“How did you manage to fall into the lake?” Sean asks, laughing; the cries from the park slowly become more distant as we stroll further away from the noisy, green playing field.
I shrug and a light smile creeps onto my lips. “I don’t know. One minute I was displaying my amazing talent of not being able to kick a ball in the right direction, the next I was up to my neck in murky water.”
“How long did it take to get out?”
“Too long. They had to get the troop leader to yank me out,” I admit, blushing slightly. “They must have thought I was such an idiot.”
His deep laugh rings in my ears as he gives my hand a light squeeze. “Well, I think you’re perfect.”
My blush deepens as I look down at my sandaled feet, which are lazily walking along the dusty footpath. “Your turn,” I reply. “Even amazing you must have some embarrassing camp incidents.”
He stops walking and turns to face me, putting his free hand into mine, so we form a little circle away from the world. “Of course. I’m not more amazing than you are, perhaps even less.”
How perfect is this man? “You’re just saying that,” I mumble, turning my head away slightly in an attempt to hide the growing look of happiness on my face.
He chuckles and leans in to kiss me, his lips moving expertly against my own.
“Believe me now?” he says smugly.
I shrug and let go of one of his hands to continue walking. “We’re so cheesy,” I comment, our joined hands swinging back and forth.
He laughs. “I know.”
This is our first so-called, “day date”. Instead of going out to some restaurant or art gallery in the evening and discussing politics and current affairs, we simply took a stroll in the park and along some winding path, sharing embarrassing memories as the sun blared above us.
To me, this is a little milestone in our mere one-month relationship. Looking at us, and our intertwined hands, anyone can see we are a comfortable couple. We’re the type of couple who no longer have to particularly impress each other and can be fairly relaxed in each other’s presence, but we’re not crooning, ‘I love you, my darling’, every two minutes.
Of course, I’m never fully relaxed; I’m always careful to keep my stomach in, to make sure my hair doesn’t get too windswept (or, in other words, tangled) and to make sure I don’t trip up in my stupid, open-toed sandals that I only wear to go with this ridiculously summery skirt, which has flowers emblazoned in every available space. Part of me knows this awfully cheesy, B-rated romantic movie scene that Sean and I seem to be in is a slight misrepresentation of who I am. Since when did I wear floral clothes? Since when did I smile constantly? Since when did non-pessimistic thoughts such as how summer is quickly approaching matter to me?
I know what it is. It’s the soft side of me. The side that put up all those movie posters of tales of love conquering all in my bedroom, the side that bought the special, DVD edition of Pretty Woman, the side that can spend hours crying because I know I’ll never be good enough for Justin. When I’m with Sean, it’s as though no one can see the ‘real me’. I can hide the fact I’m naturally cynical and sarcastic, or that I’m the only person who can see a puppy and not feel anything at all. People would just assume I was a young, slightly chubby woman who was in a sunny relationship with a gorgeous, straight-from-a-catalogue guy. I don’t know why, but I like being able to pretend I am for a while.
I absentmindedly kick a small stone before realizing it will leave a little grubby mark on my toes. “Wanna go home?” I ask, trying to rub the patch of dirt off on the back of my other leg as I hold onto his arm for support. “I’ve got a rough draft on the introduction for the abortion feature.”
He turns to face me, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. “Um…why don’t you come back to mine?”
“Because it’s on my computer, in my house,” I reply, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong with my place?”
“Nothing,” he hastily replies, shaking his head. “I just wouldn’t want to annoy Justin or anything...” he trails off.
My frown deepens as I ignore my dirt foot and put both feet on the ground. “What do you mean?” I ask.
He shrugs and looks at looks off to the right, not directly at me. “I just get the feeling he doesn’t really like me hanging around there.”
“He’s never said anything,” I say, shrugging and trying to get eye contact with him. “But why would he? You two barely know each other, and you’re never even at my house.”
He nods and looks down at the ground, kicking his shoes into the dirt. “I know, but I just get cold vibes from him.”
“When?” I ask, frowning with confusion.
As far as I know, the only interaction between Justin and Sean is when Sean picks me up, and their communication is the typically male basics. “How are you?” “Yeah, fine. You?” “Good”. Nothing more than that, unlike Trace and Sean, who are complete opposites and yet seem to get on incredibly well.
“When I pick you up and stuff. He acts like an overprotective father or something.”
I giggle. It’s always nice to hear an alternative description of the forever cool Justin Timberlake. “Well, I don’t see why,” I say, matter-of-factly. “I mean, you’ve not even….” I pause, warmth rising to my cheeks. “Slept over,” I finish eventually, my voice dropping to an embarrassed mumble. There just isn’t another way of saying, ‘We’ve not even had sex yet, so what’s the big deal?’
He catches my eye and grins wickedly for a second. “Exactly. But nevertheless,” he shrugs, his grin fading. “He seems a little pissed every time I’m there.”
I shrug and put my arms around his neck, dropping a quick kiss on his lips as a form of reassurance. Normally, I wouldn’t do that, but no one is around to see. “Don’t worry about it. You two just don’t know each other.”
His warm hands slip around my hips and pull me closer to him. “I suppose so. But what do I have in common with some pop star?”
“That’s exactly what I thought when I first met him,” I say, my eyes grazing over his features. “But he’s just such a great guy, you’ll be friends in no time. I promise.”
He nods and leans in, placing his head on my shoulder. I smile when I feel his lips softly press against my neck. I quickly look around to make sure no one can see us, before running my hand up his neck into the mass of black hair. “Sean…” I begin in a warning tone, despite not wanting him to stop.
“Cat…” he counters, his lips making their way up to my jaw. “Oh, and by the way, when do I get to sleep over?” he deep voice whispers directly into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
My cheeks burn a deep red and I pull away from him. “Um…Come on, let’s go,” I say quickly, tucking an annoying strand of hair behind my ear.
He grins and lightly taps my ass, much to my surprise. “You know you want me.”
I roll my eyes at him and send him a quick smile, but inside, I feel as though I’m betraying him. I certainly do want you, Sean, but I want someone else too.
---------------------------------------------------------
“So, how long is Natasha staying in California?”
“Dunno.” Why is she laughing at everything he says? I’m sure Sean is a hilarious guy, but surely he can’t be that funny?
“I didn’t know that’s where she was originally from.”
“Mm, yeah, amazing.” Why is his hand lying so comfortably halfway up her thigh? I swear, if it moves one inch up her skirt, I’ll cut it off.
“I guess I should have known from the stunning blonde hair.”
“Yeah.” Why is he twisting a lock of her hair around his finger? Doesn’t he realize that could seriously hurt her if he…you know…tugged too hard?
“Is that its natural color? Because she does have really dark brown eyes.”
“Yeah, think so.” Why does she have to be so close to him on the couch? There’s about five meters of unused leather wanting to fulfill its use.
“Justin!” Trace snaps sharply.
“What?” I respond in an agitated tone, turning my head to look at him. I’m not very pleased that Trace is whining when I’m trying to keep an eye on Cat and Sean.
“Would you just get over it?” he whispers angrily, casting a look over to where they sit, all cozily curled up against each other on the couch.
“Get over what?” I ask, my gaze straying back to the two figures on the sofa.
He groans. “You’re still doing it!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I shrug nonchalantly,
Trace rolls his eyes. “Man, I don’t know what is up with you, but you need to just leave Sean alone.”
“I’ve not done anything to him!” I defend in hushed tones, so they don’t hear us.
“You’re watching those two like they’re a goddamn bomb!” he exclaims furiously.
Excuse me, but could Trace be anymore dramatic? I am not ‘watching them like they’re a bomb’; I’m just observing how well they go together, if I think they’re a good match, etc, like any good friend would. I don’t know what the big deal is.
I almost choked on my lemonade when Cat sauntered in, hand in hand with Sean, announcing they had work to do and were going to be on her laptop for the rest of the afternoon. What was so wrong with Sean going home and Cat doing the work on her own? But I kept my opinions to myself and I even offered Sean a drink, which I thought was very hospitable and mature of me. I was just so busy thanking God they had decided to stay downstairs where I could keep an eye on them. Goodness knows what could have happened if they’d worked in her room and he had gotten her alone and vulnerable.
I have to admit; I didn’t warm to Sean at first. In fact, every time he came round I would stare at him with my arms crossed, waiting for one wrong move which would give me liability to give him a smack. But that time never came, and as far as I can see he’s been nothing but respectful and kind to Cat. Kiss ass.
In fact, I don’t even think they’ve slept together yet, which is a-okay in my books. Sean has never stayed the night here, and I’ve never seen Cat creep in at eight in the morning with a smile on her face. I can see Sean wants to sleep with her, he’s always whispering things to her and touching her leg, which means I get great joy in laughing at the thought she’s not succumbed to his ‘southern charm’ as Natasha put it. Natasha met Sean very briefly when he was picking up Cat once, but was singing his praises for the rest of the evening. He’s not that good-looking, and I would not call his accent charming. I would call it stoned trailer trash boy.
No, no, what I can clearly see, which Sean obviously doesn’t, is that Cat just isn’t as into the relationship as he is. I can gather sleeping around is not something she does, but they’ve been seeing each other constantly, be it at work or on one of their dates, for over a month now. She clearly just doesn’t seem to want to commit to the relationship and as much as that brings a tear to my eye, I can’t wait until the day I get to comfort Cat when she says she feels bad for dumping his ass.
What I don’t like about their relationship, or at least one of the things, is that Cat seems different when she’s with him. She takes a load of care about her appearance, and has started wearing these really pretty, feminine clothes with, I dunno, flowers and shit on them. And her hair, too. It’s become really long and she always wears it down, and I know it’s just so Sean can wrap little bits of it around his finger when they’re talking. What a woman.
“Justin, are you even listening to me?” Trace snaps.
“Yes.” No. How was I supposed to know he had been talking as I contemplated the demise of Cat and Sean?
Trace sighs. “Look, Cat really likes this guy and so do I. You don’t even know him, but you spend your whole time thinking about reasons for Cat to dump him, or worrying they’re gonna finally have sex.”
“I do not,” I scoff unconvincingly. I hate how Trace knows me so well.
“Whatever,” mutters Trace, rolling his eyes. “I can understand you feel a responsibility to protect Cat, but you’re taking it too far. Stop watching him and waiting for the time when he screws up, so you can pounce on him.”
“I am not doing that!” I protest weakly, my voice faltering slightly.
“Just be aware of Cat’s feelings, please? And remember, it’s her choice to be in a relationship, and there’s nothing we can do but be grateful she’s chosen a guy like Sean to be in one with. Christ, Justin, do you know the type of guys she could be dating?”
“Chill, Trace, they’re not married,” I mutter grumpily, crossing my arms and casting a glance in their direction. “They could break up any day now.”
“Exactly, so stop with the dagger eyes and generally pissed off expression you always get when he’s around,” says Trace, smirking slightly. “Just get to know him a little before you start claiming you saw him on America’s Most Wanted, okay?”
“Whatever,” I mumble, sinking into my seat and picking up a magazine that I can look over the top of to see Cat and Sean.
Trace frowns. “Why are you acting like this? This can’t just be protectiveness.” He takes a second to look at me. “Is there anything going on you haven’t told me about?”
I shake my head but remain silent.
He sighs. “Cat’s your friend, and as long as she’s happy, you should be happy for her.”
I groan and run a hand over my face. “Yeah, you’re right.”
He smirks. “Well, what would you expect?”
I roll my eyes at him but smile. Cocky bastard. “So I should just get to know him, right?”
He nods. “Once you see he treats her like some sort of queen, you’ll love him.”
Well, that’s taking it a bit far. But perhaps if I knew him a little better, his presence may not be such a pain in my ass.
I rise from the table and walk over to where they sit. Together. “Hey guys.”
They look up from the laptop balanced on Cat’s knees. “Oh, hey Justin,” says Cat; still smiling at the joke her and Sean were sharing before I interrupted them.
I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to look at the hand still on her leg. “I was just wondering whether you guys were hungry? Me and Trace were thinking of going out for dinner.”
Cat shrugs and nods. “Yeah, I could eat.”
I turn to Sean and try to look happy. “Want to come with us, Sean?” I ask in a chirpy tone that makes Cat raise her eyebrows.
I don’t miss the look of surprise that passes over his face. “Oh, um, sure. That would be nice.”
“Great. We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.” I smile brightly at them and turn away, the cheesy grin I have on my face dropping the second they can’t see me.
How am I going to last through this dinner?
--------------------------------------------------
This is a disaster.
And I mean, a real disaster. This is as bad as Justin’s legendary ‘wardrobe malfunction’ a few months ago, or several reruns of ‘Blossom’ on Nickelodeon, or the heart wrenching Crossroads. It was supposed to be great. It was supposed to be a sociable dinner between friends and a perfect chance for some of my closet friends to get to know Sean a little better, and vice versa. But it’s not. It’s becoming an awkward dinner between a few acquaintances.
Justin and Sean are just not getting on. Every time one of them has an opinion on something, the other will disagree. When Justin started talking about some award show, Sean rolled his eyes at regular intervals. When Sean started talking about how he was thinking about doing a PhD, Justin couldn’t have looked more bored. For the first time, I can sort of see what Sean meant when he said Justin was cold with him. And I can also see Sean is reciprocating the feeling.
I learnt fairly early in our friendship that Justin was not always a pleasant drunk. Sometimes he’s hilarious and full of jokes, and everything is fine. But other times, every bad quality of his is heightened and he becomes an unbearable asshole.
Such as now.
“This must be the only place on earth where I don’t need a bodyguard. I think they’ve somewhat gotten used to my presence now, so I don’t get hassle from the press of fans or anything.” He looks over at some young waitress and winks at her, sending her into a fit of giggles. Proud of his achievement, he takes another swig of beer.
Justin can be egotistical at the best of times, but at the moment he’s being so excruciatingly full of himself, it’s making me want to reach across the table and clamp a hand over his mouth in an attempt to shut him up.
“And they said to me I was abandoning the group, which I so WASN’T!” he exclaims loudly, causing me to send apologetic glances towards the other diners. “And Joey said…wait, you know which one is Joey, right?” he asks, slurring his words and pointing his index finger at me.
I shake my head.
“He’s the big guy, looks kinda Italian. Anyway, he said that I was being selfish, because I was taking a break when I could have done another album.”
I nod and look into my glass, twirling my straw around it a few times as Justin continues to blabber on, oblivious to the rest of the table’s silence. I can see Trace is bored out of his mind, he keeps on glancing towards the exit and I’m sure what Justin’s saying has been heard by him before. He has no interest in the conversation at all. But if it had been any other day, I actually would have been interested in Justin’s worries. We never talk about his career and I know very little about what he did as a solo star, let alone what he did when he was in that group. But I hate listening to drunken people and their brainless rants when I’m more or less sober —their stupidity irritates me.
As for Sean, I can see he’s just about to reach his limit. Sean is quite outspoken, he almost borders on arrogant, and if you’re annoying him, you’ll know it. He’ll not hold back when he has an opinion on something and says what everyone else is secretly thinking. I’ll never forget the day he told our boss that he thought he was an idiot because our boss tried to get us to write this gossip column and Sean would rather die than involve himself in tabloid writing.
The conversation holds no interest to him—he’s the last person you’ll find immersing themselves in pop culture and has even less clue than I do about the celebrity names Justin is throwing across the table. I’m sure he wants to tell Justin to shut the hell up and come back down to earth, and if he wasn’t such a close friend of mine, he probably would. But, out of politeness, he’s listening and nodding his head and refilling his wine glass and biting his tongue. I’m almost worried he’s had too much to drink, but I can understand it takes a certain amount of liquor to stomach Justin’s ramblings.
“And I said look man, I’ve been working straight out for the past eight years, 2004 is a year I’m just gonna take off, okay? I mean, I will do another album with them eventually, but I haven’t had the two years off that they have,” continues Justin, swinging his glass around animatedly. He’s going to spill it his drink pretty soon, I can tell.
“But how can you expect them to believe that?”
Oh shit. I bury my head in my hands the second I hear the hostile southern tone. Now that Sean has started, he won’t stop until he has thoroughly labored his point.
“What do you mean?” says Justin; a note of surprise in his voice at Sean’s breaking of the silence.
“Well, by the sound of it, you just kept on making all these promises which, so far, have proved to be empty.”
I bring my head out of my hands to send a Sean a stern look. He isn’t in a position to pass such harsh judgments on Justin when he barely knows him, or the situation that Justin has spent the last twenty minutes describing.
“Sean, don’t--”
“I wasn’t making empty promises,” Justin retorted angrily, his eyes fixing on Sean and narrowing. “I was just doing what was best for my career.”
“But what about their careers?” replies Sean coolly. The only thing showing any emotion was his eyes, which were blazing at Justin. “They were put on the backburner for your solo career.”
Justin’s mouth dropped open as did mine and Trace’s, who was suddenly paying more attention to the conversation. I didn’t like what I was hearing from Sean. Sure, it had some truth in it, but he had no right to question Justin’s decisions.
“Sean, stop it,” I say harshly, frowning at him.
A look of hurt washes over his face and I suddenly want to smack myself over the head. I shouldn’t be protecting Justin; I should be protecting my boyfriend. And when I think about it, they’re both in the wrong, so why am I immediately rushing to Justin’s defense rather than Sean’s?
“Look, we’ve all had a little too much to drink, so why don’t we just call it a night?” I offer, putting a hand on Sean’s leg to show I’m still on his side.
“Sounds great,” says Trace hurriedly, and he motions to the waiter for the check.
“No, we need to talk this through,” mutters Justin darkly, still looking at Sean.
Sean narrows his eyes. “Fine.”
I sink lower into my seat. This is bordering on ridiculous. I half expect them to have a duel outside.
“Those guys are my friends, first and foremost, and we support everything any of us do,” Justin whispers dangerously, leaning over the table slightly. “I wanted to take a year off, and I was upset because they didn’t seem to understand that.”
Sean pauses and I can see him formulating a response in his head. “But why don’t you understand that it’s not all about you?”
Justin’s eyes widen with surprise. “What?”
“It’s not all about you. How many people are there in your band?” Sean asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Five, including me,” replies Justin, his fist clenching.
“You make up 1/5 of that band, but so what? There are still four other people that are being let down by the decision of one person. Why can’t you just see it from their perspective?” says Sean, through gritted teeth.
“I deserve time off!” Justin exclaims, the volume of his voice raising a sufficient amount to attract even more attention.
“And your so called ‘friends’ deserve their careers!” replies Sean in an equally loud voice.
“That is enough!” I shout, causing both of their heads to turn and face me, their expression surprised. “Justin, Sean is just voicing his opinion, you need to accept he is entitled to one. Sean, stop provoking Justin. We don’t know the details of it, and in the end it’s Justin’s decision.” I pause for breath, the anger rising in me. “But what it boils down to is both of you are behaving like children!”
They open their mouths to say something, but I snatch my purse and walk out of the restaurant, ignoring the confused glances I receive. Something is wrong with Justin and Sean, but at the moment I just don’t want to deal with it.
I walk into the parking lot and groan, realizing we all came in one of Justin’s cars and I can’t leave without the others. I aimlessly turn around in a circle, searching for some way of getting away. I can’t go home with Justin there, and I’m not going to Sean’s house. I’m just so mad at the pair of them for being so childish and not making an effort, for me at least, to get along.
I hear footsteps behind me and wearily turn around to their owner. “Oh, hi Trace.”
He’s smiling slightly. “Hey Cutie.”
I sigh and pinch the skin in between my eyes. “Urgh! How can they be so babyish?!” I exclaim, kicking the ground with frustration.
He walks towards me, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slowly nodding his head. “I know. They’re still at it now, arguing over who was to blame for upsetting you.”
I find his grin infectious and end up smiling at Trace. He quickly envelops me in a hug and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“They didn’t mean to get so worked up, Cat.”
“I know,” I mumble into his shoulder. “But I don’t understand how you and Sean can get along just great, but him and Justin are just a disaster.”
Trace shrugs. “It must be my animal magnetism.”
I laugh and pull away from him. “What is wrong with them though? I realize they’re really different, but usually that doesn’t matter.”
“I dunno, Cutie. I just think there’s a lot of jealousy there.”
“Jealous?” I question. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs again. “Well, you know. Justin suddenly doesn’t get to see you as much because you’re with Sean and you’re not as available as you were before.”
I frown. “You mean I’ve been spending too much time with Sean?”
“Not at all,” he shakes his head. “I just mean Justin has realized he’s not the only guy in your life right now. Chances are you’d rather spend time with your boyfriend than your friend, so Justin thinks he has to compete for your attention.”
“I guess he could feel that way,” I shrug uncertainly. “Has he actually told you that?”
Trace snorts and waves his hand. “Nah, Justin’s way too proud to admit something like that.”
“But Sean was just as bad as Justin,” I say, ignoring the fact I’m still defending Justin.
“Oh come on, Cat. Sean is clearly jealous of Justin,” states Trace, matter-of-factly.
I frown. “What? Why on earth would Sean be jealous of Justin?”
“Because Justin is your friend. Whenever you’re not with Sean, you’re with Justin, having a great time. And plus, Justin hasn’t been the nicest of guys to Sean.”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Look, don’t worry about it. Things will work out fine,” he reassures me, reaching out to rub my arm. “Why don’t I drive you home and then come back to pick up the troublesome twosome later?”
I laugh. “You’re weird, Trace.”
He nods and starts heading towards our car. “I know.”
I sling an arm around his shoulder. “But you’re a great friend.”
“Thanks,” he says, blushing slightly and opening my door for me.
“How many times have you been my guru and comforted me?” I ask, stopping in the car door and looking at him.
“Just call me Dr Phil,” he jokes.
“You know Trace, if you were two inches taller, I’d probably try and sleep with you,” I say, winking at him.
He throws back his head and laughs. “Shut up, and get in the care, Cutie.”
I grin at him and slide into the seat, forgetting about the ‘troublesome twosome’ who are still fighting it out in the restaurant.
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