It could have been a scene from a movie if it hadn’t been so imperfect. The lighting was right – just enough soft daylight was coming through the shutters to illuminate the room. The staging was impeccable. The room had a beach hut feel to it with its white wood furniture, dark wood floors and bright coloured decorations. Crisp cotton sheets gave the tiniest rustle as he shifted on the mattress.

What wasn’t so Hollywood was the two of them. One hand to his face told him he needed a shave – God only knew what his slightly too long hair looked like. His companion was lying next to him, scant inches between them, with her legs half curled up towards her chest. She’d gathered up so much of the covers in her clutches that he couldn’t quite pull the remainder over himself. The edge of the sheet barely skimmed the mattress and he could feel air circulating around that side of his body. Dark hair fanned out across the pillow in a haphazard mess, a slight frizz making odd strands stick up at angles. Features slack with sleep made her look a little older than she was, hinting at a slight frown. One cheek was smashed into the pillow.

As he watched her he thought it was his favourite sight in a long while, but he was a little strange like that.

Finally she started stirring, cracking one eye open before smiling shyly at him.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” His fingers brushed her shoulder before trailing along her arm. “Sleep good?”

“Mmmhmm.” That was as much of an assent as Reese could muster. Stretching her legs out, still sleepy, she didn’t say anything else. As she shifted back into her previous position he imagined she curled up a little closer, but other than that there was no indication of her mood.

It didn’t take long before he cracked in the silence. Mouth stretching into a grin, he gave a low chuckle. “I feel like I should be saying something but I don’t know what.”

“Mark it down, ladies and gentlemen; JT’s finally got nothing to say. Oww,” she giggled as he poked an index finger into her arm.

“Don’t I keep telling you that you’re not funny?”

“And we both know it’s a lie, so, whatever.”

There was a continual compulsion to keep reaching out and touching her. Justin wasn’t sure why – maybe to convince himself it was real? It had truly happened? Whatever the reason he reached out his hand yet again and smoothed down her snarled hair. His fingers came to rest on her cheek. When she turned her mouth into his palm he took that as a sign of approval.

“You know what’s weird? Besides me, before you be a smart ass?”

He had correctly pre-empted that comment. “No. What’s weird?” Reese replied in a sing-song monotone lilt, like a class full of kids answering the teacher in unison.

“This isn’t weird.”

Her eyes flicked downwards, long lashes fluttering. The gaze that fixed on his tattooed bicep was now uneasy. “You thought it would be?”

“Wasn’t sure.”

It was all very well kissing your childhood best friend in your childhood meet up spot, but where to go from there was a challenge. Justin didn’t help matters by having to leave for promotion. His absence left Reese to travel back to her new apartment and await his return. The apprehension was mutual. They continued to text as they always did when apart but the whole subject took on something of a taboo. Both of them glossed over it, acting as if nothing had changed. Neither wanted to be first to bring it up but the question remained – was it a blip or was there something to be made of it?

On his return Justin tried to ask Reese out on a real date. Whether or not he’d succeeded depended on how you measured success. The foremost thought in his mind was to play it cool, so if you judged by that he’d done well. The problem was he’d played it so cool it left her in serious doubt of whether it was even a date. When you looked at it from the angle of getting her to knowingly agree to go out with him, it was a bit of a disaster.

Reese couldn’t even seek advice from anyone. Nadine hated him. Trace on learning of the kiss declared that he was staying out of it. None of her new friends had earned that level of trust yet. If he hadn’t been famous she would have asked, but she really needed to know somebody well before she felt safe talking about anything Justin-related. She never wanted to be the ‘source close to Timberlake’ even if it was unwittingly.

Still Reese agreed to meet him for dinner and a movie. She agreed despite having no idea what it was supposed to be. The actual occasion Justin played better. It was small things: glances that held for too long, little brushes of his hand against hers that were new. When he leaned down to ask if she wanted popcorn it was closer than before. He guided her along with a hand on her back that wouldn’t previously go there.

At the end of the night when she invited him in to see her new place for the first time it wasn’t with the intention of him staying. In no time at all an electric mood took over and now here they were, waking up in the same bed. The last time they’d done that it had been pre-puberty, before they’d left footie pyjamas behind.

“Hmm.”

The tone was non-committal and gave away nothing. It was the way she avoided his eyes that told him it hadn’t gone over as intended. He’d been teasing but had he worried her? Justin yanked the sheet out from her arms and pulled it over himself properly, removing the barrier it formed between them. He burrowed in further under it, bringing his face level with hers and shifting closer. He was now right in her eye line. She could feel his breath on her face.

“So I, uhh…” he said, voice lowered as if he thought someone would overhear. “That was me totally fishing for some hint that you’re as happy as I am about this.”

“Heh.” The way her lips stretched back out was somehow both bashful and knowing. Now hazel eyes looked into blue ones. “Maybe I should let you sweat it a little longer.”

“We’ve known each other too long for the hard to get bull so let’s just skip it.”

Justin reached out once more. This time it was to gather her into his embrace and close the gap between them. Where their bodies met he felt a ticklish flush creeping along the surface of his skin. The way it felt like she’d always been there when she nestled into the crook of his arm took him by surprise. Reese smiled at him again and it was impossible not to grin back.

“Then I’m glad too,” she said.

Was it really this easy? How had he missed this? It was probably around nineteen that he started to notice her as an attractive woman, not just a friend, but he never thought anything could come of it. They both dated other people and the issue never arose, so as far as he knew the attraction was one-sided. If asked he’d always claimed that they’d been friends too long for this to happen – even as he’d glanced sideways at her and thought that actually he wouldn’t mind. Why had it taken him years to work out that she was doing the same, that this was a possibility?

“I’m glad you’re glad.”

His hand ran up her back and he was emboldened to press his lips to hers. For a few moments it was a brief series of little kisses, but as Justin’s mouth went to tease hers open Reese ducked her head away.

“Sorry, I have total morning breath.”

“Let me tell you something about men, peanut,” Justin said with a condescending school teacher tone.

She rolled her eyes but knew it was best to get this over with. “What’s that?”

“If a guy’s got you naked next to him and gives even the tiniest shit about your morning breath…” His lips met her shoulder. “He’s a stupid bastard.”  

All thoughts of such inanities as tooth brushing soon fled as he kissed her again and her limbs developed wills of their own. Her arms wound tighter around him, one leg hooked over his, and Reese blissfully sank into surrender.

**

Justin was yanked out of his daydreaming (some would call it brooding) by a discreet finger poked in his ribs. It was extremely well done, delicate yet inescapable. You couldn’t ignore it.

“Earth to Pop Star,” Sarah said with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, I was miles away.” He returned the amiable expression and picked up the beer he’d neglected, taking a sip.

In truth he’d rather not have company but the LA gang had all arrived. Since they’d never seen the homestead before, they demanded to be shown around. Reese was too busy prepping for the big day tomorrow but he suspected they’d still have hit him up anyway. They weren’t all as subtle as Sarah and it was clear the group thought he needed distracting. As much as he appreciated the thought (his mother shared it) he would have preferred solitude.

His final little reminder message went out to Reese that morning but he hadn’t expected a reply. He didn’t get one. Now he wondered exactly what he was supposed to do. It felt like his thoughts had all come together in one big messy soup, and it was hard to sift through them.

Certainly he had to respect her choice; that much was plain. But what did you do when you firmly expected your friend’s marriage to go up in smoke before long? Setting aside his own wishes, he still thought Reese would be better off single than with Drake Turner. Was he to bite his tongue and say nothing? How was he going to deal with seeing them together all the time? How did he cope with knowing that in the end she hadn’t chosen him? How was he supposed to let go of the toxic piece of hope that wanted to just stick around and wait for her anyway, married or not?

At least the gang possessed enough sensitivity to avoid the topic of the wedding. Tiffany’s husband Ben made one cheery comment about having the gang back together, referring to the move, but that was about it. Trace had smoothly moved the chat back to how Steve’s physiotherapy sessions were going. (It was atypical conversational dexterity for him). Justin was honestly making an effort to give the group his attention, but his mind kept wandering back. The loudest thought was whether or not he should fly home tomorrow. He didn’t want to seem like he was running away but saw little point in staying to hear how it went.

“So what’s next once you come back to Cali?” Sarah asked. She could practically see him thinking too hard and was determined to break him out of his own head.

“I don’t know.” Justin gave a shrug, pushing his shirt sleeves back up to his elbows. “My manager was talking about a couple of club shows, but I don’t know if I’m in the music zone.”

“So that usually means movies, right?” She asked. “Anything you’re considering?”

“There’s this thriller about a rookie lawyer who realises his new firm’s laundering money for a cartel, but… I don’t know. I’m in that annoying space where I won’t know what I want until I see it.”

“Tell me about it.” She pulled a face and let out a puff of air that pushed her bangs from her forehead. “I vetoed three perfectly serviceable pitches yesterday for no good reason. I’ll just know when it’s put in front of me.”

“Exactly.” He nodded and took another swig of beer. He wasn’t truly in the mood but it was ordered and put in front of him so he was drinking it anyway.

“Like I keep saying, you should just go join SNL for a season.”

Justin chuckled, shaking his head and giving her a smirk. “Give it up.”

“You should though! You’re the only time it’s funny any more.”

“And that novelty would wear right off if I was there every week, for me and everyone else.”

“What about TV in general though?” Sarah pressed on, determined not to lose him again now she’d got him engaged.

“Nah. Signing up to anything that long isn’t smart when for all I know I could suddenly get a music itch on. Can’t sit on it while I finish up a season on a show, if I don’t record then and there I lose it.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re a commitment phobe?” She teased.

That was the wrong thing to say, though she didn’t know why. It was still certain that she’d lost him. Although he looked down at his hands and laughed, head still facing towards her, his eyes were far away again. Growing up with media training taught him how to keep his expression guarded and his cards close to his chest, but nonetheless there was something stormy visible in the blue eyes.

“If you want to put it that way. Excuse me a second.”

Easing his tall frame out of the chair, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back outside. Mercifully the porch was near empty. There was only one pair of smokers huddled in the opposite corner. Reaching for the packet stashed in his back pocket Justin pulled out the box and his lighter. Plucking a cigarette out, he played with the items in his hands rather than actually lighting up.

Eventually he did light it, stuffing the rest of the paraphernalia back into his jacket. He sucked in a deep breath of the acrid smoke. It wasn’t good for his voice but there was something mind clearing about it. Standing outside, noise of the restaurant behind him, all he needed to concentrate on was breathing it in and then blowing it out.

His pocket vibrated and with his spare hand he reached in for his phone. His eyebrows creased together when he saw her name on the screen.

‘Did you tell the *NSYNC guys about tomorrow?’ Her message asked. He’d mentioned it on the group message trail then thought better of it, too late to cancel the sending.

‘Yeah. Was I not supposed to? Lol.’ That was his best attempt at keeping it breezy. He doubted it would fool her for a second.

‘I just got congrats texts from Chris and Lance, hadn’t heard from them in forever!’

Justin tried to ignore the unreasonable voice in his head branding them traitors. They’d known Reese a long time and of course they’d wish her luck. ‘That’s cool of them. Good luck tomorrow, I’ll see you when you get to LA x.’

It was such an innocuous sentence, but it said everything. It was his admission of defeat. It was an implied plea for her to not say any more and let him back away with what little dignity remained to him.

Mercifully she heeded it.

**

“Reese, honey?”

“Yeah?” She looked over towards the door where her mother was standing. She hadn’t been doing much – perching on her window seat, staring out at the inky blackness of the backyard. Through the dark you could still make out the shape of their old tree house. As a kid she frequently sneaked in there. Dean and Oliver declared it a boys-only zone so had to be proven wrong.

“Dad and I are going to bed. If you’re not already up in the morning I’ll wake you.”

“Ha, not sure I’ll sleep anyway,” she joked.

“Excitement will do that.”

The feeling seemed far more like nerves than excitement. She just smiled at her mom. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night baby, love you.”

“Love you too,” she replied as her mother shut the door.

How were you supposed to feel the night before your wedding? What was anticipation and what was trepidation? Why was she still fretting about the vows she wasn’t supposed to have read? Why did she spend the evening picking faults in flawless plans and imagining several increasingly improbable disasters befalling the day? Why was she feeling bad about Justin’s last message, even though it was exactly the subtle reassurance she needed from him that they’d still be friends? Why did she feel like she’d drunk several cups of coffee in the last hour? Her entire body was buzzing. More than once she caught herself starting to pick at her nails, endangering the neat manicure so painstakingly done earlier that day.

She was being absurd. Everything would be okay. Drake had given his notice at the garage. Oliver had finally (if resentfully) apologised and promised he would avoid Shane. The dress hem was now perfect. Her friends had all arrived in town and sent her an avalanche of good luck messages. Nadine and Jenna would be at the house first thing in the morning. She was marrying a wonderful man who loved her and that she loved. Everything she’d so carefully planned for the last few months was coming together beautifully. Her entire life was coming together neatly.

Yanking out her phone, she tapped out a brief message and hit ‘send.’ The reply was swift.

‘Sure I can. Where?’