Despite the fact that my addiction was agony, I managed to sleep beside Matthew that night and not act out on my urges to practically rape him in his sleep. He held me close from behind and the warmth of his bare chest against the skin of my back, left exposed by my tank, was enough for now. I woke up with a smile and a kiss from Justin before getting ready for the day ahead of work.

When I got there, Clarissa was on my ass, hounding me with questions about why I was so damn happy and glowing. I told I had a good night's sleep for once, but something in the way she smiled told me she only partially believed me. It didn't matter. My mind was already far too cluttered with thoughts of Matty waiting at home for me. Six o'clock couldn't come fast enough, but when it finally did, I couldn't believe how quickly the time flew.

I stopped at the gorcery store for a moment to pick up some turkey chops for dinner. Matt, I'm sure, was starving. He couldn't cook much, but was learning by watching me move along the kitchen and being my assistant. It was nice to make dinner for two, especially since he washed dishes and threw out the trash.

I almost laughed at myself. We sounded like we're a married couple, but we aren't even really dating, per se. But he lives with me and we sleep in the same bed and as far as he knows, this is his only home... We're completely backward. But I liked it. The quirkiness of it all made me feel like we were unique and oddly stronger than the normal couplings out there.

Not that we were a couple. I mean, we just kissed last night. That can't mean a couple has been formed, right?

I didn't want to think about titles and couples any more. Things start to get misconstrued and misunderstood when they're complicated with nonsense. Matthew and I were enjoying each other's company like two, rational adults attracted to one another. That was what it is and will be for however long this will go on.

"Hey," Matthew greeted as he stood from the sofa and walked briskly over to me. He kissed me before I even locked the door and if it wasn't for the howling wind behind me, I would've forgotten all about the wide open space. I reluctantly pulled away to lock up and Matthew took the one grocery bag I had in my hands as if it were too heavy to carry.

"It's just turkey chops," I informed him as I watched his curious face try and identify the package. He set it on the kitchen counter once we made our way into the room.

"Can I help?" he asked and I smiled.

"Of course." Matt came up behind me and unzipped my coat slowly. In the daze following the kiss, I had forgetten all about it.

"Let me hang up this up for you," he whispered into my ear as he brought his hands up to my shoulders and slid the coat from my arms. It was purposely slow and unnecessarily touchy, but I couldn't do anything but giggle once he walked out of the room.

I started on the chops quickly, already wanting dinner to be over and done with just so we could snuggle onto the sofa. I was down for just another movie night and as Matthew came walking into the kitchen again, smiling for no reason and absolutely gorgeous in black basketball shorts and a random green t-shirt, I was down for getting right to bed soon afterwards.

"Can you grab me an onion?" I asked as I turned my gazing eyes from him.

"Sure," he said simply and I heard the fridge open as he dug through it. I had to take a deep breath for a moment, not quite sure why my lungs weren't functioning properly. I furrowed my brows in concentration as I washed the meat and placed it into a clean bowl.

"Can you cut it up and wash it?" Matthew had already grabbed the cutting board and was chopping away before I finished my sentence.

"I'm three steps ahead of you, babe," he teased and I replayed 'babe' in my head over and over. I almost gagged at my school girl thoughts. Strangers gave me pet names and I didn't swoon and repeat them. Just the other day, I would've told him I wasn't his babe and that he should never call me that again if he wanted his balls to be attached. Now, I feel like he could call me a giant purple elephant and I'd sigh and ask myself how I got so lucky.

"Tomato sauce," I requested once I robotically seasoned the chops and allowed them to marinate. The small, blue Goya can of tomato sauce was placed in my hand and I opened it with the opener. I went to get a pot from the oven, my secret hiding place for all my pots and pans, but Justin was already passing me a rinsed one.

"I told you I'm three steps ahead of you," he smirked, proud as hell. I smiled at him and took the pot.

"Thank you," I voiced, taking it from his hands. He grabbed my wrist before I completely moved away and gave me a quick kiss.

"You're welcome," he told me, turning back to the sink to finish dishes from earlier. I slowly made my way back over to the stove and placed the pot on top of it. My breathing was awkward again and I realized Matthew was culprit. It's been a while since somebody's made my heart race with their presence and my body was adjusting to the sudden change in my environment.

Making dinner was a blur, but as we settled and began to eat, my attention was on Matthew as he chowed down on my chops like he never had food before. I wondered if he ate like that as Justin Timberlake or if this beast was caused by all the pressure to have the proper eitquette all the time. Standing still and looking pretty must've been a lot more work than I imagined. It made me frown.

"What's wrong?" Matthew asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I made a sour face.

"Use a napkin," I scolded lightly, tossing him a piece of paper towel.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, "I guess that explains the face you were making."

"Maybe that's just my face," I joked and he smiled at me before leaning on his elbows placed on the edge of the table.

"Who do you look like?" he asked curiously and I raised a brow.

"Sasheirah Hanes?" He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"No, family wise," he asked, "Do you look like your mom or dad or sister...Do you have a sister? Do you have a brother?"

"Damn, can I answer a question before you ask another?" I smirked.

"My bad," he smiled, "Okay, so who do you resemble?" I thought for a moment.

"My mama, I guess," I shrugged, "I don't really remember my dad."

"What happened to him?" He sipped his water and I stared at the glass for a moment.

"Dead beat daddy," I answered simply, "Didn't want to be around and my mom didn't want him to be around either. They went their separate ways."

"Oh, well that's fine," Justin comforted, "You had your mom and she obvious did a good job." I shrugged again.

"I guess."

"So what about sisters or brothers?" he asked, "You told me once you had siblings, but you never specified."

"I have two sisters and two brothers, all older." I sipped my juice and he bit his bottom lip.

"You close to any of them?" I shook my head.

"Not really," I said, "We might visit my mom together sometimes, but we're not best friends. We all get along well enough."

"Cool," Matt said, "You have any nieces or nephews?"

"Three nieces and a nephew," I smiled subconsciously, "All adorable."

"Aww," Matthew cooed, "How old are they?"

"The nieces are twelve, eight, and one," I counted off on my fingers, "And the big headed nephew is five."

"That's so cool," he commented in awe, "I want to have kids."

"I'm sure," I said awkwardly.

"I want a big family," he continued, "I grew up alone for the most part. I have two half brothers though."

"Wow, more googling, I see," I chuckled and Matthew glanced down at the table.

"Actually, no," he said slowly, "...I actually just remembered that." I blinked and stared at him for a long moment before looking away.

"Oh, that's great," I tried to sound cheerful, but it sounded fake, even to me. I shifted in my seat.

"And I resemble my mother," he admitted softly, "That I remember too." I stared down at my hands and we were so quiet that the dripping faucet seemed to boom in the tiny space of the kitchen. I remembered when I couldn't wait for him to say things like that, but now, I can't bear the thought of that faithful day he rolls over and says 'Who the hell are you?' and calls his millions of security guards and gets me put away for kidnapping.

Who would believe he voluntarily came home with me? Who'd believe Justin Timberlake voluntarily stepped foot in North Philly? I'll probably be put into the nearest, high security asylum.

"Well..." I started, no longer wanting to think about this bullshit, "How about some Superbad?" Matthew looked up happily from his almost cleared plate.

"I'm down," he smirked, "I'll set everything up." He got up before I could say much else and I figured he wanted to escape the awkwardness as much as I did. I found myself feeling more and more anxious about Justin's random memories. I wanted him to get his life back, I did. I can't imagine the torture it might be to have so many faces in your head and not a single name or type of idea of what they mean to you. I can't even imagine what his family's going through. They must be sick with worry.

I sighed to myself, stuck in a very selfish spot that made me think that it didn't matter. He was Matthew, not Justin Timberlake. This was his home and this is where he wanted to be. I told myself that a million times last night as I realized that I was already growing attached to somebody who was inevitably temporary. His instability took away from his charm, but I was still caught in the hype of his smile and the feel of his hands, even though I knew I was being foolish. For once, in such a long time, I was being reckless. My responsible subsconscious was wailing in pain and rejection.

"Are you mad?" Matthew asked as I stepped into the living room. I shook my hands of the last few water droplets left on them from clearing the table and washing all the dishes. I shrugged indifferently.

"No, not really." His lips pursed with uncertainty before he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch.

"Join me?" he asked, patting the spot beside him. I smiled softly and made my way over to him, tucking myself under his lifted arm. He draped it over my shoulder and hugged me close to him. The movie started and we both stared at the screen. I really did love Superbad, but my laughs were stiffled down to smiles at the beginning. Something in me was too sad to really enjoying the jokes.

After a while, things started to relax a little. Halfway through the movie, we were both laughing out loud and Justin's other hand was absentmindedly playing with my finger tips. I sighed when I glanced down at the scene and realized that his hands looked so good with mine. They were warm and long and peachy toned and the contrast between my brown tone was sharp, but intriguing. It reminded me of the times Angel's hands were intertwined with mine. Angel wasn't white like Justin, but he was Puerto Rican and somewhat tan. Our contrasting tones were still as bold, but we both grew up around the same parts and had similiar cultural backgrounds.

Matthew's hands looked out of place. They were manicured and soft, the tips slightly callous. I was sure it was from strumming on the guitar. I've seen him play on t.v. from time to time. It was the coolest thing about Justin, aside from his dancing, that I ever really remembered or appreciated. I frowned, wishing I had been some sort of a closet fan of his. Then again, I'm glad I didn't have any preconceived notions about him. I liked that I got to know him from scratch.

"What are you thinkin' about?" I heard him mutter softly as I glanced up and realized the movie was over. He had turned the television off and was looking down at me patiently for an answer. I shrugged.

"You, I guess," I answered vaguely, "I was just thinking about how cool it was that you play guitar."

"Do I, really?" he asked, genuinely amazed and curious as I nodded my head with a smile.

"You're good too," I complimented, "Your dancing is better though." He looked smug with his smirk planted on his face, but his light blush told me he was flattered and didn't really know how to comment on the double compliments he just received from me.

"Thanks," he finally mumbled and I sighed and sat up.

"I think it's time for bed." His body detached from mine unwillingly as I stood up and stretched. I shivered when the cool air of the room hit the skin of my stomach as my shirt hiked up. Then I shivered from another feeling. A feeling of Matthew's lips suddenly attached to my stomach. He kissed my warm flesh; the wetness of his mouth leaving a cooling trail up my torso. His hands had latched themselves to my sides, sliding upward and taking chunks of my shirt with it, leaving my belly out in the cold and covered in goosebumps.

I couldn't tell if the goosebumps were from the cool air of the living room or the fact that he was kissing the area, but whichever it was caused me to gently stroke his curling hair, holding him closer. He continued to move upward, teasing me by stopping his hands and kisses before he reached my chest. I sighed and opened my eyes, which closed without my knowledge, and watched him stand from his kneeling position to kiss the very tip of my nose.

"You don't have work tomorrow, right?" he asked and I shook my head.

"Does this mean I get to stay up all night?" I teased as he chuckled lightly. I was talking big, but my butterfly-filled gut reaction was nothing but fear and shyness. I was still shivering from the warmth of his hands, still of my sides, holding up my shirt. The trail of his wet kisses now left behind a tingling sensation. His kiss was electrifying, no matter where he placed his lips and it made my mind wander for a moment.

"We'll have to see," Matthew told me nonchalantly as he took my hand and led me up the stairs. Justin was the first to shower and I followed afterward. I opted to wear a cotton nightie, short, but warm. Sexy, but not overbearing. It was simple enough to sleep in and tease with and as I walked in the room with the pink material covering my body, Matthew's eyes scanned over me in appreciation.

"What?" I asked dumbly, tossing my day's clothes into the hamper and crossing over to my side of the bed. He closed the laptop he had been using and placed it on the floor, underneath the bed, before turning back to me.

"You look beautiful." I self-consciously adjusted my messy bun, wishing I had done something with my hair. I couldn't have shown that much desperation though. I didn't want to give off too strong a vibe and have both him and myself running for the hills.

"Thankies," I felt silly the moment the word left my mouth, not knowing what the hell possessed me to use such a childish phrase. I almost cringed when I looked up at Matthew, my expression pained subtly.

"Thankies?" Matt inquired with an amused smirk. "That's cute." I frowned, not wanting to be cute.

"I'm grown," I reminded, "I'm not cute."

"Would you prefer ugly?" he asked and I rolled my eyes.

"I would prefer a term used to describe a grown woman, not a prepubescent child."

Matthew laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the process. "You may be grown, but you pout like a prepubescent child." I fixed my mouth when I realized my bottom lip was protruding.

"Shut up," I retorted, childishly, might I add, and to his satisfaction. He snickered when I continued to glare at him.

"Okay, okay," he finally relented after I crossed my arms over my chest and continued to stare at him. It honestly wasn't that funny. Hell, it wasn't funny in the first place. "How old are you again?" he asked casually a moment later and I jokingly gasped.

"You never ask a lady her age," I told him. He gave me a bored expression, but it broke out into a small smile.

"C'mon, Sash," he egged on, "What's you age?" By this time, I had successfully tucked myself in bed and was ready to sleep. I fluffed my pillows and pulled my comforter up over my shoulders. His eyes followed my every movement. I stared back as best I could, my gaze never being quite as strong as his.

"I was born on the seveth day of February in the year of nineteen-eighty-four." Matt took a moment to pause and calculate. I rolled my eyes. He could dance and sing and play guitar, but math was not his strong point. I almost gave him the answer my damn self.

"You're twenty-three," Justin stated proudly. I nodded to acknowledge he was right.

"I'll be twenty-four soon though," I told him, "In about...two weeks."

"Well," he smiled smuggly, "I'm twenty-eight in ten days. I'm four years your senior, sug." I rolled my eyes.

"Did you remember that too?" I asked, almost too bitter to both his and my liking. He crumpled his face in an adorable pout.

"No, that I googled," he told me softly. "I guess you don't like me remember things." I glanced down at the bed.

"No, it's a good thing that you're remembering," I said as earnestly as I could muster, "I just think it's pretty shitty that you can't get your damn bank account number together." He cracked a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes the way I had hoped. My stomach flipped a little when he sighed deeply before reaching for my hand. I was chilled by the coolness of his skin. His hands were always a bit colder than mine.

"It scares me," he confessed in a gentle tone, almost as if he were admitting a cowardice. I frowned at the sadness myself and gave his fingers a squeeze.

"Why?" I inquired and he shrugged.

"I'm just scared about what's gonna happen that day," he pouted, "What happens when I roll over and remember exactly who I am?"

"What happened to destiny and you belonging exactly where you are?" I teased, although a part of me was silently wishing it were all true now.

"You happened," he smirked, "It's not realistic to think like that." I didn't say anything, feeling like the Debbie Downer. Why did I have to go along and crush his innocent dream?

"Oh, so now you listen to me..." I grumbled and he reached his free hand over to poke me. I giggled against my will before slapping his hand away.

"I always listen to you," he said, reaching up to caress my cheek this time. I didn't slap his hand away though. I just leant into his warmed palm. "You're amazing and that's what scares me, Sash." I crinkled my nose at the compliment and also in confusion.

"Why does that scare you?" I asked. "Afraid you can't handle this, Matty Boy?" He sucked his teeth and scoffed accordingly.

"Please, Miss. Hanes, it's you who can't handle me," he said with assurance, "I'm just scared that I won't remember that when everything clicks. I don't know how this works, ya know? Do I wake up and remember nothing about Philly or do I remember everything, but some details? Do I wake up and remember you or do I wake up and not have a clue about who you are?" I mentally grimaced at the last part; my greatest fear, and shrugged.

"I dunno," I told him honestly, "Maybe I should make up a contract right now that says you won't sue or get me arrested for kidnapping should you not remember me." Justin chuckled at the thought, but I was serious. I, for one, liked to avoid unneccessary drama. Then again, the boy's presence has been clouding my judgment lately. The fact that we were laying here, holding hands, was proof of that. I was just setting myself up for disappointment. I sighed, pulling my hand away from his and tucking it beneath my pillow as I turned onto my side. I used my arm to prop my neck up a little, giving some support to the cushion beneath my head.

"You're not mad are you?" Justin asked as I turned my back to him.

"No," I said, and I wasn't lying. Sad. Frustrated. Stuck. Confused...were more or less the correct emotions. "I'm just tired." It was easier to imagine he wasn't there when I couldn't see his face. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend I was fine, but as Justin moved up behind me, wrapping his arm protective across my waist and pulling me close, I couldn't bare to push him from my mind. I curved my body a little, making our spooning more complete by relax my once rigid form. My arm rested over his and I held his hand as I reached up to turn off the light. The lamp clicked and it was dark. I pulled back against him and he rested his face into the back of my neck. I felt his nose run along my skin and I heard him breathe in my scent.

"I don't think I could ever forget you," his muffled voice came from behind me, "Not even on my worse day." I closed my eyes, wanting to believe him, but how could I? The boy didn't even know his own name or mother or career when he first encountered me. All things extremely important. People and events in his life that held more importance that I ever could. I felt the unmistakable urge to shed a tear.

"Goodnight, Matt," I said flatly and he squeezed me lightly.

"Night."