"So... he just left?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed for the millionth time. "Yes, Clare, he left." I didn't even bother looking over my shoulder at her expression. I've seen that same expression for the last three weeks in the mirror. The look of disbelief, confusion, and sadness. You and I both, Clare. You and I both.

"But he kissed you like he wanted to make your babies on the front steps," she continued as I plopped down on her sofa and ate the kernels of popcorn that were tossed over the edge of the bowl I'd forgotten was next to me.

"I'm well aware of that," I said with a mouthful, "I was there." I was certainly there and I wish I hadn't been. If I didn't suffer through that terrible farewell, I wouldn't have been so distraught at work that Clare wouldn't have wanted me to get my brain scanned to make sure a vein hadn't popped. Futhermore, I wouldn't have had to tell her what happened between Justin and I. I was so embarassed, hurt, and isolated within myself that I didn't speak to anybody. Even my mother's been blowing up my phone, trying to see if I was dead or alive. I still haven't called her to let her know I was breathing... I wasn't so sure about the alive part though.

"Lucky," she mumbled and I wondered if she wanted me to hear that. "That doesn't make any damn sense."

"It makes perfect sense," I defended, the scene replaying in my head so vividly that my lips twitched. "It was the last kiss he was giving me. He had to make it good."

"Why? So you can never get it out of that big ol' head of yours?" I rolled my eyes and popped more kernels into my mouth.

"I always replay anything he does in my head," I said, "That's just a given."

"But he kissed you like-"

"Clare, please, I know," I interrupted, picking up her remote to put the television on video mode. She was leaning by the DVD player, popping in our next movie of the night: Waiting To Exhale.

"All I'm saying is that the boy kissed you like he didn't want you to forget him... and then he leaves. Where's the sense in that?" I shrugged when she finally pushed play and walked over to me. I picked of the popcorn just as she sank into the cushion beside me.

"Him and I didn't make much sense from the beginning, so don't expect us to start now," I half-heartedly joked.

"I was so sure he was going to just say he loved you too," Clare rambled on, "I mean... he kinda said it, but he didn't at the same time. That's never really happened before."

"Can we watch the movie now?" I asked, staring intently at the screen, but not really seeing it. Justin was the only thing running through my mind and I wasn't surprised at all by the different flashes of his image. Every smile, smirk, laugh, grin, and sexy eyebrow arch engraved in my head. I could practically smell his cologne and Irish Springs soap.

"It's nothing but previews," Clare said, snatching the remote from my hands to pause the screen. "Sash, I'm worried about you." I rolled my eyes.

"Clare, relax please..." I groaned, "I'm not going to kill myself or set shit on fire. I'm fine. I cried most of it out the first week and I've actually benefited from this because I've been working out to get rid of some of the stress." She was giving me a disbelieving look, but she gave me a once over glance and nodded.

"Okay...since you're not dead or anything close to sickly, I'll take your word for it," she told me with irritation in her tone, "But the first sign of trouble, Sash, and I'm living with you for the rest of your life." I rolled my eyes and laughed at her absurd threat.

"Clare, don't try and use me as an excuse to escape your husband and child."

"Damn, am I really that transparent?" she joked along, nudging me a little with a laugh. "But seriously... that was mean."

"What was mean?" I asked, distracted by the salty sweet goodness of the kettle corn flavored kernels - my favorite.

"Him kissing you like that." I slowed my chewing and stared at her. "I mean... he knows how much you were going to miss him and he kissed you like it was nobody's business just knowing that you were going to replay it over and over again... Plus he's still going back to that Jessica girl... I don't know. It just seems like a cruel tease." She shrugged and I nodded a bit in agreement. My heart felt like someone was tearing it apart, layer by layer. It was a slow, dull, torturous pain that I learned to ignore during a busy day, but felt during quieter moments like this. I sighed.

"I would've missed him just as much anyway," I defended unconvincingly, "I don't regret kissing him."

"You just wish you could kiss him some more though," Clare said, "That's why it was a cruel thing for him to do. Give you want you want and take it right back. It's like giving a dehydrated man a sip of water and pouring the rest of the bottle down a drain."

"It's whatever, Clare," I said dismissively, "My dehydrated ass will gladly sip my bottle of water and eat my kettle corn while we watch this movie." She rolled her eyes, but pressed play. I could feel her burning a hole into the side of my head as I stared intently at the screen, but she stopped after about fifteen minutes, getting into the film and no longer in my face about Justin. I wish I could have done that, but I wasn't paying any attention to the film. I was so upset that I was having a hard time just sitting there. I felt the urge to cry, but I pushed it back. That man had enough tears from me to fill the Nile river. I refused to shed anymore, especially with Clare as an audience. That would just be the apocolypse. She'd probably march on down to Los Angeles and demand that he'd love me so I would get out of my rut.

Demand. Why did it hurt ten times worse to know that he'd have to be forced into loving me? I shook my head sadly. One more negative thought piled on top of my shit cake.

"What is it?" Clare asked quietly. I shook my head again to dismiss her.

"Nothing," I said quickly, pretending to be annoyed that she interrupted my movie time.

"You know you suck at lying, right?"

"Apparently," I mumbled. "If I could've lied better, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"What is that suppose to mean?" she asked and I shrugged.

"I guess if I lied to him about how I felt longer..." I sighed. "I dunno. Watch the movie." Life would only be so kind if she listened, but instead, she paused to scene again and faced me.

"If you lied any longer, you would've been running around, loving him more and more everyday. And for what? This?" She gestured toward me with a sour face. "I know you may not believe me, but this would've hurt a hell of a lot more a couple of months down the line. And what if it took you years?" she asked, "What if you were loving him in the shadows for years and years and then BOOM! The bomb drops."

"Why are so convinced that he'd never leave Jessica and I'd always be stuck in the friend zone?" I asked. She was going to make me develop a complex, if I hadn't already.

"Because he's a man and he's stupid," she told me, "That boy is so hell bent on making that Jessica girl feel better about herself that he would stay with her forever just so he didn't have to feel guilty. The most he would've given you was woman-on-the-side position, which you gladly would've taken, but eventually gotten sick of."

Oh, she knew me too well. I blinked and looked away. "I'm not that easy."

"You're that desperate because you love him," she told me gently, "If my husband was in the same shit as Justin, I'd be his side piece too. I love that man too much to let him go."

"That's different, you and him have something."

"And you and Justin don't?" she asked, confused.

"It's different, y'all had years and years," I explained, "You doing that is something I can understand, but even I can't get my head around my desperation. I knew him for three or four months now. Not even half a year and look at me? What the fuck happened?" I asked, more to myself. "I was never like this. Hell, when Angel was trying to get with me, it took him at least two months to get a date out of me. Justin has gotten everything and still has me mopin' around, watching feminist 'I hate men' movies and stuffing my face with kettle corn." I angrily threw some popcorn into my mouth. "I'm pathetic."

"You're in a different kind of love," Clare smiled and I wanted to get the joke. "You said it yourself, you guys weren't suppose to happen."

"What does that even mean?"

"That means that he was already under your skin before you realized it," she explained, "The moment you think a guy is trying to get with you, your walls build up, but Matthew was somebody completely unexpected. You didn't really feel the need to guard your heart until... Well, until he already had it. He was your friend before you realized he was something more." I rolled my eyes at her philosophy, stuffing more kernels into my mouth.

"I think I was dickwhipped and taken down while I was all doey-eyed and defenseless. That should be a crime."

"I'll write to the senate," she laughed, "At least he left though. He walked away so you'd get over him."

"I really wish I believed that," I sighed, "I just wish I were stronger though. I just wish I wouldn't let this get to me like this..." I trailed off, feeling myself choke up. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. I felt Clare hug me around the shoulders, rubbing my arms briefly like my mother would.

"Girl, you'll be fine in no time," she whispered to me, "Your heart will be like new and you'll be thinking 'Justin who?'"

"And then I'll be thinking 'Justin Timberlake, that's who'." Clare snickered and I cracked a smile at my pathetic self. "I'm really whiney right now, huh?" She nodded and gave me a squeeze.

"That's okay though," she assured, "You're PMSing too, so I'll excuse you big time." As if on que, a cramp shot through me as I wished my fucking ovaries away.

"I feel disgusting all around," I pouted, "I think I need to lay down." Clare nodded, scooting over and placing one of her couch pillows on her lap. I laid my head on top of it and stretched my petite frame along her sofa. She gave my head a gentle pet as I pouted some more. I couldn't imagine how horrible I looked in my grey sweats and oversized t-shirt. No make up, a messy ponytail, and popcorn crumbs all over my face. I was a living, breathing ad for an anti-depressant.

The movie ran on and on and felt a little better as I watched all the characters lash out on their men, but I felt like I wasn't really angry with Justin at all. Just sad. There wasn't an angry bone in my body directed at him, so the movie only helped my inner feminist, but not my broken heart. My stomach felt queasy as munched on the popcorn I was hugging to my chest.

"Clare?" I called out, feeling shy all of a sudden as my question seemed immature.

"What is it?" she asked distractedly as she stared at the screen.

"How do I get over him?" I asked, "How do I forget about him when I don't want to?" The movie paused as she shifted in her seat. My head rocked, but I remained on her lap.

"Well..." She paused thoughtfully, "First thing's first, you take care of you. Eat well, sleep well, and don't stop doing what you love because it reminds you of him or you lose focus. You had a life before him, so don't ruin it. Secondly, it'll probably be easier if you got rid of the things he gave or left behind." My eyes immediately fell to the charmbracelet wrapped around my wrist. I tucked my arm beneath my side.

"But I love this bracelet," I whined.

"You don't have to throw it out, but at least pack it up," she said, "You can't have reasons to love him in your face when you're trying to stop loving him." I agreed automatically and made a mental not to find a pack-away box once I got home in the morning. I was still pouting in protest as I nodded.

"Okay," I relented.

"Also, maybe you should try dressing up more and going out sometime... Maybe date around and test some new waters."

"I'm not trying to date," I said dismissively, "I just want to be alone for as long as possible."

"Well, you can at least have some fun and flirt a little," she encouraged and I rolled my eyes.

"Next," I said dismissively and she sucked her teeth.

"Fine, don't go out, but go do your hair and get your names done or something," she said, pulling at my sweat pants, "Do you own anything other than these?"

"I got a couple of jeans, but PMS equals sweats," I reminded, "Give me about three more days and you've got yourself a deal."

"Cool," she said, "But yeah... that's about it. You have to give it time. It's gonna take you twice as long to get over him as it did for you to fall for him."

"Well, shit, that won't take long, now will it?" I mumbled to myself and Clare chuckled.

"You'll be fine and that's all that matters," Clare cooed, "You're a lot stronger than you're giving yourself credit for. You're doing quite well for yourself as is. Just take deep breaths and it'll all work out soon." I nodded.

"Thanks," I smiled, "I knew there was a reason why I kept you around."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Clare grumbled, restarting the movie. I sighed to myself, smiling softly as I watched the scene in front of me unfold. My chest still ached with the dull, tortorous pain, but I knew one day it would stop and that was enough to make my smile stay. As much as I didn't want to forget him, I knew that it was best that I did. He was happy where he was. Apparently Jessica meant a lot more to him than I realized and I need to accept that him and I just aren't meant for each other.

He was Justin Timberlake, international popstar, and I was Sasheirah Hanes, Temple University nurse. I almost laughed at the ridiculous comparison. How could that ever work? It was stupid and so were we to think that reality would allow us to be together. As if the world would be that kind. That's all Justin wanted me to see. He wanted me to know that Jessica was right for him because she was from his world. He had to reject me to spare me future hurt. Breaking my heart now was probably the biggest favor he could have done for me.

I've seen those tabloids and those all access shows. I saw how the scrutinized and criticized and stalked celebrities in their everyday lives. I didn't want or need to be a part of that world. I ignored that side of Justin as best I could, but if we were ever together, I would be forced into it and eaten alive. We would have been torn apart anyway. Like Clare said, better now than years from now. This hurt was dull, but I'm sure it would grow sharper down the line.

Yes, he did me a favor. I would stop loving him. I would forget him. I will move on. It was what I had to do.

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

I lied to her. I lied to myself. I lie to everybody. I don't really know what my problem is. Why I can't just be a man and admit that I'm a fuck up. That I am that guy. That I'm the one who cheats and can't keep his heart in the right place. It's funny though, of all the cheating in the world I could be doing, keeping it in my pants wasn't my problem. Keeping it in my godforsaken heart was. My body oozed with love for her. My lips twitched at the thought of her lips, covered in sheer gloss that tasted like sweet menthol the last time I kissed them. My hands shook at the memories of her warm skin beneath them as they trailed up her thighs. Then my groin tightened as I agonized over her pleading face that faithful night when she asked me - almost begged me - to just make love to her.

That was painful. Not just because my balls have never been bluer after that, but because of the look on her face right before I turned away and told her no. Everything in me was screaming 'what are you doing!', but I knew full well that when morning came, there wouldn't be enough passionate sex in the world to make my pussy ass go back to Jessica and face her like that, knowing I did something that horrible behind her back.

Yes, she cheated on me. I remind myself of that everyday, trying to justify my selfish actions and feelings, however, I can't play the guilt card with her. I took her back. I said she was worth forgiving and the relationship was worth fighting for. I wordlessly gave her my word that I wouldn't use her past actions against her. I couldn't go back on that to cover my ass the moment I slipped up and slipped inside of Sash.

Damn, I shouldn't have thought of that. I had to shake my head to get the sound of her moaning out of it. God, she was the sexiest woman in the world in bed. It was the only time she let her guard down completely. She was so open, not embarassed to show she wanted me more than anything. Not ashamed to call my name. Not afraid to beg for me to go faster, deeper, harder... It was beautiful and the best sex I have ever had.

Yes, it was. I never wanted anybody the way that I wanted her. It was so much deeper than the physical. It was the emotional part that made the sex so good. Don't get me wrong, she knew what she was doing and how to work, but there was never that much of thrill with other women. They were open to me the moment they laid eyes on me. The groupies I fucked with on tours were already saying they loved me before I said hello and the other women I've dated didn't have half the guard that Sasheirah did. I was always the slow one, taking it one step at a time while they waited for me to open up. Sash was so much harder to deal with. It took a lot of work to get through those walls...but when I finally did, I got on a plane and left her to bleed.

"You're an asshole," I said outloud to myself as I laid in bed. I glanced over at the nightstand to my left as I sat up against my pillows. The red, gleaming numbers of the alarm clock said 2:38 AM. Jessica shifted beside me and mumbled something in her sleep as I turned and faced her. A mass of dirty blonde hair covered her face before I slowly reached over and tucked it behind her ear. She smirked in her sleep briefly before becoming still again.

She looked beautiful in the moonlight as it came in from my glass balcony doors. She didn't even snore. She was at peace in her sleep. She slept on her stomach and never moved unless she shifted a bit and then stopped. I've watched her do it for the last three weeks because I haven't slept for more than four hours at a time. I go to sleep, see Sash's face, and get up again, thinking for hours and hours about her. It didn't help that I kept my camera beneath my pillow at night.

It was in my hands now though, weighing like a million pounds as guilt washed over me. I powered it up and put it into playback mode. I used the cross directions to navigate through the photos of Sash and I on my 'vacation'. They were mostly pictures from our shopping adventure, but they were enough to get me through the night and early morning hours. They were something to look forward to when Jess was asleep and not aware that my cheating heart was still... cheating.

My eyes hungrily drank in the images on the LCD screen. I zoomed into her face on most and just marveled at her features, rebuilding them in my head. It was never quite right though, not as beautiful as the real thing in front of me. There were times when I got her face wrong, even by the tip of her nose, and I'd get so upset. How could I forget anything about a face like that? Even so, her face haunted me. Her voice echoed in my head. Her scent lingered in my nose. She always smelled so good and felt so soft.

My stomached knotted up in a vicious ball of distress as my emotional pain turned physical. I missed her so much it was literally hurting me. I had to hug myself and sigh to feel a bit better.

"Justin?" Jessica's tired groan caused me to straighten out and I quickly turned off the camera as she groggily sat up. I discreetly placed it under the blanket beside me and away from her.

"Shh.." I cooed as she searched the room for my face with her hands until they rested on my cheek. I smiled reassuringly. "Go back to sleep, baby. Everything's fine."

"What were you doing with that?" she asked quietly and I freigned confusion.

"With what?" I asked.

"The camera," she clarified, "You just had it." Damn it. She was too aware, even at almost three in the morning and half asleep.

"Nothing," I lied, "I was just going through some old stuff. Deleting what I didn't want."

"At three in the morning?" she ask suspiciously and I shrugged.

"I can't sleep," I said, answering honestly for once. Her face saddened at the news.

"Is this not comfortable for you?" she asked, scooting over to the farside of the bed. "I didn't cuddle you or anything, did I?" I frowned. Was I that much of a bastard that I couldn't let her cuddle me? She spoke the words and it hurt that something as loving and affectionate as cuddling with her would upset and discomfort me. I wanted to hug her to show her that she didn't repulse me, but I stayed in place. I hadn't touched her in so long that I didn't know if the awkwardness of it would confuse itself with disgust anyway. I didn't want to upset her more with that confusion, so I stayed in place.

"No, it's not that," I assured, "You didn't do anything. I just need to take a walk around the house... Get some tea or hot chocolate..." She was already jumping out of bed.

"I'll get it for you," she announced, slipping on her flip flops.

"No, I've got it," I told her, standing as well.

"No, please," she told me, always sounding desperate like her life depended on it, "Let me get it for you. I'll be right back." She shot out of the room before I could protest again and I sighed to myself, falling back onto the bed. The ceiling seemed higher than usual as I stared at the white boring paint that covered it. I listened intently for any sound of Jessica, but the kitchen was too far away... or Jessica was just too quiet.

I didn't put it past her. She was walking on eggshells constantly and did everything in her power to make sure nothing annoyed or upset me. I wasn't even allowed to make my own tea in the middle of the night. And for what? What was she trying so hard to obtain? Was I really worth the anguish of it all? Was I worth the drama?

I couldn't say yes because I didn't feel it. Everything in me knew that I was wasting my time and I was especially wasting hers.

I took a couple more minutes, but I finally heard her footsteps and the sound of a spoon clanking against my mug. She crept into the room, cooling the tea mixture with steady blows from inbetween her full, pursed lips. She smiled softly at me, almost proud in a strange way as I sat up to accept the cup from her hands.

"It's pomegranate green tea," she told me as I raised a brow.

"I ran out this morning," I said.

"I know," she said, "But I looked up a recipe online for a homemade version and got some stuff from the market. It's better than the box. It's real pomegranate juice."

"Thanks," I smiled, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip. The tea heated up my throat and chest in a comforting way and was sweet against my tongue.

"Definitely better than the box," I assured, "This is really good. It was really sweet of you to look it up." She shrugged like it was nothing and waved me off shyly. I was shocked by how saddened I was in that moment as I watched her bow her head and play with her fingers awkwardly. I realized that I had no idea who she was anymore because the Jessica I loved wasn't some fragile mess that wasted her precious time googling recipes for pomegranate green tea just to make me happy. The Jessica I knew would have punched me in the arm if I woke her at three in the morning because I wanted tea. The Jessica I saw in front of me had no back bone and slouched like she was always in fear of something. Something like losing me.

I stopped sipping the tea, feeling nauseated all of a sudden as Jessica walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in gently, most likely not wanting me to be disturbed by her movement. I placed the mug on top of my night stand, blocking the clock's red numbers and covered it with the CD case I mindlessly left there earlier.

I settled back into bed and Jessica turned onto her stomach and faced the opposite direction of me. I bit my bottom lip and slowly reached around her waist. She stiffened at the contact, but let go of a breath slowly as I rolled her over to face me and pulled her flush against me. Her arm hugged my waist as well as she snuggled her face into my chest. I took in the scent of her hair and it smelled like strawberries. I used to love that smell. It always drove me crazy and even now I felt a tiny jump in my chest... but it wasn't the same. None of it was the same.

And if none of it was the same - the woman, the love, the smell of her hair and what it did to me - , what the hell was I fighting for? What was I wasting my time and her time for? Why was I still lying in a bed with a body that was warm, but distant and unfamiliar?

I realized it was because I didn't want to break another heart. To make another tear fall and hear the sobs escape the throat of a woman whose pain was unbearable to watch shoot through her eyes as she fell apart in front of me. I didn't want to be hated again or viewed as a monster. I didn't want to be cold and indifferent to somebody's feelings again just so I could be a better man. I was too scared to face the drama, but I knew that in time, I would grow tired of my games and so would she. By that time she would be bitter. She would have grown to hate me anyhow and her heart would shatter into a million pieces in an angry crash against the floor.

The body in my arms was breathing soundlessly and steadily. She was asleep. My heart was pounding anxiously for the arrival of morning. There was no need to beat around the bush. It would be quick and as straight to the point as possible without sounding mean. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable, I thought to myself as I gave her waist a tiny squeeze. A hug goodbye, I concluded as her unsuspecting form slept night away.