If this chapter cuts off for you you can read the rest here: http://www.sin.tasting-eden.com/sin14.html 
--
When it comes down to hunting their prey, Justin Timberlake fans could easily rival twenty foot tiger sharks when it comes to sheer, not to mention blind, determination. The two animals--Timberlake fans and sharks, that is-- are similar in several fashions. They both spend most of their time searching for they're next meal, they both come at you, hard and fast, when you least expect it and they're both known to engage in very unprovoked attacks (this point is driven all the way home when Justin's fans run after him while he's running away from them). The only real difference I've ever been able to discern between the two species is that, while they are a lot bigger and a lot faster than the average teenage girl, tiger sharks are, for the most part, completely incapable of calling their prey on the phone... at six in the morning... on a Saturday.

"What?" I spat into the phone, which had started ringing for the twelfth time that night-- or day, depending on who you asked. If I guessed right, it was almost seven o’clock in the morning. Which meant that, if there wasn't a phone between us, the asshole who kept calling would be a dead woman at the hands of Trevion Spencer. That was assuming, of course, that it WAS a woman. It was definitely one of Justin's fans, which meant there was a 2 out of 3 chance that it most certainly was.

Silence followed on the other end of the line and a small, girly voice whispered. "Is Justin home? I heard about his father and I just wanted to--"

I took my cue from Justin, who'd stopped picking up the fucking thing after the fifth call, and hung up on the girl before she could finish talking.

I looked at the clock. It was three more hours until the funeral.

Then I wondered, what on earth could possess these idiots to think that Justin wanted to hear their voices, of all voices, right now? Most of the calls that had come in (god only knew how several dozen of his fans had all of a sudden gotten their hands on his GRANDMA'S phone number) were not calls of genuine sympathy. They were the calls of rabid teenage girls who just wanted to hear his voice. The girls who set there goals a little higher, as many did, probably planned on showing their sympathy and then taking complete advantage of the pop star in his sensitive state.

However annoying, his fans certainly were persist and undoubtedly thorough. The next one that called, though, was getting some serious lip.

I looked at the clock. Two hours and fifty seven minutes until the funeral.

"Trev."

His voice startled me. I looked over at Justin, barely able to make out his face since his monster of a little brother had thrown half of his arm over my forehead somewhere in the night. I'd stopped trying to remove him from my body after the tenth time it happened. I was a woman surrendered to a five year old and his flailing limbs.

I could barely make out Justin, and what I could discern was a very tired young man. His eyes were closed tightly, as if he were determined not to wake up, fully. And his voice was more hoarse than a fifty year old woman who'd been smoking for twenty five.

"Stop answering the fucking phone." He groaned, before he buried his head in the pillow.

"Maybe you should tell your asshole fans to stop calling." I whispered back.

"Uuuuummmm..."

I stared down at the sleeping monster beneath me and almost laughed. "The little rat is a hardcore Christian when he's sleeping, too? What's to stop me from killing him?"

"Shut up." Justin mumbled into the pillow.

That pissed me off, and I wanted to cuss him out.

I fell asleep before I could.

--

When I woke up, Steven's hand had retired itself from my face, fortunately.

Unfortunately, said hand had been immediately replaced with the little animal's disgusting foot, who's big toe was hanging on the edge of my lip.

I swatted the foot out of my mouth in disgust and was mere seconds from pounding Steven into oblivion when I heard the unmistakable laugher of Justin Timberlake from the other end of the bed. I turned that way, fully expecting him to be just waking up, as I was.

I was surprised, however, when I found the man of the hour sitting in a chair next to the bed, fully dressed, and watching us. Me and the troll, that is.

"Were you watching me sleep? I don't know whether to laugh or run. You're crazy, Timberlake."

"Yeah." He agreed. "Crazy about you."

"Oh, shut UP.

He continued to sit quietly, chin in his hand, observing .

"What are you looking at? I know this…" I pointed to my face. "Aint a pretty picture in the morning, but you don't have to gawk. Not all of us shine as bright as the sun at…" I glanced at the clock. "Six AM?!" My face turned to stone. "I'll save you a seat in hell."

He continued to stare, unaffected as always, then, out of nowhere, "Who's that guy? The one that walks you from class, sometimes?"

"What are you? Stalking me?" I laughed, and when he didn't, my smile fell. "Justin?" I whispered.

Justin then asked, conversationally, as if this entire discussion hadn't just come completely out of the left field of Jupiter. "What's his name?"

My eyes widened.

"What?" He smiled.

"Maybe I should warn Chet that he has a stalker. Well, he's probably used to that. I think you would probably be the first of his stalkers with a penis, however."

"His name is Chet?"

"You're actually serious?"

"How well do you know him?"

"Justin… it's six am."

"It's just a simple question."

"You know what else is simple? Shooting someone in the head. That doesn't make it right." I turned away from him to go back to sleep, then shot him a look, "But you are mere seconds from such a fate, Timberlake. Just a little warning."

"I was just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"How well do you know him?"

"It is too early for this shit."

"I just want to know where I stand… that's all."

I eyed him carefully. "About three feet away from me. The perfect distance to drive a spear through your chest." When he didn't laugh, I groaned. "Chet is kind of like that mosquito that you keep swatting away that always comes back for more. You know the kind. The kind that seems to enjoy the abuse? The kind that craves more and more? That's how Chet is. Not that I think about it…" I laughed. "He's a lot like you."

"So he basically barricaded his way into your life."

"Basically."

"And you hate him?"

"Consistently."

"Everything you just said proves that you like him."

"You have no idea how close you are to death." I rolled my eyes. "Are we done? Maybe you've forgotten, of course you have, you're a man… but I have cramps. Can I sleep now? It's six am."

"Actually, it's not six am, it's one in the afternoon."

My mouth dropped, then I realized that I had gone to bed at five in the morning. "You let me sleep until…" I gasped. "Justin! The church! We're late for the funeral. It's--"

"Already over." He interrupted. He must have seen the shock on my face, because he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Trev. I just didn't want you there. I didn't want you to see…" He paused and it was in that instant that I became aware of the puffiness in his eyes, his stuffy nose and how horse his voice seemed. "I didn't want you to watch me fall apart."

My heart pounded with anger as well as sadness. All I could say was. "Oh, Justin."

"I only have you for seven more hours and I just want to be with you like I always am. Laughing, being stupid and enjoying life.

"I wanted to be there for you." I said, frowning.

"I didn't want our last few hours together to be at a funeral. I don't want you to know the sight of me breaking down. Not in front of you, not for the third time. I don't want you to pity me…" He paused, then, in the next instant. "I don't want you to go."

I immediately covered my eyes. "Justin… I have school. You know that."

"Fuck… I just don't want you to go. I just wanted to tell you that. Okay?"

"Well, you've told me. I officially feel guilty. Congrats. Can I sleep now?"

He shook his head. "No. There's an after party starting in an hour and everyone wants to meet you."

I stared at him. "An after party to a funeral?"

"Mom said that's what Paul always wanted. He said he wanted everyone to be happy on the day of his funeral, not moping around."

I stared at him, took in his words, but all I could manage was a faint, dead. "Hm."

Then I realized that I would be meeting his family. The very people who were partially involved in the existence of the limb thrower that was still dead asleep on my left.

"Um…" I shook my head. "No."

--

The moment that Justin, Steven and I walked into Justin's Aunt Betty's house, where the "after party" was taking place, Justin gave me the lowdown as all eyes settled on us and all conversation halted.

He whispered in my ear. "Aunt Betty was never allowed to wear colors as a child, that's why this entire house is pink. She's seeing a therapist for it. Stay away from Uncle Jim. Every family has a pervert and he's ours. Cousin Valerie lost all of her hair when she was a child and is still bitter. If you value your hair, at all, you wont let her near it. Velma is a hard core Republican… say one negative thing about Bush and you're lucky if you leave here with both of your legs. Don’t eat the spaghetti. Elvis is the King, fried chicken is a delicacy and Charlie Daniels is god."

I was officially scared for my life.

He finished,I knew he could see the distress on my face, but didn't seem to care. "Smile and be friendly… it's only for an hour-- hey, Uncle Jim!"

As Justin jumped into Uncle Jim's arms like he hadn't just got finished calling him a pervert while Steven and I watched from the stands. I found myself clutching his little hand. It was only a matter of time, though, before he'd found some little kids he wanted to hang out with more than me and abandoned me, as well.

I never thought I'd live to see the day that I regretted losing Steven Timberlake.

Slowly, hesitantly, I made my way into the foyer, preparing myself for a very long hour of being ignored.

"Hey, everyone, look who's here!" A big woman with even bigger red hair beamed.

Like a flash, Justin was next to me. "Everyone." A silence fell over the room. "This is my good friend, Trevion."

"Yeah. We know." The all said this at the same time, as if they'd practiced that shit before we came.

"She had nothing to do with my leaving. Be nice to her." Justin added.

I stared at him in absolute horror and didn't tear my eyes away until he was out of my sight.

I looked around at my surroundings. Justin wasn't lying, EVERYTHING was pink. Pink walls, pink furniture, pinks electronics, pink pool tables, pink bathrooms, pink Tupper wears. Pink… everything.

I headed over to the only place I felt comfortable, the long table of food (which was also, you guessed it, pink). The first food item that caught my eye was the one that smelled the best.

The spaghetti.

Justin told you not to eat that. My brain told me.

Then I looked around. Most of the eyes in the room were still on me, which I'd grown used to in the passing weeks. The last thing I wanted to do was get to know any of these people. Eating seemed like the best way to avoid any real conversation. And the spaghetti DID smell good.

Besides, from what I could see… everyone else was eating it.

What was the harm?

Just as I was about to stuff my face, three triplets approached me. I was immediately reminded of Pamela Anderson.

"Hey, you're that chick from the magazines." One of the blonde's said. They were all the same height, appeared to be the same weight, and had the same empty, sapphire blue sparkle in their big eyes.

I stared at the three of them, then down at their tits. Now, I was no lesbian, but even I couldn't keep my eyes off of those things. "Uh… yeah." I said.

One of them smacked her lips. "Well, we're here to see Justin."

I rolled my eyes and went back to the spaghetti. "I'm sure he'll be very pleased."

"Like… do you know where he is?" One of the triplets asked.

"Like… I think he's over there with his pervert uncle… like."

They all stared at me.

"Oh my god." One piped up. "Are you mocking us?"

"Oh my god." I giggled. "Can you spell mock? Here, I'll give you the first three letters, okay? Like, M… Like, O… Like, C…"

"We’re going to see Justin… bitch." They all tossed their hair over their shoulder at the same time and I couldn't even get angry because I was so amused.

"Make sure your tits don't beat you there!" I called out to them.

Bitches.

I was officially annoyed. And what does Trevion Spencer do when she's annoyed?

She eats spaghetti.

And lots of it.

--

Twenty minutes later I could hardly take a deep breath, didn't know where Justin was, had been felt up by Uncle Jim, twice, and was doing all I could not show how badly my stomach was cramping.

"Are you okay, darlin'?" The heavyset redhead, who I'd come to learn was the Pink Panther herself, Aunt Betty, came up next to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

I couldn't speak past my churning stomach, and shook my head.

"Oh, sugar. Do you want some sweet tea?"

I gagged.

Aunt Betty gave up on me. She was a smart woman.

As soon as she hurried away from me, my phone rang. I picked it up on the first ring and was more than a little disappointed that Justin's voice wasn't the one I heard.

The voice I did hear made my stomach turn even more.

"How did you get this number?" I spat. "Huh?" I cried. At this point, I probably seemed like nothing sort of a drunk on crack looking for her next hit. I didn't care. I was teetered somewhere on the dangerous edge of puking and diarrhea, neither or which seemed very promising. How could I be expected to behave like a normal human being.

"Trevion?" JC said from the other end of the line, as if it would be someone else.

"How did you…" I couldn't finish.

"Hello?" He asked. "Hello?" He tried, again, louder, this time.

"God." I whined. "I'm sick. Can you call back later?"

"No."

"Please?!"

"I just wanted to say… I heard about Paul, and I'm sorry..."

"Why are you saying sorry..." My heart felt about ready to bust through my ribcage and right out of my chest. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry. I just called you to tell you."

"Tell me WHAT?"

"... Just in case you wanted to warn Justin... or not..." He was quiet, again, then, "I just got on a plane. I'm flying to Tennessee..."

"No!" I screamed. This, of course, caught the attention of every person in the room. I wanted to scream 'No, JC!' but, thankfully, his name got stuck in my throat before I could. "No!" I beamed, again.

But he'd already hung up.

It was a good thing, because, right then, I threw up.

I sat next to Justin in the den a while later, absently watching the TV, my hands tucked between my thighs and my brain racing. Since the moment we'd arrived in California I'd felt like an outsider looking in. Wondering who everyone was, who they were talking about in conversations and who was more important in Justin's life than the other. I'd met a few dozen of those people so far. I'd disliked most of then, just like he said. They didn't like me much more, just like they'd said.

Then it hit me, the one person that was probably at the top of the most important list, Paul Harless, Justin's step-father, was the one person I would never meet. I wondered if the two of them had been close, but didn't ask. I was afraid to say anything and was afraid that if I attempted to console him for the millionth time it would come out sounding so wrong just like it had every time. He was watching the TV before him, blankly, and I could see clearly that Paul was on his mind. Justin could go for hours, smiling and laughing, then, out of nowhere, Paul would jump into his head. I could always tell when this happened, because his entire demeanor changed every time.

Now was one of those times.

Then, I thought, looking at him, there was the matter of JC. The man was a gigantic idiot if I'd ever met one. The very thought of him coming down to Tennessee to console Justin both frightened and infuriated me. I didn't know why he was so hell-bent on ruining what Justin and I had and what little he and Justin still had any further. I didn't know how else to explain to him that forcing himself into Justin's life was not the solution. Justin had to be the one the come to JC.

I wondered when he would realize that.

Somewhere, deep down, however, I knew JC was right about one thing. I didn't want Justin to find out that I'd been talking to JC behind his back. I didn't want him to look at me and see Britney reincarnated. I didn't want to be the person who solidified everything he always believed-- that he was a man to be taken advantage of, a man to be used, a man to be lied to, and not much more.

I never wanted him to believe that, because he was so much more to me.

I was sure that if I'd been nicer to JC, more accommodating to him, he wouldn't be so eager to make all of this so hard on me. Finally, just like everyone always said it would, my attitude was coming back to bite me in the ass.

JC would fly to Tennessee, come to the house, and tell Justin everything. He would explain everything that I'd done behind his back and tell him that I wasn't worthy of him. That I didn't deserve him. JC was the only person on earth that could do what he'd done to Justin and still have the audacity to trash the one woman he still cared about.

And he would be right.

Justin had really long, nice fingers. I'd never realized that until that moment, with both of us sitting in silence. He was fiddling with his cell phone in his hands and I was watching because I was too afraid to look at his face. I knew that sometime in the next hour or so I was going to have to tell him about JC before JC did himself, but at that moment, looking up at his face, I just couldn't. I couldn't be the person that made all of this harder for him.

We sat in front of the TV, facing the huge window of the den. The moon that night was full, bright and shone in on us. It was almost as if the thing was taunting us. I imagined JC's car pulling in the drive. A wave a nausea, fear and anxiousness took complete hold of my bones.

Tell him, my body screamed.

I looked up at his face. The door to the den had been locked when I came to see him. I assumed he must have been crying after he'd left the bathroom and didn't want me to see. I'd wondered whether or not I should force my way in there and try to comfort him since that was how they did it in the movies, but I hadn't. I hadn't done a damn thing for him since the moment I'd met him and saved his fucking life. Such a favor seemed minute next to the fact that I was the reason he'd soon slammed in the face by JC tonight. I was the reason that his mother probably spent all day in a city she wasn't familiar with searching for him because I had a ridiculous urge to make everyone around me feel as miserable as I did.

I was doing nothing but bringing him down.

"Trev?" He whispered my name, softly, but I barely head it. "You okay?" He asked louder this time. He sniffled and I looked into his eyes. They looked so tired, so different than they had moments before.

"I'm fine." I answered. It wasn't until I'd opened my mouth and wetness poured in that I realized I was crying.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, calmly.

That was the moment. That second. That was when I should have told him, apologized and begged for his forgiveness, but I couldn't. The fear of losing him was suffocating. It was also inevitable, and I couldn't handle that.

"It's just... It's all so fucked up." I whispered, shaking my head. "I mean, I know I didn't know him, or anything, but..." I gazed up into his eyes. He was so understanding, not getting mad for a second at this girl in front of him who had no right to be crying. His swept a reassuring hand across my back, his eyes willing me to tell him everything. "I just... I just don't understand how people can believe in... in a higher power-- a happier place. I don't understand how they can believe in the greater good when there's someone out that's there doing all of this to you. You're single last person that should ever have to experience all the pain you've felt and, I guess, it just pisses me off." The words rocked everything inside of me and the tears only flowed stronger when I saw them in his eyes. "What the fuck did you do deserve this? What does anybody do to deserve such unhappiness? What did--"

"What did you do." He finished my sentence for me, watching me intently. "What did you do, right?" He asked.

I stared up at him for several moments before nodding my head. "Yeah... yeah. I guess." His hand was still running circles around my back and I smiled up at him. "I'm glad you're here."

His smile was gentle, and at that moment, I felt so connected with him that the very idea of us ever being apart again seemed incomprehensible. "I'll always be here for you." He whispered.

"I know. Me, too."

"I would do anything for you."

"Me, too." I said, again, and before I could stop myself. "I have to tell you something." I damn near had to choke the words out of my body and they probably came out sounding more like 'iv-ta-lull-ew-something'. Justin seemed to get it, though, and took a deep breath. His eyes searched mine and I realized, as we sat face to face, that I'd never seen him this close before. Inside and out. He was just as beautiful as I'd always denied he was, just as human and open.

"I..." He seemed nervous. "I have to tell you something, too."

"You first." I insisted.

"Okay…" He paused, taking a deep long breath, before looking me in the eyes. "Happy Valentines Day."

I stared at him, probably looking dumb as rocks.

Dumb as rocks, surprisingly, was the perfect simile to describe me, as I hadn't taken notice of the gargantuan bouquet of roses sitting across the room on the armoire until he said those very words.

As I stared across the room, I was unable to stand from the couch, not even when Justin stood up and held his hands out to me. When I didn't immediately take his hands, he seemed hurt.

"It's not as extravagant as I was planning, but, you know… Things got in the way."

I stared at the flowers on the other end of the room. They were the prettiest things I'd ever seen, but all I could think about was how they suddenly seemed like the elephant in the room that I couldn't ignore for shit.

"You got me flowers…" I whispered, "On the day of your dad's funeral?" I looked at him.

He looked back, clearly confused by the question.

The roses before me were so bright, so red, that it momentarily felt as if they were taking over the room. Anything was better than pink, at that point, but I was surprised at how overcome I felt.

Justin continued to hold his hands out and didn't speak until I took them. He lifted me from the couch and lead me across the room. It was as if I was a child that had a deep seated fear of flower petals and was being dragged to a fiery death with every step I took closer to the big bloom of red.

"Though I find it terribly unfortunate that the funeral fell on this day, it is still Valentines day… and you are still my date." He smiled. "You forgot, huh?"

"No, I didn't, but I was certainly planning on keeping it to myself. Too bad you're a hopeless romantic."

"Yes, I am."

"I'll find a way to beat that out of you, don't worry." I stood in front of the flowers, and let myself reach out to touch one of them. "This is really nice." I said. Justin seemed surprised, but nowhere near as much as me.

"There's a card." He informed, slowly wrapping an arm around my waist. "Right in the middle, between the tallest one."

"Of course there is." I took my time shuffling through the flowers, allowing him to keep him arm wrapped around my shoulder.

I was almost afraid to open the damn thing, but I did.

I want to be your answer. All the time.

"I want to be you’re answer." I read, out loud. "All the time…. What does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

I didn't even need him to.

When I looked up at him, his face was scrunched as if he were waiting for me to punch him. When no such thing happened, he allowed his shoulders to relax.

"I'm ready and waiting for the comments. I expect the words corny, cheesy, and melodramatic and sap to be thrown in at various different intervals so don't be afraid to hurt my feelings. I've prepared myself, accordingly."

I could hear the gasp escape his lips almost as well as I heard him try to hide it when I stood up, slowly made my way over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and held him as tight as I could.

It was the scariest moment of my life.

When I pulled away, I wouldn't let myself look at him.

"I had fun tonight." I said to the pink carpet bellow us, nodding stiffly. "Alright, Justin." I said, turning to him. I was surprised to find his eyes on me, and immediately clutched my hands in front of my body, feeling self conscious.

"You look like a thousand bucks in that dress. Did I tell you that?"

"That's a tad insulting coming from a millionaire."

"If I had said a million bucks you would have called me corny."

"Justin, corny doesn't even begin to describe you. In fact, I'm fairly sure that there isn't a word in existence to properly illustrate your cheese capacity."

"Hm. Well, in that case, you look like a million bucks. A couple of million. A trillion."

"And your corn meter just shot off the charts."

"That's all right."

"Okay, listen." I said, rolling my eyes and wanting to get this over with. "I got you something, but if you get all teary eyed on me, I swear to god I'll take it back and get store credit."

I'd expected Justin to be touched, but not as much as he seemed to be. "You bought me something?" The frown on his face slowly faded into a smile. "But… we've been out of town all this time. When did you…"

"I've had it… for a while." I looked away. "This is so lame."

"You bought me something?"

"You're one more question away from me tossing this thing into the trash."

"Sorry, but… seriously? You bought me something for Valentines?"

"Well... not so much bought as got."

"You stole something?"

"Uh, no."

"You made it? Like a craft project?"

"Ew, no."

He seemed disappointed.

"Anyway." I said, tentatively, reaching underneath my mattress. "Do we have an agreement? No sap."

As his smile slowly grew, my heart slowly melted. "I... I promise." he said, holding his hands up.

"Okay." I smiled, pulling it out. "It's not much, but..." I handed him the gift, slightly embarrassed at the Christmas wrapping. Not only was it Christmas wrapping on Valentines day, but it was horribly wrapped Christmas wrapping on Valentines day. Justin took the gift from me, never breaking our eye contact. I motioned to the small gift, rolling my eyes. "I've never been the best gift wrapper and I'm a broke college student, so... Black Santa is going to have to do."

The kid couldn't have been less interested in the wrapping if he tried. That was good, since it was an awful job, but bad, because it meant he was looking at me, his eyes full of the words that I'm sure were on the tip of his tongue.

"Well..." I shifted under his gaze. "Jesus, open it."

He took his eyes off of mine and stared down at the gift like it was the Heart of the fucking Ocean. He tossed it softly from one hand to the other, shaking it around.

"It's not a bomb. I like to save those for Thanksgivings."

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "What is it?" He whispered.

"It's a pool table. Just open it, you freak."

He ripped into the gift, which surprised me since he'd been treating it like crystal just two seconds before. I couldn't believe how nervous I was once he had it in his hands. He stared down it for several seconds and when he took a little too long to say something, I threw my hands up. "You hate it."

When I reached to take the picture frame from his hand he snatched it away, a slow smile spread on his lips. He looked down at it, again, still speechless. I'd found the picture in Kim's drawer while she was asleep one night. It was a little dark, since it had been taken at night, and it was of Justin and I on the first night we'd met.

In the picture, I was fast asleep in my bed, covers thrown every which way. Justin was below me, on the floor, looking like perfection, as always. Kim claimed to have taken it so she'd have proof when she told anyone who tossed her a general glance that Justin Timberlake had crashed in her dorm room that night. I remembered seeing it and thinking about how much I wanted him to see it, as well. Kim agreed when I suggested giving it to him as a gift and gave me one of her old frames. I was slowly beginning to regret it, and had yet to comprehend that what Kim had done for me was almost friendly, as Justin continued on with the silence.

"It's..." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were different. "It's perfect."

"Perfect?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "I'm sure a car would have been more to your liking, since you seem to enjoy those."

"Shut up, don't ruin the moment."

"What moment?"

"The moment of speechlessness I'm having about your buying me a gift."

"I guess your blind determination to spend money has rubbed off on me."

"It tends to do that."

"Too bad I'm broke."

"You don't have to be."

"Are we going to do this, again?"

"Do what?"

"THIS?"

"Hey, Trev?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're welcome, Justin." He said, in a female voice. "And, by the way, you look sexy in your new suit."

"Is it new? Doesn't look like it."

"What?"

"It's kind of wrinkled. I didn't want to say anything, but..."

"That's the look, Trev."

"The look?"

"Yeah. The style? It's hip."

"Hip, Justin?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

We stood together, amongst the roses and the destroyed black Santa wrapping, swimming in the artificial anger we were expressing towards each other. I had a hard time placing when I'd grown so comfortable with him in such a short amount of time as we stood there. Justin was looking at me, me at him, and I wasn't even a little bit freaked out.

We stood in silence and I quietly imagined that this must have been what it felt like to be on your first date in middle school. Your date's mom is waiting in the car while the two of you stand awkwardly at the front door, facing each other, too nervous to say what you want to say. As Justin fumbled with the frame in his hand I reached up to play with my hair, desperate for something to do.

"Trev?"

"Hm?" I responded, a little to quickly, to his voice.

"I've got this... this... thing that I want to ask you."

"A thing?"

"A question, Trev."

I cocked my head back, slightly, grinning at his suddenly short temper. "If you want a goodnight kiss that bad, then just kiss me."

His eyes were as wide as saucers in mine and he sputtered softly, blushed and looked away. "That wasn't..." He sighed, jamming his eyes shut. "That wasn't what I was going to say."

I reached out and took his tie between my fingers. "No?"

"No."

"Liar."

His smiled grew, the embarrassment still pink on his cheeks, and he shrugged. "I know I wanted to, for a while, I have. I just didn't know if you wanted to."

"I figure it's going to happen, anyway, why not just get it over with?"

"I want it to be... special."

"Oh jeez."

"Forget it."

"Fine."

"Fine." Justin stood to his feet, which brought him so close to me that our chests were touching. I stared up at him, meeting his strong gaze. His chest heaved against mine and he reached up, grabbing each of my arms. He used his position to pull my body to his. "Why are you such a hard ass?" He nearly growled, frowning down at me.

"Why are you such a punk?"

"I'm no punk."

"Kiss me."

"No."

"Punk."

"I wasn't always like this."

"What? A punk or a liar? And why do you keep saying that?"

"Because it's different... with you, and it bothers me that you can't just be open with me."

I shrugged. "If you want a goodnight kiss, then common. Let's do it."

"I'm not going to kiss you now." He said, as if I were a crazy person. "This isn't the way a first kiss is supposed to go. We have to be in the moment. There has to be chemistry. We have to feel sparks. All of that good stuff."

"Aw." I said, tilting my head. "Do you want me to, I don't know... play around with your chain a little?" I asked, reaching out to twist his chain around my finger. He turned his face away to hide his smile.

"Something like that. Yeah." He said, watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you want me to giggle at all of your jokes, twist my hair around my finger, and maybe... lick my lips a bit... as an invitation?"

"Stop." He said, grinning, softly. "Stop making fun of me."

I batted my eyelashes at him and poked my chest out. "Oh, Justin, kiss me, please!"

"No thank you." He whispered, rolling his eyes when I tugged on his necklace. "Don't break my chain." He warned.

I tugged it harder, just to spite him. He followed the pull and stood tall, his chest pressing up against mine.

"Why are you such a hard ass?" He growled. When I pushed up on my toes and tried to kiss him he pulled away.

"It's okay." I said, softly. "I brushed my teeth this morning."

"Your teeth are the least of my concerns."

"That's surprising coming from someone who brushes his teeth three times a day. Are we going to kiss, or not?"

"Not. You've killed the mood."

"What is the mood?"

"The mood. The tone of the room."

"Is it the mood or the tone?"

"The mood, smart ass."

"So who's to say that this supposed mood I've killed wasn't a cheesy mood or an angry mood?"

"Because it wasn't cheesy or angry. It was romantic, and now it's gone."

I would never admit to him that, somewhere, deep down, I was hoping that the night would take this kind of turn. I didn't want to seem desperate to him, but I was very curious. Curious about him, how I felt when I was with him, and how much I seemed to be changing for the better since I'd met him. I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about kissing him, because I had.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and gazed up at him. "Do it."

"Trevion..."

When he brought his hands up to touch each of my cheeks, I let my eyes flutter shut. Being this close to him was something very new, and I enjoyed it more than I would have ever imagined.

"Why tonight?" He whispered. "Why not yesterday, or three weeks ago?"

"Well, yesterday I was pissed off at you. Three weeks ago, I thought you were crazy, and was probably pissed off at you then, too."

"Admit it. It's because it's Valentines. You've been trapped under the romantic claws that is this holiday."

"Blasphemy."

"Then why are you offering me your lips?"

"Um, excuse me, Flabio, last I checked you were all over the idea of kissing me. You're the one that brought it up."

He frowned. "One: stop calling me Flabio. Two: You kept the idea alive."

"Only because I could see the desperation in your eyes."

"I'm so sure."

"Just figured I'd leave you with something to remember tonight."

Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't release the hold he had on me. We stood together, looking into each other's eyes. I never thought I'd ever feel this comfortable being close to another person. Especially a person of the opposite sex. I'd never realized how much I'd actually been wanting this with him until that very moment, until it was about to happen.

"Come on." I sighed, closing my eyes. "I wont bite."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"We're just going to get interrupted again."

"If you had kissed me two minutes ago, when I asked, we'd have already been kissing. Think of it that way. See? Another second just passed that we could have been kissing. There goes another. Are you sensing a pattern here, Timberlake?"

"This moment is so unromantic."

"Yes, that's one of it's best qualities."

"I didn't imagine it like this."

"You know what's unromantic? Endless discussion about the act of a kiss. Let's just do it."

"It's not that simple."

"Sometimes, it is."

"Not this time." He whispered.

"Do you do this with all of the girls? If you do, I find it hard to believe you got a lot of booty in LA. Even if you were a pop star."

"I had my fair share."

"I'm sure you did."

"Most girls aren't like you. They search for sappy moments like this. They hint, they beat around the bush..."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled. "Then I found you. Or, better yet, you found me."

"And you realized that some women actually have ambitions outside of your masculine wiles?"

"I realized..." He took a deep breath. "That I thought I knew... I thought it did. But I didn't. This moment, right now, proves that."

"Okay, everything you just said..." I threw my hand over my head and whistled loudly.

"I thought I knew what it felt like to adore someone so much that I would do anything for them."

I stared at him, surprised at the serious tone our conversation had taken.

"I would do anything for you, Trev."

"You say that now."

"I know that now."

"No. You only think you know. Just like with all of the other girls."

"Don't be afraid of me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I know you a lot better than you think I do."

I smacked my lips.  "You know... Sometimes you remind me of Dawson from Dawson's Creek."

"That's just mean."

"Seriously. You've both got that tortured, whiney thing down to a science."

He smiled.

"I'm not sure how happy I am with how great your sense of humor has gotten. How am I supposed to offend you? How do I get you out of my hair?"

"You can't. You're stuck with me."

"Damn, and here I thought I'd almost wore you down."

"Come here." He whispered, pulling me closer. When he tilted his head toward mine, I pulled away.

"So now you want a kiss? Psh--yeah, that's going to happen."

"Come here. Come here, Wednesday."

"Look Dawson, I don't know who lied to you but I'm officially swapping spit with Pacey now, all right?"

"Not all right."

"Too bad."

"Everybody knows Dawson is the real stud."

"Are you joking? Anyone with a few brain cells can see that it's all about Pacey."

He pulled away, rolling his eyes. "Um... Dawson's name is in the title."

"Which means a whole lot of nothing."

"It means he's a pimp."

"On what planet?"

He grinned, as if he knew some big secret about James Van Der Beek that he would never share with the rest of the world.

"Do you seriously watch Dawson's Creek? Honestly, Justin, are you sure you're not gay?"

"Yes, Trev, I'm sure."

"Are you? Because--"

"I have a lot of time on my hands."

"Guys with a lot of time on their hands beat their meat, they don't go watch Dawson's Creek." I laughed.

"That's it." He pointed to me. "That's the smile. I love that."

"More than Dawson?"

"More than Pacey, even."

I widened my eyes, dramatically.

"Shut up." He frowned.

"You shut up!"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Oh, lord, when did we get launched into a bad 50s romance film?"

"I thought that line was pretty 007."

"That was so far from 007 it's not even fathomable."

He scoffed. "Two minutes ago you were all over me."

"Yes. Now you've killed it. Nice work."

"I haven't killed it."

"I'll bet you have."

"If I have anything to do with it, by the end of the night, we'll be kissing."

"Do your worst."

"Give me time."

"I've given you time, Justin. Here we are, you and me. We've spent a good fifteen minutes bickering back and forth about a stupid kiss. Don't even ask me how that turned into a conversation about who's the sexier lead male of Dawson's Creek, because I don't know." I held my hands out, baffled.

"That's what we do. We go off on useless, uninformed tangents like these to hide what we both may be feeling, at the time. Anger, adoration... nervousness."

"I aint nervous."

"Yes, you are."

"What, pray tell, makes you so sure?"

"I wouldn't have brought up kissing you, at all, if I didn't think you wanted to."

"I don't want to."

"I didn't think you did. Then tonight happened. Right after I gave you those roses. The way you looked at me. I knew."

"As much as I hate to bust your bubble, Justin that look you saw? Gas. That spaghetti really got to me." I touched my stomach for effect.

When he reached up to touch my hair, completely ignoring me, I had a quick moment where all negativity, sarcasm and defense mechanisms flew out of my window and all that existed was him. He held my gaze, unwaveringly, as he stroked my hair.

"Your hair is longer. I never noticed that."

"I decided to grow it out." I said, rolling my eyes.

"I like it."

"Is this some kind of kissing foreplay?"

"No... if we're being honest--"

"A welcome change."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry. I turn into a bit of a tart when I'm being denied a kiss from the person who offered it."

"I want everything to be--"

"Perfect? Mind blowing? Spectacular? Nothing is ever that good, Justin. Nothing ever lives up to the dream."

"You do."

The words threw me and I was so taken aback that I couldn't even think of something biting to say. So, I just stood there, with his hands on my cheeks, surely looking dumb and confused.

"Trev..." He sighed a frustrated sigh and closed his eyes, again. "I'm so nervous."

At that moment, I realized that his hands were shaking against my skin.

"Don't be nervous. I wont bite your tongue off, I promise."

"Now, that's romantic."

"I could teach you a few things about romance. Lesson one... just fucking kiss me, already."

"This is going to be like the Pepe Le Peu cartoons. The second I try to kiss you you're going to throw a grenade in my mouth."

"If you keep talking, I might."

"I can't help it." He blushed at that moment, and it made me feel like mush. "This is... this is..." He closed his eyes.

I took that moment to study his face. When I brought my hands up and gripped his wrists, he opened his eyes. I could see the anxiety in them and wanted to hug him for what a production he was making out of this. For some reason, this kiss was really important to him. It was a little bit... cute.

"I know." I said.

"I made a note card..." He set his forehead against mine and we were so close that I could feel his breath on my nose. When he swallowed, I could hear that, as well. "Of cool things to say if this moment came."

"A note card? Justin." I smiled. "That's super lame."

He laughed and I felt his arms snake around my neck, pulling me closer. My arms slipped around his waist perfectly, leaving my lips inches from his adams apple. I looked up at him, met his eyes, and smiled.

"Can I see the card?"

He didn't smile. When I realized that his eyes were no longer on mine, but examining my lips, my heart sped up. I wondered if he could hear it.

"No." He replied, softly, stroking the back of my neck. One of his hands, I don't remember which because my brain had stopped working, came from around my neck. He let it rest against my chest, smiling when he felt my embarrassingly rapid heartbeat. Then, his fingers crept to my bottom lip, feeling it, examining. I felt like I was on display as the curious tips moved to my top lip. It was the most romantic moment I'd ever been in my whole life. Hell, it was the only romantic moment I'd ever been in. It was the first time that I'd been with a guy and was practically dying for him to just... fucking... kiss me, already.

"Trev..." He whispered. I stared up at him. His eyes slowly shut, and when his fingers tightened around my neck my stomach tightened with them. He held me snug against him and we rocked together for a few moments. My gaze flew to his lips and watched as his tongue darted out, moistening them. He was absolutely delectable, and if he didn't kiss me at that very moment I knew I would grab the back of his head and do it for him. Our chests were pressed against each other's, hearts lost in a frenzy of beats. When I felt his body tilt against mine and saw his lips slowly dive down, I could only close my eyes and wait in anticipation.

The last thing I saw before my eyes fluttered shut was the clock on the other end of the wall.

Then my eyes flew back open, I gasped and pulled my head away.

"Justin!"

"What?" His eyes were wide and frantic as he held his hands on either side of my face, as if he were afraid to touch me. "What?" He beamed, again.

"My plane." I whined and jammed my eyes shut, unable to believe that this was actually happening. "The airport. My plane leaves in half an hour, we're late."

He contemplated my words, as if he were suddenly struggling to comprehend the English language, then he laughed.

Actually laughed, out loud and joviously.

He threw his hands above his head in completely hysterics. "Of course we are!"

Justin sighed a frustrated sigh that perfectly mirrored what I was feeling inside and dropped his forehead into my shoulder. A curse danced on the end of my tongue when I felt his wild heartbeat jumping from his chest to jumble with my own. We stood, breathing hard and clutching each other, surrounded by the heavy stench that was the mood, which had just been shot dead.

--

Ten minutes later, Justin and I were running through the D Gates of the Memphis, Tennessee International Airport. Why we were running-- for the plane we were late for, for our lives (Justin had a third leg that consisted of men with big cameras), or for the hell of it-- I wasn't so sure. But running, we certainly were, and halfway down the terminal, I had to stop.

Justin was a good twenty feet ahead of me (the freak had the energy of a five year old) before he realized I was no longer behind him. Lost in the shock and delirium that, for me, came along with the mere thought of running, I barely noticed when he backtracked and took my hand in his.

The men with cameras around us were barely a blip on my radar. I was used to them.

When Justin reached out, breathing annoyingly steady for someone who'd being running top speed for three minutes, and took my hand, everything around me stopped. Stopped happening, stopped mattering.

Just stopped.

"Trev." He breathed. "You okay?"

I snatched my hand away. "Cameras." I said, in response to the look of confusion on his face.

Having lived with the cameras himself for the past five years, Justin was more used to them than I was and actually looked at the constant flashes going on around him like he was shocked at their very presence.

"How did they get into the terminal with us?" I asked, in disbelief.

"They're persistent." He answered.

"You don't have to tell me that." I spat. "I can't run, anymore."

"We'll miss our flight."

"Yes, we will, but you won’t miss the two hundred dollars it'll cost to buy us new tickets, moneybags."

"Since when are you so eager to spend my money?"

"Since you drug me into a four minute mile that I didn't sign up for. Not all of us are in tip top shape like you are, Justin."

"Hm." He cocked his head back.

"What is 'hm'?" I mimicked. Seconds later, I swayed as a wave of heat overtook me. "Whoa." I said, grabbing my head.

Justin immediately reached out and removed the beanie I had on my head. I would have killed him for displaying my hair (which was now reminiscent of a Chia pet) for everyone to see, if I wasn't dying a little more every second.

"Take this off." He instructed, shaking the zipper on my sweatshirt.

I unzipped it, rolled my eyes at the losers taking pictures of us, and glanced up. We were standing in 'Terminal 12' and our flight was in 'Terminal 37'. I removed my sweatshirt and gazed down the fucking never-ending hallway. The farthest I could see was 'Terminal 20'. The hallway curved to the left after that, and, from what I'd seen of this airport so far, probably rivaled the Mississippi River in sheer distance.

"Justin." I cried. "I can't do no more."

"I understand." He laughed and set a hand on my shoulder like a soothing mother. "I guess you're going to have to stay here forever."

"Can't you call the special airport people, tell them you're Justin Timberlake and have them hold the fucking plane for us?"

He thought for a moment. "I could do that."

"Then let's do that, oh mighty one."

He shrugged. "I figured you'd be more comfortable taking doing the 'normal thang'."

"Had I been informed that doing the 'normal thang' would rocket me back to the fifth grade, where I was always the last one picked for soccer, kickball, baseball, or anything that involved running, I would have crossed my name off of the 'normal thang' list with a big red marker and a quickness that would boggle the mind."

Justin shook his head as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Okay, Trev. Less talking, more breathing, okay?" He patted my shoulder.

I wanted to fight, but the invitation to heave out a few more uneven breaths, in a desperate attempt to get my body to forgive me for what I'd put it through, was much too much to pass up.

"Yes, operator." Justin said into the phone. He took a look at me, chuckled and turned his back. "Can you please connect me to VIP Services? Thank you." He shook me a look and shook his head.

I looked to my right where Terminal 12 was boarding, saw an empty seat and could have sworn that there was a bright white light surrounding it. That chair was my savior. Just as I was about to take the five steps it took to make it to my salvation, Justin slammed his phone shut.

"They're holding the plane. A service cart is coming for us in two minutes."

I stared at him, actually stared. "Justin?"

"Trev?"

"I kind of love you."

"You only love me for my money."

"That may be true."

--

As hard as Justin had worked to get me to my terminal, he sure did morph into a seven year old who'd just lost his favorite puppy when we actually made it there. It seemed as if the sight and sounds of the humongous plane was what solidified all of this for him.

I imagined this was the case because that was exactly what was happening for me. It wasn’t until I heard the engine of the very plane I was to be boarding whirr loudly that I realized this was the last time I was going to see Justin in…

In…

"How long did you tell me you were going to stay in LA?" I asked, for clarification.

"I didn't." He whispered. "Because I don't know. I didn't tell you this, Trev, because I wasn't even sure about it myself until a few hours ago, but… I'm planning on fixing everything. I mean everything. I'm going to go back to LA and see Britney, JC, Lance, Joey, Chris, Jon, my father, my record label… everyone… and I'm going to fix everything. I'm tired of living my life for everyone else. I'm tired of wondering about people and missing people. I just need to get a lot of shit out of the way. Then I'll be running back to Vegas."

I stared at him. "That's great." I softly stated.

"That's great?" He asked. This was a sentence that he obviously never expected he'd hear leave my lips. Immediately, and rightly so, he was dubious. "I can't leave my mom. I can't leave her. Not now."

"Are you staying for your mom or for your friends?"

"For everyone."

"What about me?" I snapped my mouth shut. I couldn't believe the words had even left my mouth.

"Trevion…" He seemed just as afraid of saying the wrong thing as I was. "I just want to say… I just want to say…" He blinked at me, and then stalled.

A grin pushed my lips. "Well said." I stated, snarkily, before grabbing up my bag. I didn't realize my fingers were shaking until I felt the suitcase trembling beneath them. "They wont let me bring my flowers on the plane."

"Who knows what Osama's flunkies are capable of if they get their hands on those?"

My face hardened. "National security is not a joke, son." I said, in my deepest voice.

He smiled, brightly. "Damn, I'm gone miss you."

"Gone?" I mimicked. "It took a while seven hours to bring the country out of you." Suddenly, my flight was called, and I shrugged. Fuck it. Fuck it. That was all I could think. "Look, Justin… I just want you to know…" I looked up into his eyes and couldn't find the words. "I just wanted to say…"

It was his turn to grin. "Well said, Trevion."

"Fuck you."

"That's the girl I know."

I clutched my bag in my hand and turned from him. "You have a sickness." I said, over my shoulder, as I headed towards my plane.

"I don't get a hug?" He called.

"No!" I cried. "When I see you in Vegas maybe I'll be able to muster one." I gave him one last look, turned away and hurried towards the terminal where two flight attendants were taking tickets.

"Trev!"

I told myself not to turn to him. Of course, my mind and body had practically become separate entities since I'd met him, and I turned around just as I reached the gate.

He sighed so deeply that I could see his shoulders move as he did. "I just want to say…"

All I could do was smile when he paused, because I knew he wouldn't finish. I understood why he couldn't. Everything that he was feeling at that moment, I was feeling, and I didn't let the evidence of that, the tears in my eyes, show until my back was turned to him.

I hurried to the ticket taken, eager to get on the plane and away from the man that was doing all of these things to me. Sometimes I felt like I couldn't take it anymore-- the things he awoke in me. Other times I felt like I couldn't get enough.

At that moment, I didn't think I could take it anymore. With every second that passed I was more and more angry with myself for not finding some way to tell Justin how I really felt. I was so conflicted, though. I had no idea how to explain something to him that I barely understood myself.

The concerned looks from the passengers around me was slightly embarrassing, but I found it hard to care as the woman took my ticket.

"Straight down, miss." The young flight attendant said, "And to you left…" Her words slowed to a halt as her eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

I wiped the wet tears from my face to make sure I wasn't imagining the stunned look on her face. I wasn't. Immediately, of course, I turned to see what she was looking at so I would know what the hell was holding me up from getting on that plane.

I was startled, and then elated, to see him.

"Justin!" I beamed. "Thank god. I just wanted to say--"

That was all I could get out before he grabbed me around my waist, pushed me against the nearest wall (the one next to the Pepsi machine) and crashed his lips against mine.

Stunned, I held my hands up on either side of my head, as if I were surrendering to the FBI. I felt my itinerary slip from my fingers, but I didn't hear it hit the floor. By then, I'd wrapped my arms possessively around his shoulders and was tasting his lips just as frantically as he was mine. Bin Laden himself could have been boarding the very plane I was about to take and it wouldn't have been enough to rip me from the arms of that man.

That was how powerful that first kiss was. That was how powerful the man was.

Justin pulled away, breathing hard. His blue eyes were riveted to mine. Past his powerful gaze I was faintly aware of the quiet murmurs and giggles that came, here and there, from around us.

A small smile pushed his lips and it was in that very moment that I realized a blushing Timberlake was a dangerous Timberlake.

Very dangerous.

"I just wanted to say that." He whispered.

I blinked. "Very well said."