The weight on my bed shifts and I let out a loud groan. There is absolutely no reason for anyone to be in my room, let alone on my bed.     

Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away.     

The intruder shakes me a few times, but I keep my eyes shut tight, willing them to go away and leave me the hell alone. I have a monstrous hangover, can't they see that?     

The television comes to life suddenly, sound blaring throughout the room. The pounding in my head intensifies and...    

Wait one damn minute...since when is there a TV in my bedroom?    

My eyes snap open and I bolt upright in bed, my eyes searching the room frantically for my framed Fleetwood Mac poster, my old guitar case, my desk...anything to prove that I'm in my apartment. Finally, my gaze lands on the figure perched at the end of the bed.     

How the hell did I get back to Justin's?    

I clearly remember packing my shit and hightailing it back to my apartment yesterday afternoon. Then, I went shopping, mostly for a distraction, but it didn't do much good. No matter where I went, or how much money I spent, I couldn't get my mind off of the fact that I'd finally hit rock bottom.     

As stupid as it sounds, it all just kind of hit me at once. My life is blasted across magazines and the internet every single day. Someone I trusted with my life, turned out to be the exact opposite of who I thought she was, the RCA mess is still on thin ice, and the icing on my dysfunctional little cake, is Justin.    

I knew I shouldn't have slept with him. I knew it would just create more problems, but that didn't stop me.     

I guess, I just wanted to feel like he cared about me, even if it was just for one night. My feelings for him have become so strong, that I'd give anything for him to feel even half of what I do. Sleeping with him let me experience that and even though I knew it would all come crashing down around me, it was worth it.    

Having him look at me like I was the most important thing in the world, and having him touch me, almost like he couldn't believe I was real, was completely worth it.    

I wish I could say I regret it, but I don't. Because, for one night...I got to see what it would be like if Justin loved me.    

The next morning, it all went to hell.    

Honestly, I could have handled him ignoring me. He could have blown me off and even though I wouldn't have liked it, I would have accepted it, because that was what I expected from him.     

I never imagined he'd basically call me a slut, right to my face. I think that hurt more than anything else he could have done. I just...I thought we were past that. I thought we were really friends. I guess I just gave him too much credit.    

Even though I was still pretty pissed about the concert, I would have let it go. All he would have had to do was apologize and he would have been forgiven. Instead, he went out of his way to hurt me, and now...I can barely stand to look at him.    

That was why I left. I just couldn't be around someone who thought so little of me.    

Naturally, the shopping didn't help one bit, so I stopped at a bar. I know, not the smartest thing to do when you're upset, but I thought having a drink might take the edge off. I just wanted to release some of the pressure I was feeling.    

After that, everything goes black. I don't have a single clue as to how or why I ended up back at Justin's, wearing one of his T-shirts, no less.    

What the hell happened last night?    

"You got puke on your clothes." He says suddenly, noticing my confusion as I look down at myself. "I swear, I didn't want to change your clothes, but you were passed out."    

"Oh...umm...thanks, I guess." I nod slowly.    

"You don't know what happened last night, do you?"    

"Not really, no."    

"Well...let's put it this way...Jace canceled your studio session today, so he could do damage control all day."    

Damage control? Uh oh.    

"You got shit faced last night, Madison. I mean, totally annihilated. You actually threw up in the front yard, all over the fuckin rose bushes." Justin chuckles and rolls his eyes. "The gardener really enjoyed cleaning that up, by the way."    

Ok, that's a good sign. If he can laugh about it, it must not have been too awful.    

"Of course, that all happened after you got arrested."    

"What?" My eyes shoot to his, and he grins stupidly.     

"Oh yeah...see for yourself."    

He flips through several channels, finally stopping on E! and immediately, I see my face splashed across the screen. They quickly cut to a fuzzy, grainy video, probably from a camera phone.     

The picture quality is terrible, but I can clearly see myself, on one of the busiest streets of L.A, lifting my shirt and flashing every car that passes.     

Oh my god. How fucking wasted was I?    

After several minutes, red and blue flashing lights come into view, and an officer climbs out of the patrol car, then heads in my direction. Even on film, it all happens so fast. The officer talks to me for several minutes, before walking around behind me, slapping a pair of handcuffs on my wrists, then guiding me into the backseat of the cruiser.     

Holy shit.     

I actually got arrested.     

"They charged you with public indecency and public intoxication. You'll prolly just have to pay some fines, so it's really not all that bad."    

"Not all that bad?" I screech. "Are you fucking retarded? I got arrested Justin! The press is eating this up!"

"It could be worse. If I hadn't bailed your ass out, you'd still be sitting in jail. Jace will handle it and in a couple day, nobody will even remember it."    

"I don't care about anybody else! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is? I look like a drunken idiot!"    

"Well...you kind of are." He laughs quietly and the urge to slap him takes over, but suddenly...bits and pieces of last night are flashing through my mind.    

Justin paid my bail. He made sure I got out of jail without the press there to catch the whole thing on film.     

Then, oh God...I threw myself at him, and he...he shot me down. Not because he didn't want me, but because he didn't want to take advantage of me.     

Justin...Justin took care of me last night. While everyone else was busy arguing over whose fault it was, or what to do with my stupid drunk ass, Justin took care of me.     

Once again, he's made me look and feel like a complete idiot by proving just how wrong I was about him. He didn't have to do anything last night. He could have left me in jail until I sobered up, made me find my own way home, and he certainly didn't have to clean me up after I passed out.     

He may not care about me the way I want him to, but he does care. And right now, that's exactly what I need, just one person who cares about me, not my image or what the press thinks of me.     

I smile before rising to my knees and crawling across the bed to be closer to him. He looks slightly taken aback as I wrap my arms around his neck, and it takes a second before his arms slide around my waist.    

"Thank you."     

"For what?"    

"For...just for caring." My smile grows even bigger when he nods slowly and tightens his hold on me.     

"It was nothing. I knew you needed help." He shrugs. "So...I guess I'm forgiven?"    

"Yeah, something like that." I giggle and roll my eyes.    

As much as it scares me, I just might be falling in love with him.

*****************************************        

"Madison...your arrest has sparked rumors that you're back to your hard partying ways, what do you have to say to that?"    

I take a deep breath and force the best smile I can. "That's not true. I made a mistake and I do regret it, but don't plan on seeing anything like that, ever again."    

Jc nods, satisfied with my answer then turns to smile at the crowd of reporters. "We've got time for one more." He points to a young blonde woman and nods.    

"Madison, how does Justin feel about your arrest?"    

"Justin is my husband, and even when things are tough...we support each other, no matter what."    

I feel like such a massive fake, reciting the answers that were written for me by Jc and Johnny. I was perfectly capable of answering those questions on my own. I didn't need to be treated like some damn performing monkey.     

The fact of the matter is, I screwed up. I know that.     

But, I think the whole thing is getting blown way out of proportion. I mean, a press conference...seriously? It just seems a bit silly to hold a press conference for something that isn't that big of a deal.    

People get arrested everyday. They suffer the consequences and move on so, I'll pay my fines and be done with it. End of story.    

"You were really good out there."Jc smiles proudly as we head for the van, Chelsea and my security team in tow.    

"Of course I was...I had a script." I roll my eyes and Jc lets out a long sigh.     

I know he's getting frustrated with me, but I'm almost to the point where I really don't care anymore. For the last six months, I've been putting my neck on the line for everyone else, and I'm tired of it.    

Even Jc is benefiting from the messes I've landed myself in.     

Number one, my face is pretty much everywhere right now. According to the label, that's the result of good management, which led to Jace getting a pretty hefty pay raise.     

Secondly, his name is getting thrown out there, the same as mine. He's been offered numerous side projects and so far, he's turned all of them down, until last week.     

The day after Justin and I semi-patched things up, RCA offered Jace a record deal.     

He tried to play it off, like it wasn't a big deal, but I know he's seriously considering taking them up on it. Honestly, who could blame him? Sure, he's a great manager, but it's no secret that he'd rather be out performing, than following me around and doing paperwork.     

Don't get me wrong, I'm excited for him. He's an incredibly talented guy and it's almost kind of sad that he's stepped out of the limelight. But, if he does accept RCA's offer, I won't have a manager.     

I guess it's just one more thing I can add to the ever growing list of shit that's going wrong in my life.     

I know I'm only a few weeks into recording, but I just...I need a break. I need a week or two to go somewhere and just get away from all the craziness.     

If I don't do something soon, I may end up in the damn nut house.     

Luckily, the one thing that seems to be straightening itself out, is this whole Justin mess.    

Once I got over my anger about the concert and us sleeping together, we went back to normal, as if that night never happened. And, I'm ok with that.    

Pushing my feelings aside and ignoring them, has been much easier than having to rehash that night. This way, I don't have to tell him how I feel, he doesn't have to reject me, I won't get hurt, and we can stay friends.     

It's not necessarily what I want, but I can live with it.     

"So, what's next?" I ask quietly as we pull onto the freeway.     

"That was it, until the party tonight."    

The party.    

How could I have forgotten about the party?    

Justin's 27th birthday is tomorrow and apparently, every year, he goes all out for his party. According to Trace, he usually has some stupid theme, they rent out the biggest club they can find, invite hundreds of people, and spend the night drinking themselves into oblivion.     

Trace has been planning it for weeks.     

I don't even particularly want to go, but I know I have to.     

"It actually sounds kinda cool." Chelsea says suddenly, as if she was reading my mind. "Trace was telling me he scaled everything back this year. He rented out a bar, just invited close friends and family, and it's supposed to be really laid back."         

I really, really need to tell her the damn truth. It's bad enough I have to lie to my family and the rest of the world. If anyone deserves to know the truth, it's Chelsea.    

I just don't know how to tell her.         

"Oh, cool." I nod and force a smile.    

"Oh and get this!" She squeals excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat. "Justin made him hire a DJ and had a stage set up in the bar, for karaoke!"    

"Seriously?"         

What the hell? Justin hates karaoke. When we were in Chicago, we had to damn near drag him up on stage, until he started drinking.     

"Yeah, I was kinda surprised. I figured you prolly made him do it." Chelsea shrugs before she and JC start babbling about the party.    

I guess I've been rubbing off on Justin, a little more than I thought.     

In the time we've been married, I have noticed some slight changes in him and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't somewhat impressed.     

For starters, he's gotten a little more outspoken. When people tell him what to do, he has no problem voicing his opinions. Granted, he still doesn't get his way most of the time, but atleast he's attempting to stand up for himself.     

He's also taken a much more laid back approach to his image. At first, he was so anal about the way he dressed, and always made sure he said the right thing to the right people. Now, he spends most of his time in T-shirts and jeans, and he doesn't spend hours preparing speeches or rehearsing answers for interviews.     

He's taking baby steps into finally being himself. I'm actually kind of proud of him.    

Maybe one day, he'll finally have the balls to do things his way, and not worry about everyone else.

*****************************    

I weave my way through the crowd of Justin's friends and family, smiling and nodding when my name is called. If I actually wanted to be here, I'd probably be having a blast.    

The bar is set up almost like my favorite bar back home, but it isn't quite the same. That feeling of home is missing, as well as the usual crowd. But then again, this isn't for me. This is Justin's party.    

He disappeared with Trace as soon as we arrived, nearly an hour ago and I haven't seen either of them since. Several of Justin's friends have already hopped up on the small stage to butcher a few classics and the party seems to be picking up.    

I've spent the last hour hiding at a table in the corner with Chelsea. Unfortunately, that awkward feeling finally crept up on me and I know, if I don't get some type of alcohol in my system soon, I'll probably spend all night in that damn corner.     

I know maybe four of the hundred or so people here, but despite that fact, I can't spend the whole night being little miss anti-social. My husband is the birthday boy after all, and I need to keep up appearances.    

I spot Justin and Trace seated at the bar, a crowd of model-esque girls surrounding them. Clearly, these chicks didn't get the memo that this is a casual party. Every single one of them is dressed in some of the shortest skirts and dresses I've ever seen, their breasts nearly popping out of their tops.     

The word skank is practically tattooed on each of their foreheads, in big bold letters.    

When a tall brunette reaches out and rubs Justin's arm affectionately, a surge of jealousy hits me. Don't these bimbos know he's married? Sure, we aren't actually in a relationship, but there's a silver band on his finger and he is legally obligated to me.     

I know I shouldn't, but for once...I'm going to have a little fun with this marriage stuff.     

I stroll up behind Justin and slowly slide my arms around his neck. His shoulders tense and I can't help but grin. He knows he's busted. He clears his throat loudly while Trace tries to cover up his laughter.    

"Ladies, you all know Madison."     

"Oh yeah...big fan." The brunette smiles sarcastically and rolls her eyes. I give her the most sickeningly sweet smile I can manage, before returning my attention to Justin.    

"So Jus...I was just talking to Chelsea about that little problem you've been having...she said it's not that big of a deal. It happens to almost all guys, especially when they hit their 30's."    

"I'm not in my 30's." He replies through gritted teeth and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. "And...I don't have any little problems."    

The four girls share a look before quickly strutting off, whispering to each other the whole way. That ought to teach them to hit on a married man.    

Trace laughs loudly and shakes his head. "Well played, Mrs. Timberlake."    

"I try." I smirk as Justin turns to face me, anger etched all over his face.    

"What the hell Madison?"    

"Oh come on, any one of those chicks would have sold you out in a heartbeat. I just saved your ass." He mutters his response incoherently before ordering another drink.    

I ease onto the barstool next to him and order my first drink of the night, hoping it will loosen me up a bit.    

It takes a couple hours before the party is in full swing, but soon enough, everyone here is good and buzzed, having a blast. When the DJ shuts off the music, a large 4-tier cake, covered with 27 candles and decorated in white and black icing is wheeled out into the center of the bar. Everyone screams the words to Happy Birthday while Justin stands there, grinning like an idiot and lapping up the attention.     

Once the cake has been cut and served, everyone returns to the bar, their seats, or dancing like drunken fools.     

Even though I didn't want to be here, it's really not as terrible as I thought it'd be. Most of the people have been fairly friendly, Justin's in a good mood and even I'm starting to have some fun.    

"Hey." Justin smiles brightly as he plops down on the stool next to me. He leans in and kisses me quickly before ordering yet another beer.     

I'm not quite sure how much he's had to drink so far, but he definitely won't be driving himself home tonight. He's got that goofy, adorable drunk thing going and I think this is the side of him I like the best.     

Too bad he can't stay drunk all the time.     

When he's like this, he's sweet and funny, and incredibly charming. He's damn near irresistible.     

Suddenly, he stands from his seat, laces his fingers through mine and tugs gently on my arm. With my free hand, I grab my drink from the bar, before sliding off my seat, allowing him to guide me through the crowd.     

He leads me into the dimly lit hallway by the bathrooms and pushes me against the wall, resting his entire body against mine.     

In the dark, I can just barely make out that crooked, cocky grin, but I know it's there.     

My knees go weak when he leans in and kisses me sweetly, before pulling back, his eyes locking with mine. He doesn't say a word as he stares at me, and it's making me just a tad nervous.    

Did he bring me back here to kill me or something? It really wouldn't surprise me. With me out of the way, he can hang around as many skanks as he wants.

He kisses me again and this time, there's a little more force behind it. We stand like that for what feels like hours, him pressed against me, my hands tangled in his short curls, and he's kissing me like no one else ever has.    

It's sweet and gentle, and if I didn't know any better...I'd swear he feels the exact same way I do.     

Unfortunately, I know that's the furthest thing from the truth. As usual, he's drunk and just looking for some affection. If I wasn't here, he'd probably be doing this same exact thing with that skanky brunette from earlier.     

He pulls away slowly and rests his forehead against mine. His eyes slide shut and he lets out a long sigh before a small smile takes over his features.         

"Madison?" His voice is so low and with the pounding music in the bar, I have to strain to hear him.    

"Hmm?" I hum out a response, still trying to get my wits about me after being kissed like that. For a minute there, I thought he was never going to stop, and I don't think I would have minded too much if he didn't.    

"I need to tell you something. And you probably won't like it." He takes a few steps back and leans against the opposite wall.    

This is it. This is the part where he's going to chop my head off. He's got a good cover, that's for damn sure. I mean, who would suspect a world renowned pop star of murder?    

He wobbles slightly before a serious expression takes over his face, and he looks me dead in the eyes.    

"I think...I think I'm in love with you."