“That's it! I'm so done with men!” Libby shouted as she burst into Clare's office that morning, slamming the door closed behind her with such force the window rattled. Clare glanced up from her laptop screen and grimaced. She'd long suspected that Libby might one day have the door off its hinges, but she certainly didn't want it to be today.

Clare continued to watch as Libby flopped down onto the sofa near the window, letting out a huff as she folded her arms across her chest. She pouted and met Clare's eyes, her own ablaze with indignation, letting her declaration hang in the air until Clare said something in response.

“What's wrong?” Clare asked, saving the word processor document she'd been working on and pushing down the top of her laptop so she could offer Libby her full attention. She was up to her elbows in work, but that was no different from any other day. Her role as the head of the *NSYNC fan club kept her busy, but she loved her job and wouldn't have had it any other way.

“The same old crap,” Libby replied. “My life is a disaster. Nothing ever goes right for me. I hate my stupid life.” She forcefully pulled a cushion out from underneath her and squeezed it against her chest, tucking her chin into the fabric as she glanced over the top at Clare with sad, green eyes. Her next words were muttered into the cushion, but held little trace of her previous anger. “Why doesn't anything ever go right for me, Clare?” she whined.

Clare wanted to point out that compared to most of the population she was pretty well off. She had a job she loved, a car she could afford, she lived in Orlando, Florida; one of the most desirable locations in the continental US, had a close group of friends that loved her and shared an apartment with Clare not far from the beach. Overall, things were looking pretty good for the eighteen year old. She realised it would be a mistake to mention any of this, and so she avoided the question completely. Libby wanted someone to listen to her as she unburdened her troubles and didn't need an actual answer.

“Are we talking about anything or anyone specific?” she asked as tactfully as she could. Libby gave the cushion another tight squeeze and huffed once more.

“Maybe,” she answered evasively. “Maybe it's everyone. Maybe I just hate everyone and everything right now...”

As she said this, a young man wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie entered the room carrying a piece of paper in his right hand. He smiled warmly at Clare before noticing Libby on the couch. His eyes scanned the young woman's face, but when she refused to meet his eyes he glanced back at Clare with one eyebrow raised in question.

“'Sup ladies?” he said, his blue eyes flicking back to Libby. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” said Libby quickly.

“No,” said Clare, shooting her friend a look. Justin glanced between the two of them, feeling very much out of the loop.

“Libby's having a bad day,” Clare explained as she reached out to accept the piece of paper he held out to her. His eyes once again flicked over to Libby and a concerned frown appeared across his previously smooth brow.

“Why? What's wrong?”

Libby avoided his eyes and began picking at the cushion's frill with her fingernail, her silence speaking volumes. Justin watched her for a moment before his mouth pulled up at one side and a cynical smirk appeared on his face. “Is this about that loser boyfriend of yours?” he asked, knowing full well that it was. “'Cause I've already told you what to do about that. You need to get rid of him and find someone who'll treat you with respect.”

Libby uttered a grunt of annoyance and rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, you keep saying.”

“Yeah, I keep saying, and you keep ignoring me.” Libby continued picking at the cushion frill but glanced up at him through her lashes. “I'm serious,” he said, ignoring her attempts to distract him. “That guy is bad news, Libby. You'd be better off without him.”

“You say that about everyone.”

“That's because all the men you date are jerks.”

“That's because all men are jerks!” Libby retaliated, her voice rising an octave. She always got defensive when he made sweeping statements about her love life. It wasn't as if he was qualified to offer her such advice - he regularly swapped girlfriends.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Clare said, waving the piece of paper in Justin's direction, “but what is this? Where did you get it?”

“Johnny's office,” he said. “I was on my way through and offered to drop it off for him. It's the week's meeting schedules or somethin'.” He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Libby, who was still scowling at him. “Although now I'm here I'm not sure why I bothered.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Clare said. “He could've just emailed it to me.”

“It's no trouble,” Justin said, flashing her a crooked smile. “Anything for you, Clare.” Libby poked her tongue out behind his back and pouted, making Clare smile. She could be a complete professional at work, but when it came to Justin her professionalism went straight out the window.

“See, Libs?” Clare said with a grin, “Not all men are bad.”

Justin turned his head to glance at Libby but she refused to meet his eyes. “I think the jury's still out on that one,” she muttered into the cushion.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Libby's mood didn't improve, so Justin didn't stick around long. He made his excuses and left, carrying a frown with him from his exchange with Libby. Clare suspected it wouldn't be the last time the subject of boyfriends would be mentioned. Something told her his brotherly advice had more to do with the green-eyed monster than anything else.

“I don't know why he's always moaning about my boyfriends,” Libby muttered, still sulking. “It's not like he ever bothers to get to know them.” She glanced out of the window at the brilliant blue sky and let out a little sigh.

“He doesn't like the way they treat you,” Clare said, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen as she finished her paragraph, her fingers flying over the keys in a crescendo of taps. She hit full stop and glanced over at Libby. “I can't say I blame him. You have a habit of falling for the most ridiculous men.”

Libby's smile broke and Clare detected a ever so slight blush on her cheeks. “I know,” she admitted sheepishly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

“Then why give Jay such a hard time about it? You know he's only trying to protect you.”

“He's over-protective. It annoys me. He flounces in here like he owns the place—”

“Libby, come on. That's hardly true.”

“—barking orders like he's the boss of me. Telling me who I can and can't be interested in.” She noticed Clare's smirk and became more irritated, continuing her tirade with renewed vigour. “Seriously! Why does he have to be in here every five minutes? Doesn't he have anything better to do?”

Clare let out a snort of laughter and said, incredulously, “Are you seriously complaining he's around too much? Libby, come on...”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because it sounds so ridiculous! Last week you were on the brink of tears because he cancelled plans to hang out with you, and now you're moaning you're seeing too much of him?” She shook her head and chuckled. “Don't you guys have plans tonight?”

Libby sucked on her bottom lip. “Er, yeah,” she said. “It's Tuesday. Pizza night.”

“So he's coming over to eat pizza and watch movies with you?”

“Yeah...”

Clare shook her head and sniggered. “You two make me laugh. You're the most coupley non-couple I've ever known. Next you'll be telling me he's moving in and sharing your room, but you're still,” she quoted with her fingers, “just friends.”

“We're are just friends,” Libby said defensively, her eyes flicking nervously to the doorway as her cheeks turned a bright red.

“It's okay, Lib. He's gone. You can drop the facade now.”

“It's not a facade,” Libby objected. “We are friends.”

Clare smirked again. “Friends,” she repeated, shooting Libby a knowing look. “Officially you're friends, yeah, but I know as well as you do that you'd much rather not be friends...” Libby pouted at her mentioning of the subject but couldn't deny Clare was right.

“It's okay to admit it,” Clare said gently. “I know you like to pretend at work but you don't have to pretend around me. I don't really see why you feel you have to pretend around Justin either. This love-hate relationship you try to maintain is pure fantasy.”

Libby met Clare's eyes and swallowed hard. It was difficult hearing the truth laid so plainly before her, and Clare's words almost made her want to cry. It was true, pretending all the time was exhausting.

“I know it's not easy,” Clare said, seeing the slight wobble in Libby's chin. “And I know it's not all you. I'm certain he's pretending too.” Her eyes flicked back to her laptop which had fallen into a dormant state, and she nudged a few keys with her fingertips to make it stir back to life. The unfinished document that appeared on the screen only served to remind her of all the work she wasn't getting done.

“I'm sure he's not pretending,” Libby said, her voice forlorn. “It'd be obvious by now. He'd have said something.”

“You don't know that,” Clare pointed out.

“I'm sure of it. 'Sides, what's the point? You know as well as I do that a relationship between us would never work out.”

“Why not?” Clare demanded, her brow furrowing. She despised self-pity, especially when it was used as a cover for fear. There was no definitive reason why Justin and Libby couldn't be happy together, and Libby knew it as well as she.

“Because he's a pop star and I work for his label,” Libby said. “Because I'm a nobody and he's a celebrity. Because he's not supposed to date anyone he works with. Because—”

“—Because you have loads in common?” Clare interrupted. “Because you share the same sense of humour? Because you're as thick as thieves when you're together and you mope around when you're apart?”

“I don't mope.”

“You're moping right now! You spent five months moping when he went on tour last year.”

“That's different...”

“It's not different at all. Libs, don't spend your life putting obstacles in your way that aren't there. If you like him, go for it. Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?”

Libby met her eyes and raised an eyebrow. It was a bit rich hearing Clare tell her to risk it all with Justin when she'd done absolutely nothing about her feelings for JC. She wanted to point this out, but Clare's expression warned her not to. It was clear she was finished with the conversation.

Taking the hint, Libby stood and made her way back to her office. Clare's words had left her with a lot to think about.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was lunch time, and somewhere in the depths of the communal fridge Clare's home-made salad pot was waiting for her, but, as usual, someone had pushed it aside to make room for a foot-long spaghetti meatball sub that was dripping marinara sauce all over the once-clean shelf. Clare didn't need a crystal ball to know who the culprit was.

Joseph Fatone.

She was just about to suck in a deep breath and holler his name when a tingle when down her spine and a familiar voice spoke close to her ear.

“Salad again, huh?”

Clare glanced over her shoulder to find a smirking JC standing very close behind her. She nervously reached up to brush some hair out of her eyes and smiled, trying to conceal how his abrupt arrival had affected her. She couldn't help thinking that only moments before she'd been on her hands and knees, searching through the refrigerator for her lunch, and what he might've witnessed had he been lurking behind her the whole time. She had no intention of bending over again with him standing so close, so she shut the fridge door and turned around to face him, a teasing smile on her lips.

“You know, for someone who relies on their face to help their career, you're pretty careless with yours.”

“Whaddya mean?” he asked, moving aside so he could lean against the kitchen counter and watch her, his grin firmly planted on his face.

“You always assume when you creep up behind me that I won't turn around and punch you in the face.”

JC snorted, unfazed by her threats. “It's a risk I'm willing to take,” he said, shrugging. “But seriously, what's with the salad? That's gotta be your third in as many days.”

“Jeez. What are you, food police?”

“Just interested,” he said. “Making conversation.”

“About salad,” Clare quipped, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “Mr. Smooth strikes again.”

“You didn't reply to my emails,” JC said, unaffected by her teasing.

“That's because I've been busy, Joshua. You know, working? Remember that?”

“I've been working,” he said, reaching out to take an apple from the fruit bowl that sat next to the microwave. It was kept perpetually full for when the members of *NSYNC, and the other groups that spent time at the compound, felt the need for a snack. Clare, needless to say, was not encouraged to make use of this particular facility. She and Libby were allowed to use the pool, outdoor basketball and volleyball courts, bowling alley and movie theatre, but only outside of work hours. “I've been in the studio all morning.”

“Really?” Clare said. “Jay didn't say anything when he popped in.”

“Justin wasn't involved. It was just me running over a few things I've been working on. But don't try to change the subject...”

Clare chuckled. “Your emails?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You want an answer?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You realise most people don't go to the trouble of sending out formal invitations to a night out? You could just leave a post-it note on my desk, or send a simple text.”

“I'm one of a kind,” JC said with a grin. “Old school.”

“You can say that again. But to answer your question yes we'll be there. Me and Libby are definitely up for a night out.”

“Awesome,” JC said before taking another big bite of his apple. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, a very evident twinkle lighting up what were already very attractive deep blue eyes. “You can get back to your salad now. Top right behind the OJ. I moved it so it wouldn't get covered in sauce.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

For Clare, the rest of the afternoon seemed to drag even with the crazy amount of work she had to do. Without any further interruptions she was able to get a lot done, until around three o'clock when a bored looking Chris Kirkpatrick sauntered into her office. Clare narrowed her eyes and let out a groan as he came to peer over her shoulder at her computer screen, half perching on the edge of her desk as he did so. He seemed oblivious to her annoyance, which was just another indication she needed to get a lock fitted on her door.

“Oh, God. What?”

“Whatcha doin'?”

“I'm trying to so some work,” Clare snapped. “I seem to be the only one today.”

“Quiet day,” he said, reading the document she'd been working on line by line. Clare pulled a face and unsuccessfully tried to block his view with her hand. It wasn't anything private, but that wasn't the point.

“Do you mind?”

He smirked. “Not particularly.”

Clare folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. She wasn't going to let him sit there watching her work while he did nothing, it was too distracting. “Did you have a reason for wandering in here?” she asked a little abrasively. “Cause if not...”

Chris raised his eyebrows at the challenge in her voice. “I just thought I'd come say hello,” he said, reaching out to fiddle with the pot of pens she kept on her desk. Clare watched him, her curiosity increasing with each passing moment and her eyes narrowed once again. He was up to something.

“Well, job done. Now, goodbye.” He cleared his throat, and his dark eyes met hers properly for the first time.

“Actually, there might've been something,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clare waited, but nothing came. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What was the thing?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat and glanced off towards the window. “I was just wondering if you knew when Jamie's gonna be back.” Clare blinked in surprise. Jamie? As in assistant tour manager Jamie?

“Er, day after tomorrow I think,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. Feeling her eyes on his face, he deliberately avoided her gaze, which only added to her intrigue. “Why do you ask?”

Chris shrugged and continued staring out of the window. “I have a tour related inquiry.”

I bet you do, Clare thought with a giggle. Tour related, my ass.

“Well I guess it'll have to wait another couple of days then,” she said, failing to get a grip on her amusement. Chris glanced at her hearing the laughter in her voice and his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, shut up! You're such a child sometimes. Grow up.” He stood and turned to leave, the only sign of his embarrassment the slight reddening of the tips of his ears. Clare burst out laughing at his defensive tone.

“You grow up!” she called after him. “And take your work related inquiries with you.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Justin was feeling sorry for himself.

“I don't get women,” he said as he bounced the basketball onto the court several times before sending it flying through the air towards the basket. Lance and Joey watched it flash through the net as Justin smiled triumphantly.

“That's the understatement of the year,” Joey said as he went to collect the ball for his turn.

Justin ignored him. “It's like whenever they're having a bad day they think it's okay to just take it out on you,” he said, turning to Lance.

“Who're we talking about?” Lance asked as Joey made a run up to the net but still managed to completely miss the target. He brushed it off with a quick jog back to the sideline and tossed the ball at Lance.

“Libby,” Joey said with a nod of his head towards the glum expression on Justin's face. “It's always about Libby.”

“Maybe you just have one of those faces?” Lance teased as he tossed the ball towards the net. It bounced off the backboard and went through the basket with a flourish.

Joey snorted a laugh and pretended to regard Justin carefully, his hand at his chin, his dark eyes scanning Justin's exasperated face. “He's right, you might just have one of those faces. How opposed are you to plastic surgery?”

“I was actually being serious,” Justin snapped, crossing the court to collect the ball from where it had bounced away from the net. He picked it up and glowered over his shoulder at Joey before using all of his 6'1” frame to send the ball into the basket. He landed back on his feet as gracefully and controlled as any professional ball player. “It's like I have the words punch bag written across my forehead that sends their bitchy hormones into overdrive.”

“Them?” Lance asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Joey smiled and mouthed Libby's name from behind the safety of Justin's back. He dramatically clutched his hands to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes to make Lance laugh.

“I'm guessing it's probably because she likes you,” Joey said when Justin turned to him and narrowed his eyes. “Women are like that, man, I'm telling you. If they can't tell you directly how they feel they just make your life miserable. That's how my Lisa managed to wear me down.”

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If I remember rightly, it was you who had to do all the chasin'.”

“She doesn't like me,” Justin said with a dismissive roll of his eyes. He was already beginning to wish he hadn't mentioned anything. Joey was okay to talk to on a one-to-one basis, but with an audience he turned into a one-man show. And not a particularly funny one.

“Then maybe she's just a—“

“Don't you dare,” Justin snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “Don't you say what I think you're gonna to say.”

“I think you do have feelings for her,” Lance said as Joey openly laughed at Justin's expression. “Why else would you be so defensive? You're always acting like her big brother, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one's looking.”

Justin muttered something unintelligible under his breath and held his hand out for the ball. When Joey didn't immediately return it to him, he clicked his fingers impatiently. “We're friends,” he said. “That's all.”

“Hmm...” said Joey with a smile, sending the ball towards him in a chorus of bounces. Even Lance sniggered and shook his head. “Where have I heard that before...?”

~~~~~*~~~~~

The first thing Clare heard when she got back from work that evening was Libby loudly ordering Justin to remove his foot from the couch. She shrugged out of her coat and dropped her keys onto the cabinet by the front door, removing her boots without bothering to untie the laces first. They fell onto the floor in a heavy clump and she kicked them out of the way, feeling too tired to pick them up and put them away properly.

As Justin's gurgling laughter filled the apartment, Clare remembered Libby's earlier mention of pizza night and she rolled her eyes. Being surrounded by Justin and Libby's unrequited sexual tension was exhausting, and she tended to spend the evening in her room whenever he was around. She'd do anything to avoid turning into the dreaded third wheel.

“Are you aware you have sauce on your face?” she asked Libby as she walked into the living room and leaned over the back of the sofa, squinting at the TV to try to identify the movie they were watching. It looked like some kind of horror movie, although it was hard to tell from the action on the screen. Justin's choice she suspected.

Libby looked accusingly at Justin and rubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “It better not be in my hair, Timberlake.”

“Or all over my sofa,” Clare added as she glanced at the younger man. He met her eyes and smirked apologetically but soon went back to laughing at Libby.

“It looks good,” he said, dodging out the way as one of her fists came hurtling towards him. She missed by quite a distance and he childishly stuck out his tongue to mock her. “Ha, ha. Missed!”

“No violence,” Clare said as Libby took another sweeping aim at him. “Can you two be trusted not to take chunks out of each other if I go work in my room?”

Libby glanced over the top of the sofa at Clare and dropped her hands to her side, initiating a temporary cease-fire. “You've got more to do?”

Clare nodded and let out a yawn. “Loads,” she said, “but before you ask, no I don't need any help.” She reached over the back of the couch and just managed to grasp the end of a slice of pizza, cradling it with her hand as she brought it to her mouth. “But I am going to steal some of your pizza.” She took a bite and walked back out of the room, leaving them to their own devices.

“You realise I'm going to have to get you back for putting sauce in my hair,” Libby said once they'd heard Clare's bedroom door click shut.

“It's not in your hair. It's on your face.”

“Same difference,” she said, reaching for a particularly cheesy slice of pizza that bent in half as soon as she picked it up. She took a huge bite and grinned at Justin, who was watching her with his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I still don't get how you can eat pineapple on pizza,” he said, glancing at his cheesy meat feast with extra pepperoni. A man's pizza, as he put it. There were many foods he considered suitable for pizza, but fruit wasn't one of them.

“It's delicious!” Libby said through a mouthful of stringy cheese. “You're just a weirdo for not liking it.”

“Self preservation,” he said, reaching out to poke her on the chin and make her giggle. Libby pushed the last of her slice into her mouth and grinned at him, her full cheeks billowing out at the sides. “You look like a hamster,” he said, his eyes flicking back to the TV screen and the long forgotten movie. He couldn't appear to be too absorbed in her, even though he was struggling to keep his eyes away from her face for more than a few seconds. “Did you hear we're going clubbing tomorrow night?”

“Are we? That's news to me.”

“You're not coming?”

“I didn't say that. It's just the first I've heard about it.”

“You need to check your email more often. JC sent at least a handful of emails about it today alone.”

“Argh,” Libby said with a roll of her eyes. She shuffled around on the sofa to get more comfortable and reached for the glass of soda on the floor by her feet. “That's probably why I've been avoiding checking my email. 'Sides, I've been too busy working on the website to have time to check email. It's been one of those weeks so far.”

“Need any help?”

“No, you're okay, thanks. It's not difficult, I just have to keep plodding on and get it done. It's tricky trying to fit it all in while studying, not to mention everything else.”

“Everything else being...?”

Libby let out a sigh and picked at her sleeve, avoiding his eyes. “Oh, you know...”

“Not unless you tell me,” he said. He reached out and nudged her affectionately on the shoulder, making her laugh and shove him back playfully. “Come on, tell me. What's up?”

“Oh, just the end of yet another promising relationship,” she muttered under her breath. “I got dumped again.” Justin shook his head, a plethora of emotions crossing his face before he met her eyes.

“Couldn't have been that promising then,” he said.

“Gee, thanks,” Libby muttered, placing her glass back on the floor. “I'm actually pretty upset about it.” Justin let out an almost irritated sounding sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Why? That guy was a complete jerk. He treated you like crap and made you miserable. How can you be sad it's over?” Libby didn't know what to say. How could she put it into words to him of all people? She swallowed a couple of times and realised he was staring at her, waiting for her response.

“I dunno,” she said. “I guess I'm just disappointed to have put in all that effort and it still didn't work out.”

“If you're the only person putting the effort in, it's not a relationship worth bothering with,” Justin said matter-of-factly. “And if it's a relationship that's making you unhappy, you shouldn't be in it.”

“Easy for you to say. You could have a new girlfriend every week if you wanted to. Women practically throw themselves at you.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That's not true,” he said.

“Yes, it is!” Libby said with a shrill laugh. “Believe me, I get the emails to prove it. Every day I have to read tonnes of fan mail with women declaring their love for you. And you wonder why I don't make checking email a priority.”

“Well, perhaps unlike you I'm a little choosier about who I date,” he said, ignoring her smirk. His blue eyes scanned over to the TV and back. “I'm serious,” he said when he detected the bubble of laughter about to burst out of her. She enjoyed making him squirm when she mentioned his fans. He still hadn't quite adapted to the idea of being adored by millions of women, and Libby wasn't sure he ever would. “You should be choosier. It'd save you from getting hurt.”

The smile dropped from Libby's face and she, too, glanced at the TV. He had a point but how could she tell him the only reason she wasn't choosy about who she dated was because she didn't think the person she liked would ever be interested. She was stuck firmly in the friend zone.

Justin continued watching her, waiting to see if his words would actually sink in this time. They'd had this conversation a hundred times before, and each time it'd seem as though she'd finally taken on board what he'd said, only for her to go out and start a relationship with the first guy who smiled at her. It was infuriating, and he understood part of that was because he hated seeing her hurt; because hurt she always got. In no time they'd be back on the couch with him consoling her, telling her to be more choosy and her nodding along with tears in her eyes.

“Seriously, Libs. Find someone who can't believe how lucky they are to be with you.” Libby gave him a weak smile and swallowed hard, self-consciously glancing down at her pizza sauce stained hoodie and jeans. She couldn't look him in the eye when he said things like that. It felt like he'd be able to see right through her and the thought was terrifying. “Okay,” she said, giving a little nod. “I'll look out for that.”

“Good. That's what I wanna hear.”

And he meant it.

~~~~~*~~~~~