Ever single cliché that I never thought possible seemed to apply to me. My breath caught in my throat, my heart skipped a beat, my eyes widened. All those silly formulaic lines that are sprinkled over books and magazines were applied to my stunned body. If I hadn’t been struck by my anger so quickly, I would have probably suffered some kind of heart attack due to the absence of oxygen thanks to my lack of breathing.
And when I say my anger struck me, I mean it hit me like a thousand spiked bricks being hurled towards me at lightening speed. Suddenly, any of the hurt or confusion that had abruptly boiled in my system started simmering down to pure, unadulterated…anger. Fury. Rage. Any other noun that possibly describes uncontrollable ferocity. Instead of standing in a shocked daze, my breathing became heavy and fast, as though I had just run a hundred meter sprint.
How could he do this to me? No…really…how could he? I had heard his sob stories about his other girlfriends cheating on him, just like the rest of the world had, and being the complete idiot that I am, I believed him. I truly believed that Justin Timberlake had a quality that few men or women across the globe could boast: faithfulness.
I was wrong. So, so wrong. And I hate him for it. It isn’t helped by the fact I spent the whole plane ride back to New York daydreaming about the warm, fuzzy feeling that would settle in the pit of my stomach if I saw Justin’s smiling face at the end of a church aisle, and how fantastic he would look in a wedding tux. It isn’t helped by the fact my whole family is insistent that I marry him because a) it’s not like I can do any better and b) we’re perfect for each other, in an illogical, nonsensical way. It isn’t helped by the fact my only alternative to bursting into upset tears is to get radically pissed off and shout at someone, only to find there’s no one to shout at.
Amber’s wide set green eyes stare at me, still spacious from the surprise of seeing me. “Cat! You’re back!” she smiles at me brightly, revealing a sparkling row of white teeth. “We weren’t expecting you for quite some time now.”
Clearly.
“How was Ohio?” she asks politely, crossing her arms over her chest, seeming only a trifle embarrassed to be caught in my boyfriend’s t-shirt and not much else first thing in the morning.
Is she crazy? Does she now realize how much I want to tug at her short, fashionably tousled hair until there’s nothing left? Doesn’t she know how much I despise every breath of air she takes? Is she not aware of the hot angry tears that are burning in my eyes, and my devoted refusal to let them fall?
“Are you alright? You look a little…off,” she suggest, peering at me curiously.
I glare at her incredulously. It wouldn’t exactly take a genius to realize that I’ve found her and Justin out. And yet she maintains her nonchalant, polite manner. Ah, I see. So not only is Miss Hobag an immoral whore, she’s stupid too.
Congratulations, Amber, you’re a wonderful asset to the human species.
Although I should probably spare the sarcasm with her; she simply doesn’t have the brains to understand it.
Without saying a word, I brush past her, and when I say brush I mean roughly push, into Justin’s room. I swing the door open, hearing it ricochet off the wall and bang loudly, letting a pocket of light from the hallway flood the dark room. My eyes dart over Justin’s angelic sleeping form sprawled across the bed to the tightly shut curtains, refusing to let in the slightest bit of light.
Furiously exhaling a lungful of angry air, I stomp over to the curtains, brutally ripping them open. The morning sun pours in, bathing the room in light, but Justin simply emits a few groans before rolling over away from the window, draping a muscular arm over his eyes. My eyes take a little gander over his cross tattoo and onto his chest, observing the deep grooves of muscle artfully sculpted into his body, down the little line of downy hair on his stomach, disappearing under the sheet, leading to what I can only imagine is…
No, Cat, no. That is completely off topic and irrelevant. Stop it.
I need to do something. Something that will snap him out of his post-sex slumber and make him as pissed off as I am. If he could only feel the nervous shaking of my stomach, as though someone has simply stuck a knife in my insides and proceeded to turn it in rotation, over, and over, and over again.
Seizing a stuffed toy cat he bought me months ago, when I was angry at him and Sean and stormed off to Diane’s and he bought it as a peace offering…whatever, I don’t remember. Regardless of its origin, I hurl it towards the bed. The small cat bounces off his hard body and lands with a soft thump a few meters away, but provokes a slight stir from him. He shuffles in the bed, rubs his eyes, and turns over towards the window, squinting at the sun.
But it’s not enough. Being temporarily blinded by the morning light cannot possibly create the same gut-churning feeling in my stomach as I stare at him, my perfect little world coming crashing down with a resounding bang. Wedding? Pft, there will be no wedding. There will be no relationship; there will be no Cat and Justin.
There will just be me. Alone. Again.
I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later; I was the chubby little girl that got her ten seconds of happiness. My mind tells me to be grateful, as some people don’t even get as much. I just wish my heart would follow suit.
I wonder whether he was going to tell me he had cheated on me. Would he have just written it off as a one time thing and never spoken of it again? Would he and Amber have embarked on some strictly screwing relationship behind my back? Or would he just have dumped me and started to date the malnourished twig who is named after a particularly ugly plant? It could be any of the three.
The choking feeling of tears creeps up my throat, like ivy wrapping around a tree. I swallow desperately, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in my eyes and channel more energy into the slowly dwindling anger. Hate him Cat, hate him for what he’s done to you. You can deal with the bitch later--just breathe on her and she’ll snap in two.
“Cat?” comes a low grumble from the shifting figure on the bed. “Cat…is that you?”
No. It’s the angel of the Lord. “Yes it’s me,” I reply, in what I had planned to be a confident voice, but what actually sounded like a five year old who had just been told off.
“Baby?” he smiles weakly, trying to sit up as he rubs his eyes again. “Are you back?”
My natural instinct was to run towards the bed and jump on it, engulfing Justin in a hug as I did so, and perhaps shower him with kisses to show him my jubiliation about returning. But I manage to harness my natural instincts and stay frozen by the window, staring at him blankly.
“It looks like it, right?” I manage to strangle out frostily. My hand unconsciously reaches behind me to grip the curtain material for support, much like a child would do if they were crossing the road.
He gives me a confused look, before washing it away with a smile. “Well, c’mere girl,” he says, holding his arms out for a hug.
My grip on the curtain tightens. “I don’t think so.”
He frowns slightly. “Why not?” He grins slightly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that that skirt exposes copious amounts of sexy legs, Miss Saunders. And what’s been up with your cell? I haven’t been able to get in touch wit--”
“I suppose you’ve been having your fill of sexy legs lately, huh?” I interrupt, looking down at the carpet.
He opens his mouth to reply, before pausing. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Justin. I’m not as stupid as you think,” I viciously retort, locking eyes with him. “I mean Christ, you don’t even have the audacity to look ashamed.”
“Ashamed about what?” he asks, kneeling on the bed and letting the comforter slip to reveal little black boxer shorts covered in bright red hearts, which I bought for valentine’s day as a joke.
He’s fucking her in our bed, beneath our sheets, and he’s wearing my valentine’s joke. Bastard bitch bastard. I hope they both die from…looking too good or something.
“Oh wow Justin, I didn’t know you were an actor too,” I snap sarcastically, pushing myself away from the window to pace the room. “Honestly, I was trying to surprise you and all I see when I get back is…”
“Is what?” he asks in a frustrated voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Bullshit,” I reply angrily. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about!”
“No I don’t!”
“Honestly Justin, I was taking care of my sick father, and you took that as an opportunity to fuck around? God, that’s twisted,” I mutter, turning away from him and glaring at the very interesting shade of blue on the wall.
“Cat, have you finally gone crazy?” he says loudly. “For some reason, this isn’t exactly how I saw us reuniting!” he says sarcastically.
“Don’t act like this is my fault!”
“Like what is your fault?” he groans in an exasperated voice, shifting his weight on the bed.
“You’re full of shit, do you know that?”
“Cat, just tell me what I’ve done to get this Ice Queen Bitch attitude from you.”
“You know full well what’ve you done!” I exclaim, spinning around. “Jesus Justin, drop the Bible Boy act for just one moment and admit you did something wrong!”
“Fuck this, Cat! I’ve done fuck all wrong, and you know it! Who the hell are you to accuse me of…well, I don’t even know what the hell it is!” he shouts, his once sleepy appearance suddenly alert and angry.
“Don’t speak to me like that!” I defend, narrowing my eyes at him.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” he barks, shaking his head at me. “You won't even tell me what I've supposedly done!"
“You were supposed to love me!” I suddenly scream, silencing him. “And you don’t, you just fucked me over…just like I should’ve known you would!”
“What? I do love you!” he defends, shaking his head.
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, turning away from him as a tear burns its way down my cheek. “I’m sure you were thinking that when you were having sex with that emaciated beauty queen.”
There’s a silence only disturbed by my strangled breathing as I desperately try to keep my hysterics under control. Hastily wiping at my cheeks to remove the rivulets of black, mascara stained tears, I look at the floor.
“It’s oddly ironic, in a sadistic way,” I murmur quietly, a stark contrast to my previous shrieking tone. I shuffle the heels of my high heels together timidly. “You made it seem like I was the only one susceptible to cheating, when really it was you all along.”
“Baby,” whispers a small voice. “I haven’t cheated on you.”
I let out a quiet snort of disbelief, wiping my nose with the cuff of my shirt. “Justin, just don’t bother.”
“I’m being serious. I don’t know who told you or how the hell you got that assumption, but it’s true. I haven’t done a thing with Amber, or anyone.”
My heart flip flops dangerously in my chest, leaping at the chance that I may be wrong. “But I just saw her…out in the hallway.”
“So? She lives way down town. She sleeps over all the time because I don’t like her getting a cab so late at night. We live in New York city, for God's Sake.”
“But…but,” I mumble, turning around, still wiping my face. “She was wearing your t-shirt. With the…the thingy on it…the basketball. And she was all happy--”
“Cat, that t-shirt is from CFTC.” At my blank expression, he continues. “Challenge for the Children. Everyone who participated got a free t-shirt. Me and Trace have got one each.”
I chew my lip. “But she looked--”
“Like she had just had sex?” provides Justin gently. He nods. “She has.”
My heart plummets from its hopeful climb in my chest. “Oh.”
“But not with me,” he says softly. “With Trace.”
My mouth drops open. I pause, as though expecting to have misinterpreted his words as those which I really wanted to hear, but they seem to echo in the room, and I know that I heard correctly. He…he wasn’t cheating on me? Amber and him didn’t…
Oh god. My stomach knots up almost as soon as it loosens; I have just made the biggest idiot out of myself.
Shit.
“Are you telling the truth?” I gasp, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Of course I am,” he says, crawling out of the bed slowly, before standing in front of me, towering over my shocked frame.
"But..."
"Amber and Trace have been all over each other for weeks now. I thought you knew that?"
Relief mixed with embarrassment slowly gushes through my system, producing the odd effect of a sigh of relief and burning cheeks. My mind began to function properly again, and begged the question how could I even think Justin would do something like that? And if he did, he'd be a man and admit it. Why didn't I realize this ten minutes ago? Oh God, I could win prizes with my idiocy.
"Thank God," I whisper, burying my face in my hands as the tension in my body eased. "I was so worried," I say, more to myself than him.
"Baby, you know I would never do that to you. Just like I know you would never do that to me."
“I know, it's just..shit, Amber’s going to hate me,” I mumble suddenly, attacking my bottom lip with my teeth again. “She was trying to talk to me in the hall and I sort of…made it very clear how much the very sight of her despised me. Shit!”
Justin chuckles slightly. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve almost finished the work I have to with her. And then,” his voice drops to a whisper, “she’ll be gone!”
“Not if her and Trace become a couple," I don't suppress a shudder. “I’m getting sick of making jokes about her second name," I say meekly, trying to inject some humor.
He grins. “And I’m pretty sure she’s sick of hearing them.”
I shrug. “So, what’s been going on with her and Trace?”
Justin rolls his eyes. “Same old thing that happens to everyone, really. They flirted so much, sex was just inevitable. I could’ve told you that, had you returned my calls,” he teases, poking me in the stomach.
I grin. “Sorry, but I was canceling them; I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, next time, just answer your cell phone. And ask me straight out, rather than screaming and then asking," He rolls his yes. "Guessing games suck.”
“Oh God,” I mutter, dropping my head to my hands. “I’m so sorry, Justin. I just saw her and the first thing that came to my head was--”
“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts. “I know I’ve done my fair share of doubting too.”
"But I feel so stupid," I grumble.
"How do you think I felt everytime I accused you of sleeping with Sean?" he chuckles.
"I'm beginning to think trust is something we ought to work on," I smile, running a finger over his jawline, before sighing deeply. “I must look such a mess,” I murmur, running my hands over my face again.
He grasps my wrists and pulls them away from my face. “You look great.”
I laugh and sniff. “My great seduction return isn’t really going to plan,” I smile sheepishly, wiping at my face.
He laughs and uses his own hands to wipe away the scars of my tears. “I don’t know about that. Somehow the way you were telling me to drop the Bible Boy act really rang my bell.”
I giggle and bury my face in his chest, feeling his skin upon mine for the first time in two weeks. His arms wrap around me, embracing me in a tight hug as I deeply inhale. A moment later, his lips press softly against mine, and his hands slip into their usual position at a respectful place on my hips.
How could I even think about letting this go?
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