I push my sunglasses to the tip of my nose and scan the almost-empty diner. An old couple are sitting in the corner, huddled together, ignoring the world. I look a little to the left and see a business man sipping his coffee as he reads over some papers. I frown and turn to the last area of the restaurant I haven’t scrutinized.
Finally, I see him; sitting by the window, tattoos crawling out of his black wifebeater and curls sneaking out of the bottom of his baseball cap. I adjust my glasses so they shield my eyes and run a hand through my hair, before strolling up to his table.
“Hi,” I say, sliding into the booth, opposite him.
Trace’s gaze shifts from the window. “Oh, hey.”
I take off my sunglasses and slip them into my purse. “So, what’s going on?”
He shrugs and picks up a menu. “I just thought it was about time you and I had a little chat.”
I raise an eyebrow behind my menu. That’s the kind of thing a teacher says to a pupil when he suspects they’re about to start shooting up the school or something. “Okay.”
A bored looking waitress approaches our table, chewing gum loudly and holding out a pad and paper. “You guys ready to order?”
We look up at her. “Sure,” says Trace, setting his menu down. “I’ll just have a coke and a cheeseburger, please.”
She nods and turns to me. “Same, thanks,” I reply, folding up my menu and handing it to her.
Her navy blue skirt fans out as she spins away from us to leave. Trace turns to me, his eyes boring into me own. “So…”
“So,” I reply.
He sighs. “I think we opened a can of worms a while ago and now we need to look at it properly.”
My nose crinkles in disgust. “Ew, Trace. Couldn’t you have come up with a better metaphor than worms?”
He rolls his eyes. “Quit it, Cutie, I’m being serious.”
I sigh and fold my hands on the table. Clearly my attempt to lighten things up has fallen flat on its face. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
He takes my hands in his and gives me a sympathetic look. “What’s going on with you?”
I shrug. “You tell me,” I mutter, the seriousness of the situation making me feel uncomfortable.
“How do you feel about Justin?” he asks, in a straightforward manner that alarms me.
“Well, he’s my friend, and I…”
“Cut the bullshit, Cat,” he interrupts, a frown on his face. “How do you really feel about him?”
I pull my hands away from him and look at the table, already feeling a sting in my eyes. “I don’t know.” I feel like a child being told off by their mother for touching something they shouldn’t have. It’s not like Trace to be so serious and grave.
He fidgets with his napkin, hesitating with his words slightly. “Cat, I know you like him, I can see that, and pretty soon Justin will figure it out too.” I practically shuddered at the thought. “And I don’t want you guys to ruin this great friendship over something like this.”
I nod. Despite all my attempts not to, Justin has become a regular part of my life. If I don’t talk to him for two days I begin to worry he’s been in a fatal car accident and end up leaving a hundred messages on his phone. I didn’t really want to be his friend at first. There were too many complications, what with the rest of the world kissing his posters goodnight every evening, and I was happy with the friends I had already. But, somehow, the little bastard wormed his way into my life, with little resistance from me if I’m honest, and now I can’t live without him.
“You’re right,” I say after a length of silence. “He’s my friend first and foremost.”
“I don’t think it’s too late to…turn back. You know, stop,” he adds awkwardly, not looking me in the eye. It’s obvious Trace isn’t used to dealing with matters like this and when he has to, it makes him highly uncomfortable. I should be grateful he’s taking time out to try and help me through this, even though this is something he’d probably label, ‘chick business’.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He pauses, before throwing his napkin down on the table and settling his gaze on me. “How long have you had these…feelings…for Justin?”
I shrug. I’ve know him for what, four months perhaps? So that would make it… “About three months and three weeks.”
Trace groans and puts his head in his hands. He gives his face a quick rub before looking back up at me. “Okay, that’s not too bad. You're not too deep. We can totally handle that.”
I giggle at him slightly, and he frowns. “Sorry, it’s just kind of funny how you’re getting so worked up about this.”
He fixes me with a piercing glare. “Cat, I’m trying to help you, because I know you’re the one that’s going to end up hurt if anything comes of this.”
That sure wiped the smile off my face. “I know,” I mumble quietly.
He rubs his eyes again. “I’m sorry Cat, I wasn’t trying to be harsh. I just don’t want to see you get hurt when we can stop the problem now.”
“Oh really, how?"
Trace shrugs. "Look, you haven't felt like this towards him that long. I'm sure that you could stop these feeling before the grow into something more. All that is needed is a little effort on your part."
"Don’t you think I’ve tried to stop lov-…liking him?” I say angrily, my voice rising slightly.
The waitress arrives with our food and sets our plates in front of us, causing us to hush our conversation. I send her a happy smile and begin to salt my fries, feeling Trace’s stare on me the whole time.
Finally, I slam the salt onto the steel table and look at him. “What?!”
“Do you love him?” he asks, in an eerily calm voice.
I wish, for my sake and Trace’s, that I could roll my eyes and say, “Psht, Justin wishes!”, but I can’t. For the first time in a long while, I have no snappy comeback.
I put my head in my hands. “I don’t know,” comes a muffled reply. I pause, before I softly whisper, “I think so.”
Trace reaches out and replaces his hand in mine. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”
I look up at him, wondering whether my mascara has reached the Alice Cooper level of smudged. “Really?”
He nods. “This is what I mean. Maybe you don’t feel as strongly as you think, you know? Maybe it’s just a crush you’re blowing out of proportion.”
I shrug. That would make sense, I do have the slight tendency to blow minor things up into colossal crisis’s. I almost erupted into tears the other week because we had run out of mayonnaise. “I suppose.”
“When was the last time you had a date?”
Too long ago, really. But dating pisses me off. You spend half the time trying to figure out who the person really is and when you eventually find out, you don’t like them after all. “A while ago.”
“You probably just feel lonely and are pining for whoever is close to you.”
I nod and miserably blob a fry into the ketchup. What Trace is saying makes sense, but part of me isn’t convinced. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend when we met. I thought I would have a crush on him for a while, but I have a crush on everyone. I fell for Justin for the simple reason that I liked him.
Trace leans back in his seat and rests his head against the back of the stuffed booth cushion. “Perhaps a little space between you two would be a good thing.”
I nod. “Well, I might be doing this fairly major feature, and if I do, it’ll be a lot of work. In fact, I’ll spend most of my time around at Sean’s.”
He nods and sips his untouched coke. “Oh yeah, Diane mentioned something about him.” I can tell he’s ready to move onto lighter subjects than Justin, which I am more than happy about. “So come on,” he puts his drink down and pops a fry into his mouth. “Let’s hear all about him.”
I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks. “Not much to tell, really,” I reply coyly.
Trace grins. “You like him.”
I chuckle. “He’s a cool guy, I have to admit.”
Trace grin broadens. “You totally wanna screw him.”
I let out a loud laugh, attracting some strange looks from fellow diners. “Well, I wouldn’t kick his ass outta bed, that’s for sure.”
Trace laughs and seizes his burger, ready to consume it in three bites, as I’ve seen him do before. “Are you gonna ask him out?”
I unsuccessfully try and brush the grease from my burger off my hands whilst shaking my head. “I couldn’t do that, I would be far too embarrassed.”
Trace nods and finishes his burger. “You could always just have a wild, office affair where the pair of you rendezvous in the copying room for wild, passionate sex.”
I blush and giggle. “He did say something about Friday night, actually.”
Trace drops his fries and flicks his imaginary long hair behind his shoulder. “Tell me everything, girlfriend!”
I laugh. “It’s probably nothing, all he said was are you free Friday and I said yeah. That’s all.” I flip out my mirror and check my make up, thankful that Trace is dropping the Justin issue for a while.
“Ten bucks says you’ll have slept with him by Tuesday.”
“Trace, unlike you, I don’t jump into the bed of every member of the opposite sex,” I say seriously, before sticking my tongue out at him.
Trace chuckles. “I know. I’m such a himbo.”
“Good word, Trace, good word.”
He nods and checks his watch. “What time are you due back at work?”
I bring my wrist to my face, pulling back my sleeve so I can see my watch. “Ten minutes or so. I’d better go,” I stand up and move to get money from my purse but Trace shakes his head.
“Don’t worry babe, I got it.”
I smile at him and bend down to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. I can tell he’s surprised, I’m not one to publicly be affectionate with people and it’s usually him or Justin that initiates kisses to me, never me to them. I guess it’s my subtle way of expressing my gratitude.
“Thanks, Trace,” I whisper into his ear, before slinging by bag over my shoulder and leaving the diner.
Maybe Trace is right. Maybe some time away from him will be all I need to cure myself of this ridiculous “love” I’ve grown for a certain Justin Timberlake. But haven’t I been trying to detach myself from him the last few weeks? Every time I try to put a gap between us, he goes all hurt and fills it with a lunch date or some more episodes of Friends. Now that I’m living with him, things aren’t any easier.
I sigh and put the keys in the ignition. One more try can’t hurt, right?
---------------------------------------
I lightly press my lips against the soft skin of Natasha’s shoulder. She giggles slightly, and reaches behind her to pat the back of my head.
“Not now, Justin.”
I move my kisses up to her neck. “Come on, Tasha. I need some lovin’ here.”
She giggles again and dabs her brush into the array of colors. “I’m sorry, babe. I really want to finish this.”
I let out a whine and move away from her, looking at the painting. “It’s good, now let’s get busy,” I say, returning to my original position of behind her with my body pressed against hers.
She turns around and laughs. “Justin, if you could please remove your mind from the gutter for just one moment, you’ll find I’m working.”
I rest my head against hers. “I know, I’m sorry. I just need something to do.”
Her eyes widen and she smacks me in the chest. “And you thought you could do me?”
I let out my suppressed grin. “I was just kidding, Tasha.” I put my hands on her hips and her frown falls.
“Good. So, let me just ask you this now, are you gonna let me do any work today?”
I pause, before shaking my head. “Nope.”
She rolls her eyes and approaches the couch, me following. “So, what happened at home that has put in you in such a desperate mood?”
I scowl at her and flop down on the couch beside her. “Trace and me had an argument.”
“’Bout what?” she asks, taking a handful of chips and begin to eat them.
I steal one from her grasp and put it into my mouth. “I don’t even know, really. He just got really pissed off at me, really quickly.” I decide not to go into details, as I know I’d have to tell her Trace had less than warm feelings towards her.
She nods and brushes the salt off her hands. “And Cat? How are you coping with her?”
I shrug. “I thought things were great, but God knows. She’s so…difficult to work out. When she says something, I always get the feeling there’s like this…double meaning, or something.”
Natasha nods and stands up to retrieve our glasses of water. “It’s called being a woman, Justin.”
“But she’s got me so confused!”
“I repeat my previous statement.” I shrug and accept my water. “What happened?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to spread around the previous night’s events. I know it took a lot out of Cat to be so emotionally open with me, and I would feel as though I was betraying her trust if I told other people what happened. And anyway, it was a private evening for the two of us and although I’m not too sure how Cat thinks of it, I thought it really brought us closer together. It’s our business, not anyone else’s.
“Well, we were talking and we really…bonded, as stupid as it sounds. Anyway, this morning I wanted to check that she was okay, but she basically ignored me and made it seem like nothing had happened.”
“You make it sound like you two slept together or something,” Natasha says, smiling as she sips her water.
I laugh. “No, nothing like that. She just seems really unwilling to get too close.”
Natasha nods. “Yeah, she seems like a very private person.”
“She is,” I agree. “And then she said something about wishing I wasn’t so nice, as though she wanted our friendship to be less than it is.”
Natasha frowns, before shrugging. “Maybe she’s just overwhelmed. You know, she’s moved in with two people she doesn’t know that well and has to adjust to a whole different life. It’s a bit of a daunting thought. It might not even be you, it could be work or something. Just try and make her life a little easier.”
That makes a little sense. “So what should I do?”
“Just give her a little time and act normally around her,” Natasha says, as though it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Let her know she can have her own space, but you‘re there if she needs you.”
I nod slowly. “I guess she could use a little breathing space.”
Natasha gets up, taking my glass and her own and taking them to the kitchen. “I’m sure it’ll work out fine.”
I lay down on the couch and watch her return. How did I get a girlfriend as good as her? She blushes slightly. “What are you staring at?”
“You,” I reply simply, pulling her down onto the couch with me.
She giggles on top of me. “I see that frisky side of yours is back after that little chat.”
I nod and capture her lips with my own. “I say, less chat, more action. What do you think?”
She laughs and kisses me. “I definitely agree.”
------------------------------
I close the heavy oak door behind me and lean against it, eyes closed. After my lunch with Trace, I went back to the office to be greeted by an eager Sean, who was ecstatic because we had been given the abortion article to do. Sure, it’s great, but all I want to do is crawl into my pajamas and sleep forever.
Too much has happened today and it’s only Monday.
“Cat! Is that you?” I hear Trace yell.
I walk into the game room, where I find him engrossed sitting cross legged on the floor, in front of a game in front of the TV. “Hi.”
His head doesn’t turn from the television set. “Hey.”
“What are you playing?” I ask, gingerly sitting down beside him, trying not to crease my work skirt.
“Er, a racing car thing,” he replies distractedly.
I roll my eyes. How men get so gripped by immature console games never fails to astound me. “Thanks for lunch today, it made me feel a little better.”
His hand reaches out and pats my knee, before quickly returning to the joystick. “No problem, babe.”
I laugh. “Do you and Justin call everyone babe?”
He smirks. “Nah, just the sexy ones.”
I laugh again and stand up, kissing the top of his head as I go. “Well, thanks for being such a good friend.”
He blushes slightly and shrugs. “It was nothing. And anyway, I need to have at least one friend in this house.”
I frown on my way out of the room. “What do you mean?”
“Justin and I had a little lovers spat.”
My eyes widen. “About what?”
“Natasha, and how I don’t like her, and I called him blind.”
The temptation to rip the fucking game thing out of the wall grows as fear courses through my body. “What!”
“Don’t worry, it was no biggie.”
No biggie? No biggie? I glad he thinks so, because I’m about to explode because it’s such a colossal disaster. “Trace, I can’t believe you did that!” I shout.
He pauses his game and turns to me, his child-like face the picture of innocence. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
I snort loudly. “Oh no, you only told him how I felt.”
He rolls his eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen, Cutie. I didn’t tell him anything.”
My erratic breathing somewhat slows down. “Are you sure?”
He rolls his eyes again and turns back to his game. “Yes, I’m sure. Now stop freaking out, Cat.”
I humph and cross my arms. “Whatever.” Mature, I know. “Is he still at the skank’s house?”
Trace erupts in laughter. “Oh come on, she’s not that bad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? She’s sleeping with him, that’s enough.”
Trace sniggers. “You just wish you were the one sleeping with him.”
My cheeks darken at the very mention of Justin and I having sex. “Shut up.”
Suddenly, I hear the opening and closing of the front door and jump. It must be Justin, although I assumed he would stay the night at Natasha's, or “Tasha”, as I heard him refer to her the other day.
“Hey, guys,” he says happily, entering the game room and smiling brightly at both of us.
“Hey,” says Trace over his shoulder.
“Hi,” I mumble, feeling greatly uncomfortable under his ice cool gaze.
“How was work, Cat?”
I shrug and rub my arm. “It was ‘kay.”
“Good,” he nods, and I wait for him to start pestering me about my day, but he doesn’t. “I’m just gonna head up and get changed. Who’s making dinner tonight?”
“Um, I will,” I say after a while, amazed at his ability to forget everything that happened this morning between me and him or him and Trace.
“Great, I’ll help you.”
“Okay,” I nod slowly.
I begin to question how he’s magically ignored the awkwardness that settled between us this morning, but realize less fussing from him is exactly what I want. The less attention he pays to me and my roller coaster emotions, the less of his adorably caring side I’ll have to see. Perhaps, eventually, I’ll just see him as a friend.
Or, perhaps this little distance between us will make me crave for him even more.
--------------------
I stand in the shower, allowing the hot water to flow over my body and remove the touch of Natasha. I run a hand through my hair, which needs to be cut, and then lather some shampoo into it. I, perhaps unwisely, offered to help make dinner with Cat. I know Natasha said to give her some breathing space, but I’m not going to avoid her.
I was planning on staying the night at Natasha’s, but she was trying to get that painting thing finished and I had already distracted her enough, so I knew there wouldn’t be much fun at her place. Despite still being angry at Trace, Cat hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no need to stay away from her. Slowly, I’m beginning to understand why she was so weird this morning. She obviously has real issues with opening up to people, which I can understand. Hell, I can even relate to that. She probably just felt embarrassed so I’m going to try my best to act normal around her and try to assure her I’m not judging or criticizing her.
That’s why I offered to make dinner with her. Just to find some common ground once again and let things go back to normal. I get out of the shower and run a towel over my body, before slipping on some jeans. I consider putting on a shirt, but I can’t be bothered and, knowing my cooking skills, I probably get something on it.
I bound downstairs and find Cat standing in the kitchen, biting her lip thoughtfully as she reads the back of a spaghetti sauce packet. “Hey.”
She jumps slightly and turns to look at me. Her eyes center on my chest and widen slightly. Well, well, that’s unexpected. I didn’t have Cat down as one of those girls who would go all stunned at the sight of my body. The regular feeling of satisfaction flows through me as I see her blush and turn away from me. She’s clearly not used to seeing men exposed in front of her. The shyness and innocence she so desperately tries to hide from the world is clearly shown and it tugs at my heart strings.
“Um, hi,” she replies.
I smirk. If girls like Cat go all gooey when they see me half naked, what does that say about the impact my chest must have? I’m a cocky bastard, I know. “What do you want to make?” I ask, approaching her and putting my hands on her hips. I want to test her in a way, see how much I can make her blush, so that means maximum contact.
She jumps slightly feeling of my warm hands on her hips. “Um, well, um, I was thinking spaghetti or something.”
I rest my chin on her shoulder and look at the packet she’s holding. “Sounds good.”
“Or we could just make some good ole mac and cheese,” she says, laughing slightly.
I chuckle and kiss her cheek, pressing my naked torso against her back. “Sounds even better.”
She stands there for a second, and I can hear her taking deep breaths, as though she's calming herself, before she replies. “Great. I’ll get some pasta boiling, you can get the cheese sorted.”
I nod and release her, chuckling silently to myself. We work in silence, and I have no doubt she’s wondering what the hell has gotten into me. I beginning to wonder myself, actually. Why do I want to tease her? Why do I want her to want me? I don’t know, but it’s fun to watch her tilt her head down to hide her blush and to see her hair fall gently across her face as she goes all bashful.
I give her the cheese once it’s done and she adds it to the pasta, stirring it gently. I play with the radio, trying to find a station to listen to. “Oh, stop!” she suddenly says.
I grin and look at her. “No way, Cat.”
She goes red. “It’s a good song.”
You’re The One That I want by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John? A good song? Sure, perhaps in 1987, not now.
“Cat,” I say, between my sniggers, “I can’t believe you like this song.”
“What!” she protests. “It is a good song!”
I nod and bite my lip to hold back my laughter. She turns back to the stove, obviously thinking I’m going to ignore the fact she likes a song from Grease. I stealthily walk up behind her, so that she doesn’t expect to feel the sudden grip of my hands on her sides as I spun her around. She shoots me a confused look, before I launch into singing the chorus, eyes closed and everything, as I hold her body against mine and swayed my hips, our twisted impression of dancing.
“Justin, what are you doing?” she asks, clearly not sure whether to laugh or run into the distance screaming.
I ignore her question and continue to sing and dance, spinning her around the kitchen floor as she giggles. “Oh-oh-oh, honey!”
She throws her head back and lets out a laugh as I let go of her to do some serious Saturday Night Fever posing. “Justin, are you okay?”
“Baby, I’m better than okay, I’m singing Grease!”
She laughs again and leans against the counter for support. When my little performance is finished, I approach her and place my hands on her hips, grinning.
“Did you like that?”
She nods. “It was…an experience.”
I poke her in the stomach. “You’re just pissed I didn’t finish my amazing display of talent with a strip tease.”
She smiles shyly and…yep, blushes. It’s funny how someone seemingly so confident and so unaffected by what happens around her can be reduced to such coyness at the mention of sex or stuff to do with it. That’s what makes it so enjoyable to tease her. I lean against the counter, with one arm on either side of her. She’s staring at me quite deeply, and it reminds me of the time I wanted to kiss her before Trace interrupted us. Up this close, I can remember why. I see those blue eyes, that cute little nose, and, of course, those freckles. I reach up and unclip her wavy brown hair, which I’ve heard her whine about several times because it's 'boring'.
It falls from it’s clasp around her face and she blushes slightly at the stare I have her under. “It looks nice down,” I say quietly.
She nods slightly, and I can see her eyes travel down my torso and take in the sight of my chest. She seems to find it very interesting, it's like she's never seen a guy so openly undressed in front of her. I cocky grin places itself on my lips as her eyes shyly rise to meet mine again.
But the piercing ring of the phone causes us both to jump.
I give her a quick smile, before heading over and picking up the phone which sat on the table. “Hello?”
The playful grin that was on my face is quickly wiped off. “Hey, can I speak to Cat please?”
I know that voice, and I’m less than impressed to be hearing it again. “Who’s speaking please?” I ask frostily.
“Sean,” replies the calm, deep voice.
“I’m sorry Sean, Cat’s about to eat her dinner. Can I take a message?”
“Oh, um, yes please.” I don’t miss the tone of disappointment in his voice, but quite frankly, I ain’t sympathetic. “Can you tell her that Sean wants to see whether she’s still free Friday and if she is, could she give me a call back, please?”
I scowl deeply. Is this asshole trying to wangle a date off her or something? “I’ll try and pass on the message, Sean,” I reply, tone sarcastic.
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Bye,” I spit spitefully into the phone.
When I hang up, Cat is standing behind me, drying her hands on a dishtowel and frowning. “Was that for me?”
I nod. “I said you were about to eat.”
She nods. “Who was it?”
A complete asshole who I bet is gonna try to fuck you on your first date, if you go on it, which I sincerely hope you don’t. “It was Sean. He wanted to know if you were free Friday and if you were, could you call him back.”
A small smile spreads across her features. “Really?”
I nod as I get out some plates for Trace and us. She smirks slightly, before taking the plates I held out for her and putting pasta on them. “Are you gonna call him back?” I ask lightly, after a pause.
“Sure,” she says. “He might just be calling me to work on this article thing, but he mentioned something about going out for dinner, so…” she trails off and shrugs.
No, I’m tempted to scream, don’t do it, Cat. I’ve never met him, but I bet he’s a total loser with gross teeth. Ugh, just thinking about him is making me angry, but when an image of him and Cat happily strolling along the beach, hand in hand, it makes my blood boil.
Must be my friend instinct kicking in.
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