"Yeah, can I get a Ruttie Tootie Fresh and Fruity with a glass of orange juice, please? No straw. Thank you." JC handed his menu to the waiter, who shoved in into the large pocket of his apron before riveting his eyes on me.

"Water." I said, coldly, handing him my menu, as well. I hadn't even realized what a bitch I was being until I saw the look he was giving me. When my eyes narrowed to JC and I saw that grin on his face I suddenly had a change of heart. Hey, my stomach was growling, I was a poor college student and, like Justin, he was rich. May as well mooch off of this asshole as much as I could, "Actually can I have what he's having as well as the buttermilk pancakes, T-Bone steak, extra eggs, scrambled, extra hash browns, the chicken tenders with barbeque sauce, your club sandwich and two glasses of lemonade?" I smiled at the look of horror on the waiter's face and patted my stomach, "Going to need something to wash all of that down."

The waiter was not amused and I didn't blame him. I would hate me, too, if I was him. I felt very regrettable when he walked away from the table, simply because that meant I had to be alone with JC.

"Do you usually eat that much? I don't know where you put it." He said, laughing.

I remained stoic, "I have a special compartment in my stomach for the days I want to spend up as much of a rich asshole's money as I possibly can."

He raised his eyebrows. Even though he'd been receiving them since the minute he introduced himself he was still bothered by my quips.

Good.

"Besides, this is IHOP. I highly doubt you're going to break the bank this morning."

"I guess." He said, smiling at our waiter and accepting the drinks he'd prepared so quickly, "Thank you." he took a sip, "Mm... now, Trevion." He said, folding his arms in front of him on the table.

People didn't recognize JC as much as they did Justin. If he had ever had the balls to step into a place like this we'd have been getting all kinds of stares ten minutes ago.

"Is that why you did it?" I whispered, my eyes still searching the restaurant.

He seemed confused, "Did what?"

I looked back at him, my arms crossed over my chest, lips pulled tight, "Is that why you fucked Justin's girlfriend? You resent him?"

"What in the world gave you that idea?"

I looked around us. This was a restaurant two miles off campus, filled with young people. Not a soul looked in our direction. Nobody knew him, nobody cared.

"It's got to bother you that Justin gets all of the attention."

He seemed surprised at my observation.

I smiled, "It's okay. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. NSync may as well change their names to Justin and the 'she's'. A lot of people say that it's better to come in third than to come in second because at least when you're in third you don't torture yourself with that fact that if you'd just done something a little different... if you just had that extra special something you'd be the one in first instead of the other guy. Jealousy can drive people to do crazy things. Maybe you fucked Justin's girlfriend because you wanted to hurt him. Because that was the only thing you could think of that would make you number one."

He sat, silently.

"Am I right?" I took a sip of my lemonade, "Hm? JC?"

His lips pursed together and looked almost white. His fists were clenched in front of him on the table.

"Is that why I found him on the roof of my fucking dorm about to kill himself?" I whispered, quickly getting worked up. "Can you see anything past your jealousy? Do you even have any idea what an amazing fucking person he is? How much so many people would have lost had he succeeded in taking his life that night? You KNEW about it, and didn't do a DAMN thing."

"I knew about it, but I didn't know where he was. What the fuck could I do?"

"Oh, well, excuse me, I guess we can just call it a day, then. Let's not forget, JC, that you fucked Britney."

"That was..." He couldn't seem to find the words so he just looked away, shaking his head.

"I'm disgusted that you have the fucking nerve to cry. If you shed one tear I swear to god..." I shook my head, "I will turn this bitch into a Lifetime movie and throw this entire drink in your face. I'll do it." I said, raising my eyebrows as I took another sip.

"Are you done?" He asked.

"No." I said, crossing my arms over his chest, "How did you know? Earlier today? How did you know that Justin tried to kill himself?"

"You don't know?"

"Obviously, I don't fucking know or I wouldn't be asking."

He sighed. "I've got to be honest, I can see why he likes you."

"Well, that makes one of us."

"Personally, I think you're extremely insecure and way too angry for your own good."

"Oh, yeah? Join the fucking club. Answer the question."

"How did I know he was going to kill himself?"

"Is there an echo in here, or what?"

JC leaned on his elbows, "What happened with me and Britney was not because of jealousy. It was not because of hate. Their relationship was not on the rocks. Me and her had never had any real attraction or chemistry to each other and the whole thing wasn't some master plan to ruin Justin's life. When it happened we thought he was in Canada, but he wasn't. It just..." he looked away from me, but I could still see the tears in his eyes.

I ALMOST felt sorry for him and I had no one to blame for that but Justin. Before he'd come along I was capable of not giving a damn, especially for crying men. Things were very different now. I was different.

"It just fucking happened." He reached for the napkin on the table and covered his entire face with it, "For the rest of my life there will never be a day that I wish it didn't... but it did."

I stared at him.

"What you don't know." He said, pointing a finger at me, "Is that Justin tried to kill himself before he even made the decision to come to Vegas."

I raised an eyebrow.

"The magazines say that Britney spun off of the road, Justin probably told you that she was following him, she wasn't. He was following her."

My heart was suddenly pounding against my chest and with every word he said I felt like I was losing the control in this conversation. I was terrified of what he was going to say because Justin had, indeed, told me that Britney had followed him after he caught she and JC together.

"He called my cellphone right as it was happening." He paused, his voice broken, "He..." Unable to speak, he looked away from me again, "I got in my car and I tried to make it to where they were but there was no way... they were almost to Malibu and I was in North Hollywood."

At the feeling or tears in my own eyes, I surprised myself. Only because I couldn't figure out who I wanted to cry for, JC or Justin.

"He was going to run her car off of the road and then do the same to himself."

My mouth sat agape.

"Then he thought about Hannah... that's what they were going to name their girl... Hannah." He paused, "So, he stopped the car. Britney kept going. About two miles up the road is where she crashed. She lost the baby. She almost died, it was... It was fucking awful."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't even breathe.

"Everybody thinks that Britney crashed in her rush to catch and reassure Justin, but that's not the truth. She's in the hospital and stable but she can't remember anything that happened. Doctors don't think she ever will."

"How the hell do you know this is how it happened?"

He smiled a tiny, pitiful smile, "Because he told me."

I raised an eyebrow, "And you haven't told anybody?"

"No, I haven't. I wont."

"Why?"

His blue eyes met mine and for the first time, I felt like I could understand him. "Because, I love him."

Those words did it. The first tear fell down my cheek due to the simple fact that I knew Justin loved him, too, but they would probably never talk again. It felt like such a waste. Two people that genuinely cared for each other barred from expressing that emotion by the extremely unfortunate circumstances.

JC sniffled and touched the tip of his nose, "It's always nice to hear the whole story, Trevion, before you decide who the bad guy really is."

I watched him, but didn't say a word. Burns had always taught me that there were three sides to every story. Your side, their side, and the truth. For some reason, it was easy to believe the words JC was saying. I understood where he was coming from but I was completely biased. He would always be the bad guy, and there was nothing he or anyone else could say to make that different. Justin was the one I cared for, I was on his side, through thick and thin.

"That doesn't change the fact that you fucked Britney."

"No, but it doesn't change the fact that he tried to kill her, his unborn child and himself, either."

"I doubt he was mentally capable under the circumstances. How can you think straight after some shit like that?"

JC just shrugged, "I don't know."

"You're right." I said, "You don't know."

The waiter presented us with our food and needed three other people to help him set the plates on the table. I'm sure the tears in mine and JC's eyes were freaking them the hell out but I honestly didn't care.

"Thank you." I said to all of them. "Look, JC, I had breakfast with you, I listened and I'm going to think about everything. You promised if I did that you would stay away from Justin."

"I always keep my word." He said, clasping his hands.

"And I don't mean just leave Justin alone. I mean, leave the city. Please?"

"Wow, that sounded like desperation. It isn't good for your complexion."

"Yeah? Neither is a fat lip, don't test me."

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. "Of course not. Besides, like you said, Trevion, I don't have a death wish and I do know Justin a little better than you do. I know that he needs time, an indefinite amount of time. I'm a patient man, and I can wait."

I rolled my eyes before grabbing my purse, "I'm gonna go."

Of course, I grabbed a sausage link on my way out.

My fucking stomach was killing me.

--

It might have been all of the standing up for Justin excitement or the fact that I was too busy trying to beat JC into the ground with my words, but I hadn't realized how thoroughly pissed off I was until I was almost back to campus. Why had Justin lied to me? I'd been completely truthful with him that night about my life and he'd lied straight to my face. The guy was constantly going on about trust in our relationship. I mean... constantly.

Strangely enough, I was the only one of us who had been fucking truthful through this whole thing.

The entire ride home I tried to think of reasons that would justify his lying to me but it was hard. I could barely come up with two. When I'm consumed with anger, though, thinking straight isn't my strong point. Obviously, I couldn't ask him why he'd lied to me, because then he'd know that I had been talking to JC.

And... that would be bad.

Surprisingly, on my way to the dorms I made a u-turn on Las Vegas Blvd. A u-turn that led straight to Justin's apartment-hotel-condo-house-whatever the fuck.

I pulled my Passat up to valet, not thinking about that fact that I would actually have to PAY those people until I was on the elevator to Justin's floor.

"Fuck." I said, reaching into my back pocket. I had three dollars. The dinging of the elevator ripped me away from my money woes and I stepped off and took the route to Justin's apartment that I knew so well. The hallways in that place were gorgeous. They were what I loved most. For one reason or another, it seemed brighter and friendlier than my dorms and I always hated leaving it.

My boots heaved against the pretty floor, noisily, until I was standing in front of his door. When I knocked I began looking through my purse for my phone. Odds were, he was in the shower.

He was always in the shower.

"Fucking neat freak." I said, dialing the number to his phone, which I knew he sat on the toilet while he was showering. Halfway into the first ring, to my surprise, the door swung open and I jumped, "Whoa!" I beamed, taking a step back.

Trace tried to smile, but it fell, quickly. I could appreciate that, at least he wasn't being fake.

"Oh." I said, my voice dropping a few decibels, "It's you."

"It is. Justin hasn't gotten rid of you, yet?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"It's been almost twenty years. You'll be gone before I will."

The truth behind his words startled me more than I ever thought they could, "Yeah, well, I can't remember when I've had more fun, but... where's Justin?"

"He's in the shower." Trace finalized.

"Shocking. Tell him to get out."

"Can't you just come back later?"

"Um." I pretended to think, "No."

He looked at me like I was crazy before rolling his eyes, "Fine, common in."

"I'm good."

"Fine." He held his hand up in a very "talk to the hand" fashion before making his way towards Justin's room, "Bitch."

"I heard that you fucking twerp."

Twerp? Lame. Is it me or does it say something that I have horrible relationships with everyone Justin is or used to be close to? It made me wonder about how I would have gotten along with Britney if none of this had happened. Or if his mother would like me. I wasn't a mean person, after all, JC and Trace had, simply, provoked my anger. Trace because he was a, simple as that, asshole. JC because he'd hurt Justin. I'm sure if I'd met Justin's mother, who'd done nothing but raise him into the amazing man he was today, that we'd get along fine.

Hopefully.

At that moment I realized that I was actually entertaining the thought of meeting Justin's parents. Sometimes I scared myself at all the new shit my brain was allowing me to think.

"Trev?"

Dude, I am really good and completely zoning out and being oblivious to everything going on around me, even if it's standing right in front of me, half naked.

When my eyes met Justin's, I noticed that he had finally shaved, and how soft it made his face look. I noticed that his hair looked almost black when it was wet. I noticed that he had nothing covering his moist body but a burgundy towel that was barely hanging on to his hips, which were perfectly toned, by the way. I couldn't complain about the pecs, either. Or the arms. The legs were a little skinny, but not repulsively so. They were very... Justin.

I noticed all of this, but none of it mattered, because just looking at him made me angry, all over again. The entire drive down there I'd been thinking of a smooth way to bring up his lies, but seeing him standing there made that all go flying out the window. That was always how it seemed to work with me and him.

He smiled and it was a real one that time. I could tell.

"Hey you. It's early, I didn't think you left your cave until, at least, ten."

I didn't respond.

He frowned, but continued talking. "I was just taking a shower and I was going to call you when I got out. Since you're here now, though, I have to ask, when you see a guy walking down the street, how important is it that his shoes be clean and fresh as opposed to--"

"Why did you lie to me?" I asked, clutching my purse strap under my hand and squinting my eyes quizzically up at him. I was trying to tell myself to stay calm and not start yelling and cussing until I had a real reason. I was actually nervous. That had never happened before.

Already flustered at being interrupted in the middle of his sentence, Justin shook his head, as if he were struggling to keep up. "What are you talking about?"

"You lied." I said, again.

He looked behind him, as if there was supposed to be someone there to help him, then back at me, "Huh?"

"Was Britney really following you? Or were you following her? That day in Malibu?"

The question seemed to awake something in Justin. Something that I had never seen in the three short weeks I'd known him. I wanted so badly for him to deny it and make JC a liar, but, somehow, I knew that wasn't how it was going to happen. I knew JC had told me nothing but the truth. When Justin swallowed hard and closed his eyes that was all the answer I needed, "Trev."

"Did you try to kill her, Justin?"

He opened his mouth to speak.

"Her and Hannah? That's what you were going to name your daughter, right? Hannah?"

I know, I was being unbelievably stupid right now but I seriously could not help it. My emotions were doing the talking for me. When he didn't seem in a big hurry to give me any real response, I felt my heart pounding faster against my chest.

"So, it's true." I said, "You lied."

For the first time since I'd met him the sight of his bottom lip trembling didn't phase me.

"I've been honest with you from the start... about everything."

He cringed, "I know."

"You were really going to run her off of the road? Really?"

He opened his mouth.

"God, you know what? Don't even answer. I don't want it to ruin..." I frowned, "This fucking pedestal I've put you on. So, just don't."

"Trev, please... come in, alright?" He held the towel steady on his waist while reaching his arm out towards me. When I stepped away his entire face broke. "Trev." He begged, his eyes squeezing into slits, "Come inside so we can talk."

"So you can tell me a few more lies? Shove a little more bullshit down my dumb ass throat? Must have been a happy day for you when you realized how easy it would be to manipulate me, huh?"

"No."

"No? No? You know what? That sounds good. No, Justin, I wont fucking come in. I don't even want to be near you right now. And put some fucking clothes on."

I was enjoying the view way more than I should have.

His arm dropped against his side and, after a minute, he held it back out in front of him, "Who... who told you this?"

"I read it... in a magazine. Never thought it would be true."

Wow... that was actually convincing. That was actually a lie. How big of a hypocrite am I, huh?

"Come in the house." He asked again, stepping to the side, "Please."

"No."

"Please, Trev."

I looked at him, "No, Justin. What's so fucking hard about that?" I stepped away from him and turned to leave.

"Can I come by later?" He called.

I turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow, "Come by later?"

He sighed, "Yeah. When I'm not wearing a towel?"

"No."

"Can I call you?"

"I'm thinking, hell no."

"No?"

"No."

"How long until you're ready to talk to me?"

I didn't stop walking and tapped my chin, "Hmm, I'm thinking... um, never."

"Why are you walking away from me right now? Come back!"

"No!"

"No?!"

"No!" Right when I was about to get into the elevator, a light when on in my head. I did a double take and marched back up to his door, a determined scowl on my face, "You know what the fuck you can do for me right now, Justin?"

"Anything."

"You can give me ten bucks. I parked valet."

His face clearly conveyed that he was wondering whether or not I was serious. When he finally realized I was, he walked away from the door. A few minutes later, he returned, shuffling through his wallet. When he pulled out a hundred and tried to stick it in my jacket pocket I stepped away.

"Don't be stupid."

"Take it."

"This isn't Pretty Woman."

"But, you love that movie."

"You're only cute when you're not trying to be... the way you are now. You can't buy me."

"Yet, you're asking me for money?"

"I have no choice. I've been hanging around with you for too long and, in my Timberlake stupor, I actually forgot that I'm broke and handed my keys to the valet. The fact that I was pissed off and wanted to get up here as soon as possible explains my temporary loss of sense, as well. I think it's an understandable mistake that wont happen, again."

"You could park valet everywhere you went if you let me help you out."

"I don't need help."

"You're barely getting by. I know you're taking on a student loan that you can't afford."

"Fucking Burns." I mumbled, looking away. I looked back at him, extremely agitated. "Is he handing out a Trevion Spencer information packet that I'm not aware of, or what?"

"It's not like I'm getting any information from you."

"Oh, that's rich. Listen to the judgment from the dude who's been lying this entire time! Who the hell knows what else you've been lying about! Is your name really Justin Timberlake? Was that car you bought me paid for legally or with the money you make selling crack, as a side job? Is Trace really your best friend? Or is he an accomplice in some extremely elaborate plan to send my life into a fucking tailspin?!"

"Trev, you're being ridiculous."

"At least I'm not a liar."

"I'm not--"

"Don't even--" I held my hand up and jammed my eyes shut. "Don't even deny it, because you'll just be lying, again, you fucking... liar!"

Damn, I had to tighten up on my insults.

"I haven't been--" He sighed, then rolled his eyes. "I can help you pay that loan." He insisted, obviously desperate to change the subject. "I thought you told me you had a scholarship."

"I do have a scholarship, but that doesn't mean everything is free. You have to consider the I have books, dorm rooms and food to pay for. Jesus Christ, I wish I could live in your pretty little world for one fucking day. It's got to be like heaven over there."

"Well, I assume there's no such thing as debt in my world, but that's true of all heavens."

"Are you seriously trying to make jokes, right now?"

"You're practically crucifying me for trying to make your life a little easier. Damn, I'm such a fucking monster!"

"That's insulting."

"Why?!"

"I don't need your help, Justin. You cannot buy me... okay?"

"I don't want to buy you. I want you..." he paused, "I want you happy."

"And that involves giving me money? Yet again, Donald Trump, you can't buy me."

"Donald Trump is actually in debt so the comment you just made holds no real--"

"Stop talking."

"I'm not trying to buy you."

"That's funny, because it seems like you are, which is such a colossal waste of your time, since I'm not that kind of girl."

"That's obvious since I just got finished buying you a car and we're in the middle of a fight not even twenty-four hours later."

"That is exactly why I didn't want that fucking car, in the first place. Is this what you're going to do? Make me feel bad about it every day for the rest of my life?"

"Are you going to make me feel bad about what happened with Britney? Something that I could hardly control? Something that happened when I was out of my mind and going through a complete mental breakdown? It goes both ways, Trev." he said, putting the hundred back into his wallet. He closed his wallet and sighed, "All I have is hundreds."

"What are you, selling crack as a side job, or what?"

"Didn't you already make that joke?"

I frowned. Did I?

"And, no, I took it out for Valentines." He said.

"Are you joking?"

He didn't flinch, "No."

"What did we talk about yesterday afternoon? A card, Justin. All I want is a card, alright? And that's if we even have a Valentines after the recent turn of events."

"I can't just buy you a card. That's not who I am."

I crossed my arms, "Well, as long as you're comfortable, that's all that matters."

"You'll like it... I promise."

"Well, that should be interesting since I don't even like you right now."

"You wont listen to what I have to say!"

"No, I wont."

Justin sighed and looked down at his wallet, shuffling through the bills.

"If you spend that money on me I'll never talk to you, again."

"So you were planning on talking to me, again?"

He smiled and that's when I realized that he was doing quite an impressive job of completely manipulating me.

"Don't try to play me." I warned.

"Why would I do that, Trev? You're too busy playing yourself."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"You tell me."

"Stop doing that! Fuck, I hate that!" I screamed, pointing at him. I was fully aware that I was losing the control in the conversation (for the second time that day), but could hardly find it in myself to care.

"That's what you do, Trevion, you play games."

"What? I've had one official boyfriend in my entire life and, according to my roommate, that doesn't even count because it was in the second grade. So, no, I'm not playing games. It's kind of hard to do that when you don't know the rules."

"Please, you're playing me right now, and you know it."

"What?"

"You got more game than Candyland."

It was at that moment that I came to my senses, and, as I watched him, it was difficult for me not to laugh in his face.

I had to take a step away from him to compose myself. Oh, he was good.

"I can see what you're doing, you asshole." I spat. "And I still haven't forgotten that you lied to me."

He grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The hell you don't."

"I don't understand you."

"No? Get in the back of the fucking line because I understand about this much..." I pinched my fingers together, "about you. And that's assuming this is the only thing you've lied to me about."

"I think you're being a little hypocritical."

"I think you're about to get punched in the nose."

"You're saying you've never lied to me, Trevion?"

"Never."

"Not once?"

"No."

"About anything?"

"NO."

"Look me in the eye... and tell me you've never lied to me."

I looked him in the eye, thankful that he didn't know how good of a liar I actually was.

"I have never lied to you, Justin."

"Liar."

I pointed at him. "You see, this is the shit I'm talking about. The games. I hate that shit."

"Trev--"

"No, you know what? You're pissing me off. I'm leaving and I still need money for valet."

"Funny how you flee when the skillet gets hot."

I held out my hand, refusing to look at him. "Money."

"Wait." he said, shuffling through this wallet before pulling out a card, "Use the Visa."

"Oh how nice. Two problems. One, I'm not the whore you hand your credit card to when you're on your way out of the suite for a business meeting. And two... your name is on it, shit for brains."

"They know about you..." He held it out. "They'll let you use it, don't worry."

"What makes you think I wont take your card and move to Jamaica?"

"I trust you."

I cringed, annoyed that he was getting to me, "I don't want your fucking money."

I went to walk away, again, then common sense took hold of my legs.

"Yes I do." I said, snatching the card from his outstretched had before hurrying down the hallway. I really did hate taking his money but if I hadn't there was no way in hell the valet would give me my car back with the few dollars I had in my own pocket. It wasn't until I heard his door close that I realized how he'd turned this whole thing around on me. I was barely mad, anymore, and he'd meant for it to happen that way. I just knew it. For a minute, he'd actually had me feeling like I was the asshole, since I'd yet to tell him about JC.

He was way too good.

When I made it out of the entrance and to the valet I held the card out to the young man, waiting for him to look at me like I was crazy. I mean, there I was, a broke college student with torn Levis and a pair of black boots with the zippers broken on both sides offering up a pop star's credit card.

"Um, it's the Passat."

"Of course, Miss, will you be leaving a tip, this morning?"

"Um, sure... five dollars, I guess. Actually, make that twenty. You know what? I'm suddenly feeling charitable. Fifty dollars." I said, smiling. Spending up Justin's money was making me feel much better.

"That's very kind of you, Miss." The valet said, his smile even wider as he clutched my card. He'd yet to take a look at the name of the cardholder.

In my head, I was imagining how many seconds it would take for the cops to get there once this guy came to the quick conclusion that I'd robbed Justin Timberlake and raided his wallet.

The young man, surprisingly, took the card from my hand with no question and headed around his little podium. My heart thudded as he punched around on the screen before him. Then he smiled at the screen, and I was slightly confused. "Ah... Mrs. Timberlake." He called, looking up at me and grinning wider.

I blinked and when I opened my mouth to correct him I couldn't even speak. Never in my life did I think I'd want to murder Justin as much as I did that moment. I could almost imagine the shit eating grin he must have had on his face when he'd decided to tell every worker in this place that I was his wife.

"Mrs. Timberlake?" The man asked, again, taking notice of the dumb fuck look I surely had on my face.

"I'm not--" He blinked at me, ever smiling. "I mean, my name isn't--"

He blinked, again.

I sighed and snatched the card. "Forget it."

His smile never faltered and he motioned to the lot as one of the workers pulled my car up to the curb, "Here we are, Mrs. Timberlake."

"Call me Trevion!" I insisted, holding my hands in the air, unable to take another second of it.

He seemed genuinely apologetic, "Forgive me, Mrs. Timberlake."

He held the door open for me and I climbed in, fighting not to laugh. If this was what it was like for whatever patient girl happened to get stuck with Justin, then I was happy for her. Being catered to and worshiped for nothing more than the man you married was a luxury I'd yet to experience and I was certainly enjoying it, thus far.

"Thank you." I said.

The man closed my door for me and it was at that moment that I realized how much I disliked the thought of any other woman in the world ever being referred to by that name.

I mean, I really disliked it.

A lot.

"I'm a sick woman."

After I'd pulled my seat belt on I adjusted the sunglasses on my face, started the car and tuned my radio. I was in the middle of putting my car in drive as my brain raced. I could hardly move when I slowly came to the realization that the car I was driving, the sunglasses on my face and the credit card in my purse were all there because of one person. My heart jumped, and, with the speed of a cheetah, I'd pulled the glasses from my eyes and all but lunged them to the other end of the car. At the beginning of all of this, Justin had taken over all of my thoughts. Slowly, but surely, he was taking over my life.

What really scared me, though, was that a complaint was hard to come by. My brain, which had always been my pessimistic equal, was beginning to grow as fond as my heart. It was an unwelcome and unfamiliar change, one of many, that I'd experienced, since the day I'd stepped foot on that god damn roof. I thought about how different my life would be if I hadn't found Justin that night, and I didn't like the thought. Not even a little.

"I'm a sick, sick woman."