Guilt made her ignore the beeping phone. It might be Drake or it might be Nadine. It didn’t matter; the same creeping feeling of shame was upon her. She didn’t want to read any text messages hoping that she’d got there okay and was having a nice time. They’d only make it worse.

Instead Reese attempted to focus on the multiple browser windows she had open on her tablet. She was sitting on a lounge chair by Justin’s pool; in vain she’d hoped fresh air and quiet would help her concentrate. It didn’t. She was supposed to be last minute cramming for her interview. Instead her train of thought went back and forth between her career issues (Trace’s words had left their mark) and the big article that had finally hit the stands. Now it was all over the blogs too. She must have stared at the funeral picture for an hour straight, trying to recollect who had been sitting in the aisles behind them. The phone was one more distraction.

The messages came from people who thought that she ditched her bachelorette in order to take advantage of a spa certificate. Early present, she had lied, from the girls since they couldn’t make the party. She had further claimed that she was so stressed with the wedding and upheaval of the past week she needed to decompress alone. If the party had been bigger they might have questioned it, but since it was just Nadine and Jenna nobody thought it odd that she’d bailed. It was only supposed to be a few cocktails, nothing special, and apparently she’d seemed wound up enough to make the story plausible. People thought it understandable to cancel.

It had an underhanded stink that made Reese feel like a bad person. The thing that didn’t bother her (though it should) was how easily she got out of work yet again. They really didn’t seem to care whether she showed up or not. If she’d given it due consideration worry would have ensued, but Reese’s mind was firmly on other priorities.

The feeling of disgrace was compounded by Justin’s ready agreement. It felt manipulative. She knew how eager he was to regain brownie points; Reese understood how he operated. As excruciating as the hut talk was, she’d seen the truth in it. That was why she had eventually accepted his pleas for a truce – she believed and accepted his story – and it was also how despite her nerves she’d believed he’d help. She knew he’d do whatever favour she asked because he wanted more than a simple cessation of fighting; Justin wanted a deeper level of friendship back. Was she was taking advantage of that? She knew he wasn’t going to quibble over the morality of her lying to people at the expense of an opportunity to gain favour, especially people he didn’t like.

Reese was quibbling over it a lot but it was too late. It was done. She set up her lie, left early and met Justin at the airport. She had a ticket to return on Monday afternoon – Justin allowing her to tag along on the ride there even meant she could afford to book flexible in case her interview overran. It would be over within twenty four hours. Then she just had to worry about how to handle Drake if they wanted her. She didn’t truly think he’d object once he understood how much she needed it and that it didn’t mean they had to leave Shelby for  all time, but she did need to approach it right.

“Justin?” She called out as the sound of a sliding door broke her from her reverie. When she turned to the door she could see him approaching in a check shirt and jeans – all day he’d been in a t-shirt and cargo pants. When had he changed?

“That’s my name,” he replied as he approached. When he reached her chair he dropped a brown paper bag in front of her before sitting down himself.

Quizzically Reese looked at him. When she opened the bag and saw the distinctive striped cup she gave a delighted little gasp. “Oh my God I haven’t had this in forever!”

“Yeah well you needed to eat something, figured it’d help settle your stomach. Though how with that weird ass mix I will never know.”

She could have accused him of doing this too for the brownie points, but it was normal behaviour for him. Justin was very good at the thoughtful things, small favours that made you feel warm and fuzzy to be on the receiving end. On this occasion he’d gone out and got her ice cream from a favourite little place they used to go to. The flavour combination that disgusted him so was strawberry and lime.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet.” She yanked out the spoon and dug in greedily, previous loss of appetite forgotten.

Justin smiled to himself, watching her go for it. She’d refused dinner earlier saying she was too keyed up to eat – it was typical for her, stress affected her stomach. If she didn’t eat she’d regret it by morning though and he knew she’d need to be on her game. He’d figured it was a case of finding her something she’d like too much to pass up.

“So how’s the prep going?”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, pulling her legs up and crossing them under herself. “It’s not, too much going on in my brain. Oh, and that article went live.”

“Come on, you know better than to read that bull.” He tutted at her.

“I just wanted to see the pictures, see if I could work out who might have taken it from the angle.”

Justin sighed before picking up her tablet. He unlocked it and pulled up her browser to see the article still open. Feeling dirty for even doing it, he began to read.

“Umm, how did you know my code?”

“You use the same code for everything,” he said.

Reese watched him reading as she ate. She couldn’t totally see the screen but she could see enough to work out where he was in the article – though his face gave it away anyway. When he read something untrue his nostrils flared and sharp little puffs of air exited them. When it got to a part he considered ridiculous a fierce scowl pulled his lips tighter together and made his nose crinkle. When he got to the pictures in question a blank stare settled over his features and she could no longer read his mood.

If she could have, she would have seen two warring thoughts fighting for supremacy. One was an attempt to remember who had been sitting a few rows behind and slightly to their right. The other was observing how the recent pictures looked at home amongst much older ones. They’d caught the moment when she was crying and he hugged her. The small mercy was that Reese’s face and her tears were well hidden from the lens, but Justin was on full display. He was gazing down at her, head bent over hers in a pose that made it look like he was about to kiss it. It lent an irritating air of credence to the text.

As he shifted in his seat, the tablet’s screen was no longer in Reese’s view. He pressed play on the video at the bottom of the article. It was a segment from some show talking about it (unbeknownst to either of them, the same one Drake had watched). Seeing the old footage of them together wasn’t helpful.

“So my agency was right, they think I’m pulling a Dustin Hoffmann,” he said. “Idiots.”

“You’ll have a tough time, I don’t think the church even has a viewing gallery,” Reese said. She could still hear the video and some of those quotes made her uncomfortable. It was another reason to be glad of the ice cream.

Of all the things she could have fixated on, what stuck with her was the quote about his songs. A lot of people assumed what was or wasn’t written about her (her mother certainly had a few ideas) but she had never wondered until now. Of course it crossed her mind but she’d never lingered on the idea. His debut album could be written off since they weren’t together then, but by the time work on the second had started they were.

“I’m looking at that picture and I got nothing,” he said.

“I don’t know, maybe it’ll come to us. Can you save a copy?”

Justin acquiesced – or at least he thought he had. He wasn’t brilliant with technology unless it was a mixing desk; he got by with the basics. He at least knew how to go to the roll of pictures and check it had saved, but quickly wished he hadn’t. When you glimpsed pictures of your ex-fiancée trying on a wedding dress it didn’t matter how loud your brain yelled that it was a terrible idea to look closer. The curiosity would get you every time.

Her hair was back in a casual ponytail that was incongruous with the dress, as were the clips that helped the seamstress gather the excess in. The corseted fishtail was miles away from what he’d pictured her in but she did, of course, look lovely. Why the hell had he opened the damn thing again? Hastily he got rid of it before tossing the tablet aside.

“I can’t tell how far back they might have been,” Justin mused, pressing the pads of his fingertips together. “If it was a lot of zoom the picture would be grainier, but there could still be some.”

“It’s an annoyingly good shot, huh?”

“Yep. Lord knows how much they got for it.”

“Guess being an asshole once again pays,” she said. Still the question bugged her, and it slipped out before she could stop it. “So you never wrote a song about me?”

His head swivelled round to look at her, his scowl slowly being replaced by a grin. It was a little cocky but it was an improvement. It lessened some of the harsh lines that appeared on his forehead when he frowned.

“That’s what you took from that?”

“It never really occurred to me before.” Her cheeks gained a touch of pink. “I’m just being random, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it’s like I said,” he replied. “I didn’t sit down and purposely write about you but you probably got in a few places.”

There was a smidgen of pretence in that. It was true on the whole, but he had written a specific song about being unable to wait to start the honeymoon and be within the security of marriage. It wasn’t one of his more romantic tunes – in parts it was kind of dirty – but there was a serious undertone. At the time he’d thought she might be put out that she got a naughty one rather than a straightforward love song, so he hadn’t told her. Now it was too close to the bone to tell her.

Justin decided not to dwell on why she was asking, and moved the conversation along.

“So you really didn’t get any work done at all?”

“Enough to BS my way through” she sighed. “But I’ve given up. I just… you know what, I’m sick of it. I’ve been worrying about the wedding, and then you coming home, and then the funeral, and now this.” She emitted a derisive snort. “I have nothing left to give.”

Justin licked his lips, looking at her contemplatively. “Bennington bender aside…”

“I’ve told you not to call them that.”

“Like it’s inaccurate.” He stuck his tongue out and was pleased to see it elicit a smile. “Anyway, when’s the last time you had some fun?”

“Umm… Ollie and I taught Will a few choice phrases, that’s about it.”

“Because he won’t have picked that up naturally from Daddy, only man I ever met who could cuss to make Trace blush?”

“Not talking about swearing.”

Justin was intrigued but didn’t press it. “Whatever it is sounds like Dean’s gonna murder you when he realises. Anyway, point is I think tonight you should forget about all that shit and we should do something fun. Sometimes you get to a stage where relaxing and clearing your mind is much better prep than… well, prep.”

“Do what?” She asked. “We can’t go anywhere in case we’re seen together.” They’d even had to take separate cars from the airport. Justin was picked up and she found a taxi like a regular tourist. She kept a beady eye out but didn’t spot any paparazzi. “And I can’t drink if I want to be with it tomorrow.”

“What, because we don’t have ten tons of shit in this house?” He didn’t notice his out of date pronoun. “We could swim, shoot hoops, I’ll drag the four wheelers out, whatever. I don’t care what it is; you just really look like you need to relax.”

What he could have added was that he also wanted a real hang out session before she went - another building block in their reconciliation. The good thing about making up was that with such a long history behind them, now the process was started he expected it to flow rapidly. It was such second nature to be on good terms that he was relying on sheer force of habit to help drive them back towards their prior closeness. Reese was already comfortable enough again to express worries, to ask favours and voluntarily spend time with him. She’d defended him to Nadine. It wasn’t ‘best buddies since childhood’ behaviour yet but it was a decent basis – ‘friends for a few years’ level, maybe. They were on their way.

That said, almost all conversation lately had been about serious matters. Justin thought it high time to step back from the drama and remind her that they enjoyed each other’s company.

“We could play poker.” She fought back a smirk.

“Not falling for that ever again,” he said. “Trace ain’t the only still sore from that one. Horse?”

“Like I have a hope in Hell against you on a basketball court.”

“Well you’ve still got bathing suits and stuff in the closet, I could set up the net and we could play volleyball?” He was purposely suggesting physical activity because she was giving off nervous energy that could do with an outlet. Reese didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, okay.” Reese could see she wasn’t going to deter him. Maybe he had a point. “Set it up, I‘ll go change.”

**

“Oh my God…” Reese cackled, putting a dripping hand to her mouth to try and hold back the hysteria. “You are such a freakin’ incompetent.”

Her last shot had gone wide. Justin dived sideways for the ball and came so close to smacking his head against the tiles that he felt them brush his hair. For a second he’d thought he had. He leapt back up yelling as if he had before he realised that he was uninjured.

“Glad you find it so funny that I nearly cracked my skull open,” he muttered. “It’s not my fault you can’t aim!”

“Hey, the ball landed in the pool didn’t it? Where you couldn’t get it, just like I planned. Point to me!”

“Yeah, yeah. Like that was a purposeful shot.”

“Some things never change. You are such a sore loser Timberlake.”

“Well you’re a hyper-competitive freak. Besides, I still got time to turn this around.”

“One point, I need. One point.” She raised her index finger to him.

“Just serve the damn ball.”

She did so, and while Justin was being a little more forceful with his spikes than strictly needed they got a decent rhythm going. Despite the trash talk neither of them was great shakes at this. That probably made it a better bet than the basketball, where Reese was hopelessly outgunned. Having four brothers the stereotype might be that she was a tomboy and as into sports as they were, but she wasn’t that bothered. She liked to watch the occasional basketball or baseball game. She definitely enjoyed seeing Clark play football, but she’d never been much of an athlete. Justin however was very well practised at basketball and thus accomplished; pitting him against her was like pitting a toy poodle against Attila the Hun. Since they were equally mediocre at this it made for a fair match.

Reese managed to make the ball go wide again, but this time it barely scraped the side of the ledge before hitting the water.

“Yes!” They both cried and threw their hands up at the same time.

“Uhh, why are you celebrating when I just won?”

“That was out of bounds.”

“Was not!” She exclaimed, striding to the net. “It landed in the pool!”

“But it hit the paving first!” Justin countered, meeting her there and folding his arms across his chest. Reese’s eye was momentarily caught by the way his biceps flexed.

“Still on this side within bounds, so it’s still in.”

“No, it has to hit the water first or it doesn’t count. It hit the side first, so it’s out.”

“You are such a sore loser!” She repeated.

“I’ll be nice and void my point, just ‘cause it’s you, but you still ain’t won yet.”

Reese’s response was to smack her arm into the water, sending it flying at his face. A good deal of it went up his nostrils. For a moment all he could do was stand there and splutter, arms still folded. He shook his head and snorted through his nose, trying to get it out, before smoothing the excess out of his hair. A grim, steely look settled over his face.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“And what you gon’ do about it, tough guy? You already lost.”

Without another word Justin had ducked under the net and seized Reese around the middle. She let out yells of protest, beating her fists against him, but he lifted her up and unceremoniously tossed her back in the water. Her body fell in an ungainly heap. When Reese emerged, spluttering just the way he had, her hazel eyes bore an evil glint. She went to give him another chlorine facial but he was too quick, grabbing her waist again and pinning her arms down for good measure. They wrestled and squirmed, both managing at various points to dunk each other, but neither was really winning. He had the strength advantage but being smaller she could wriggle free more easily.

The air rang with yells and laughter. Justin felt a giddy contentment. This was exactly what he’d been after, a plain old good time with his best friend.

It was going wonderfully well until he managed to win the fight. He’d got her into a good lock. On realising that resistance was futile Reese stopped struggling, and for a few seconds they were standing still in the water. Pressed against each other like that the mood was no longer playful for him. His cheek was agonisingly close to hers; if he so much as turned his head his lips would be on her jaw. For the first time that evening it occurred to him that she was wearing a black bikini. It wasn’t revealing but still as much as he’d seen of her in a long time. A good deal of their skin was in contact. If she hadn’t been doused in chlorine water he would have caught the white gardenia scent of her perfume. She was right there, right next to him, and all he would have to do was turn his face.

Reese was not unaffected. She was acutely aware of the familiar frame behind her even though she had her back to it. It was a contradictory feeling, both attraction and repulsion. On the one hand she was ill at ease. On the other it was like putting a soft, well worn-in pair of gloves back on. Somehow her body instinctively knew how it fit against his even as it was rebelling against his touch. That was disconcerting.

“Okay, I give. You win,” she said.

Wordlessly Justin released her, trying to rearrange his nervous face into a more suitably victorious expression. He needed to pretend that hadn’t happened. “I win, I win! What do I win?”

“Bragging rights.”

“That’s it? Oh well, that’ll do.” He rushed on before she could ask exactly what it was he expected as a prize. “Geez, when did it get so dark out here?”

The pool area was so well lit that he hadn’t noticed the darkness setting in. It had still been early evening when they’d started. It was now night proper and even a few stars were winking out from behind the clouds. Lord only knew what time it was.

Reese looked upwards. “I hadn’t even noticed. Hey, you remember how pissed we used to get when we sneaked out with Sam’s telescope on a night like this? Lugged the damn thing all the way up the hill before we thought to check if we’d even be able to find anything?” It was no coincidence that she mentioned a pre-romance point in their history.

“Heh, like we could have found anything with it either way,” Justin said without thinking. In the next second he froze, remembering when Reese had said something very similar to him. Said on any other occasion it never would have stuck in his memory, but that moment had been significant to say the least.

“I believe that was my line.” Her smile was strained – so much for a platonic recollection. “I need to get showered; it’s probably bed time already. Think we were out here longer than we meant to be.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll pack this up and… yeah. Night, Reese.”

“Night.”

With more speed than grace she hauled herself out of the pool. She grabbed a towel and walked at a slightly indecent pace into the house. Justin stood motionless in the water, unsure how much damage that uncomfortable clinch might have done to an otherwise excellent evening.