“And I mean…yeah! That beat was just…bangin’! Don’t you think so, Cat?” exclaims Justin as he tosses his jacket carelessly in the direction of the couch, letting it slip off the leather upholstery and fall in a crumpled heap on the floor.
He ignores it and glances in the direction of the mail he didn’t have time to look at this morning, the broad grin on his face never faltering. I smile and pick up his coat, folding and placing it gently on the back of the sofa. Justin is normally never so careless and lackadaisical with his belongings, Trace can often be seen shouting “anal” as Justin meticulously folds his clothing; but today he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
“It sounded wonderful,” I say softly, watching as he opens a letter. He glances up and nods feverishly, grinning at me. He’s so adorable; like a kid who just won first prize at the science fair. He’s full of smiles and laughs and eyes full of happiness.
I wish I could be more like him, or the happy, animated girlfriend I really should be. But of course, I’m not. I sort of dozed in the studio for a few hours, caught between sleep and consciousness, before Trace offered to go out and get everyone some dinner and I tagged along with him, just to get out of the stuffy studio.
But it was interesting to watch Justin work. I’ve never really seen him quite so dynamic and enthusiastic about anything as he was when he was flicking all those switches and pushing various buttons. He has an impeccable ear; he would take one noise that quite frankly sounded like a wounded animal howling out its last words, mix it with another deep bass thumping noise and suddenly, this wonderfully melodic beat would be pouring from the speakers.
As much as it kills me to admit it, him and Amber work quite well together; even a clueless bystander such as myself could see that. They sat for what felt like hours, discussing what they wanted the sound to be like, and using all these weird words like ‘rhythm’ and ‘tempo’ in every sentence. It all sounded like gibberish to me, and yet they somehow produced something amazing. I thought it was finished, but Justin said it was just a tiny sample of something on a much grander scale, which would require lyrics, crescendos, change in dynamics, small noises that would contribute to the finished product…it made my head ache just thinking about it, but Justin can’t wait to get started.
“Did you like Amber?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can, staring down at his jacket and smoothing my hand over the material.
“Yeah,” he nods enthusiastically, putting a letter back into its manila envelope. “She’s very talented, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“Mmm,” I agree, tracing my name into the downy material of his jacket.
“Yeah, I’m going to bring in my guitar tomorrow and we’re gonna see if we can add a gentle strumming tune in the background,” he says gleefully, approaching the couch and kneeling on it, so that he is facing me. “Obviously she’s not going to be the only producer I work with, but she’s definitely a good start.”
Looking up at him, I smile weakly. “I was very proud of you today. You’re so sweet when you work it’s sickening.”
“Really?” he raises his eyebrow, his happy grin turning cocky. “Are you sure I’m not so sexy it’s sickening?”
I pause as though contemplating it, before shaking my head. “No, I think I was right the first time.”
He laughs and snakes his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him and the back of the couch, which forms a barrier between us. “So, do you like Amber?” I give out a non committal shrug. “Skinny, isn’t she?” he says, wrinkling his nose.
“Malnourished,” I snap, before hurriedly bringing my temper down from its sudden rise. “I mean…she’s a little on the slim side, yes.”
He smirks. “Cat…” he begins in an all-knowing, slightly amused tone.
“What?” I reply defensively. He can’t know that I’ve already planned out a complex strategy to make sure she doesn’t lay one hand on Justin, could he? I thought I was very discrete about my slight aversion to her.
“The answer is no Cat, you didn’t hide the fact you hated her from the moment you laid eyes on her,” he says simply, grinning at my shocked expression.
It appears Mr. Timberlake has another talent to add to his increasingly large list of attributes--mind reading. “I don’t hate her…”
“It’s alright, I was jealous of Sean too,” he interrupts. “It’s just natural to be a little wary of your significant other’s work buddy.”
“Well, exactly,” I reply, amazed by Justin’s sensitivity to the subject. I’m worried; he’s been disturbingly close to being perfect all day.
“And remember how you used to always tell me I was being paranoid and that I had nothing to worry about?” he says, pulling my even closer and looking up at me with sparkling eyes.
“I’m vaguely aware of such conversations…” I mumble, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my lips.
“Well, I can just reiterate the same thing to you, before you get yourself worried about Amber and myself having hot sex in the studio. Just remember that you’re agonizing over nothing, as usual,” he rolls his eyes.
“But Justin!” I whine, placing my hands over his shoulders, “It’s easier said than done. Of course I’m jealous of some anorexic musical prodigy who, let’s be honest, is not exactly suffering from bad looks. And you two are going to be stuck inside a little hot studio, with nothing to do but--”
My complaints were cut off by Justin’s lips crashing upon my own, halting any of the irrational rambles pouring from my mouth. My instinct is, naturally, to kiss him back, and soon our mouths are battling against each other frantically, so used to kissing each other that our lips know exactly how to move at the exact right time. I’m vaguely aware that we were about to have a debate of some importance, but the thought lingers in my mind for a disappointingly short time before leaving again.
After the first wave of urgency, our kiss trails off and Justin pulls away. Oh, just wipe that cocky smirk off of your face, Mr. Timberlake.
“You were saying?”
“Shut up,” I protest, pushing his chest gently. “You think that you can get just anywhere with that stupid animal magnetism of yours.”
“That’s because I can,” he shrugs before crouching to avoid another hit. “Come on Cat, you know Amber isn’t my type.”
“Talented, slim and beautiful? Oh, I know; you’ll be beating her away with a stick.”
“Cat, please don’t do this,” he groans, resting his forehead on a very distracting place in the middle of my chest. “I really don’t want to have to worry that my work is causing strain on you or our relationship.”
“Neither do I, but I can’t help my natural reactions.”
“But you can, Cat,” he says, looking up again. “Isn’t my word enough comfort for you? Can’t you just trust me?”
“I do trust you,” I reply.
“Then why did you look at Amber like she was a leper for five hours?”
“I did not!” I protest. “I just…”
“You know Cat, we can’t keep on having this discussion. When are you going to learn that as long as I’m with you, I’m with you, and only want to be with you, exclusively…alright?”
“But Justin, she was at least twenty five pounds skinnier than I am!”
“So?” he retorts, shrugging indifferently. “Who cares?”
“Me.”
“Well if it bothers you so much, why don’t you do something about it?”
My heart jumped painfully in my chest as I step back in hurt, frowning at him. “Are you saying I should lose weight?”
“No, I’m saying you should do something about your shockingly bad self-esteem and if losing weight would make you feel better, then maybe you should think about it.”
Incoherent thoughts began crashing into each other, one after the other. Justin wants me to lose weight? Was this just the perfect opportunity for him to say so without hurting my feelings? Has he been wanting to say something for a while now?
Wait…perhaps I’m being irrational. Perhaps he’s genuinely just looking out for me. After all, he always does tell me I should do something about my low confidence, even going as far to say he’d pay for me to go to one of those “I love me” workshops with someone in a long white robe chanting about self-worth and the joys of masturbation.
Of course I would feel better about myself if I could get into a gorgeous pair of size four jeans, or if I didn’t find myself slipping quite easily into some stores’ plus sizes. I almost died at Old Navy the other day when I initially picked up a size twelve pair of pants and then found it I had to hold my breath for fifteen seconds before they buttoned up, only to find that breathing wasn’t actually an option once they were tied. Not to mention the cruel, unflattering mirror in the changing room that made me look like Homer Simpson on one of his bad days. It’s all the lighting’s fault, I swear.
“Cat, I’m really not trying to make you feel bad, but I just hate to see you get in a state over the tiniest of things.” He rubs my back reassuringly. “Maybe if you felt more comfortable in your own skin, you wouldn’t have that kind of problem.”
“Well…do you want me to?”
“I want you to do whatever you think is best for you.”
Sounds like a bullshit answer to me. “I’ll think about it,” I say quietly, unlatching his arms from my waist and turning away, feeling an odd tugging on my stomach that lets me know I’m about to dissolve into tears.
I walk into the kitchen, battling a furious war with my lips, which seem intent on drooping and letting out a howl of despair. I hear Justin quickly scramble off the couch and his footsteps follow the pattern of mine, until he joins me in the kitchen.
“Cat, I didn’t mean--”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” I interrupt, bending down to pull a bottle of water from the fridge before pushing past him and jogging up the stairs.
“Cat, why are you--”
Desperately trying to block out his voice, I hurry into our bedroom, swigging the ice cold water to calm myself. I’m not angry at him, I just have that feeling as though someone’s torn out my heart and played volleyball with it. So not too bad, really.
No sooner have I shut the door, it is reopened, and Justin quickly enters our room. “I think you took what I said in the exact way I didn’t want you to take it--”
“I think I got it crystal clear, actually,” I reply in a choked voice, opening the closet door to block him from my sight but also to search for something to wear to bed. Why are women so prone to tears? Why can’t I be as emotionless, cold and impenetrable as I thought I once was?
As my shaking hands sift through the various nightwear, Justin slowly walks up behind me. He makes the wise decision to not touch me; he must have realized if he even tries to pull any kissing or lovey-dovey shit with me right now, I’ll turn around and slap him.
“Why are you making a huge deal out of this?” he asks softly.
“I’m not. I already told you I’m fine,” I snap back, pulling out a particularly unappealing pair of baggy sweatpants and a shapeless white T-shirt. What’s the point in wearing that gorgeous satin slip with lace trim from Victoria’s Secret if I just look like an elephant anyway?
“I can’t believe you’re getting pissed off at me for trying to make you feel better!” he exclaims in indignation.
Gritting my teeth together to bite back a response, I put a hand on my hip, holding my clothes with my other. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, crossing his arms across his chest.
“The bathroom.”
“Why?”
“To get changed,” I reply, stepping to the left to get past him.
He quickly two steps me, blocking my path. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“If I don’t feel comfortable changing in front of you, then I won’t!”
“Why wouldn’t you feel comfortable around me?” he demands, squinting at me. “I’m your boyfriend.”
“And also the guy who thinks I should lose weight!” I shout in a tone not entirely required, before barging straight through him and heading to the bathroom.
“You are so hypersensitive, do you know that?” he yells, falling into step behind me as I roll my eyes and storm towards the bathroom. “I can’t even talk to you without you freaking out.”
“I don’t freak out!”
“Oh yeah? Then what were you doing when you were fussing over whether you should leave pisshole Tennessee? Or the way you can’t stand me being with another woman who weighs less than four hundred pounds and dream up an affair before I’ve even had the chance to have one?!”
“Says the guy who would call me at work every two minutes to check I hadn’t fucked Sean by the photocopier!” I retort furiously, spinning around to face him.
“That’s different…” he sneers. “You two had a history. You already can’t bear the thought of me and Amber!”
Feeling my mouth dry up with no response, I spit, “Amber and I,” before turning around again and heading towards the bathroom, mentally scolding myself. Did I just use grammar as a way to respond to an argument? Jesus, no wonder I was never on the debating team at school.
“Whatever!” Justin answers, once again pursuing me to the bathroom. “The fact is you have issues.”
“And you don’t?” I reply angrily, resting my hand on the door handle to the bathroom. “You freak out if anyone else even shows the tiniest bit of attraction for me…what the fuck is wrong with this door?” I demand urgently, yanking the handle up and down and leaning into the door, which refuses to budge.
“I’m having a relaxing bath,” calls out Trace’s voice from inside the bathroom. “You’re going to have to go and have your argument somewhere else; I put in a ton of bath crap in here, I ain’t getting out for a while.”
“Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. My head snaps up to Justin again to see his piercing blue glare staring straight back at me. Am I overreacting? Did he really mean it in a helpful way? No, no…I’m just making excuses for him.
Brushing past him and advancing back to our bedroom, I bite my lip to stop the telltale tears filling my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. Putting on an angry façade is so much easier than admitting I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller twice because Justin isn’t happy with the way I look.
Sitting down on the edge of my side of the bed, I carefully refold the undeniably comfortably potato sacks. I can’t help the mist clouding my vision as blurry tears form in my eyes, begging for release. I blink rapidly and let out a telling shaky breath. Although I am obnoxiously facing away from Justin, I can hear him come into the bedroom and slowly close the door, the soft click of the latch assuring me he’s shut out the world. It’s just me and him.
Great.
“Baby…”
Immediately, I know he’s going to stop being horrible and take the different approach of buttering me up. Hence the gentle, ‘baby’. Keeping my back to him, so as not to be swayed by his achingly deep blue eyes, I listen as he takes a deep breath before beginning.
“I wasn’t trying to make you upset, and I’m sorry if you thought I was insulting you. I just…” The bed shifts and he’s obviously sat down on it. “I just hate having to stand by the sidelines and watch you tear yourself to pieces, you know? I can’t bear knowing that you have all these wonderful qualities, that you just….you just can’t see,” he says exasperatedly, his gentle tone an odd lullaby to my ears.
Don’t cry Cat, don’t do it. It’s not worth it, crying really isn’t attractive, so just swallow those tears and--
Oh crap.
“Cat, don’t cry,” he says, crawling behind me and pressing into my back, kneeling behind me. “I hate seeing you cry.”
“I’m sorry,” I splutter through my pathetic tears. “I know you weren’t trying to be mean, I just…” I trail off and feel another bout of watery emotion build up behind my eyes. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. And not just for crying, for being a bitch in the hallway.”
“That’s alright,” he whispers, pulling back my hair and placing it behind my shoulder. “I’m sorry too. I can’t exactly reprimand you about Amber when I was exactly the same with Sean.”
“No, you were right. I don’t even have any grounds to get worried about you and Amber, you guys barely know each other.”
“Well, I didn’t want to make you feel bad by saying you should lose weight. I don’t mean you should, I meant if it’s something that bothers you so mu--”
“No, no, I know,” I interrupt, wiping away the dregs of my tears. “I just think I automatically take anything to do with weight of looks personally,” I reply, smiling weakly and turning to look at him.
He smiles. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Bastard,” I mutter, punching him in the shoulder and wiping my cheeks again.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his large hand working in small circles across my back.
I shrug. “I feel all stuffy from crying,” I laugh, “and I can’t believe we’re the kind of couple who practically run each other over with apologies after arguments.”
He laughs and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my head. “Well, it was a pretty ferocious argument.”
“One of our best,” I reply, giggling.
He sniggers and begins a trail of butterfly kisses down my cheek to my neck. “You did come up with a pretty pussy reply, though. Amber and I?”
Laughing, I shrug, catching our reflection in the window. “I was desperate.”
“I’m desperate too…” he sighs into my ear, his lips continuing their dance over my neck and shoulders.
“Desperate for what?” I ask, grinning.
“For you, baby,” he whispers huskily, before laughing.
Throwing the sweatpants and shirt to the side, I turn around to face him, getting on my knees to be roughly the same height as he is. “Worst pick up line…ever.”
“Hey, give me some credit,” he shrugs, grinning boyishly. “I slipped it in quite nicely.”
“You’re a dork,” I shake my head disapprovingly, leaning in for a kiss.
He sniggers slightly before slipping his hands up my shirt and rubbing my skin. My fingers quickly go to work at the button of his jeans, deftly working to undo them. He mutters something along the lines of “frisky…are we?” before shutting up all together as my fingers tease by dancing along the band of his boxers. His eyes flutter close and he whispers, “Just do it.”
I giggle. “You’re lucky I’m not selfish in bed.”
His eyes, an oddly darker blue, open and stare at me intensely. “And you’re lucky I’m not going to punish you for being a tantalizer.”
“And how exactly would you punish me?”
He pompously pushes his nose up in the air and crosses his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t have sex with you.”
Unable to stifle the giggles he so wants to hear, I smile. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He still remains in his statuesque position. “Come on Justin, I can’t exactly do it on my own.”
He slowly turns back to face me, raising an eyebrow. “Well…you could. And I could watch as you did so,” he offers, grinning devilishly.
Genuinely appalled by the porn-esque crap that comes out of Justin’s mouth, I smack him on the chest. “Absolutely not.”
“It might be fun…” he says teasingly, raising his both eyebrows for effect.
“And you might be dead if you don’t shut the hell up,” I retort, waiting until I turn away to let the smile break across my face. One of these days I’ll just agree to one of Justin’s disgusting sexual proposals, just to see the look of shock on his face.
Leaning over to unzip my boots, Justin’s warm touch starts to tug at the bottom of my shirt as his lips return to kiss the sensitive spot behind my ear. Smirking slightly, I kick off my boots and straighten up. As cocky as it sounds, Justin is not one to often pass off sex. Particularly when we’ve just had an argument; it always seems to make things better, and sort of melts away the horrible things we may have said to each other during out disagreement, reaffirming our feelings for each other.
I slowly back up into the middle of bed, letting my shirt fall to the floor thanks to Justin’s ever-smooth moves. I lie among the pillowy heaven of our bed as Justin trickles kisses over my skin, occasionally licking me cheekily and causing me to squirm and giggle beneath him.
“Maybe I’ll do it,” I whisper, feeling his hot breath tickle my lower stomach.
“Do what?” he murmurs distractedly, working the zipper of my pants.
“You know…lose some weight, perhaps get a new haircut,” I reply, reaching down to pull his T-shirt over his head. He looks up at me, resting his stubbly chin on my stomach.
“Do you think that’ll make you feel better about yourself?”
“I know it will,” I mumble looking away from him for a moment. “I mean…I know I’m no different from any other girl out there, I’m not hideously fat, I’m not repulsively bad looking…but maybe that’s what bothers me. I’ve never been different, I’ve never been unique. I’ve always just been…me.” To my great horror, my throat begins to clog up with tears again, and I squeeze my eyes shut before the tears even think of building up.
I don’t see Justin come back up to my eye level, but I can feel him gently kissing my cheeks and the one tear that sneaks out of my eyelids.
“Well, I think you’re wonderful,” he says, his arms wrapping around my waist, enveloping me in his embrace.
“I know you do,” I whisper, placing my hands on his neck and kissing his cheek.
“And maybe one day you’ll see I’m right,” he replies, tilting his head to the side to drop kisses on my neck.
Tracing the Celtic cross tattoo on his left bicep, a warm feeling spreads from the bottom of my stomach through my body. “You know…sex does actually always make me feel good about myself.”
“All the more reason to have it.”
I giggle and grip his arm as a little spasm of pleasure shot through me when he grinded into me. “Seriously though, it’s such a feel-good activity.”
“And good exercise. Hey, why don’t I just forget my trainer and we go at it like rabbits instead of working out?”
Laughing, I shrug. “But won’t Trace feel left out?”
“Well if that’s what you’re into…” he playfully bites my neck very softly.
“But I suppose it shouldn’t take sex to make me feel like that.”
“No, you should just know it anyway,” he replies, descending once more, using kisses as a hiker’s trail down to the top of my panties.
“I do, sometimes. It’s just…there are other times when I feel like I have absolutely nothing going for me. As though everyone in the world has a talent except me.”
“You’re talented,” he whispers, glancing up at me. “You’re good at writing, you’re good at making people laugh, you’re good at making people feel better--”
“Unless I’m the one who made them feel bed in the first place. I mean, I know I can be horrible at times. In fact, I can be such a bitch. Take today…I haven’t told you once that I’m happy for you because of the chemistry you and Amber seem to have, I just spent all my time whining about how slim she was. And I am happy for you, I really am, but I always let my selfish feelings override--”
My rambles are muffled by Justin’s lips crushing against my own, massacring my feeble ramblings.
“Cat, just…shut up, okay?” he whispers against my lips. “And let me make you feel really good, alright?”
He drops one more kiss on my lips, before kissing his way back down my body.
And this time, he stays there.
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