When Justin Timberlake wanted to relax, he played golf. When he wanted to let off steam, he played basketball. When he needed to think, he ran or he walked.

On this occasion he plumped for the latter. That was partially so he could kill two birds with one stone and exercise the dogs. It was also because he felt too sluggish to run. That was how he found himself in the hills, ambling along.

As it turned out running would have been a bad plan. It was an unseasonably warm day. Even in his t-shirt and shorts he felt overheated. The sole reason he hadn’t peeled his shirt off was that he’d spotted at least one paparazzo roaming around; it would only increase the worth of the photos. (That and he had slacked off his gym routine a little – he was still in perfectly good shape but his abs didn’t have the cut glass definition they did at twenty one. Only in Hollywood were people unreasonable enough to expect it). 

Thankfully whatever paparazzi were on his tail were making good use of their zoom lenses. Keeping their distance was as much as he could hope for; privacy was a beautiful dream.

That was his reason for being up there in the first place; the media was having a field day over his renewed friendship with his ex-fiancée. The snappers were out in force, novelty showing no signs of abating over the weeks. Pictures of them appeared constantly, along with so-called body language experts speculating on their status. Body language appeared to be an exceedingly inexact science - almost everyone drew a different conclusion from the same sets of pictures. It didn’t matter that they were usually in a group. The idea of a reunion was apparently too intriguing.

As Reese correctly surmised, the press didn’t care about her in her own right. As a character in ‘The Justin Timberlake Story’ however she made a perfect addition. First she was the hometown sweetheart who’d won him over the temptations of more famous beauties. Then she was the one who mysteriously got away, leaving the hero of the tale broken hearted. Now she was back in the mix to spice things up and give them some more dross to fill their word counts with. Never mind his actual life story - the tabloids would come up with a narrative for him.

The problem was that fiction intruded on real life. The speculation begged the question of why she hadn’t got married (especially after the salivation over the unlikely possibility of Justin busting up the wedding). They started digging into Reese’s private life and eventually started sniffing around Drake. This in turn put Drake onto the blogs, curious to see why they were bugging him.

Every so often as he walked along Justin was distracted by the dogs – disappearing too far out of eyesight, about to eat something they shouldn’t – but for the most part he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The repetitive and rhythmic nature of it somehow blocked out all extraneous thought. It allowed him to focus on the problem at hand. The weather though hot was beautiful and the hills were a great place for a walk. The grass was starting to look parched, but the flowers were out in full bloom and large bushes cast patches of merciful shade across the path.

Reese had been back in Los Angeles for several weeks. In Justin’s opinion she had progressed to a point where she was (more or less) over the emotional impact of her disastrous wedding. That was down to a few things. The change of scenery was a part, and getting back to work. Temping put her in different places. The constant change and busy nature of it kept her mind occupied, and she was starting to see some longer term prospects. It put colour back in her cheeks; Reese was at her best when she was productive and had something to aim for. It restored the confidence her mistakes had battered.

The biggest part was that shortly after she arrived the last of the practical issues were wrapped. It closed off all remaining ties with Drake. She no longer had to speak with him and be constantly confronted by his hurt. Without those continual reminders she was able to look to her future instead of past missteps. Justin doubted she’d ever remember it without a grimace, but she’d stopped berating herself every other sentence. The topic came up a lot less.

The media’s poorly timed attention brought this all to the fore again - an unwelcome interference on all fronts.

There was no way to know if during those weeks Drake’s feelings softened. Was it possible he’d started to see it was for the best, even if it was painful? If he had it was undone now. Justin didn’t blame him for his outrage, would probably jump to the same inaccurate conclusion in his situation. When you were already bruised, being presented with pictures carefully selected to make it look like your ex was all over some other guy would do that. Reese was still living with Trace and so he’d been in the room when she got Drake’s phone call. Trace’s description was… colourful.  

The reason it drove Justin into the hills that day wasn’t Drake. He hadn’t cared about the guy’s reaction when he’d been trying to win Reese back, so it would be strange to care about it now. The reason Justin was out in this heat, dripping with sweat as his dogs padded happily along beside him, was that it left him unsure where he stood.

Although Reese’s decision ultimately wasn’t about him, it left him room to hope that he could still have a shot. When he left Tennessee that morning there was no such hope. He couldn’t remember a bigger wound to his pride - which said something, given some of his past press coverage. The woman he loved didn’t choose him. It burned. Knowing that he’d at least tried was precious little comfort, though some was better than none. There was nothing to do but resign himself to it; it was a fate he’d brought on himself. Even so, he’d been in great pain until he received that call from Oliver. From his perspective it was the world’s most incredible Hail Mary pass.

At the time he cursed himself for leaving when he did. It was typical Murphy’s Law; only a few hours after he gave up she was suddenly free again. In hindsight however it was a good thing. His presence was an extra complication she didn’t need. Giving her space where she didn’t have to worry about him on top of everything else was better all around. If he stayed she wouldn’t have got that. He wouldn’t have been able to resist getting involved.

Even once she arrived in LA he wasn’t selfish or insensitive enough to press his suit with her immediately. Justin knew that she was genuinely grief stricken. She needed space to get over her break up. Whatever else he thought of the mechanic, Reese cared about him. His priority had to be what she needed, not his own wants, and she needed a friend not a suitor. This was not the time. So instead he chose to put his feelings on the back burner, being there to hang or to listen when she required it without any other agenda.

Now, just when he was beginning to wonder if he could start testing the waters again, here was another roadblock to thwart him. It revived the ghost right when he thought it was ready to be put to rest.

So what did he do now? Did he leave it longer? Did he try his luck anyway? He was keenly aware that passing time only gave her more opportunity to get over him as much as Drake. Besides, if things took too long Reese wouldn’t be the only one who needed to move on. Justin couldn’t put his own life on hold forever. He had received a promising script; he wasn’t sure whether or not to take the role because it would have him shooting in Vancouver for three months. That was both a very short and yet a very long time. A lot could happen in three months.

Justin really would have preferred to have addressed his situation with Reese before he made that decision. If there was a chance then he didn’t want to jeopardise it by leaving. Even if she wanted him back, they would still have some serious rebuilding work to do. If there wasn’t, then a few months away for some healing and perspective would probably be a good thing. Whatever happened, things couldn’t remain as they were. Being so close and yet so far was grinding him down.

Those questions kept rolling around in his head as he watched the brown tails swinging back and forth in front of him. The answers were nowhere to be seen.

**

“Trace?” Reese called out as she closed the door behind her.

“Yo!”

The sound came from the kitchen. “Yo? Who says yo any more?”

“Me, obviously. How was work?”

Her keys joined his in the bowl and she dumped her bag on the floor. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, her feet rejoiced at being out of the stilettos. Trace was sitting at the table, doing something that looked like balancing his books.

Living with Trace made Reese see a different side of him. Despite being his best friend of several decades, she never really saw him in a business or a domestic context. Of course she knew what he did for a living and that he had to run his house like everyone else. Knowing and experiencing were different things. When somebody was your friend – particularly the friend you got into trouble and ill-advised schemes with – you didn’t necessarily see them carrying out their adult responsibilities. She saw him when they were hanging out or lounging around or partying, not when he was being a grown up. In a way, her view of Trace probably hadn’t changed since they were teenagers.

Something about seeing him as he was now, sitting at the table with his finances, made her view him from a new angle. She appreciated that.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Not holding my breath for a permanent position now though. Manager was talking way too much about handovers.”

“That sucks, sorry babe.”

“Eh, I’ll live.” She shrugged before crossing over to the fridge and pulling out a soda. “How about you?”

“Usual,” he said. “Starting to plan next season.”

“Cool.” There was a brief pause as she took a swig of her drink. “You said you were waiting for your samples for today?”

“Didn’t happen. Delays at the warehouse, surprise surprise.”

“Fun never ends. Listen, Sarah wants to do dinner and a movie so I’m planning on heading out for the night after a shower.”

“Okay.”

Trace smiled. He found it funny the way Reese made a point of checking in with him, like he was her mother. She was a big girl, she didn’t have a curfew. He wouldn’t worry if she was out late. Idly he wondered if it was a leftover from living with Justin - now he was a guy who needlessly bothered himself with such things. It used to irritate him when they hung out. If she was more than ten minutes late he got twitchy and distracted. It was rude when you were trying to have a conversation (when he complained Justin simply flipped his middle finger). In fairness to him, Reese was punctual and rarely came in late without a heads up – maybe that had trained Justin to worry if nothing arrived.

Her phone beeped, and she grabbed it out of her pocket. It was her sharp little hiss that caught his attention. Trace’s eyes flicked up at her with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, only that breaking up with me does some weird juju, turns perfectly decent guys into jerks.”

“Message from Drake?”

“Dean, actually. Ran into Drake and he was an ass to him.”

“You sure that’s about you?” Trace asked. “Even before you dumped him Dean did beat the crap out of him.”

“Oh I don’t think it was about me.” Reese was tapping her thumb against the screen, wondering what to type. “But I still think he’s got aggravated by all this dumb gossip stuff.”

Trace didn’t think it was so dumb, though possessed too many IQ points to say so. Justin’s gambit hadn’t paid off and he’d taken it as well as could be expected, but small signs of tension still showed. That was probably natural, given how little they ever addressed their break up, but people weren’t blind. It was still there in the way Justin looked at Reese, or offered her a hand to step out of the car. Trace hadn’t yet decided whether it existed in the other direction. Certainly there were shadows of it – the way Reese focused on Justin when he spoke – but nothing he would consider a safe bet. She’d been preoccupied with Drake.

“Give him time. He’s just still sore.”

“That’s the annoying thing. Nade said he was doing better until the press pushed all his buttons again. She said he was starting to talk like at least I did it before not after and that he’d hate LA anyway. I think maybe he was starting to get it.” She let out a despondent sigh.

“She’s still in contact?”

“Yeah, they’re friendly. Which gives me hope,” she said, “the fact that he’s not holding it against everybody linked to me. Apart from Dean, but Dean asked for it.”

“Well, like I keep saying…” The woman really had droned on about the topic ad infinitum. He remained patient because it was well intentioned. She wanted Drake to feel better. “You blindsided him but I would lay money that once he’s processed it all he’ll be decent. You just got to give him his time to be pissed off and work through.”

“I know you’re right.” Reese pushed her hair back through her hand. Her forehead creased into a sad frown. “And it’s not like he got any space to do that, since we had all the house stuff to argue out. It’s just frustrating… like, I don’t expect him to want to be friends again, but I’d like to know that if I see him when I go home things will be civil. And it just pisses me off that the media dragged him in like he hasn’t had a rough enough time already. But then I think, well, I broke up with him so what right do I have?”

“Maybe not, but you’re a good person who cares about him and wants him to feel better.”

He doubted that was one hundred percent altruistic. In part he thought she wanted to ease her own conscience, though for the most it was real concern.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but this actually made me kind of understand why Justin was such a jerk about everything. The frustration really is crazy making.”

He snorted. “Yeah, but the difference is you’re sitting here worrying that he’s having a rough time - not being a total bitch to him.”

“I was tempted when he was making the house shit such a pain.”

It was hard to admit, but on occasion her temper started to flare and she’d felt on the brink. After that her moral high ground seemed shakier. How could she get annoyed at him when she was the one who’d caused all that grief? It made Justin’s prior explanations of why he was mad seem less far-fetched.

Drake’s prickliness wasn’t helped by him associating Justin’s reappearance in her life with the collapse of their engagement. Seeing them in the tabloids must hit an already raw nerve, but she couldn’t do a lot about it. It was maddening. Though he didn’t accuse her of cheating he pinpointed that as the start of the trouble. He thought she’d gone back to Los Angeles, made it up with her ex and got stars in her eyes.

That was untrue - she’d long since stopped seeing celebrity as glamorous - but a nagging voice in her head wondered. Did he have a sliver of a point? No matter what it would have been a mistake. It was luckier for them both that it was spotted before the vows. But would she have seen it in the nick of time like that if she hadn’t been forced to confront the reason she ran back to Memphis?

Sometimes, in her darker self-chastising moments, Reese considered that maybe in an oblique way she had been cheating on him. Maybe from the moment she stepped foot in California her thoughts were back with her old life, even if not romantically. Could you platonically cheat?  In a lot of important ways she abandoned him, well before she ended their relationship. All done blithely and without even being aware of it.

That drove a lot of the guilt and responsibility she felt for Drake. How long did he have to suffer the effects of her screw ups?

“Tempted is not doing.” Trace said with brutal matter-of-factness.  Done with his paperwork, he started to pull everything into a neat pile. “Justin has no excuses for being a dick.”

Unexpectedly Reese smiled. Trace couldn’t for the life of him work out why. Why would she look so pleased to remember all the nastiness it took so long to move past? It was because she was remembering the breakfast table exchange in which Justin admitted as much himself. She had solemnly sworn not to divulge it – specifically not his comment about being their asshole - so the cause of her mirth had to remain secret.

“True. I just have to stop worrying about it, I guess. I did the best thing, I’ve done as much as I can to apologise and I can’t do anything else to make him feel any better. Whatever else is up to him,” she said.

“I totally agree. You need to get on with your own life,” Trace said. “I’m sure in time things will settle down and he’ll be okay but there’s zero point in you obsessing on it.”

“Is that Ayala speak for you’re sick of me whining?”

“Yeah, but it’s also true.”

Reese leaned over and hugged him around the shoulders. “You’re a good friend.”

“If by ‘good’ you mean ‘stupendously amazing,’ yeah.”