"Dang it!" Justin exclaimed, slamming his fist on the kitchen counter, perched on a wooden stool facing Patricia. She snorted a laugh as she glanced over her shoulder at him while stirring the pot of stew simmering in front of her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, smiling and shaking her head as he dramatically ran his hands over his face. Then he threw his arms up in the air to show his agony, nearly popping the suspenders holding up his pants and throwing himself out of his seat in the process. Patricia giggled when he gasped in fear and caught himself by griping the counter for balance.

"You don't get to laugh at me," Justin jokingly scolded, smiling at her as she turned back to the stew, "This book is just so damn borin'. I can't read anymore."

"What book is it?" Patricia asked, adding a dash of salt to the pot. She loved to read and write. English was her specialty. Books were the only things she had to escape the horrible world she lived in. She read to her mother, who was poorly educated, but enjoyed literature. She just didn't know all the words and what they meant sometimes. But Patty didn't mind reading to her mama, especially after church when they went over Bible verses and discussed them. It was just mama, Patty, and her little brother Earl. He was sixteen years old and didn't have the patience to enjoy reading. He was much too into basketball and such. As long as he was happy, Patty didn't get on him too much. She knew that he would have a lot to deal with soon, especially as he grows into a man. She would allow him his childhood for as long as it would last.

"It's Romeo and Juliet," Justin all but whined, "I thought people died in this."

"Maybe if you'd get past the first page, they would," Patricia chuckled, her white teeth clashing against her brown skin in the most beautiful way. Justin looked over her face when she glanced over her shoulder at his non-responsive figure. She was smiling still, but it was turning bashful beneath his stare. "Shakespeare's wonderful. You shouldn't be the least bit bored..." Patty said, trying to break his unyielding gaze.

"Well, if you like him so much, then you can read this crap," Justin grumbled, sighing deeply as he shifted his gaze to the book in front of him, putting Patty at ease.

"I have," Patricia said, putting down the wooden spoon she had been stirring with to count off on her fingers, "I've also read Hamlet, A Midsummer's Night Dream, Othello, MacBeth, Love's Labour Lost, Antony and Cleopatra..." She trailed off when she turned to face Justin, who looked pained.

"What awful teacher put you through that?" Justin asked, his face turning completely sour. Patricia bit her bottom lip and shrugged, going back to the dinner she was making for the family. She was suddenly embarrassed at herself. How impressed did she really think he’d be after knowing how many books she read? Not impressed at all is what he'll be. Patty could slap herself, not that she actually cared about what he thought...At least not that much anyway.

"Well...no teacher, really..." she stammered, "I just...like Shakespeare."

"Oh," Justin laughed lightly, "You're a bookworm."

"I am not," Patricia weakly argued, lowering the the heat beneath the pot, "There's nothing wrong with liking books."

"I didn't say there was," Justin said, standing from his seat. He glided smoothly toward Patricia's turned back. The apron she wore was tied with the cutest bow resting at the small of her back. "But you're still a bookworm..." Justin could see her body tense up when he stopped and stood behind her. He was close enough to brush that bow with his fingertips. He wondered what she'd do if he did.

"And if I remember correctly, Mr. Timberlake, you're the science geek," she said softly, not moving an inch from where she froze at the stove. Justin's eyes traveled up her back and looked over the golden brown of her neck, which led to her hair, braided up in the most beautiful pattern of woven design. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to know what it felt like. He didn't care what Peter Green thought. Patricia had beautiful hair. It was thick and long and he felt like he could spend hours watching her braid it.

"Mr. Timberlake is my father," Justin said softly. "I want you to call me Justin."

"Fine," Patricia said just as soft, "Justin then..." She still didn't move. Justin however was leaning in just a bit to catch her whiff of her hair. He got close enough to smell a mixture of honey, menthol, and her own girly scent. It was completely enthralling. He found himself closing his eyes and finding peace in her scent... but then there was the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Justin leapt away from Patricia, who suddenly became alive again, opening up the oven to check on the chicken.

"Son," Randall Timberlake greeted as he appeared in the kitchen. He wore a white button up and brown suspenders held up his tan pants. A brown blazer jacket was hung over his arm. He looked like an older Justin. His eyes were blue, although they weren't as striking as Justin's. He was six feet tall, just an inch or so shorter than his son. He was trim and had smoothed back brown hair that made him look like the businessman he was.

Patty could remember times where him and Justin argued over that hair. Justin preferred a cropped, short head of curls. His father preferred a straight, slick back look. They finally agreed that for holidays and special occassions Justin's hair would be smoothed back and the rest of the year would be cropped. Patty didn't see the problem with either style. Justin was handsome either way, just like his father. It was clear where Justin got his charm as well. Mr. Timberlake was kind, but kept his authority with Patricia and her mother. Unlike Mrs. Timberlake, Patty actually liked Mr. Timberlake and often wondered how he could love a woman so cruel.

"Hey, Daddy," Justin greeted, stuffing his hands in pockets. Mr. Timberlake gave a careful glance between his son and his young employee. Justin whistled a little as he sat back at his spot on the stool, flipping through the pages of his book aimlessly.

"Patricia," Mr. Timberlake said as she turned and faced him where he stood at the kitchen door. She bowed her head a little and smiled, shy and sweet.

"Hello, Sir," she said timidly, "Would you like me to take your jacket?" she asked.

"Oh, that's quite all right," he assured with a throaty southern twang, "I was just seeing what that delicious aroma was." Patricia felt her cheeks warm at his compliment.

"Oh, well I'm just roasting some chicken," she told him, gesturing toward the stove, "And I thought I'd make some of that stew you like. I got some rice cooking on the side too."

"You certainly take after your mother," Mr. Timberlake said, taking a deep breath, "How's she coming along anyway?" Patricia's mood had dampered a bit.

"Oh...well, you know... Not much has changed," she sighed, "Pastor comes and see her every other day now... She always seems a bit better after that."

Justin frowned. "That medicine you got her ain't workin'?" he asked. Patricia froze when Justin's mother came silently into the room. She gave Patricia a warning glance before reaching her husband's side.

"Sweetheart, I didn't even hear you come in," she said kindly to him and Patricia wondered if Mr. Timberlake knew how evil his wife was. Surely she couldn't hide such a spiteful demeanor for too long.

"Patricia?" Justin called, snapping her out of her daze.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Don't worry about that," Justin brushed off quickly, "Aren't the medicines working?" Patricia turned back to the stove as she shrugged. She was always bad at lying and had hoped that since Justin hadn't mentioned the money or medicine for nearly two weeks now that he'd forgotten.

"I umm... I dunno," Patricia stammered, taking the chicken from the stove, "I...I haven't gotten it yet."

"Well why not?" Justin asked, "I thought you'd go runnin' for it."

Patricia certainly would have if she had the money to run with. "I haven't had much time," she explained, "I got so much school work to catch up on."

"Well, your mama is worth a homework assignment, ain't she?" Justin asked, disappointed in her nonchalant attitude. Patricia grew rigid, angry that he doubted her caring for her mother.

"I know what my mama's worth. I don't need you tellin' me." Patricia snapped. Justin gut tightened at her voice, never once being spoken to in that manner by Patricia.

"You better watch your tone -" Mrs. Timberlake started.

"Now, now," Mr. Timberlake interrupted as Patricia took a deep breath and turned to face the family, "She's just upset about her mother, which is natural."

"She's got a tongue on her," Mrs. Timberlake grumbled, "She certainly didn't get that from her mother. Must've been that trashy father of hers." Patricia chest tightened with a pain that was as sharp. Only Mrs. Timberlake would be cruel enough to speak ill of the dead.

"Mama!" Justin scolded, "Leave her alone!" He shot up from his stool and slammed his book shut. "She ain't say a damn thing to ya!"

"Boy, watch your mouth when you're speaking to your mother," Mr. Timberlake warned, rubbing his wife's back in soothing circles.

"But -" Justin started.

"I don't want to hear any excuse outta you," he said calmly and firmly, "Your mother is still your mother, no matter what she says."

"She ain't gotta be so mean, Daddy," Justin argued, "Patty ain't mean no harm."

"That's exactly why she keeps on talkin' the way she does," Mrs.Timberlake said, glaring at Patricia's silent figure, "I don't know what you're doin' to make my son so soft for you," Patty's face was on fire at the mention of such a thing. Justin's fought for his composure, slightly embarassed and certainly angry. "But whatever it is, it's just gonna get you into more trouble, ya hear me?"

"She ain't doin' nothing," Justin denied, blushing furiously. "You just run outta things to say, so you make 'em up."

"And why on earth would I waste my time on that?" Mrs. Timberlake inquired.

"Ain't like you got much else to do," Justin criticized underneath his breath. Mrs. Timberlake gasped and turned to her husband.

"Do you see how your boy treats me?" she asked, "And for some nigger -"

"Mama!" Justin groaned in frustration, glancing over a very silent Patricia. She was too busy looking down at her feet to notice him, but her eyes were glazed with tears.

"Justin," Mr.Timberlake said calmly, "Be respectful to your mother. We don't yell in this house. It only makes you look guilty."

"Listen to your father," Mrs.Timberlake said obediently standing her husband's side.

"Look, I-I'm s-sorry," Patricia broke in meekly. Everybody stopped to look at her. "Don't get angry with each other. Mrs. Timberlake... you're right. I was being disrespectful. I apologize, Justin."

"I don't need you apologizin' when you ain't done nothin' wrong," he assured, "I'm sorry for botherin' you 'bout your mama. It's your business."

"You were just being nice," Patricia said softly, "I shouldn't've raised my voice."

"Good to see you have some sense regarding that," Mrs. Timberlake chimed in. Justin narrowed his eyes in her direction.

"The kids were handling it just fine, Honey. No need to intrude," Mr. Timberlake cooed gently, calming his wife with a gentle back rub, "Now, lets leave Miss. Hurley to tend to the kitchen. The quicker she's finished, the faster we can eat." Justin rolled his eyes as his mother nodded like a faithful retriever. "Justin, grab your things. You can study in your bedroom."

"But Patricia's helping me," Justin lied, "She's telling all about Shakespeare." Patricia glanced at Justin and then at his father who was looking at her with a small smirk.

"Is that right, Patricia?" he asked, a bit teasing. Patricia nodded slowly.

"Yes, sir," she said, "Justin can't get past two pages." Mr. Timberlake chuckled.

"Well, if you can get my boy to appreciate some Shakespeare, I can't keep it from happening," he smiled, "You two carry on then." Mrs. Timberlake shot Patricia an awful glare before hooking her arm through her husband's, chattering away as they exited the kitchen.

Justin and Patricia both let out breaths they didn't know they had been holding. This caused them both to laugh.

"I am really sorry," Patricia apologized more seriously, "I really shouldn't have yelled."

"It's okay, really," Justin assured, "But really... If you can't find time to get the medicine, I'll get it for ya. I'm sure it'll take just a second." Patricia quickly looked away from him, turning to stir the stew.

"Justin, I'll get it tomorrow," she said, "I was planning on it. Mama's fine so far. It didn't feel like rushin' to get it."

"Well, I'll give ya this now then," he said softly, pushing from his stool and standing. Patricia turned slowly to watch as dug through his pockets. She rolled her eyes when he pulled out money, turning her back to him to shut the fire beneath the rice.

"Justin, I ain't takin' no more money from ya," she defiantly stated, mentally putting her foot down.

"It's not for you," Justin cooed, hesistanting behind her. He wasn't as close as before, but he reached out, his fingertips light grazed her arm. Patricia almost jumped out of her skin when electricity shot through her. She jumped and gasped, burned her hand against the stew pot when she tried to catch her balance. She hissed and jerked back, bumping into a confused Justin. She jumped away when her back collided with his chest momentarily.

"Are you okay?" Justin asked, panicked as she shook her hand like she was fanning it down. He put two and two together and grabbed her good hand. Patricia was dragged to the sink against her will and Justin ran the cold water. He took the wrist of her bad hand and guided her heated palm beneath the soft flow of cool liquid.

Patricia's hand was cooling down rapidly, an uncomfortable searing feeling on her skin. Justin was too busy cooing things like 'you'll be fine' and 'it's okay, it's okay' to notice that she wasn't trembling from the burning. She had burned herself before, but this... This was new. Justin had somehow nudge himself slightly in front of Patricia, holding her hand with both of his, caging her arm between his as he rested against the edge of the sink. Patricia was forced to brush against his upper arm and her free arm hung awkwardly at her side, trying to avoid touching him further. She made the mistake of trying to move it and grazed his ribs gently. His hands on hers tensed a bit.

Justin had noticed they were close. He didn't mean it, but he was aware. His heart was pounding like he had ran for a mile straight. He could feel the soft cushion of her breasts against the back of his arm, her chest moving at a rapid pace. Her breathing was felt like it was right by his ear and he was swallowing dryly to try and calm himself.

But her hands were so soft in his palms. Her nails were rounded and delicate like the rest of her. Their skin contrasted completely, brown and peach, but he liked it. He liked that she was different.

"I-" Patricia started and Justin jumped at the sound of her voice so close to him. "I feel fine now..." Patricia said softer, noticing that she startled him with her normal voice. She watched him nod as he reached to turn off the water. She had to subtly slide her hand away when he didn't immediately release her. The moment she was free, Patricia tore herself away, her stomach overpowered by this loss of contact. It startled her when she felt colder.

"I'm sorry," Justin said, rolling his eyes to himself when he felt the blood rush up to his cheeks. He was glad his back was still to her as he stared down into the sink. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you."

"I just..." Patricia rolled her eyes to herself, wondering where her words had gone, "I mean... I knew you was comin', but I didn't..."

"I know," Justin tried to ease the awkwardness.

"Okay," Patricia said simply, drying her hand against her apron, wincing when it stung a little. "I best get back to dinner. I'm sure ya hungry..."

"Starved," Justin said, chuckling as he slowly stood straight and faced her. They held eyes for a moment, but Patricia looked away. He continued to stare at the side of her face for a moment, marveled at the smoothness, before clearing his throat. "I'mma go wash up or somethin'..."

"Mm'kay," Patricia mumbled, stiffening when he walked around her quickly to grab his book from the counter. He scurried out of the kitchen without another word. Patricia heard him mumbling to himself, but she paid him no mind, shaking her head at the knots in her gut.