Deranged Delusions

13. Stove Fire

Everything about this trip was going fine, until the house caught on fire.

I’m upstairs sleeping when all of a sudden I hear the roar of something crashing to the ground and the frantic yells of Justin coming down the hall. Stupidly, I manage to stumble out of bed and grab my robe resting on the hook by my bed. Tying it sloppily around my waist, I open the door and see the inferno at the end of the hall by my parents’ bedroom.

Well shit, there goes the childhood home.

“Lauren! We need to move!” Justin screeches by the foot of the steps. His eyes are illuminated by the red and orange hues that the fire is creating and the smoke is absolutely suffocating. I stifle a cough as I close my door behind me and walk down the hallway calmly. For some odd reason I don’t feel panicked or upset that my house is falling down in ashes around me. I don’t really care that Justin is practically crying hysterically because he’s never been in a situation like this, but then again, neither have I.

“Oh God, what the hell happened?” Justin asks as I walk up to meet him. He reaches out and grabs my upper arm, pulling me close to his already hot body. His brow is drenched in sweat and he’s watching the fire creep its way down the hall towards the two of us.

“I don’t know,” I state shaking my head sadly. Why am I not upset over this? Why, why, why, why? It has to be the shock. I have to be in shock because I’m not freaking out, I’m not stressed out, I’m just…here I guess.

“We have to get out of here!” Justin yells over the snarling fire. A sickening crack echoes throughout the house and I see the rafters from the roof begin to weaken and cave in. If we don’t get off the second floor, the roof is going to fall in on us.

Now I start to worry.

I reach out and grab his arm with my free hand and both our grip tightens on the other before he lets his hand slide down my arm and into my own hand. I let out a shaky breath and he responds by pushing me in front of him so I can go down the stairs first. I have no idea how the fire started and apparently Justin is enjoying playing fire fighter because he’s yelling about a fire extinguisher and whether or not I have one.

Please, I lived in the boonies when I was younger, do you really think my parents had a fire extinguisher around there? People around here don’t even lock their doors when they go into the city. What makes him think I have a fire extinguisher?

“Justin,” I yell over the commotion. My voice is hoarse from breathing in all the smoke and the raspy sound comes out squeaky due to the fear that has now registered in my voice, “you do realize that the mother fucking roof is caving in? I don’t think a fire extinguisher is going to help any.”

“I don’t want to argue right now! We have to get out of here before the whole damn house falls around us!”

And as soon as those words are out of his mouth a enormous boom shakes the entire house and we both turn our heads towards the ceiling in time to see the beams holding the second story up crack and give way. “Oh shit!” Justin screams and the next thing I know he’s pushing me towards the front door, and out of harm’s way.

My room has now been relocated to the living room.

The force of the second story caving down around us knocks me off my feet and I’m thrown against the opposite wall, adjacent to the front door. My face has become rather personal with the ash and debris-ridden floor and I can feel the hot sticky feeling of blood trickle down the side of my face. I landed on my left arm which is now burning with pain, I pray to God it isn’t broken but I don’t pause to test it. Once the air that was knocked out of me is back in my body, I’m struggling to get on my feet, noticing that a huge barrier is now separating me from Justin.

“Justin!” I yell as I make my way over to the fiery border, trying to stifle a flurry of coughs and sneezes. Embers are flying down around me like some kind of hellish rainfall and it’s when Justin isn’t standing right beside me that I really start to flip out.

“Justin would you answer me? This isn’t funny!” I’m screaming myself hoarse but I don’t care. Not having any sort of human contact when I’m in the middle of hell isn’t doing wonders for me and I can feel the tears start to well up in my incredibly dry eyes.

“Lauren?” his voice is faint, almost too faint for me to hear on the other side of the crumbled up wall and furniture. I pray to God he isn’t hurt badly and… “I can hardly hear you.”

“Are you okay?” I shout back ignoring the fact that I can smell singed hair and the metallic taste of blood is the current flavor in my mouth. Fabulous.

“My leg is stuck underneath half of your dresser,” he calls back and my heart leaps up into my throat, “Get out of here, I’ll meet you outside…” his voice disappears behind the roar and bellowing of my parents’ room dropping into the kitchen. It’s so hot, I want to tear off my robe and everything else and jump onto an ice block and sit there for the rest of the night, but I quickly push my discomfort to the back of my mind. I don’t need to think about that right now, I have to figure out how the hell I’m going to get Justin out of here.

“I’m not leaving without you!” I call back once the roar tones down, “I’m going to get through this and get to you!”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Lauren! Get the hell out of here, I’ll be fine!” He’s lying I know it.

“Justin!” I yell back and I begin to claw at the huge wall of debris that’s separating us. My nails tear and my fingers start to bleed but the sheer adrenaline is blinding the pain. I’ve never been so scared in my life and to think that a few hours ago we were in some field tipping cows and running away from some old fart farmer who really didn’t give a fuck in the first place that we were knocking over his livestock. “I’m not going anywhere without you!”

A pause, then his voice comes through, high pitched and scared to death, “Lauren,” he begins and I can hear the sobs edging around his voice, “You need to get out of here. The whole house is going to blow…”

What the fuck? No, the house isn’t going to explode, it isn’t going to blow up, that only happens in the movies and this is real fucking life. The house isn’t going to…

“Lauren I swear to God if you aren’t out of here in five seconds I’m going to make sure I kill you when I get out of this!” Justin bellows so loudly it almost sounds like he’s right next to me instead of behind an entire room.

“Justin…” I mutter and I know he can’t hear me but I wish I had five more minutes so I could tell him everything that’s on my mind right now. I just want to sit there and tell him that I appreciate him and respect him and, if I had more time, I could show him, or at least explain myself…

“GO!” his voice is frantic and it scares me enough to get me on my feet and pushes me towards the front door. I manage to rush down the porch and onto the front lawn. Once I’m a safe distance away, I turn around and my breath completely leaves my body.

The entire top half of the house is gone, the only thing standing is the chimney but even that isn’t standing strong against the assailing fire. The smell of burning wood is so strong that I can’t smell anything else and I don’t think I’ll be able to get the smell of burnt clothes and hair out of my mind. It’s like the fucking Fourth of July Fireworks Spectacular has been set off in my house and the only thing I can think about is whether or not Justin has gotten out safely or not.

He has to, there’s no other explanation. I need him to get out safely. No excuses. Why the hell did I leave him in there? He’s probably scared out of his mind, I need to go back in there and help him get out. No matter what it takes, I don’t care if the whole house comes down in shambles around our feet, I can’t stand here like a fucking damsel in distress while he’s in there fighting for his life. Gathering my wits about me, I dash towards the house, head down towards the ground…

And then the left side of the house explodes.

The force of the blast knocks me off my feet and I land on my back on the damp ground, the wind completely knocked out of me. Dazed and confused, I struggle to sit up and I gaze at the sight of my childhood home, the place I grew up, and the aching thought that Justin is still inside, either blown to smithereens, dead, or close to it sends me to my feet.

I watch helplessly as the fire consumes the rest of the house, sealing the fact that Justin was still trapped inside the house. Oh my God, what if he didn’t make it out? What if he was still inside and I sat out here watching him burn to death? Oh my God.

“Justin!” I screech, my voice completely lost over the roar of the fire and huge of gust that has begun to sweep through my property. I struggle to my feet and hurry back towards the house, praying to God, Baby Jesus, Mary, Buddah, whoever the fuck will hear me that he isn’t hurt or worse.

The explosion confirms my worst fears when I rush through the blown off front door and notice that the wall that was once separating Justin and I has been disintegrated and blown away. Justin is nowhere to be seen; only the splintered remains of my dresser that had pinned him down remains.

“Justin!” I scream out again but there isn’t a response. The amount of damage to the house stops me from searching the rest of the place and I trudge out of the ruins and back to the front yard, trying my best to keep the tears in check.

It’s just too much. The fire, my house gone, Justin putting my life before his own, the thought of him dead…I crumple to the ground in a heap, the exhaustion and shock finally seeping in. My arm is hurting something terrible and my body is shaking and I can’t think straight.

He’s gone.

He saved my life.

He’s gone.

He put me before him, something he has never done.

He’s dead.

I never got the chance to say goodbye.

Poof. Bye, bye.

Gone.

I never got the chance to tell him that I love him.

Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. Gone.

No more smart ass comments, no more making me do things so out of the ordinary it makes Michael Jackson look like a normal human being. What the hell am I going to tell his mother? Trace? How the hell am I going to get through this?

The past three years are rushing through my head in a huge blur. Every outlandish suggestion he’s given me, every kind word, every party I’ve helped him throw is on fast forward and his voice is running through my head, his face is in front of me every time I close my eyes, and I would give anything to see him again, to tell him everything and anything on my mind. I’d never let him out of my sight after this episode. Period. We’d be attached at the hip but right now that seems impossible because he’s not here. He’s barbequed.

“Jesus Christ, why?” I mutter under my breath before I’m reduced to sobs. I can’t see anything through my tears and the wind is howling something awful, as if God is crying with me, or the rest of the world has figured out that the fabulous Justin Timberlake is dead and they’re preparing for the storm that’s to follow.

The wind’s picked up his voice too and it’s a distant sound, on the horizon but I can hear it all the same.

“Lauren!” it’s sharp and crisp and it’s almost like he’s barking at me, the wind I mean. Because he’s dead and my mind is just playing tricks on me. God, do I have to face this for the rest of my life? Because Jesus, you can just kill me now if you’re going to torture me like this for eternity. I don’t think I could take this every single day.

“Lauren!”

Good God why does it sound so real? I’m still in shock; I have to be because there isn’t anyone around. I can’t see anyone and I know it’s my mind playing tricks on me. I heard that if you want something bad enough your mind starts to tell you that it’s actually there and you make it up in your head that it’s physically and psychologically there. I’m going insane.

“Lauren!”

“Shut the fuck up!” I yelp to no one through my tears. I hate feeling this helpless and I push the hair out of my eyes so I can brush the tears away. I never expected to see the figure standing about four yards away from me.

“What, you not excited to see me?” he asks and I choke back a fresh wave of tears as I sit up back on my haunches and look at his broken figure illuminated by the dying fire. It’s so not real. Like I said, I’ve gone insane and the next thing that happens is you visualize what you want. And I want to see him so badly; this isn’t real, so not real. “Lo-ho?”

And suddenly I’m up on my feet and sprinting towards him, closing the distance between us. I don’t slow down, I can’t slow down, and I won’t slow down. Running is all I can do to keep me from breaking down completely or turning around and walking away.

I collide into him, his body wonderfully solid and I can feel my breath leave me for the fourth or fifth time tonight, I can’t remember.

“Dammit Lauren, that hurt!” Justin gasps out but I don’t give him a response because my hands clasp themselves behind his head and before I know what I’m doing I’m kissing him for all I’m worth pushing myself tighter against him because I don’t want him to disappear again. There isn’t any breath left in my body and I feel like I’m suffocating but I don’t give a damn. He’s here, I’m in his arms, and he’s wonderfully alive. Oh Jesus, he’s alive.

His hands wrap around my waist and he tries to pull me as close as possible to him and, let’s face it, I’m not complaining. My hands leave the back of his head and wander down his neck and across his shoulders, checking for any damage and simply for the joy of touch. His hands have traveled up the small of my back and all I can do is hang in his arms as we continue to kiss and I can tell you I’ve never been more overjoyed and relieved in my life.

He breaks away from the kiss and I’m suddenly showered with tiny kisses on my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, and my cheeks and then back to my lips where I’m all too eager to oblige to his onslaught of kisses.

We’re not stopping and I don’t care right now. I don’t care that there’s the sound of sirens in the distance, I don’t care that the burning is still infiltrating my senses and I don’t care that I’ve got a huge headache and my sinuses are shot to shit. I’ve got him and that’s all that matters.

“I love you,” I whisper to him, “I didn’t know it could hurt to love someone this much, are you okay?”

“I love you too,” he mumbles back before he kisses me again. He pulls back again and hugs me tightly, and I’m afraid that if he loosens his hold on me he’ll slip away from me again. The sirens are louder; it’s getting hard to hear his response even though our faces are inches apart from each other.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” I whisper in a chant. I must sound completely psycho but I really don’t care. When the person you love is almost taken away from you and you never got a chance to tell that person how you really feel, you’re going to spend the rest of your life telling them everything on your mind and how you feel and yeah… I love him.

“Shit!” he yells loudly and I’m catapulted away from him, the sirens so loud I can hardly hear myself think. “Shit!” he yells again and the burning smell is getting stronger and my head is getting heavier.

“Justin, what’s going on?”

“Shit, Lauren! Shit!” he all but screams at me. “FUCK!”

And I thought I was the one going absolutely insane. I watch as he turns around and throws his hands up in the sky out of frustration before he lets out another slew of curses, the sirens censoring his angry cries. What the hell is going on?

Smoke comes through, the sirens…I can’t hear anything. My head feels like it’s going to explode and Justin is still screaming ‘shit’ even though I can’t hear him. I sit down on the ground and put my hands over my ears and close my eyes tightly.

I open my eyes and I’m on my back, staring up at the ceiling of my not burned down room. My eyes are watering because of the haze that has managed to waft its way through the cracks of my door. It’s morning out, the sun is shining through the windows, but there’s the horrible wailing sound of sirens coming from the front driveway.

“SHIT! LAUREN!”

Something’s burning, and it’s coming from downstairs.

Stumbling out of bed, much like the totally random and disgusting dream I just had, I grab my robe and walk out of my room, trying my best to not cough at the light smoke that has made its way up the stairs to the second story.

“LAUREN! HOLY SHIT!”

“Shut the fuck up, Justin! I’m coming!” I screech at him as I descend to the first level. The smoke is heavier and I realize the sirens from outside are being produced by the biggest fire engine I have ever seen. Oh that asshole did not call the fire department.

Great, this will be all over town by lunch. Maybe even sooner if Justin doesn’t kill everyone in the damn house. I really don’t need this on my birthday, of all days.

Opening the door into the kitchen I almost fall over in shock at the sight that’s in front of me. Justin is standing off to the side of the kitchen, watching the stove with a look of intense fear and premonition on his face. He looks like a little boy who just got his hand caught in the cookie jar, a very big cookie jar.

The kitchen is a complete mess. Bowls are strewn all over the counters with different batters and random breakfast foods thrown into them. The sink is filled to the brim with dirty plates and mixing utensils and the stove is billowing over with smoke, a few frying pans in the middle housing burnt food that smells terrible.

“What the hell did you do?” I ask him as I lean against the door. A fire fighter walks back into the room with an empty fire extinguisher, a bemused look on his face. Great, it’s Richard Travers — an old friend of my dad’s. He’s probably already phoned him, laughing about how some random city slicker schmuck almost burned down his house.

And this is the first and probably the only time I have ever seen Justin Timberlake blush. He’s embarrassed as well he should be. It isn’t even nine o’ clock in the morning and he’s managed to turn my world into complete chaos. Well if you count that retarded dream last night, then he’s managed to make my life chaos twenty-four/seven.

“I was making breakfast!”

“Why? You don’t cook!” I counter shrilly.

“I know! I bake,” he yelps, “I just wanted to make you something nice for your birthday.” That part catches me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting him to respond with something that…nice or caring. I mean this is Justin, a few hours ago he didn’t even know it was my birthday and now he’s sitting here trying to make me a Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast in my own kitchen.

“It seems that this young man was making breakfast, lost control of the stove and managed to severely burn your breakfast,” Richard explains with an enormous smile on his face, “All you had to do, sir,” he explains, and now he starts to giggle, “was turn the stove off. You could have completely avoided calling us by simply turning the dials off.”

Oh. My. God. He is officially the biggest dumb ass on the planet. Richard is now laughing hysterically and I can hear a few other people behind the door into the living room laughing as well. Wonderful, I’m sure the whole fire brigade is here this morning and they had to witness this little, well huge idiotic attempt at making breakfast by Justin Timberlake — International Superstar and Suck Ass Chef.

And pretty soon, I’m laughing too. Crying hysterically is more like it because I’m practically sitting on the floor due to Justin’s stupidity. This is the best birthday present I could ever ask for, Justin making a fool out of himself in front of authority figures and myself included.

“Do you even know how to turn off a stove?” I ask him in between my giggles and he scowls at me before he pulls off his oven mitt.

“I had to turn it on didn’t I?”

“But you’re Justin Timberlake, you can turn anything on!” I howl with laughter and he shakes his head and fires off a rude gesture in my direction. Once I get a hold of myself, I thank Richard and the rest of the brigade for coming out on such short notice. They assure me that this was probably the best call they’ve ever received in at least ten years and that if Justin or I need any other assistance with stoves, refrigerators and other household appliances to direct our calls to Sears and not the fire department.

“I can’t believe you,” I say to Justin once the firemen have left the house and are pulling out of my driveway, “I mean you don’t know how to turn off a stove so you call the fire department? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Okay first of all,” Justin states, “I was trying to make you breakfast for your birthday, you know, because I feel bad for forgetting it, and I didn’t want to wake you up for you to help me. So I decided to do it myself. And I turned on the stove and started to cook but it got out of hand because a fire started on the stove and it was mother fucking huge. Like as big as Trace…”

“That isn’t that big, Justin,” I state and he rolls his eyes and silences me with a glare before he continues.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, so I called the fire department and then tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake up. All you could say was ‘I love you…’”

Oh sweet suffering Jesus. I can feel the color drain from my face and he looks at me with a concerned look on his face before I turn away and become interested in the completely burnt eggs and bacon. So he walked in right on the middle of my dream but he couldn’t wake me up. But those fucking sirens did. God they were loud.

“So I went back downstairs and by that time I though the fire was going to reach the gas and blow up the whole house so I panicked some more. The fire department finally got here and they turned off the stove and had the situation handled. Sorry.”

And this is the first time he’s ever apologized. A blushing and apologizing Justin Timberlake? This is the best birthday ever. I’m going to scratch the fact that he heard my dream, but he doesn’t even know what it was about. And besides, I don’t love him. Lord no, not after this fiasco and not ever.

It’s Justin.

“Well let’s get this cleaned up,” I state before I pick up a few of the plates and dump them unceremoniously into the sink. He looks at me with a confused expression and I give him a questioning glance.

“You aren’t going to yell at me? I thought you’d be pissed.”

“I’m not going to yell at you on my birthday, no matter how much satisfaction I’d get out of it. Accidents happen, and besides, you can buy me breakfast when we get to the diner.”

“What diner?” Justin asks me and I laugh loudly as I turn on the sink. Oh this boy is going to get the shit embarrassed out of him.

The drive to the diner is pretty dull. I keep quiet for most of the way but I keep finding myself laughing under my breath every time I think of Justin standing in the kitchen freaking out at a little fire that didn’t need anyone’s attention but the fire extinguisher’s attention. Of course every time I laugh he looks over at me with an accusatory glare and I find myself becoming quiet once again. And only when it’s quiet do my thoughts return to my retarded dream.

I have no idea why I managed to dream what I did. The whole house on fire thing tied in with Justin’s stove fiasco, but really, the dream felt so real, like the fire burning and the house caving in. Even the dream-kiss with Justin felt real even though thinking about it now makes me feel awkward and rather disgusted. I mean you couldn’t pay me to kiss Justin right now like the way I did in that dream. No way. And the whole, ‘I love you,’ business I guess my dream self was caught in the heat of the moment, no pun intended, and just couldn’t help herself. I can only think that you’d want to be close to another human after a near death experience.

But that dream was way too weird. I hope I don’t have any more of them because that would just blow beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I think I’m going to blame it on the steak and potatoes I had at Gretchen’s last night.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Justin suddenly questions me and I turn to look at him.

“What?”

“You look troubled. Anything I can do to help?” Why is he being so nice all of a sudden? He was never like this on my other birthdays, but then again he didn’t know when my birthday was back then so I don’t have an excuse as to why he’s being this…cordial. Maybe he’s just trying to make up for the birthdays he forgot about. “Lauren?”

“It’s nothing. I just had a weird dream last night, kind of freaked me out.”

“D’you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I mean it’s no big deal…” I start to say but he interrupts me,

“Was I in it?” well he certainly isn’t trying to keep his nose out of my business. What a surprise.

“No,” I find myself saying quietly as we turn onto Main Street. “I just dreamt that my house was on fire. I was a little girl and it was just really strange. I blame it on you destroying our breakfast.”

That shut him up quick. He glowers at me before I park the car a few streets away from our actual destination.

“What is this place we’re going to?” Justin asks as we get out of the car. A group of high school girls pass us, gawk at Justin, and then fall into a fit of giggles. I have to give props to Justin because he’s walking around with his head held high and acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. For me, this proves my worst thoughts true; the fire brigade told the town about the stove incident.

“I can’t believe you’re making me go out in public after I made a complete ass out of myself,” Justin whines as he continues his walk of shame.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know the basics of domestic living and besides, you didn’t need to get the fire department involved.” He responds with a heavy sigh before he puts his hood up over his face. The way he’s going on, it’s like he’s expecting the paparazzi to come popping out of some random building in the middle of nowhere. Not even the best pap would think of looking for Justin here. Period.

“Just shut up and get me in this diner,” Justin mutters and I want nothing more than to pull off his hood and shout for the whole town to see that the man who managed to get the volunteer fire department out of their beds at close to eight o’ clock in the morning was in their midst. Of course, he’d kill me and probably make sure I don’t live to see twenty-seven but the thought is still delicious.

After a few minutes of silent walking, we finally make it inside the diner and Justin mutters a groan of displeasure when he sees that the diner is almost filled to capacity. I guess I forgot to mention that Boardman’s Café is the most popular hang out spot in town for pretty much the entire population.

I haven’t been in Boardman’s Café since my senior year of high school and yet nothing’s changed. The checkered floor is the same with a few of the small squares missing in a few places and the hideous bison head is still donning the Santa hat I threw on it during my last holiday working here. And then there’s the bell that the waitresses ring every time someone walks in that hasn’t been in Boardman’s for over six months. I only hope…

‘Ring, ring, ring, ring!’

Shit.

“ATTENTION PATRONS!” I want to kill Gretchen. Of course she would still work at her father’s diner and of course she’d be the one to ring that damn bell to alert the entire restaurant of my arrival. Of course. “WE’VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL GUEST! JOINING US ONCE AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN EIGHT YEARS, IS ONE OF OUR OWN, MISS LAURIE ELIZABETH WALTERS!” The place erupts in hoots, hollers, and a couple of yee-haws. It’s completely safe to say that I’m embarrassed though not as much as Justin, who is almost beet red.

“Say Justin, can you come show me how to turn off a stove?” Gretchen asks cheekily while she walks up to us. Justin turns an even darker shade of red and rubs the back of his neck. Poor thing.

“Funny,” he mutters before Gretchen snatches two menus from the hostess stand and takes us to a booth.

“Best table in the house. Sure you don’t want to wait a few tables for old time’s sake?” Gretchen asks and I find myself shaking my head vigorously and sticking my tongue out in disgust. The last thing I need is for Justin to see me wait tables. He’d just start complaining that I’m never that efficient with my planning back in LA and I definitely don’t want him to hold anything over me. Not after I’ve been teasing him relentlessly for his stove blunder.

Before Gretch leaves with our drink order, Justin whispers something in her ear and with a toothy grin, she leaves and heads for the kitchen. “What was that about?” I ask and he merely shrugs before he hides behind the menu.

Gretchen moves with a swiftness and soon our orders are placed and we’re left with the awkward limbo of waiting for our food. Boss and employee, employee and boss…it’s a rather interesting situation to be in because I have no idea what to say to him. I don’t want to remind him of work because he’s actually gotten out of being a work-a-holic up here but that’ll change once we go back to LA tomorrow. He’ll start getting into the album, the promotion, and that’ll give me a million and one things to do and I am not looking forward to doing it.

The past day and a half has been peaceful, almost incident free if you scratch out that random dream and Justin calling the fire department. Up until this morning I was really enjoying my time but right now it’s sort of bland. But I blame the silence.

“So you used to work here?” Justin asks ready to make small talk.

“Yeah, I started back in the eighth grade. It’s been in Gretchen’s family since her great-great grandfather,” I explain not noticing the pride that’s seeped into my voice. If I had explained that to Justin a week ago, he would have laughed in my face, called me a loser, and proceeded to tell Trace that I worked in some dumpy diner for five years. But now, now that he’s been here, he’s changed. He smiles and nods his head before he sips his orange juice.

“Sometimes I wish for a normal life, you know? I think being here I’m as close to normal as I can be. Of course I’m still the village idiot because I can’t turn off a damn stove,” he jokes with a bitter laugh, “But still, those are the types of things that being famous can’t get you - that normal.”

“Nah, that stove is tricky. I had problems with it when I used to live here…” I’m siding with him? What is wrong with me? I should be taking this opportunity to laugh in his face and remind him what an idiot he is, but instead I’m trying to make him feel better! Ugh, I need food.

“How come you never baked pies back home?”

“You never asked,” I respond, “I try not to bake anymore because I know that the second I put something in the oven, you’ll call and want me somewhere,” I snap. Why am I being this guarded now? Oh that’s right, it’s my first birthday in four years without Neal and I’m talking to Justin of all people. Makes sense now, but I still feel bad. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. I was never that nice to you, huh?”

“You say ‘was’ like it only happened in the past,” I mutter as a different waitress brings us our food.

“I’m trying to be better,” Justin points out as he cuts his sausage in half. He’s right; I’m still being guarded and bitchy.

“Sorry…” he’s about to respond but a loud gasp and a shout disrupts his response.

“Oh my God! I don’t believe who I’m seeing! Laurie is that you?” A voice says behind me. I instantly flinch at the voice because I know what’s coming and I don’t want it to arrive at the head of our table. I especially don’t want the owner of that high pitched, almost girlish voice to come sit next to me.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath and Justin looks at me with concern before another loud combination of a giggle gasp breaks my concentration. “Come sit next to me,” I say quickly and Justin’s expression changes to confusion.

“Huh?”

“Don’t ask questions, just come sit next to me!” I hiss under my breath, “Quick, before he sits here!” Justin doesn’t ask twice, thank God, and he quickly moves over to sit next to me just as the man with a huge mop of flaming red hair sits down in the spot where Justin was sitting.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here! I heard rumors and everything but I didn’t actually think you’d be here! How are you Laurie?”

Truman O’Malley - the bane of my existence back in high school and apparently he still is now. His enormous toothy grin is practically leering at me and I want nothing more than to smack it off of his face. He’s dressed in the same thing he’s worn since 1994, overalls, a plaid shirt, and a really disgusting pair of work boots.

I can’t believe I dated him.

“Well did the farm cat go ahead and get your tongue then? Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asks me and again, the urge to punch him in the face is extremely strong. I hear Justin snort back a howl of laughter and I want nothing more than to kick him or bring up the stove incident just to put him in his place. But I have to put Truman in his place.

“Anything,” I say snappishly and Truman looks at me with a confused expression. Of course, he’s a moron; he wouldn’t understand a joke as simple as that.

“Well gee, it sure is great to see you,” he states as he brushes a lock of red hair out of his face, “I mean I haven’t seen you in ages and all of a sudden yer back in Worden. How have you been?”

“Fine. I’ve been fine, what about you Truman?” I ask. I guess I can humor myself and see how far I can take this conversation before I start to get really rude.

“Waiting for you to come back,” he says in a soft voice and I swear he almost reached out at that moment to grab my hand, “You didn’t exactly stick around to say goodbye before you left for that fancy school in California…”

Yeah, because you were coming over to my house right after graduation to propose and the thought of being tied to Worden for the rest of my life scared the shit out of me. I skipped town as soon as Gretchen came up to me and blurted that I’d be the first out of both of us to be married. Secrets aren’t secrets for long in Worden.

“Well I had to leave as quickly as possible. Sorry,” I say even though I’m not sorry at all. It took me all of two days in California for me to realize that I could do so much better than Truman O’Malley. “You know how I always put education first, Tru…” Oh God I’ve gone back to using the pet name I had for him back when we were kids. Now he’s going to think I want to fall back into what we once had and that is the last thing I want to do. Truman isn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box.

“Yeah I know, Moof, I know.” This is mortifying. I look down in my lap and see Justin gripping the ends of the table in an effort to keep his laughter in check. Great, now he’s going to call me Moof for the rest of the trip, I just know it. “I missed you so much though. We should go out tonight…”

Oh no. I don’t want this; I really don’t want this at all. The last thing I need is to go out on some date with this lunatic whose idea of a good time would be joy riding in a tractor. When I was younger I would enjoy something like that, but now. Oh God no. I start to reply but I stop when Justin suddenly puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him.

“I guess I should introduce myself since Moof didn’t have a chance to,” Justin interjects with a bright smile. I look up at him with a confused look while he extends his free hand in Truman’s direction, “I’m Justin, Lauren’s boyfriend.”

Holy strawberries Batman it looks like we’re in a jam.

The awkward silence is louder than a jumbo jet taking off from underneath our table. Truman looks crestfallen and totally asunder because of this announcement and I can hear some people behind us murmuring about how ‘Little Laurie found herself a man.’ What is this, Oklahoma?

“Golly that’s news,” Truman says disappointed as he rubs the top of his head, “How long have ya’ll been together?”

“Almost four years now I think,” Justin explains with a beaming smile as he pulls me closer to him still. Is he trying to mold us together or something? I mean I’m grateful for the help he’s giving me right now, but seriously this is getting to be a bit uncomfortable.

“Wow. Well count yer lucky stars she’s one in a million that one,” Truman says while he puts on a brave face. I stay close to Justin and my stomach nearly leaps out of my throat when I feel his lips touch the top of my head. Did he just kiss my head? Did he just kiss my freaking head? “Don’t know what she sees in you, but I guess there’s something.”

Oh snap

“Yeah I count my blessings every day. I’m so grateful to have someone like Lo-ho in my life.”

“Wait, what?” Gretchen interjects from the head of the table. Great just what I need, more people to find out about this charade Justin is pulling right now. “You two are dating?”

“I thought you knew,” Justin says with a huge smile and I can tell he totally loves this. He’s pulling the wool over Worden’s eyes and he’s enjoying every minute of it.

“No! Just last night we were talking…”

“We decided to keep it a secret,” Justin interrupts quickly before he picks up my limp hand and kisses it. Shivers shoot up my spine and I look up at him again with a look of complete befuddlement on my face and he leans down and pecks my forehead with his lips.

Okay, I can wake up now.

“Well isn’t this just the cutest thing. You know the Saint Patrick’s Day Barn Dance is tonight I know ya’ll are going to come, right?” Gretchen says with a big smile.

“Yeah that’d be a roaring good time!” Truman exclaims and you can tell he’s trying to mask his sheer disappointment. I’m still a little put out that Justin is acting this way because he never really tries to back me up at all and now here he is, saving me from certain death who’s name happens to be Truman O’Malley. “Are you going to come?”

“I don’t…”

“Of course we are!” Justin interrupts and I really want to smack him now even though we’re supposed to be playing this supposed lovesick couple. He looks over at me and smiles sweetly and I give him my cheesiest, fakest smile I can muster. Justin must know he’s in for an earful when we get back into the car because the look on his face is a mixture of amusement and imminent doom.

He is so going to get it.

***