressed and I'll buy you ice cream for your trouble."

"Aw, thanks," I mumbled sarcastically as I got up from the couch and dragged myself unwillingly toward the stairs.

"You're quite welcome," Justin called behind me. I ignored him, jogging upstairs and rolling my eyes at the smile on my face. He had called me sweetness and I pretended not to hear it even though my heart jumped a little when the words slipped pass his soft pink lips. I shook my head. Stop it! I told myself, but my smile was still pulling at the corners of my mouth. I decided to let myself have this little moment because he'd be leaving tomorrow and I would work on getting over him the moment that he did.

But for now I giggled like a school girl.

I giggled again.