{Chloe}
Once more, I squirm on the couch, pulling the thin blanket under my chin in another vain attempt at comforting my currently shot nerves. I can’t sleep. It’s already been four hours of laying here, tossing and turning on these uncomfortable cushions, feeling completely and utterly miserable with my life and everything that is happening in it right now…
Pathetic, yeah? I know.
But his words keep replaying over and over and over again in my head. I mean, it's like no matter how hard that I try or how badly I just want to fall asleep and forget about everything--well, I just can't do that, even as much as I’d love to. I just can't make his damn words go away. And I can't get them out of my head—can’t get him out of my head. It just really seems impossible at this point, quite frankly.
And the worst part of all is that it's truly starting to drive me insane here. Everyone is starting to drive me insane here. Or maybe, maybe I'm just driving myself insane? Either way, the point is, I think I could be going insane.
I can't stand the fact that my life is such a horrible mess right now. Everything is just a disgusting, terrible, and cluttered mess. God, I hate that; I hate when things are in disorder. That's why I'm such a clean and orderly human being: because I hate freaking messes. I even hate that damn word; mess. I mean, what kind of stupid word is that?
So, yup. You’re probably wondering the same exact thing as I am right now, right? How’d I manage to get myself into such a freakin’ mess when I knew that I couldn’t handle living with the consequences that such chaos brings? Well, damn. Guess what? I wish I knew the answer to my own question, but I don’t. It's just all becoming too disturbingly miserable for me to bear, and I can’t even rationalize on any level with myself right now.
Really, I guess more than anything, I feel like I'm trapped. Yes--that's it--I've got myself trapped in this big, huge mess, and I just can't seem to get out of it or even fathom how to possibly get myself out of it for that matter. You know, it's like no matter what I do at this point, how I chose to go about things, someone's going to get hurt in the process. And the worst part is, is that it's him who’s hurting right now. He's the one that put his heart on his sleeve, and I'm the one that just left him hanging high and dry.
And I feel utterly sick for doing that to Justin, for just walking out on him like I did tonight. I really do; I feel so guilty about it, more than you could probably ever believe. But then there’s this other part of me that keeps annoyingly asking, why should I? Why should I feel guilty about what I did to him?
Well, he only said most of the things that every sane girl out there dreams about hearing someday. He only almost said that he loved me. That he would change as a person for me. That I made him want to be a better person. Basically, he only said everything and more than I ever wanted or dreamed of hearing from a man who was declaring his undying love for me…
But then again, that other more pessimistic part of me keeps taunting me with doubts, doubts like maybe this is all some sick joke of his? Some game that’s he’s just playing with me, just like all the other games he’s played with all the other girls in his past. Girls like Elise who are trusting and counting on me not to fall for his whole contrived act. I mean, honestly, maybe this is just a part of his game, and maybe I am just falling for it all: hook, line, and sinker. Elise once said it herself—“once a dawg, always a dawg,” and Justin deserves to pay for all the fucked up things he’s done to woman in his past.
And the thing is I used to believe that. I think there really was a point in time when I truly did agree with Elise and her ploys of revenge on Justin. It's part of the whole reason that I even agreed to the whole job she proposed to me—the job of breaking his heart. I agreed because I thought I would be doing a favor to other women; well that, and just because of the fact that I didn’t know how to say no to her at the time. Then again, I never really thought that I’d ever get to the point where I'd actually have the power to break Justin when I agreed to do this job for Elise either.
So now I need to know, what am I supposed to do at this point? Have I already unknowingly made a choice? I think…I mean…I guess you could say that I've completed my job, couldn’t you? I walked out on him when he said he loved me. How much crueler can you be to another person? And of course, there’s no way I can forget the way that his face looked in that very moment.
Maybe it would be better if I just told Elise that I’d finally completed our deal. I could finally put an end to all this madness, and I could finally try to straighten my life out again.
But God, a huge part of me really believes in Justin. I feel like I know so much more about him than I ever did before. The dynamic of our entire relationship has changed so much in the past few months. So why can't I believe that he’s changed, too?
Shit, I don't know. This is exactly why I can’t go to sleep right now though. My head keeps spinning around and around in all these circles, trying to find some sort of exit that can just get me out of all of this. But it’s all just too confusing right now, and I feel like I’m never going to escape this mess I’ve somehow, unwillingly gotten myself into.
If I decide to go back to Justin and give us a chance, what would that do to Elise and my friendship? She's the first real girl friend that I've had in forever, and I don't want to lose that. I made a promise to her, and it'd be so fucked up of me to back out now when we're so far into the game already. But then, what if she understood? Or how could she? She wouldn’t. Would she believe it if I'd told her that Justin has really changed and that I can’t go through with hurting him because of that fact? I mean, somehow I just don’t think she’d have the faith that I have in him…
And then there's Chris. Oh god, there’s Chris. How is he going to take everything? I'm so afraid he's going to write me off forever when he finds out about Justin and me going behind his back. I mean, he has every right to be upset with us; I'm just terrified to experience the consequences of our actions. And what if he knew that Justin and I were planning on being together after all of this? Would that make him even angrier...or less angry with us?
Once again, I just don't know the damn answer. I have all these fuckin’ questions and absolutely no fuckin’ answers. It’s miserable. I don't know anything. And I'm so sick of worrying about everyone else, when really, all I want to do is be selfish and do what I want this time.
But then again, what do I really want? That's the real question. And just as typical as this is, once more, I don’t think that I even realize the answer to that one, either.
I mean, they always say that you should always follow your heart, but what happens when your heart doesn't know where to go either?
****
My hands start to shake as I nervously take a seat beside him on the couch. I’m sure I’m the last person on earth that he wants to see or talk to right now, but I really feel like we should talk before Chris gets back and we spill our secrets to him.
Shit. Justin won’t even look at me, though. He’s staring straight ahead at the television, and he hasn’t even acknowledged my presence once since I’ve walked in here. It feels as if I’m just a ghost, someone completely voided from his existence. It feels like….it hurts.
“Justin?” I speak his name, hesitantly.
I see him swallow, as he blandly answers me, “Yeah?”
“I—I know that I’m probably not your favorite person at the moment, but—but I really hope that you’ll hear me out before you decide to hate me again. I mean, I know I shouldn’t have just…” I nervously pause for a moment and then continue, “…just left last night, but…”
His harsh voice suddenly snaps me away from my jittery speech, his words haunting me to the core. "Are you going to be the one to tell him or am I?" Justin interrupts me, passively, his eyes transfixed off into the distance.
"Umm...I?" I utter, my head slowly turning to where he’s staring. I can literally feel my insides tremble when I see him, when I hear his voice suddenly breaking into the conversation as well…
"Tell me what?" Chris cuts in, questioningly.
I look back at Justin, away from his face, and then blink a few times, just to be sure that I'm seeing correctly. It's real...he's real; Chris is here, standing before me, glaring at us with inquisitiveness. My eyes quickly dart to my right as I cast another worried glance to Justin. He shrugs his shoulders as if he's still waiting for me to answer his previous question.
I'm completely on the spot, and I have to do something about it. Making up my mind, I decide in a moment’s time that I’m just going to go ahead and be the one to tell him. As hard as this is going to be, I’m just going to get it the fuck over with. Turning my scared eyes back on Chris, I sigh and begin to timidly explain, "I--I'm not sure the best way to tell you this, but um--um Justin and I, well we--"
"What? You two can't make the rent on time again?" Chris jokes, lightly. "Cause you know what I said about that, I--"
"No--we're in love with each other," I quickly blurt out in interference. My skin immediately starts to crawl with apprehension as I can feel Justin's curious and shocked gaze boring onto me from the side. "It's--it's true--we love each other," I say again, emphatically nodding my head at Chris' face which looks troubled, confused, and in denial all at once. "I'm really, really sorry, Chris. We wanted to tell you sooner, but it was just that--"
I'm quickly cut off by his slightly angered voice."This is a joke, right?" he demands.
I turn my head to Justin for some kind of support, but he's just staring off into the distance, like he's in total shock or something. Like he’s not even in the fucking room with us. Fuck. This is so, so very hard. I can feel more tears burning at my eyes; God, I'm so pathetic. How can one person cry so much in only two days? And when everything they’re crying about is all of their own fault anyways?
"No," I finally whisper, reluctantly. "You know I wouldn't joke about something like this..."
The one reaction I never expected to come is suddenly happening; he's laughing. Chris is full on laughing at us. I mean, out of all the possibilities; I expected perhaps thrown objects, perhaps yelling and screaming, but laughing? I look on in worry, as his chuckling quickly comes to a silent halt, as his voice grows very cold, "You two are a fuckin' joke, you know that?" he snaps, harshly.
That--that was more of what I was expecting. My lip suddenly trembles, as I look down at the floor and mutter the only thing I can right now, "Chris, we're sorry….I'm so, so sorry."
"Honestly," he continues rudely, ignoring me all together, "You honestly think he's in love with you, Chloe?"
Justin's head suddenly snaps up from the wall, as if he's just stepped into the room or something. Our eyes meet. "Y-yes," I finally answer, shakily, my gaze never leaving Justin.
Again, Chris laughs. But this time, I realize it's not his normal laugh; it's not his usual mirthful and fun-filled laugh-- it's this evil, bitter chuckling sound, which resembles nothing of the normal laugh I know and love to hear from him. "Like I said, what a fucking joke,” Chris bites. “He’s a fucking player, Chloe. He doesn't give a shit about you; all he cares about is getting some ass--which obviously, I'm assuming you already went and gave up, because why else would he be saying that he loves you?"
"Chris, you know I'm not really like that," Justin suddenly interjects, out of the blue. For a second there, I thought I was going to be the only one who had to defend and explain us. "You know what--"
"What?” he shouts, angrily. This is the most angry that I have ever seen Chris in my entire life. “I know what? I know that Mya didn't think you were man enough and went looking for ass in other places? I know that you thought it gave you the right to screw every chick that walked your way since you got played first?” he demanded, snidely. “Fuck you, you motherfucking piece of shit. All you want from Chloe is another whore to add to the list, and wow--never thought I'd be saying this one, but congratulations Justin, you got your whor--"
I hadn't even noticed him getting up. Through the utter pain of just hearing my best friend calling me a whore, it takes me a second realize why Chris didn’t finish that insult. I now see that Justin is up in his face though, shoving him back by the chest. "Look, man, calm the fuck down," he grits out, stepping away to get some distance. "And don't fuckin' talk about her like that."
Chris quickly steps right back up to him, bridging the small gap between them once more. "Or what?” he demands, coldly. “Huh? You gonna do somethin’ about it, Justin?" And then, in much the same way that Justin just did, Chris reaches his hands and violently shoves at Justin's chest. He stumbles back a bit, as Chris continues on, "A few months ago, I remember you used to talk mad shit about Chloe. But it's not okay for me to call her a whore when it really is the truth now?”
Justin doesn't answer, only steps back, attempting to create distance between them as Chris keeps following his every move. My heart is palpating so hard in my chest, and I can barely breathe in this second. I'm so scared that they are going to fight right now….
Please, God, don't let that happen. This is like watching some kind of nightmare, only I’m awake and it’s not going to just all be a bad dream in a few hours. I can barely find my voice. "You guys..." I try to interject, weakly.
Once again, Chris closes the distance between Justin and himself, pushing him back once more. "C'mon, answer me, you fucking pussy,” he yells. “Or better yet, why don't you just admit you're a fucking bastard and all you're doing is using her?"
"Don't talk about him like that!" I suddenly snap, angrily. Chris is just saying all of these things, and I know he doesn’t really mean them. He’s just hurt. I know he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t.
"It's okay," Justin says, casting me a quick and reassuring glance over his shoulder. Then he turns back to Chris. "I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this," he states, calmly, side-stepping him again. "Maybe you should go cool off or something…”
Chris doesn't budge though, and if anything, he looks even more angry at Justin’s words. "What, you can’t even deny it?" he taunts, harshly. "Like I said, Justin, stop being a fucking pussy."
He shoves him again. Justin looses some of his cool and shoves him back. I bite my lip in paralyzed fear. I just want for this to stop happening…. I'll give anything to make this stop...
Justin growls as he stumbles back a bit from Chris' hard shove. "I'm not gonna fight you, man, so just back the fuck off an..."
A horrified squeal immediately erupts from my throat as I witness Chris' hand instantaneously rising up into the air. He stops Justin in between his words, as in a flash, his fist is pounding into Justin’s cheekbone with what looks to be such heavy force. I quickly jump out of my seat on the couch, running towards them and getting in the middle of the two, pushing at Chris' body. "Get away from him!" I scream at him, loudly. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Chris?"
My teary eyes snap onto Justin, as I carefully push him back. I sit down next to Justin, hesitantly trying to push his hands away. He’s gripping at his face, clutching the spot where Chris knocked his hard knuckles into him. "You didn't have to do that!" I shout in agony, my eyes turning away. Chris is breathing heavily now, his fist clenched at his sides, his teeth gritted in intense anger. It scares me--terrifies me--because I've never seen him this angry before. Chris would never hurt a fly, and now--now Justin is sitting beside me, obviously somewhat wounded by the blow.
Instinctively, I once again try to help him out, pulling his hand away and observing the small, horizontal line that is dripping blood. He’s got a cut.
"Fuck you," Chris suddenly snaps, momentarily bringing my attention away from Justin again. "Fuck both of you," he grits out, weakly. "You two deserve each other. Hope you have fun being his slut, Chloe." He looks as if he's gonna leave, but he quickly stops in his movement and adds, "Oh and yeah, just so you two know--when she cheats on you like the slut she is--and when he fucks you over like the asshole that he is--both of you can go cry to someone else, because I sure as hell will be laughing in your fucking faces...”
The last thing I hear is the slam of the front door, confirming that it’s only he and I again.
****
{Justin}
The slam of the front door does little to soothe my throbbing temples. I weakly lean my head against the back of the couch, as I struggle to push the air out of my lungs. It's not even like I got totally fucked up, but fuck if Chris didn't hit me good. I feel her hand tugging on my arm, and I reluctantly let my hand fall away from my face. I can barely see outta my eyes, they're so glazed over, and maybe one is even fucking closing in on me, I don't know? I attempt to look at her anyways, as I faintly notice the tears trickling down her cheeks. I listen to her shaky breath for a moment, and then quietly, I whisper, "You're not a slut, Chloe. He didn't mean those things."
"I-I know," she answers me, sadly. "Are-are you okay?"
Her hands cup my jaw in place, as she scoots up and inspects my face. I close my eyes weakly, willing the throbbing in my head to stop. "I--shit," I hiss menacingly, her finger gently touching the spot where he punched me, intensifying the pain one hundred and twenty thousand percent.
Chloe immediately shies away, wincing at my pain right along with me. "Sorry...I'm just trying…I mean, you--you're bleeding. I'll be right back."
When she finally comes back, she quickly sets the items she brought with her onto the coffee table. Grabbing a pillow off of the end of the couch, Chloe maneuvers it on the side closest to me and tells me too scoot back. Obediently, I slither over and lay back, allowing her to slide the cushioning below my neck, which is being supported by the armrest. She sits down beside my upper chest area where there's a little free space left on the couch. I close my eyes, as I suddenly feel a damp and cold wash cloth being run over my cut. I whimper just a little, trying to grab it from her hand. Chloe quickly pushes my prying fingers away. "I'm just trying to help you..."
Nothing feels worse than when she lays the heavy, freezing bag of ice onto my face. I hiss in discomfort. "Shhh," she whispers, applying slight pressure. She reaches down and grabs my hand, placing it on the packet of ice. "Here, hold it right like that," she instructs me, calmly.
I halfhearted grab the ice and hold it in place, my eyes still closed, my head still banging in excruciating misery. "Can you go get me some aspirin?" I breathe out, painfully.
She jumps from the couch in immediate compliance. "Yeah, I'll be right back…"
I feel her hovering above me; it seems like only a few seconds later. I weakly open an eye, noticing her crouched down on the floor in front of me, holding out a glass of water. She leans over and puts her hand behind my neck. "Here, open your mouth," she instructs. I do so, and she sticks the medicine inside, lifting my neck up and tilting the water to my lips. "Drink."
I get as much of the liquid as I can down my throat, before I quickly collapse back against the pillow with a sigh. Chloe pulls her hand out from under me. I can't see her because my eyes are closed again, but I can feel the moment she starts to get up, and so I swiftly tilt my head to the side a little. Looking at her through pained eyes, I ask her, “Hey, where are you going?"
She nervously looks around the room before biting her lip at me. "I--I'm going to sit over on the other couch..."
"Why?"
"I don't know," Chloe chokes, shakily. "I just--thought you were mad at me and I don't want to be in your way, or anything like that…”
Closing my eyes again, I sigh, still pressing the ice against my face with one hand. "Did you really mean that?" I whisper, instead of addressing her statement.
"That I'm gonna sit over on the other couch?" she asks me, confusedly. "Or that I think you're mad at me?"
"No," I say. "I meant what you said to Chris. About us being in love?"
She takes in a sharp breath at my words, muttering, "O-oh...that."
"Did you mean it?" I repeat, quietly. I swallow when she doesn't answer me right away. I can't see her, so I can't imagine what her face looks like right now. "Chloe?" I finally ask again.
"Y-yeah, Justin?" she answers me, slowly. My eyes open against their will, only to find that her hand is quickly recoiling from reaching out to my face. I don't know why she's so scared to touch me, but she looks nervous as all hell right now. "Yes. I meant it," she finally whispers, at last.
I start to smile, but quickly stop when it shoots a dagger like pain through my entire skull. "Mmm," I mumble, tiredly. I can’t believe that Chris punched me in the face, but most of all, I can’t believe that she just said that. I was pretty sure that she was a lost battle when she left last night, but now, here she is, and it looks as though she’s changed her mind. I wait for her to say something else, do something else for a few seconds, but nothing ever happens. "Baby? What are you doing?" I eventually ask.
"I-I dunno," she answers me, tearfully. "I'm sitting here. Watching you."
"Why are you so far away? Come here."
I feel her body slowly scoot closer to me, as I reach my free hand out from my side and into the air. "Give me your hand," I order her, lazily.
When I feel her small hand finally land inside of my own, I enclose my fingers around her cold skin. Bringing her hand up to my lips, I silently kiss the skin of her palm and then all five of her finger tips. I lay her hand down on my chest, and sigh. "Don't go over there. Stay with me."
“Okay,” she agrees, quietly.
****
{Justin}
I’ve already resorted to poking and gently shaking, but nothing seems to be working in extracting her from her slumber. Leaning down over her body that is sprawled out onto the couch, I evily stick my tongue inside her earlobe, wincing when her hand comes smacking back and right into the spot where I got hit last night.
"Ouch!" I wail out, slightly pained by her slightly harsh contact. In exaggerated horror, I incredulously continue to whine, "Jesus, woman! Aggressive much? Honestly, I didn't realize the abuse would be starting this early on in the relationship."
Chloe rolls over at my voice, looking up at where I’m hovering above her. She gives me the look from hell, rolling her eyes as she watches me in annoyance. Sarcastically, she mutters, "What in the hell are you talking about, dumb ass?" Ah, the first few sweet words spoken to me by her this morning, aren’t I such a lucky man? Who could resist a woman who calls you dumb ass the first thing she wakes up?
As an afterthought, she continues on to order me, "Stop being a whiny princess Justin; it's too early in the morning for all that."
I tilt my head to the side and squint while watching her in sudden curiosity. I don't know why this idea just popped into my head, but I may as well go ahead ask her about it. "You weren't high last night, were you?" I quickly question her, just a tad bit worried. Now that I think about it, she’s acting a little hostile for the morning time, isn’t she? I mean, shit, she’s the one who is a morning person—not my ass. Oh Lord, what if she was high?! What if she didn't even know what the hell she was saying to me last night? She probably doesn't even remember what happened, does she?! Shit!
"Oh my god--how did you know?" she demands of me, worriedly. "Who told you that!"
My eyes immediately widen in horror, her words confirming my every last fear in the past 32 seconds. I watch as she suddenly bolts up from her laying down position, leaning on her elbows and staring at me in frantic paranoia, waiting for me to answer her questions. Oh my god, this is a--this is a nightmare….
Wake up. I need to wake the fuck up!
"Chloe," I finally gasp, painfully. "What in the hell--how could you--" I begin to stutter.
She hastily collapses onto her back again, interrupting my frazzled inquires all at once. Her head hits the previously abandoned pillow and she begins to laugh her little ass off in her now obviously, utterly amused state. Damn--I knew she was messing with my head with that. I mean, how lame was I to fall for that one? And why did I even ask such a stupid question in the first place? For God's sake people, this is Chloe Marin we're talking about here! Of course she didn't do any drugs last night.
"Justin…" she finally drawls, her giggles slowly wearing off into nothing. "You're such a....well, idiot sometimes. And it worries me on occasion. It really does, sweetheart."
I frown at her words, sitting back with a huff. I was in such a good, a splendid and lovely mood for once in the morning--until I woke her up, anyways. "Chloe," I whine, pathetically. "Why are you being such a bi--" I pause mid-word, quickly realizing that perhaps it'd be wise of me not to finish this question of mine in such an insulting manner. So anyways, being the ultimate P.I.M.P that we all know I am, I smoothly correct myself before I utter that slightly nasty word 'bitch.' I make sure to carefully pronounce each of my syllables in this clever continuance of mine, as I hastily correct myself, "I mean, what I was trying to ask you before was...why on earth are you being such a bi-eww-tah-full ray of sunlight this morning?"
"Well, Justin, I guess it's just cause I'm so freakin' tired!” Chloe answers me, sarcastically. “It's got me in a wonderful mood! And oh!" she suddenly exclaims, snapping her fingers as if she's just remembered something else as well. "And also, I’m probably just wondering to myself why you're even complaining about my attitude this morning-- since well, you know-- it's not often that you're rocking this whole 'Hello, I’m Mr. Happy Sunshine and Butterflies This Morning' status you've got going on for yourself right now..."
I snort at her ridiculous response.
"In fact, you're more of the, "Hello, I'm Mr. Grumpy Ass Timberlake, Who Just Rolled Off the Wrong Side of the Damn Bed, So Do Me a Favor and Fuck Off' kinda guy, don't ya think?" she finishes off, brightly.
"Chloe, I thought you said you loved me," I moan, in an all too pitiful manner if I do say so myself. Oh well, fuck it. "Why aren't you being all sweet to me and taking advantage of all this?” I ask, laying my hands out as if I’m presenting myself to her, “And you know, attacking my body and taking advantage and such like that?"
Poking her lip out in equal dramatization, Chloe reaches out, patting the top of my head. "Aww,” she coos out, “I'm sorry, buster...I was just playin' with you. You know that."
I smile and lean my head in her lap, allowing her to pet my hair. Now this is more like it. "Do you gotta go to class today?" I ask her, curiously.
Chloe reaches her head up for a moment, glancing at the clock on our living room wall. Returning her gaze right back onto the top of my head, she lays back down with a sigh, "My only class for today started about ten minutes ago. "
"Ahh, Chloe," I tisk, jokingly. "How irresponsible of you, young lady. Ditching class and sleeping in...oh the horrors of it all…”
"Yeah well, you're a terrible influence,” she says.
"But do you have to go to work today?" I add, anxiously. "You better not."
Chloe gently pulls on my ear. "Yes, I do have to go into work today. I've gotta be there by three."
"No," I immediately complain with a groan, lifting my head up and staring into her eyes. "You can't go into day. You have to call in sick!" I hurriedly insist.
"Justin, I'm not sick," she shoots back at me, rather argumentatively.
"But cupcake..." I begin to protest once more.
At once, she sarcastically interrupts my words. In a completely mockingly way, she amusedly imitates me, saying, "But sugar cookie..."
"Chlo--ee," I whine, rolling my eyes, unaffected by her teasing because my mind is only on one thing: which of course, is getting my way, mind you. "Stop playin' around. I'm serious girl; you have to call in sick, because--"
"Because why, Justin?" she prods, dramatically interrupting me again.
"Well, let's just say I'll fall into a complete and utter state of depression if you don’t," I begin to explain to her, my tone that of dead seriousness. (Honestly, I could win a freakin’ Oscar for this kind of shit. It's just...brilliant.) "And my entire world will be just...crushed," I continue on. "Oh and... and my heart broken; in fact, I'd probably end up in a hospital from all the agony and internal torture of it all, Chlo." I earnestly sigh, before somberly I add, "Well, that is, if it didn't kill me first, of course."
"Justin," Chloe says, sternly.
I ignore her, another example coming to mind. "...Oh and...there's always the chance that I could get majorly down and start doing crazy shit--you know, crazy shit like-- like slitting my--"
Her hand suddenly smacks at the back of my neck, her voice loudly stopping me from finishing off that sentence, "Justin!"
"Yeah?" I whimper out. She’s so damn violent. Violent, I tell you.
"Why don't you just say that I have to call in sick because you want to spend the entire day with me? Because you wanna be around me more than anything else in the whole entire world?"
I twist my mouth to the side in thought. "Well, I guess that's one way of putting it all," I admit, blandly. Amused, I add, "But I thought my version was just a tad bit better, didn’t you?"
"Justin, why aren't you ever romantic?" Chloe pouts at once, all sadly and shit.
"What are you talking about?" I immediately scoff. Honestly--what kind of twisted question is that? I can be romantic, I mean--I think I've proved that on more than just one occasion by this point, don't you? "I am romantic..." I begin to protest, concluding that fact with a, "...sometimes."
"Not really," Chloe argues with me, calmly. "Like, for example, remember that time I asked you what was your favorite body part of mine?" she asks, pointedly. She doesn't wait for my response as she disappointedly huffs, "Yeah, well, guess what you said in answer to that one. Oh, and I do quote, J: "Your hot pussy" is exactly what you came up with....I mean, you said my hot pussy, Justin!"
"Hey!" I yell, quickly. "I took that back though! Remember, I changed that answer to your eyes instead!" comes my witty attempt at defending myself.
Chloe gives me a look. That look that says, 'get real, bitch.' Ouch...yes, that look. "Yeah, but you didn't really mean it," she scoffs at me, bitterly.
"I...ugh, yes I did!" I stumble on my words, argumentatively. I need to say something sweet here. Something that is romantic, Justin. Think...think. "And God, you know I think your eyes are just absolutely amazing, cupcake," I come up with, finally.
"Oh!" Chloe quickly yelps. "That reminds me! Cupcake! You're always calling me that! And every single time, subconsciously, you're thinking, 'God, what a fat cow she is!' aren't you!?'"
My eyes instantly widen in shock. How the hell did she come up with this shit? I really don't know; this is what happens when women start going crazy with all their psycho-secretive-irrational-bull-shit-games they play with you sometimes. "What the hell? I do not think that at all!" I say, loudly.
"Why else would you name me after a fattening, calorie packed pastry such as a cupcake?" she accuses me, without delay.
"Oh come on," I scoff, incredulously. I don't even have an answer to this one. Honestly, I don't. So instead, I just sensibly argue, "I do not think you're a freakin' cow, Chloe!"
"See what I mean!" Chloe exclaims. "You just said it again! You said, 'you're a freakin’ cow, Chloe!' So thank you, at least you finally admit you think it's the truth.”
"What the fuck?" I retort, exasperated. All of asudden, I'm a little worried about this whole ‘us being in love and in a relationship thing’. Is that what Chloe was waiting for until she hit me with the fact that she....well, she’s a psychotic, bi-polar, something or another maybe? "That's not even what I said, dammit!"
"Yeah," she mutters, scathingly. "But my point is, you really only meant the last half, the 'you're a freakin cow' part of it."
Oh my god, I think I'm going to rip my head off. "CHLOE!"
She suddenly starts laughing at my irate voice, and once again, I realize that she has just fucked around with my head for the second time this morning. Shit. She's really in an evil mood right now, isn't she?
"That was funny," she giggles out, amusedly. "But really, you aren't that romantic most of the time, J," she adds, lightly. "And let's not forget...there's always that little thing you do, where 99 percent of the time, you're staring at my breasts instead of my face when we're having a conversation with each other."
Purposely, I look down at her chest as I jokingly correct her, "Now you know that's not true, baby." I pause, never looking away from her chest even once as I happily add in my smart ass way, "It's much more like I stare at them about--well, I'd probably estimate a very minor 50 percent of the time? While, of course, the other half is spent looking into your stunning brown eyes, my darling cupcake. So then, if I may conclude with my point now, I think that what I’m ultimately trying to say is that all your silly, nonsensical accusations of said '99 percent', are just a tad bit overdoing it, don't ya think?"
****
{Chloe}
"...don't ya think?" He asks.
Oh my god, at last--he shuts up! I think I blocked out practically half of what he was just saying right there. Goodness, how typical that Justin and I would spend our first morning as a couple arguing with each other. Bantering and going back and forth over utter nonsense; discussing stupid shit that really won't make any difference in our near futures. Yup, of course; that sounds just like something Justin and I would be doing.
Oh, yes, and let's not forget that somehow he's managed to avoid the entire point I was trying to make from the very start; the little point I made known, the one which implies that he's not got hardly one romantic bone in his body?
I mean, of course he's done a few sweet things for me, but c'mon! I want him to make me feel all gushy and mushy and happy inside if we're gonna be together. For crying out loud, I'm risking a lot to be with him--so I think the least he could do is sweep me off my feet, right? Not that I'm trying to sound all selfish and needy or anything, and not that his little speech the other day wasn't already practically taking me there; but shit, that was a whole entire day ago! He needs to stop being a pest today and start being that same, charming and too cute Justin again.
But hell, I doubt anything I'm going to say at this point is going to go unanswered. Not without a long winded, witty comeback on his side at least. He's just in one of those moods today, and I guess I sort of am too. Yes, yes, I'll admit I've been kinda of, a little sporadic this morning since he woke me up. But that's only because A) I really was tired when he first starting pestering me, B) I’m just a tad bit overwhelmed about everything that's gone down in the last 48 hours, and C) Because how the hell else am I supposed to act? We're practically...well, I think we are, a couple right now, and I mean what does that mean exactly anyways? Honestly, I hate placing titles on relationships. It's always so....stressful and…well, stressful.
Yeah, anyways, I'm gonna just shut up about it for now and shy away from the whole being a whiny bitch of a girlfriend in such beginning stages of the relationship. I don’t want to scare him off or anything, after all. "Justin," I groan, finally relenting. "Just--forget I said anything. Nevermind, okay? Change of subject--how's your face feeling?" I ask, reaching out to gently smooth my thumb over the now light pink mark across his cheekbone.
Justin sighs. "It's fine. I'm fine. Don’t worry bout it," he dismisses, all at once.
"I'm sorry he did that to you," I comment, softly.
"It's...I don't care. I mean, I deserved it and probably much more," Justin admits to me. "I'm just pissed that he said all that fucked up shit about you. He really didn't have the right to go off and..."
Leaning up, I quickly pull him down by his t-shirt collar, placing a soft kiss to his lips and interrupting his complaints. I'm sorry that I even went and brought the whole Chris thing up already; because honestly, right now, the only thing I want to do is forget that things ever went down like that between us last night. I don't want to think about all the hurtful things he said and how bad they stung. I don't want to think about where Elise is and how I'm going to have to eventually talk to her about all of this, admit to her that the whole deal thing is off because I'm in love with Justin now. I don't want to think or worry about anything; I just want to spend the day with him and be happy together.
"Let's not talk about all that today, okay?" I whisper, at last.
Justin nods, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His hand reaches out to smooth my dark hair away from my face, as he tucks a few strands behind my ear and says, “Will you please call in sick at work? I really want to spend the entire day with you, because you're honestly the only person in the whole entire world that I want to spend my time with…”
He takes a deep breath as he finishes off in a rushed manner. I giggle, quite impressed with his sharp memory, because he did in fact say almost exactly what I had told him I wanted to hear him say in order to get me to call in sick at work.. "Yes, Justin, I'll call in sick," I give in to him at last. "That is, if you're planning on telling me what exactly it is that we're going to be doing in advance?" I add, pointedly.
He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at me, entirely too suggestively to be an innocent gesture on his part, mind you. "Well, I was thinkin' maybe we could stay here and go to bed and all....and then, you know, we could have sex around, oh I dunno, say noon?” he wonders, casually. “Then I’m thinkin’ we could head into the kitchen and get a little food into our stomachs, before finally, we end up having sex once again, but this time on like, the counter or maybe even the kitchen fl...."
I snort, rolling my eyes at him, totally unimpressed with his typical male answer. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll just be going to work then."
"No!" Justin immediately demands, apologetically. "You can't go."
"Watch me."
"Okay, I didn't really mean all that shit about having sex all day long, Chloe. What we're really going to do-- is, well---whatever you want to do, baby. In fact, I am going to devote my entire day to you and making you happy…”
"You really mean that?" I ask him, excited by this new prospect of having Mr. Justin Timberlake devoting his entire day to make little ole' me happy.
"Yes,” he says.
"So anything I want to do, you're going to willingly cooperate?"
He nods this time.
"And you're going to pay for everything, right?"
Justin quickly coughs at my comment. "Now, I didn't say all that," he teases me. "You're getting a little too creative over there, mama."
"Fine, be a cheap ass Justin, but you still promise we can do anything I want, right?" I ask him once more.
"You're starting to scare me with this whole repeating that one question over and over again," Justin admits, slowly.
I laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. "Whatever, J. I'm just makin' sure we're on the same page so I don't have to hear any whining later on."
I watch as he slumps his shoulders, waving his hand in the air in surrender. "Aight, aight, I won't complain...whatever you wanna do…just as long as I get to be with you."
"Aww," I coo, grabbing his face and placing a quick kiss to his nose. "I’m gonna go get ready, okay?" I say. "And I'm sooo excited," I add, happily.
Justin smiles, nodding his head at me. "Me too," he says.
Ha--he just doesn't realize how girly and cheesy I'm gonna make this day for him, now does he? Oh well, he'll survive, right?
I excitedly jump off the couch and start trotting towards the bathroom, struttin' my ass side-to-side just cause I know he's watching me. Suddenly turning around to tell him one last thing, I say, "And just because we're not going to stay here and have sex all day doesn't mean that we won't be makin' up for that later tonight," I tell him, seductively winking my eye at him. "I just want it to be special though, you know?" I suddenly add, admitting just how dorky I really am in so many words. I'm sure my face is really red with complete embarrassment right about now as I pace myself to finish off that previous thought of mine. (And yes, you can just shut up now, because I do realize how disgustingly cheesy I'm being at the moment. I know--I said, I know--I'm acting as if I'm straight up sprung-off his-ass, and it's fairly sad. But fuck, this is our first day that we're officially together, okay? This is the first day that I can actually say that I have a real, true, and genuine relationship with someone who really loves me. I mean, he loves me! Me! So, whatever, I don't care how stupid and girly I'm being, because....ahem...because just, yes.)
Finally, I meekly continue, "I just want you to...to make love to me, and..and tell me you love me while you're doing it, kay?" I quickly spit out, turning around and running away from him before I can see his reaction.
Let's just hope that he takes the hint and this day is worth all the hours of class and work I'm going to be missing....
Somehow, I already know I don't have to worry about that though because I just know for a fact that it will be. After all, I've finally made a decision in all of this, and there's just something in his eyes that makes me believe that I'm choosing the right way here. I love Justin, and even though I'm worried about my friendships with a few others because of us being together and what not, I'm really not going to let it worry me any longer. I guess I just don't care enough anymore; it just doesn't really matter to me as much as it did--oh, I don't know--say 24 hours ago?
I mean, I know that might sound sort of drastic to you and all, but coming home and experiencing that whole ordeal with Chris, and just seeing Justin again and suddenly realizing how much I missed him in only that one night of being apart--well, I've just come to accept that whatever happens from now on is just going to have to happen the way that it ends up happening. There's no turning back for me at this point, and for once, I'm just going to do what I want--and not let what I think I should do to please other people dictate my decisions instead. And that's not because I'm trying to be selfish or conniving either, it's just that I can't help or deny the way that I feel anymore. It's too exhausting for me to handle going on living like that. I feel like these last few months have changed so much in my life, and during the entire time that all this chaos has been building up, I've been continuously holding my breath, just waiting for the very moment when I'd finally feel at peace with everything; when everything in my life would finally seem to just be falling into place again. And I couldn't be happier that, at last, everything that I'd wished for is exactly what seems to be happening in my world.
Really, the best part about it is that I'm finally with Justin now--and I mean, really, really with him. I truly do believe in my heart that we have something real together. I know that might be stupid and naive of me, but it's just the way that I feel. And I can't help the way that I feel. Even when I know that we're crazy and our personalities tend to constantly clash, I still hold to the fact that I also know that he loves me and that I love him despite all of this. Somehow or another, we seem to get each other, and we each bring out the best in one another. At least that's what I like to believe. And because of this, I also believe that for the first time in a really, really long time-- that I can truly breathe again. And by that, I mean exactly what it sounds like--that I can just breathe again; that I can breathe without worrying, making myself sick with stress about how I'm going to end up disappointing other people; that I can breathe without trying to hide secrets behind my best friend's back; and that I can breathe without trying to deny that I care more about Justin than I really ever wanted to admit up until last night.
So yeah, maybe things aren't exactly perfect in my life right now--but ironically, somehow, they sort of are, too. I mean, now that we're finally together, I just know that everything is eventually going to be okay, I guess.
I mean--it just has to be, right?
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