I started down at JC, breathing deeply. He'd been sitting in the corner of my room, holding his jaw for almost an hour. I sat on the edge of my bed. My entire body was still shaking. My brain still hadn't completely processed what had just happened.

I’d never been in a relationship like the one Justin and I had in my entire life, so the proper way to deal with the shit pile of a situation I’d gotten myself in took a while to sink in. At first, I told myself that I should give Justin his much deserved space—especially if I didn’t want to end up with a mango sized protrusion of a bruise like the one that was fighting it’s way across the entire left side of JC’s face.

If I knew one thing about Justin I knew this: if he had a problem, he ran. In a perfect world, the way the two of us met might have changed that part of him that made him run from his problems instead of solving them. In the real world, I was sure that it hadn’t. I imagined coming back to Las Vegas and finding him gone or with another woman. Both concepts were equally terrifying and before I could stop myself, I was saying the first words I’d said to JC since we’d climbed into his car.

"Forget about taking me to my mother. Not now... Not today."

"What about... What about everything you said, earlier? What about her being the only thing you had left?"

"Tomorrow you'll still know where my mother is. I can’t say the same for Justin. I need to go to his place before he runs away."

"I can't drive you."

"I know. I'll drive us. Then I'll drop you off... Wherever you live."

"Okay."

Ten minutes later, we were speeding down Flamingo Road towards Las Vegas Blvd.

Ahead of us, the skyline looked like tiny little figurines sparkling with a jet black backdrop. Really, from afar, it was a beautiful city. It was when you made your way in that the lights could no longer mask the clouded arteries, weakened heart and charred lungs that was Las Vegas, NV.

"I don’t even know where he lives." JC mumbled, just as we flew past the Mandalay Bay. "I don't know where my best friend lives."

"It’s the completely huge, completely ridiculous, completely pretentious building next to the Trump Tower that screams money."

He stared at me.

"You’ll know it when you see it." I assured.

--

I remember quietly reminding myself to demand that JC stay in the car, but the minute I put it in park, I was out and running. By the time the elevator dinged and I stepped out onto Justin’s floor, I realized that there had been no need because JC wasn’t behind me.

Apart of me hurt for him. A very, very very…

Very small part.

I prepared myself to bang on Justin’s door like a madwoman, but whata surprised that there would be no need for that. It was hanging wide open.

I stepped inside of the condo not knowing what to expect. Steven, Justin, whores trying to get at Justin, pigs flying… the possibilities were endless.

Unfortunately, the very first person I saw was Trace.

Even more unfortunately, the next thing I saw was the half full suitcase laying on the floor in front of him. He was moving quickly, as if he had a flight to catch and he was all the way down to the wire. The suitcase on the floor was extremely sloppy with socks, sweaters, jeans and t-shirts all piled on top of each other with no particular order or plan He was leaving, and he was leaving soon. It seemed like the only clothes that weren’t in that overflowing case were the clothes on his back.

"Where are you going?"

You’d think a bomb had gone off with his grandmother standing right in the middle of it by the way he screamed, then jumped (impressively high) into the air the moment I asked the question. He held an arm out in front of him, every finger on his hand spread, and opened the panicked eyes that he’d jammed shut, meeting mine. "Fuck you scared the fucking shit out of me…" He quickly calmed himself down, considered me for a few more seconds, then went back to his frantic packing as if he’d been imagining my very presence. As he did this fucks, shits and damns fell from his lips every other second.

"Where are you going? Why are you packing?" I asked. My voice worked perfectly in tune with the insane man running in circles before me.

"I’m going home…" He mumbled, halfheartedly, "And can I say that it’s about the fuck time…"

"Is Justin going with you?"

Finally, he stopped moving around like a madman. He stood tall, hands at his sides, looking defeated, and met my eyes, "I don’t know what the fuck you did to him… but, yeah… he’s coming with me. We’re going home."

It hurt a million times more than I’d prepared myself for. I had to take a few deep breaths, because my heart had stopped beating. It was at that moment that I realized a small part of me was hoping that I was wrong. A small part of me was hoping that I would be a little bit harder to leave than Britney had. Just a little.

Apparently, I wasn’t. "I guess this is the best day of the last month for you, huh?" My voice was hoarse as I asked this.

Trace chuckled, fell to his knees and attempted to make sense of the pile he’d created. "Just when I’m starting to get used to your ass… maybe even… like you a little bit… you go and do…" He chuckled, "Whatever the fuck you did. Now we’re going home. And before you go blaming me," He held a hand up to me, "I tried to convince him to stay, but when Justin has his mind made up…"

He didn’t even have to finish. "I know." I said, "So I’m on your good side now, huh? Finally?"

"You were with him in California to meet his family. You flew with him to Tennessee for Paul’s funeral. You didn’t kick him while he was down. You were nice to him and you were nice to him because you wanted to be… it’s hard not to like you. You know? You’re for real."

"You’re giving me too much credit." I sighed, then couldn’t believe I was going to say what I was about to say. "I lied…" I added.

Trace seemed confused and eyed me while blindly separating his clothes into piles.

"I lied to him. I’ve been talking to JC for… a while. I was trying to help them mend their relationship and… it’s complicated. I didn’t tell Justin about it and he caught JC in my room a few hours ago."

He wasn’t nearly as stunned as I would have liked him to be. In fact, without hesitation, he asked, almost conversationally, "Did you fuck him?"

"No." I beamed, cringing.

"Good. Then all hope isn’t lost. It is for now." He laughed, and I couldn’t comprehend what could possibly be running through his head that was funny. "Give him a few months, he’ll take you back…"

"A few months?"

"At best."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a few years? A few lifetimes? Justin isn’t the most forgiving person. I mean, I highly doubt that—"

"Hi. Hello. Have I known Justin for my entire god damn life… or have you? Huh?"

My cringed deepened, "Point fucking taken. No reason to get a fucking attitude." He rolled his eyes and it was my turn to laugh, "well… I can’t remember the last time I’ve had more fun, but… I’m going to see Justin. I assume he’s in his room breaking something really expensive with no concern for cost or value?"

Trace considered this, then nodded, "Pretty much… and can I just say that it would be a huge mistake to try and talk to him right now… even though you’re not going to listen?"

"Sure."

"It would be a huge mistake to try and talk to him right now, Trevion."

I let a few seconds pass, nodded stiffly and pointed across the large condo, "I’ll just help myself to his room…" And made my way past.

I didn’t look back, but I head Trace mumble, "Hey… I did my part."

--

Justin was a sight to behold from the moment I opened the door to his room. It was as if I hadn’t seen him in years. There wasn’t a light in the room except for the moon seeping in through the curtains, and everything, included his face, seemed more dramatic.

His bed had never looked so big as it did with his little brother lying in the middle of it. Lying smack on top of the white sheets in green and blue Superman underwear, Steven was on his back, arms and legs spread, out cold. He was snoring softy and had stress lines in his eyes that no child should ever see. His eyebrows were pulled together and spawned a strong frown that would never belong on his angelic face. An outsider would assume that he’d just gotten a spanking, had his candy taken away for the night or missed the latest episode of Dora and that was the reason his sleep was so stressful.

But I knew better. The kid was holding some very adult problems on his shoulders. He’d seen something that no child should have to see and I felt a protection and a guilt for him so powerful that it was everything I had not to cross the room and wrap my arms around his sleeping body. He was in pain and I felt responsible for that pain. I momentarily wondered that what I felt must have been what most parents in the world felt when their children stayed out past their curfew or had unprotected sex with the gardener. I felt responsible for the sleeping little brat, and it stressed me out even more than I already was.

Then I saw Justin, and the stress grew even bigger.

He had several bags packed, just like Trace, but his were much neater. He probably had a compartment and a spot for everything all the way down to his dental floss. That was what Justin was like. Maybe he was so insanely organized, I thought, because he couldn't stand his inability to organize and control everything that was going on inside of him.

There was no way that he didn’t hear his bedroom door open, it creaked loudly when it had, but he didn’t look up. He must have immediately assumed I was Trace.

Like I wasn’t even there, he crossed the room to his bed and began putting a small pair of shoes on Steven’s socked feet. The brat didn’t wake up, of course. The entire building could go tumbling to the ground and he wouldn’t wake up if he wasn’t good and ready. Quietly, Justin dressed Steven, first shoes, then pants, then t-shirt, then a jacket. His hands were shaking the entire time.

After Steven was dressed, Justin left him to sleep and caressed the out of control curls off of his forehead. They bounced right back.

"You have a lot of fucking nerve coming here..." He whispered, waited a second, then turned his head. His blazing blue eyes sliced through mine, and he looked angrier than I’d ever seen him.

I hadn’t realized that he knew I was there and I instinctively took a step back when his eyes met mine. There was a part of me that was afraid of him, and I hated that. "I had a feeling that you would run away. You’re good for that, right?"

I couldn’t believe that I’d just said that to him. From the look in his eyes, he couldn’t, either. "Are you fucking serious?" He asked me, squinting as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

"Are you even going to give me a chance to explain before you pack up all your shit and leave?"

"Hell no."

"Why."

"Because there’s nothing to explain. You were meeting up with JC behind my back. That’s all I need to know." As he spoke, he never rose his voice, and this annoyed me severely.

"You don’t know the situation."

"I don’t want to know the situation."

"You don’t?"

"I don’t want to know the situation. I already know everything that I need to know. I know that you were talking to my worst enemy. My worst enemy." He enunciated those two words, "We were supposed to be a… a fucking team and you were talking to him. That, right there, Trevion, is all I need to fucking know!"

With every word that left his mouth his tone rose a little more until he was screaming. I jumped every time.

"That’s all I need to know! That and the fact that I don’t ever want to see you again. Not next week, not next month, not next year and I sure as hell don’t want to see you right now!"

"Justin. Please." I begged.

"No, fuck you, Trevion! God damn it, how can you be standing here right now? If you weren’t a woman I’d swear to god you had a bigger dick than I do!"

"I’m here because I want to make this right!"

"You can’t make it right. You can’t make it right."

"Why?!"

He looked ready to scream an answer, thought better of it, and cocked his head back. Quickly he shot his eyes to his brother, who was still out cold, then shook his head. "You need to leave." He said, calmly.

"No."

"Leave, Trevion, I’m not playing with your ass."

"It doesn't have to end like this for us."

"Don’t you understand?" His eyes were so pained, "It’s already ended."

A thought crossed my mind, and the moment it did, it seemed genius. I knew if I didn’t follow through on it that I would talk myself out of it so, before I could do that, I pushed myself off of the door frame and stepped into his room.

With every step I took toward him, he took a step back. This continued until his back was up against the wall. I barricaded him in, putting one hand on either side of his body, stood on my toes and opened my mouth over his.

His entire body froze as I moved my lips over his. For a moment, I wondered whether he was going to stand there like a dead fish with no reaction. For a moment, I felt like a true idiot.

Then he sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist and was kissing me back, passionately. A euphoria washed over every bone in my body when he wrapped his arms around me and I wrapped my own around his neck, pulling him as closely to me as possible. As soon a his lips were on mine the reason I’d kissed him in the first place flew from my mind and all that existed was having more of his as soon as humanely possible.

Our lips battled endlessly after that, with both of using pulling away and pausing only to take a few gasping breaths before diving back into each other, yet again. Justin’s dug his fingers into my hair and clung onto whatever he could hold onto. He pulled my lips harder onto his, deepening the already intense kiss and slipping his tongue past my open lips, sliding it over mine. I returned this gesture, whimpering softly when he pulled away from the kiss, keeping my bottom lip between his teeth as he did.

When he released it, I sighed, "Oh god." I clutched his neck in my hands and tried to pull his lips back to mine, but he pulled back. Instantly, I was snapped back to reality. Looking up into his eyes, everything seemed clearer.

When his eyes hardened in mine, I realized that everything seemed clearer to him, too. It was as if he couldn’t decide whether to push me as hard as he could or rip off all of my clothes. The obvious indecision did nothing to defuse the fire he’d started in me.

I massaged his cheek, desperate to win him back because I could tell I was quickly losing him. He let me peck his lips, then kiss them, then cover them with my own. Before I knew it, we were lost in another embrace, and I remember being surprised at how easy this was before completely losing myself in him for a second time.

Then, completely out of nowhere, he wasn’t kissing me anymore and was pushing my hands away. "Wait, stop…" I tried touching him in any place that he wasn’t blocking, but he continued to move his own hands, keeping mine off of him, "Stop, stop, stop…" He must have been aware of how out of control we were both being, because he was doing everything in his power to put a stop to what we’d already started before it got out of hand.

"No…" I cried, frowning deeply, "I know it’s my fault, but… do you have to make this so hard?" My eyes instinctively traveled to the zipper of his jeans and I almost laughed, "Pun… definitely intended."

He almost laughed, I saw it, and my heart broke when he fought it back. "I have to pack." HE pushed me away, completely.

That hurt, and I was sure it showed in my eyes. "You’re still leaving?"

"Yes." He crossed the room.

My eyes followed him. "You’re an asshole."

He laughed out loud, but it was a mean laugh. "So now I’m the asshole…"

"You can’t leave Justin! God dammit!"

"You can’t tell me what the fuck I can and can’t do, Trevion. You can kiss me and you can grind on my dick and do all of the shit that you know I can’t fight… but you can’t tell me what to do."

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

"Of course I still have…" He seemed to consider whether he should continue, "That doesn’t matter."

"I’ll take that as a yes."

This bothered him, "I also have feelings for marijuana. I have feelings for JC. I have feelings for Britney. That doesn’t make them good feelings. And that doesn’t make them right. I have to know when to walk away. I’ve learned that with this experience."

"Haven’t you also learned that walking away isn’t always the best solution? I mean, imagine how different things would be if you hadn’t walked away from Britney…"

"I do think about that. All the time. And the more I think about it… the more I think that maybe I should have never left her. That is one thing that you taught me. So thanks."

I gaped at him. "I can’t fucking believe you just said that to me."

He continued to pack absently, "Believe it."

"Are you trying to hurt my fucking feelings?"

"Yes."

His honesty startled me for a moment, "Well… you’re doing a terrific fucking job."

"Good. You kissed me. You kissed me knowing that I would kiss you back. You’re playing dirty now, so I’m cutting you off."

"You can’t cut me off! Nobody cuts me off but me! And I didn’t fuck JC!" I added, confused about why I hadn’t said that a long time ago.

"He fucked Britney. She’s beautiful, she’s rich, she’s famous, she was mine and he fucked her. How hard would it be for him to get you?"

"Fuck you." I said, really meaning it that time. "You know I didn’t fuck him." He didn’t look up from his suitcase. In fact, he didn’t respond in any way. A fury so hot rushed through me that I immediately black out and lost control of every word that left my mouth. "I didn’t fuck JC and you fucking know it, Justin! Do you really think that lowly of me? Do you really think that I’m that much of a fucking bitch that I would do that to you?"

"What am I supposed to think, Trevion?"

"You’re not supposed to think! You’re supposed to know! You should know that I would never do that to you even if I don’t give you a whole hell of a lot of reason to believe it. I fucked up! I know that I fucked up and I’m trying to make it up to you, god dammit! You should know that I would never do that!"

"How the fuck should I know something like that?!"

"Because I fucking love you and you should just fucking know!"

I don’t know who was more stunned, me or him. I couldn’t see myself, but I could see that his eyes were about to jump right out of his head. A second later, tears rushed to them. "What the fuck did you just say?" He demanded.

"I don’t know." I gasped. I took a big step away from him, as if he had a very contagious form of a very deadly disease, and covered my mouth with my hand. A second later, I dropped my hand. "No, I do know. I said…"

He stared at me too intensely for words. "You need to leave." He said. His voice was extremely hoarse. "How the fuck could you say that to me, Trevion? You need to leave," He said, again, shakily.

He was extremely moved by what I’d just laid on him, and I couldn’t blame him, so I nodded. "I’ll be back by tomorrow. Will you be here?"

He didn’t answer, but I didn’t need him to. For some reason. I already knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

--

The next day, he was gone.

"His place is empty?" Kim asked, taking her eyes off of the Roseanne re-run.

It was six in the evening that I spent a good chunk of crying like a punk. "Bare." I spat.

"He's just gone?"

"Disappeared." I whispered. "I told him I loved him last night." I said, immediately after.

Kim groaned.

"I know."

"He'll call." She reassured.

"Don't pity me."

"He'll call." She said, again.

"No... He wont."

And he didn't. Not for two weeks. I tried calling him several times. He never had the phone that he bought for me turned off even though he didn't seem to have any plans of talking to me. He never asked me to return the car he'd purchased. It seemed like he was so desperate to be away from me that he wouldn't ask that even if he wanted to.

Kim and I both lay in our beds watching Access Hollywood. Someone in her English class told her that Justin was going to be on it talking about me.

"Apparently he's going to address the stupid ass magazines who outed you."

As the show started, my curiosity peaked.

It was bizarre to hear the hosts of the show, people I'd never met, speaking about me like they knew me.

"This is crazy!" Kim beamed, smiling widely, "Here it comes, here it comes."

My heart jumped when Justin's face came on the screen. He was walking down a red carpet for some GQ event and the first question he was asked was about the Star cover.

His response?

"Just like the entire tabloid magazine industry that article is ridiculous. Trevion Spencer is guilty of nothing but having the…" He looked at the camera, "The misfortune of being thrust into a business that she never wanted to be in. It’s not true. She doesn’t deserve it."

The reporter went to ask something else, but Justin had already walked away. Already moved on to the next nosey bastard. This nosey bastard asked about me, as well.

"Oh for Christ sake." I cringed.

"What about reports that you and Trevion are involved romantically?"

Justin simply said, "We’re friends." And moved on.

He stood up for me. He had every reason to go in front of those cameras and trash me until I cried, but he hadn’t. A part of me was sure he’d defended me because he was a professional. The hopeful part of me believed that he’d done it because he still cared. He was angry, and rightfully so. But he stilled cared.

I pulled my phone, the one he’d bought for me, out of my pocket and the moment it was out in the open it vibrated. I screamed. Then it started playing a tune I was unfamiliar with. It wasn’t often that this phone rang, so any movement or noise coming out of it for any reason was sure to leave me frazzled for a moment.

I was completely convinced that it would be Burns, who I also hadn't spoke to in weeks. "Hello?"

"Trevion."

Just the sound of his voice sent my heart into a tailspin. "Hi!" I beamed. Way too loud. Way too eager.

"It’s Justin."

"I know." The smartass tone behind my voice was strong. I tried to swallow it back. "How are you?" I asked.

"I’m not calling to do that." He said, harshly.

I was taken aback, "Well…"

He got right to it. "Steve is turning six next week."

"Oh…"

"I'm throwing a party for him in two days..." He sighed, deeply, as if he were being somehow forced into doing something that he was deeply against, "Can you make it?"

"Can I make it?" I asked, sounding almost as confused as I felt.

His impatience grew, "Can you come down?" He beamed.

"There's no need to raise your fucking voice at me, Justin."

Silence. "It’s on Friday night." Great, now he was pissed.

"In two days?" I reached up and rubbed my forehead.

"Yeah." He snapped.

"That’s perfect… Spring break starts Friday."

"Perfect." He said, dryly.

"Do you want me to come down?" Oh my god, I was such a pathetic cunt.

"Steven asked for you..." He sighed, again, "So I'm asking..."

"I'll be there."

I answered before I could stop myself and Justin hung up immediately after. Immediately after, I wondered what I'd been thinking to accept. Immediately after that... I started planning.

--

Thursday afternoon, Kim and I discussed it as we sat on our beds, across from each other, looking scary in the way only the morning sunshine could illustrate.

"Okay!" Kim held her hands out in front of her, sitting across from me on her bed, "The obvious plan is to throw you into an outfit that'll make his dick hard as a rock the second he sees you."

I pretended to consider this then beamed, "Pass."

"Pass?" She was horrified.

"Pass."

"May I ask why?"

"Because this isn't a made for tv movie and Justin isn't an idiot, Kim!"

"That's certainly up for debate."

"No."

"All I'm saying is a dress! Not even a short one."

"I've never seen you in a dress!"

"I've never screwed a man over the way you screwed Justin!"

"Well..."

She gave me several seconds of her time, then continued, "Okay, then. I've got the perfect dress." She gave me a quick appraisal, "Hm, no hips, no ass, no thighs... No visible waist... Barely any tits. How you got Justin Timberlake, I will never know!" She snickered, "Well, we don't have much to work with. You're hips are non-existent and that's a plus. But you don't have any titties to compensate... Not so much a plus. I'm thinking of a sundress. You could pull it off. It's--"

"Kim!"

She was already off of her bed and halfway to her armoire, "Huh?" She tossed her electric hair over her shoulder and gave me her even brighter eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you fix what you've so gigantically broken."

"Dressing like a whore is not the way to get Justin back. He's not like that."

"Is he a man?" Kim asked, in a high pitched voice.

I rolled my eyes.

"He's a man right?" She didn't even let me answer before laughing cynically, "He's like that." Then she went back to her armoire.

"I still can't believe that you never hit that." I heard her smack her lips and imagined that she was shaking her head since I couldn't see her. "You're not even smart enough to bone a rich and handsome guy who was obviously dying to fuck your brains out... How can you be expected to handle this entire party all on your own? You can't. You just can't. In fact, I think I should come with you, follow you everywhere you go and regulate your conversations... Just to do some damage control."

She was completely and obviously joking, but I sat up from the bed quickly, my eyes wide. You'd think she'd just found the cure for cancer by how enthusiastically I cried, "Yes!"

Her head snapped to me. Then her lip cocked, "Huh?"

"You have to come!"

"You're joking."

I shook my head frantically, "You have to. I can't do it without you."

"You're not joking." She said in disbelief. I wondered if she was even listening to me.

"Please, Kim..." I probably looked extra pathetic because I could physically see her relenting.

"Oh, damn it!" She beamed. "I wanted to go shopping this weekend. You know I have that MCR show coming up."

MCR stood for My Chemical Romance, one of Kim's favorite bands and an abbreviation that I would have never known the meaning of hadn't it been for her.

"Last time I checked, there are a couple of malls in Los Angeles, Connelly."

Her eyes lit up, "Oh shit! He does live in LA, doesn't he?!" Her eyes were jubilant.

"Unfortunately." I spat.

"All right, Miss Spencer, I'll accompany you to party on one... No! Two conditions."

"Name 'em."

"I dress you from head to toe. Once we get to the party, we split up but you report to me every hour to tell me what's going on with you and Justin. Whatever I say you should do... You do."

"You're asking me to hand over my soul." I laughed.

She didn't. "Yes." She confirmed, stone faced.

"All right, fine. Anything that gives me company as I walk right into certain death."

"Excellent." She threw her head back and laughed, manically, rubbing her palms together.

I frowned at her, then grinned, "Freak." I whispered.

"What are you going to do with your hair?"

I reached up and touched my hair, then shrugged.

Was hair important?

"You can't be serious. No wonder you're such a bitch. Nobody's going to fuck you looking like that."

My room monster, ladies and gentlemen.

"We should have been on the highway an hour ago." I said, two hours later, frowning the entire way through Kim's process. I couldn't believe I was actually letting this girl dress me and put her hands in my head. A red-headed white girl was make important hair decisions on my part. "What are you doing to me?"

"Shit, as much as I can. Why do you wear your hair so short?"

"So it's not in my way."

"Thank god your face is so beautiful or you'd look like a boy. "

"Wow, you have the insult disgusted as a compliment thing down to a science, Kim."

"No titties or no hair. Make a choice. You can't have both."

"Um... I'm pretty sure it's still my body."

"And I'm pretty sure the Anne Hecht haircut saw it's glory days somewhere around '97."

"I'm trying to grow it out."

"Every time I try to style it my hands slip out."

"Sorry?"

After five more minutes she sighed and threw her hands up, "Well, there's no time to do anything big with it." She hopped up and stood in front of me, "You have a really beautiful face. I say you comb it all back and wear some extravagant earrings. Your make-up is already perfect. You'll scream sex."

"I don't have extravagant anything."

Without looking, she reached a hand into one of her drawers and threw a box at me. I opened it and didn't even know where to start with all of the jewelry that glistened up at me.

"You're letting me touch your stuff?"

"Every girl deserves to get dressed up every once in a while. Even bitches like you." She pushed me, playfully, to let me know she was kidding. She was kind of sweet when she wanted to be. "Your skin tone is just dark enough for you to pull off gold without it flushing you out. Forget about wearing a dress..."

"Forgotten!"

She rolled her eyes, "I have a top that would look really good on you. Grab those dangly gold earrings out of the box and comb your hair back with a little bit of gel. But don't use too much or you'll look like Al Pacino ready to re-shoot scenes for Scar face."

"That was lame." I mumbled, but did as I was told. I didn't know shit. Kim could be sending me out there looking like a space creature and I wouldn't know any better. I'd never done this before.

I turned to Kim once she'd revisited her armoire and surveyed the clothing in her hand. The jeans were cute--trendy, with a cool gold design on the back pockets. The pointy toed boots were tolerable, but the shirt...

"And... Where do my tits go in that top?"

She rolled her eyes and poked her pointer fingers into the appropriate areas of the shimmering halter, "Here..."

"Oh. That's..."

"That's every man's fantasy. Trust me."