The night of a party like the one Justin's throwing is always chaotic. But it's the kind of chaotic I like. The kitchen is filled with caterers. Margaret has an earpiece in her ear and is barking orders left and right. The kitchen is basically the staging area and it's my job to go back and forth and check to see if everything is meshing well together or not. It's been about two hours since everyone has arrived and they're all out on the back patio by the pool getting drunk and mingling. Or mingling and getting drunk. Whichever way you look at it, they're having a good time. I'm constantly in and out of the kitchen and the living room. No one's paid attention to me, but I know Michelle would be dying right now if she saw the people who were here. JC and Lance showed up, Joey and Chris didn't, DiCaprio didn't show and neither did Clooney (big shock there), but Josh Groban did and I overheard Justin telling him that his assistant was a fan, which nearly blew me over. Justin has never cared once about who I was a fan of. 

He hasn't even seen me, but I can't help but wonder if he'd even notice that I got my hair done. I know, I know I'm not supposed to even care what he thinks but I swear, every time I think about that little incident in the living room, my mind wanders and earlier in the week I was imagining us, well, quite intimate. 
This is not supposed to happen, by the way. I've told myself this from the beginning. Still, I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror and can't help but think that I do actually look quite nice. The dress fits me in all the right places, my hair is up in a simple, but elegant up-do, and I took extra time with my make-up tonight. If anything, there are several other single males here that might need some eye candy. That is if the Kardashian sisters don't stop trying to steal the spotlight from everyone. Even each other. The last time I went outside, Khloe and Kim were arguing over a karaoke contest by the pool. 

"Excuse me. Miss?" calls a voice. I look over and see Paris Hilton, who somehow weasled her way into this party. She wasn't originally invited. But I guess it's been the talk of Hollywood, this party, because she called Justin up on his cell phone and wanted to know where her invitation was. He lied and said a lot of them had gotten lost in the mail and that of course she could come.

"Yes?" I turn on one of the most fake smiles I can muster.

 "There's no more champagne. Can you get me one? Now?" Paris is leaning against some gorgeous male model who I swear I've seen before in a Calvin Klein underwear ad. 

"Yes, I'll just let the kitchen know," I head back into the kitchen and Margaret is yelling at someone to hurry up with the stuffed mushrooms and sushi rolls. 

"No more champagne," I quickly tell her. Margaret gives me a quick nod, goes to the refrigerator and hands me a bottle of Moet. "Take it out to the bar." I do as I'm told, even though waitressing and bar tending aren't exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Nevertheless...

Outside is still maddening. I'm making my way through the hoards of celebrities and accidentally step on Emma Stone's foot. I apologize profusely and she just laughs and shakes her head. "Stop and don't worry about it. It's fine!" she assures me. I like Emma Stone. Maybe I should tell Justin to have her and Andrew over more often, I think to myself. I finally make my way to the bar and drop off the bottle of champagne, but not before Paris sees me again and literally runs over to me, demanding her glass of champagne.

"There's a brand new bottle at the bar-" I start to explain, but she just rolls her eyes at me and gives me a look of death.

"I meant for you to bring me a glass of champagne. Not go get an entire bottle. God!" Paris brushes past me and I see her bat her eyes at the bartender. Oh for crying out loud! 

On my way back inside, I meet Justin coming outside with Trace. He smiles at me and I smile back. For an instant, I see Trace smirking, or so I think. What the hell is going on? Seriously, all of this is my stupid imagination.

"Wow, Marli. You-you look fantastic," Justin surveys me up and down. "How's the party looking?" He quickly changes the subject after I catch him lingering at my cleavage, which I do have to say looks quite nice in this green dress! 

"Great. Everyone's having a great time. I think they're going to be here for a while," I tell him. I'm just about to go back inside, when Justin pulls my arm and gently forces me back outside. 

"Take the night off, Marli. You look too nice to be working right now. Besides, I think Margaret has everything under control," Justin's giving me that look again. I'm wondering if there's some sort of weed in the brownie mud pie that one of the caterers made. Justin's never, ever told me to take the night off for anything. 
Do not let your imagination run away with you. This is my mantra. This has to be my mantra or else I will go crazy. 

Also, why is Justin being so nice? Seriously, I must speak to the caterer. It's fine if they do pot on their own time, but they don't need to be putting it into their desserts for goodness sake! I'm still standing there with a perplexed expression and look up to see Justin and Trace looking at me, bemused.

"You coming?" Justin asks, and I can swear his eyes are looking right into mine again. What the hell? What. the. hell?

"Ah, um, yeah. Sure," I stammer and follow him and Trace around the pool. He starts introducing me to different people and I'm trying to be as professional as possible. He's just introducing me and Trace as his PAs and a lot of women are complimenting me on my dress. I cannot wait to tell Michelle. When she finds out Christina Aguilera told me that my green dress was amazing, she will die! The Kardashians are doing their karaoke bit and Justin, Trace, and I stand back and watch in amusement with everyone else. Suddenly, I start to wonder if Justin only invited them for entertainment purposes? Because they are doing that for sure. And it's free. Sneaky, Timberlake. I think to myself. But well done, too.

By midnight the party is still going strong. All of the Kardashians are drunk by now, so it's been even more entertaining. Paris Hilton is making out with the hot Calvin Klein model (which I was right about, because I overheard Anne Hathaway and Rachel McAdams gossiping about them), Ben Affleck, Tobey Maguire, and JC Chasez have rounded up people to play poker on the patio deck table, and Justin is taking it all in from the bar. I haven't really left his side since he told me to have the night off. I guess it's habit. I also guess it's because he looks really good tonight. And I can't shake that feeling that he keeps glancing over at me. Trace left about fifteen minutes ago with Katy Perry and John Mayer, who I heard were starting a game of strip Monopoly in the game room upstairs with a few other guests. Christmas music is blaring over the pool and the bar. It's a great party.

I look over at Justin and catch him staring at me. So I stare right back and then sigh, shaking my head. "Justin, what is up with you?" I hear myself asking. Or I guess it's the four glasses of Pinot Gris that's asking. "Did you smoke something before the party?" I tend to have a habit of speaking before thinking when I'm drunk. No, tipsy. I'm not drunk. I'm not drunk because that would be unprofessional and I'm not an unprofessional PA. 

Justin walks over to me and stands really close. Really close. So close that I can smell his recently washed shirt he's wearing. And his cologne. And it smells really nice. I look up at him and he just smiles as though I've caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Marli," he's almost whispering my name and the music's so loud and I'm so, um, tipsy, that I can barely hear him. He realizes how loud it suddenly is and pulls me quickly inside and into his home office downstairs. I'm suddenly aware of how loud it was outside because the silence is nearly deafening now. "Look, lately, I guess I've just looked at you differently."

Lately? Well, yes, fairly lately, I think to myself. It was really only two weeks ago when he was so rude to me on the way home from the movie set. 

"You put up with a lot of my shit," he continues.

Truth.

"And, I don't know, I think I'd just really like to get to know who you really are. I mean, other than Marli Resler, Personal Assistant," suddenly he's moved right in front of me and his finger is gently pulling a loose piece of my hair. Is this for real? Is he for real? Is this a dream? I don't know which question to ask first. My stomach feels as if it's going to explode from nerves or butterflies or whatever's going on down there. And my head is spinning -yes, from the wine, I know, but also from him. 

"I-I really, I don't know..." I'm stammering and stuttering so hard right now that I can't think of a decent sentence. "Justin, I-I think I'm speechless!" I finally blurt and he chuckles at me. I look up at him and suddenly realize why he makes so many women swoon. He is swoonable, that's for sure. "Are you sure this isn't the wine speaking?" I hear myself ask.

Justin shakes his head and laughs out loud. "No, Marli. That was you that drank that whole bottle of Pinot," Well, he's got me there."I know I've been an ass. But remember that little talk we had in the living room? It was then that I realized just how much of an ass I've been. Yeah, I don't like the Christmas commercialism and all that, but tonight's been so fun. And getting to walk around with you, it almost felt...well, I haven't felt that way in a while." I want to open my mouth to say something but I can't. I'm literally frozen. "So, what do you say? Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

Holy. Shit. Michelle is going to die when I call her tonight.

I manage to smile and even with all the alcohol in me, I force myself not to let out a huge girlish, teenage giggle. "I'd like that a lot," I finally say. Justin smiles and plants a kiss on my lips. It's soft but sweet and I do my best not to start kissing him back because there's a party outside and he's the host and how will it look if he's caught making out with his PA in his office? 

By three a.m., everyone's trickling out. The game of poker was won by JC, strip Monopoly basically left Ashlee Simpson with all of her clothes, much to Trace's dismay, who was humiliated because he lost all of his. The caterers pack up, the DJ as well, and soon the house is empty. I haven't had anything to drink since those glasses of wine and when I go back to the kitchen just to make sure everything is in order, Justin meets me there with a bottle of leftover Pinot Gris and two wine glasses. 

"I figured we could have one last drink," he says, and heads out of the kitchen. I follow him, only to be led up both flights of stairs and into his bedroom. It's just a drink, Marli, I'm telling myself. You're not going to do anything else because it's just a drink. But secretly, I'm glad I shaved my legs this afternoon. We sit on the edge of his bed and he pours us two glasses. 

"Did you have fun?" I venture to ask, after I sip my wine. 

Justin nodded. "I think I might do this again next year," he edges closer to me and soon his hand is resting on my leg. I feel my spine go all tingly, but manage to sip my wine again without dropping the glass. "Did you have fun?"

"I did," I reply. "It was nice to walk around with you."

Justin just nods again and puts his glass down. We're staring at each other and I know, I know, what's going to happen next. He kisses me and pulls me towards him and soon I'm feeling his hands on my zipper and then my dress is sliding off and oh. my. god. does he know what he's doing! 

Maybe he is wonderful. 

I guess I'm biased now, though, I suppose.