Mercury's hair was bright red. I expected that. She smelled like my grandmother's old garden on the first day of spring. I wasn't surprised by that one, either. She did, however, actually have some intelligent things to say. That shocked the shit out of me. And we weren't sitting in the weird circle I imagined we would nor was she choking on spiritual beads with purple fingernails that were chipping at the edges. She was almost... normal. As normal as a person who willingly walked into my life could be, of course.

We actually had a lot to talk about and when she promised me that Burns would never hear about the things I told her we started talking about Justin.

A lot.

I so ashamed.

--

I left the office for the first time in a long time with a smile on my face. A geniuine happy smile. The expression felt so foreign against my skin that I felt like everybody who walked past me would think it was fake. So I let it fade. Brooding, just-don't-give-a-shit Trevion was back in full force. The fact that I would have to wrestle around with my fucking car wasn't helping keep the smile on my face, anyway.

I climbed into the seat, barely noticing the sound that it made, which was a toss up between a burp and a fart, becuase I was so used to it. The car had belonged to my great-great grandfather. Yes, that's right, my great-GREAT fucking grandfather. And boy was it living up to it's age. It burped, sputtered and basically bitched it's way from point A to point B whether they were 1 or 10 miles apart. I'd gotten used to the stares and the laughs. I mean, I was a poor college student, what am I supposed to be rolling in? A fucking Lexus? Nope, we're not all lucky enough to be Justin Timberlake.

I'd been thinking about him way too much lately. When I wasn't thinking about Justin, I was thinking about not thinking about him, which is basically the same damn thing. It had been almost three weeks since that night on the roof and it was actually getting easier to let myself call him my friend. Only in my head, of course. If I said it to his face I would never get rid of the kid.

"Common, baby... It's me, Trev... It's momma, start for momma."

I know, I KNOW, it's weird how I talk to my car but the shit works!

Or not.

I turned the key and my car sounded like it couched up a few racoons and damn near fell apart in certain areas before going completely dead.

"Fuck!"

I tried again.

"Shit!"

Third times a charm.

"Shit, mother fuck!"

For some reason, I just knew that, this time, my car wasn't going to start. It was done for. What can I say? It had a good life. Too bad my happiness had to be sacrificed so my great-great-grandfathers car could die a noble death. Somewhere in between getting pissed off and being damn near tears my eyes narrowed down the street where there was a pay phone at the seedy gas station that had been in that very spot since I was a kid. Call Justin and this will all be over, my heart told me. Call Justin and you're a dumber bitch than I thought, my brain countered.

"Burns!" I practically screamed. He would definitely give me a ride, "who needs Justin Timberlake?!" I cried, with a little too much releif as I jumped out of the car and hurried towards the wide double doors with Burns's named etched across them in a pretty font. I'd always wondered what that font was, but never remembered to ask him.

I ignored the sound of a honking horn, because I got a little too pissed off when I paid attention to them. Especially if the asshole laying on his steering wheel was making all that noise for no fucking reason. Like, someone is taking a right turn to slowly or dropping off their fucking kid at school. Honking your horn uncessarily is the rudest fucking thing, and so retarded. I guess you'll just DIE if you loose the two fucking seconds it takes to be patient with the other drivers.

As much as I tried, though, this horn, was getting on my nerves, and would not be ignored. Whatever it was, this dude was relentess. That or somebody had shot him in cold blood and his eight pound head had nowhere to go but the middle of his steering wheel. I turned around.

No such luck.

Justin smiled and it seemed to shine brighter underneath the jet black sunglasses he had on. A black hat was pulled low on his head and his black sleeves high on his elbows.

"Hi." I said, rolling my eyes and approaching the car, "You look like death."

"Aw, it's good to see you, too, Trev."

"Why are you wearing all of the black? Don't people usually do that when they want to look thinner?"

"It doesn't make me look thinner?"

"It does, and that's the last thing you need."

"You always bring on the charm... full force."

"Are you stalking me or what?"

"I know people."

"Burns." I mumbled, "I'm going to have to talk to him about telling you all of my business. You can stop smiling anytime now, I don't need to be convinced of your happiness like everyone else in America."

His smile dropped and I was relieved for the two seconds it stayed that way before growing back to light up his face, "And you're the only one I care to convince. How's that for irony?"

I shrugged.

"You need a ride?"

For the first time I noticed that he wasn't in his Expedition, "I knew something was different about you. You're just not the same guy without your 'I'm-a-big-man" SUV."

"I needed a change of pace."

I looked towards the sky, "Of course, and I'm sure this change of pace only put you back a few grand as opposed to several. I'm impressed."

"Actually, I got a pretty good deal on it."

I raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Really. They're always willing to work with you on birthdays."

My eyes widened, "Today is your birthday?!"

"No... it's yours."

I stared at him. Literally stared until I realized how stupid I must have looked, "Who told you that?"

"I think the question, Trev, is why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not important."

"Of course it is, it's the day of your birth."

"I'm sorry. I just can't honestly support an institution that involves taking a baby from the womb and throwing it into the pits of hell we like to call humanity. It's just... it's vicious and wrong."

He took off his glasses and sqiuinted up at me, "It's not so bad, life is what you make it."

"I'm inspired."

"I can tell." He said.

"Well... I guess you could give me a ride since you're here and all."

Without moving a musle, he disarmed the locks on the dainty little convertable and smiled when I began making my way to the passengers side, "This is one pixy little car. Strangely, it fits you."

"You want to drive?"

I stopped outside of the passenger door and frowned, "and risk crashing this thing? I wont be able to pay for it, Justin."

"You wont crash it."

"You don't know that."

"Why wont you drive?"

"Why WOULD I?"

The smile that crossed his face made me nervous. VERY nervous. He took the keys out of he ignotion and the car came to a smooth, even hault. My car hadn't done that in years. He swung the keyring from his middle finger and, after a minute, flung them at me. Surprisingly, since I can't catch for shit, they landed in my hand, perfectly. I eyed the keys, then looked back up at him. Yep, the smile was still there.

He adjusted the baseball cap on his head and winked, "It's yours."

He was NOT serious. Was he? No. I squinted at him, then down at the keys. Was he?

"Happy Birthday, Trev!" He beamed, smiling up at me like a proud mother would at her daughter. His smile quickly fell, I'm sure because he recognized my expression, "What?"

"I can't take this..." I whispered. I was truely shocked, and that didn't happen often. Nobody had ever gone out of their way for me. Never done anything this genuinely NICE. For no reason, "I don't get it. I just... I wont take this, Justin."

"Why?"

"Why? WHY? Because you've know me for three weeks and this is a... a..." I hurried to the back of the car, ignoring him as he climbed out of the drivers seat. When my eyes focused on the emblem, I almost threw up, "BMW?! You SICK fuck!"

"It's a nice vehicle. Brand new, top of the fucking-line, Trev."

Yes, he was definitely sick.

"Justin, I have my Beetle."

"Which was on it's last leg thirty years ago. Common, Trevion, it's your birthday, let me do this for you."

"No."

"I want to."

"NO! Justin, I'm not your family, I'm not your girlfriend, I'm barely your friend! I can't accept this and, oh yeah, you're insane."

"Do you not like the color? Because for a few hundred we can get it painted."

"Justin, people are already saying that I'm the reason you and Britney aren't together anymore. Buying me a car is not exactly going to sway those rumors, you following me?"

"You know, it's only a matter of time before people start asking for your autograph."

"That would be just... gross."

He laughed. I didn't.

"Look, it's not just for you. I'm tired of spending up all of my gas money. It's your turn to start driving me around and I'd prefer not to do it in the death vehicle. The insect is dead, Trev."

It's a beetle, my mind said, childishly. "Do you think I'm joking?"

"No, but I know you well enough to know you're just doing this because you feel like you have to."

"No, Justin, if you knew me, you would have never bought this car." I said, pushing the keys against his chest until he accepted them.

"Trev..."

He continued to call after me as I headed to my yellow Beetle and I ignored him the entire way. I climbed in and tried to start it. For the first time in years I felt a true and real fury towards the vehicle for not starting. I felt like that damn car KNEW that Justin was there and wasn't starting just to piss me off. You've failed me , my beloved Beetle. I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning back against the seat. When I felt the car tilt on my side I shook my head, but didn't open my eyes.

"Why are you so afraid of me, Trevion?"

"Because you're crazy."

"No, seriously."

I opened an eye at him, "Seriously, Justin."

"You saved my life, you've tolerated me all this time, you've given me a reason. The least I could do is this. It's just a fucking car, I could buy ten more of them if I wanted to. You need it and I wanted you to have it. Plus, it's your birthday, which you weren't even going to tell me about."

"When it's somebody's birthday, Justin, you buy them a fucking card not the second highest rated vehicle in America!"

"Is it the second?"

"I don't know!" I beamed, covering my face with my hands.

He laughed, he actually laughed. Sometimes I just wanted to punch him.

I tried to start my car, again, nothing.

"What is it that you don't like, Trev? Is it because it's a BMW?"

"That's part of it, but not all of it. It's a fucking car, Justin, and you've known me for three weeks. To spend that much money on me on a birthday I didn't even want you to know about clearly shows that... you don't know me, at all. And, as far as I'm concerned, you have to know somebody to spend-- how much did you spend?-- You know what? Don't even answer, I don't want to know."

"So say I went to the dealership today, saw the BMW, said 'No... Trev would never go for that', and decided to keep it for myself before going to the used car section. There I would pick out a white, four door Volkswagon Passat... would you feel better about it? Would that be more you?"

I looked at him, "You're being uncessarily detailed about it, but, possibly... yes."

"Oh..." He said, looking away from the window while nodding his head, "Do me a favor, Trev, and look to your immediate right, would you?"

What was he doing?

He smiled when he saw my expression and nodded his head, "Go 'head."

I was afraid, but I looked to my right, anyway. I'd like to say that I wasn't surprised, but I was. What surprised me the most, though, about the brand new, four door, white Volkswagon Passat parked next to me, was the person sitting in the drivers seat, waving. I hated Trace so much that he almost ruined the entire surprise element, but somehow, he didn't. Justin, obviously, had proven his point. He did know me better than I thought he did.

"So I guess you and Trace made up?"

He grinned, "Yeah."

"Bummer."

"Probably, but how about that car, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and when I went to open my mouth Justin clapped his hand over it.

"Trev, take the car."

I frowned and pushed his hand away, "But-"

Justin closed his eyes, ever so patiently, "Take the car."

"Justin--"

"Trev!" He cried before holding his hands in front of him to calm himself. After several seconds a smile pushed his face. It was so convinced that if I hadn't seen the real deal I would have fallen for that beam in a second.

"Take the fucking car."

Okay, it was obvious he wasn't going to ease up on this.

And, fuck if I couldn't use that fucking car.

--

"What would you have done if your little plan had failed and I liked that BMW that you bought for yourself?"

"I would have let you have it."

"What about the Passat?"

"Tax write off."

"Have I mentioned that you make me sick?"

"Only twice in the last hour, you're getting soft."

I poked my lips out, unwilling or unable to come up with some kind of retort. As I fingered the hood of my new Passat that pout turned to a smile as I looked up at him, "Thank you, I love it."

Justin blinked, then grabbed his heart.

"Don't do it, Lake."

He took a deep breath, then smiled, "Alright, I'm too nice of a guy to mention that what you just said was almost... nice. Because I know you would hate that." He grinned and leaned against the car next to me. I seriously counted down the seconds between the silence because I knew it wouldn't last, "I think my heart stopped when I heard the words "thank you" and "love" come out of your mouth in the same sentence. That was a double positive, Trev, I almost didn't recognize you."

"You're a funny guy." I mumbled, allowing him to wrap his arm around my shoulder, "I hope you enjoyed that because you'll never see it again."

"I've got it all right here," He pointed to his temple, "From the day we met."

"Okay... that's not creepy or weird, at all."

"I'm immune to your sarcasm."

"Damn, then I guess I'm really going to have to double it up on the bitchness."

"I can handle your bitchiness."

"Then I guess I'm going to have to be nice all the fucking time."

He blinked, "Now that... is scary."

I sighed, "Yeah, if only I could pull it off."

"If only." He said, "Febuary 10." He beamed, looking up at the stars.

I rolled my eyes, "Feel free to forget it."

"I never will."

"Try."

"It's four days before Valentines day."

I laughed and stepped away from the car, facing him, "Was this car some kind of a bribe, huh? To make me feel guilty and incapable of saying no if you asked me to be your valentine?"

He looked at me like I was crazy, "No."

"You don't have to pretend, Justin."

"Whatever."

"I know what you're doing right now, and it wont work."

He frowned, "Okay, then."

"Oh, Justin, please, please forgive me. I love my new car, I love you, will you please be my valentine? I'll make it worth your while." I laughed after my stupid attempt as a joke but when I saw the look on his face it wasn't so funny, anymore, "Justin?"

"Yes." He said, a smile finally breaking his previously serious face.

"Huh?"

"Yes, I'll be your Valentine."

"I wasn't asking."

"You just did."

"That was a JOKE. Freak."

He pushed himself off of the car and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, again, leading me towards the dorms, "Oh, Trev, you don't have to pretend."

"Fuck you."

"Be my guest." He looked down at me and when I didn't respond he stopped walking and grabbed my shoulders, "Shit, I almost forgot. Um... Don't get mad, okay?"

"Don't give me a reason to." I said, forcing a smile.

He sighed deeply and reached into the pocket of his jacket. After he pulled out some kind of a contraption he reached over and slipped it into my own. A smile as bright as the sun crossed his face when this was over, "I left you a little something in your pocket."

"This is endlessly cute." I said, dryly, sticking my hand into the pocket of my leather jacket. It was small, solid and defintiely some sort of electrical device, "Justin..."

"Just... wait to see what it is before you decide you hate it."

"It hate this. Burns doesn't even get me things for my birth... oh..." The cell phone that I pulled out of my pocket looked suspiciously like the one Justin had smashed against his wall days earlier.

"I bought it a few days ago before I even knew about your birthday, I swear. I broke my other one, went to the store to buy a new one and decided that you might want one, as well. So we can, you know..."

I stared at him, "No."

"Call each other."

"Is that what phones do?"

"When we're lonely."

"You can't be lonely for a person that you see fifteen hours out of the day."

"I can. I am."

I sighed, "If I take the phone will the sap stop?"

"Yes."

I shoved it in my pocket desperately.

"I've already got my number programmed in there, and yours in mine, so don't worry."

"Thank goodness, I can sleep easy tonight."

He really was immune to my sarcasm because my assy remarks were rolling off of his back like jello, "Let's do something fun. For your birthday."

"Justin, you've bought me a car, a cell phone and forced me into being your Valentine. That's enough birthday fun to last me decades."

"A birthday should be celebrated until the very last second."

I cringed, "It's getting harder and harder to tell when you're serious."

"I know. I learned that from you."

"I'm going to have to watch myself from now on."

"Do you want to go ice skating?"

"You're not joking." I said, "This is the part where I pretend not to hear you."

"Movies."

I cringed.

"Bowling."

Bowling, I hadn't been bowling in such a long time.

"THAT was a joke, but you like to bowl, huh? Don't deny it, I can see it on your face."

"You don't want to bowl against me. You will walk out of the alley shamed and embarrased."

"Don't be so sure. I've done a little bowling in my time."

"Justin, I'm telling you."

"What, Trev? What are you? Are you scared? Is da wittow baby scared?"

I stared at him, then smiled, "Nope--nope, it's not working on me."

"Come ON."

"Fine! But I'm just trying to warn you. You are going to get your ass kicked, okay? I'm not the kind of girl who is going to lose just to spare your ego."

"Believe me, Trevion, nobody will ever know that better than I do."

--

Stike.

Strike!

Strike!

We were on the tenth frame and this kid got a fucking strike, which, of course, since god hates me, was the only thing in the world that could have possibly saved him from the ass beating he'd been recieving from me the entire game. One more and I was jello, man.

Even though it was at my expense, the fact that this was all putting a smile on Justin's face just about killed me. In the three weeks I'd known him, it had become crystal clear that he was not the smiling, squeaky clean, bubbly pop star he'd been made out to be for years. He was an actual person with an opinion, thoughts and feelings. He was a person that was in pain and it showed. Justin didn't smile a whole lot, but when he did...

I melted.

The strike, of course, brought the ugly, obnoxious side out in him, and it would do that to anyone, so I tried not to hold it against him.

He turned to me, sitting behind the score screen, put his hands on his knees and let out to loudest, most irritating laugh I think I've ever heard in my life.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAHA-HA-HA-HAAA!" He stopped to take a breath.

I thanked god it was over.

Except that it wasn't.

He exhaled one last time, pointed a finger at me and...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAHA-HA-HA-HAA!"

I gritted my teeth, "You're drawing attention to yourself."

"Yeah? Well, you're losing! Whooo! 292 to 281, light the turkey, Trev is done!" He bust out into a stupid little dance and it was all I could do not to throw my nachos at him.

"I hope you get attacked by all of the teenies. People are STARING, Justin. That dude is taking pictures over there."

The smile fell from his face as he looked across the alley at the guy who was, indeed, taking pictures. I wasn't lying. He looked angry for a moment, then looked at me, and the smile was back, again. This time, it was accompanied by the cabbage patch.

He plopped into the seat next to me, all smiles, completely ignoring or unaware at the look of disgust I gave him, "Don't fuck it up, Trevion, or you're gonna lose."

I stared at him, he stared right back. "I never knew you were this competitive. I don't like it."

"I don't like it either, but I can't help it. Now COMMON!"

I jumped and hurried out of my seat due to the simple fact that he was freaking me out and pissing me off. There was nothing I hated more than gloaters. Mainly because gloaters made me want to beat them at whatever sport we were playing so badly that I ended up getting too excited and messing up. I HAD to beat Justin. I had to. Right now I was the only person in the world who had the power to wipe that gooofy smile off of his face. He was so sure he was going to win. I felt like it was my life's duty to beat his ass. Not just beat him, but beat his ASS into the GROUND.

I guess I was a little competitive, too.

But it was so much cuter on me.

I grabbed the ball I'd been using the whole game. The 5 pound, hot pink, children's ball. I had to use that ball because everything else was too heavy for me. Justin had teased me mercilessly, of course. I had one chance to get a strike, then another. If I could do that then I would win. The urge to use my powers was just about eating me alive. My entire body was almost physically rejecting my brain, which was telling me to play fair. Justin's managed to keep up with you fair and square, so you have to beat him fair and square.

Besides, I never cheat.

I took my position, holding the ball steady with my left hand right at the tip of my nose and positioning my feet. Everything had to be perfect if I was going to win, fair and square. And I was going to win, fair and square. I looked back at Justin, he was biting his nails, examining the screen but when he saw me looking he smiled and shook his head as if I had no chance. Fair and square, Trevion, my brain persisted, fair and square.

I shimmied up to the lane and prepared to toss the ball.

"Don't miss, don't miss, don't miss, don't miss, don't miss..."

I looked back at Justin and he quickly snapped his head toward the ceiling.

Dude, he's like... five years old right now.

I turned away from him and took a deep breath, doing my signature shimmy, yet again.

"AH!" Justin's screamed.

I tripped on my left foot and watched as the ball fell sloppily out of my hand and onto the alley. That little shit!

Oh, hell no, fuck fair and square!

The hot pink ball, which was teetering on the edge of the gutter made a miraculous little spin right back into the middle of the lane where it rolled, with impressive speed might I add, into the pins for a beautiful strike. I squealed and jumped up and down, clapping my hands in excitment.

"Allllll-right!" I beamed. Yeah, way too much Family Guy.

Justin looked unimpressed.

"What, you're not happy for me, Justin? Huh? Scared you're about to be beat by a wittow bitty guwl?"

"You cheated." He spat. I swear, you'd think this was the NBA fucking playoffs.

I tried to look offended, "How... DARE you accuse me of that!" I beamed, turning my back to him and preparing to take my winning shot.

"Oh no!" He beamed from behind me. Before I could hurry up and toss the ball I felt both of his arms wrap around mine, tightly. He squeezed me just enough that it didn't hurt but it sure as hell didn't feel good. The hot pink ball fell from my hand and I screamed when I felt my feet leave the ground.

"Justin! Oh my god, what are you doing?!"

"You fucking cheated, admit it." He whispered in my ear.

I frowned, "You know, I'm starting to believe that this whole tortured, stalked, I'm-such-a-victim celebrity act you put on is so fake! You love the attention! You seriously don't care that every-fucking-body is looking at us, right now."

"You're right, I don't care." he whispered.

"I DO." I whispered back, "Put me DOWN, Justin."

"No, admit you cheated."

To everyone around us, this was probably cute, but to me, it was not. Poor Justin. He probably had no idea that he would surely die for this later.

"I did not cheat, and I can't breathe!"

He released me, and, when I was on my feet, crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm not letting you take that shot."

I almost wanted to laugh, but I wanted to win more, "Oh, I'm taking that shot."

He grabbed the ball up with one hand and raised an eyebrow. He was just getting cockier by the second, "You're going to have to take it from me, first."

"Oh, Justin. Are you really trying to get your ass kicked twice in one day? Save some for later, dude." I reached for the ball and when he pulled it away, I chuckled. "I think you're underestimating me."

"Ditto." He said, smiling, "I'll give you to ball when you admit it, that I'm just as good of a bowler as you."

"Never."

"Common, I wont judge you."

"Yes you will. Fucking liar."

"No credit, no ball."

"You have to EARN your credit from me, baby."

He sighed.

Okay, so it was like that, huh? Alright.

I took a look around me. Most of the bowlers around us had gone back to their games, which was good, because I wasn't so for everyone looking at me like Justin was.

"Fine." I said, holding my hands up in surrender as I walked away from the lane, "Fine, Justin."

Dumb ass, he actually though I was going to say it. He set the ball down in between his feet and crossed his arms over his chest expectantly.

The second I saw the opportunity I rushed him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Now I wasn't a big girl, but I knew that I couldn't have been light, either. I assumed if I jumped on someone who didn't expect it, like Justin at the very moment, they would surely go crashing to the ground.

And he surely did.

Justin's back hit the ground with me on top of him and he groaned. One of his hands left my thigh to touch the back of his head and I took that moment to jump off of him and crawl- yes crawl- over to the hot pink ball. I had it down the lane just in the nick of time because, in the same second, Justin had found his footing and leapt for it just as it left my fingers. Of course, it was a strike, because I made it happen.

"Yes!" I cried, looking at Justin, who was sprawled next to me on the bowling alley floor, defeated.

I jumped to my feet, legs spread, and threw my arms above my head, "Yeah! Yes, alright! Who's the shit?! Who's the winner!? YEAH!"

Everyone was staring now. REALLY staring, but I didn't care.

I won!

My eyes narrowed to Justin, who was on his back. He should have been angry, I would have been, but he wasn't. He was trying to frown but, to no avail, a smile broke his face. And, because of this, a smile broke mine, too. For a moment, we were in our own little world. Where there were no tabloids, no college, no JC, no Kim and no Britney. Just me and Justin.

"Um, excuse me?" A young girl approached, "Aren't you Trevion?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Oh.. can I have your autograph?!"

My face dropped. When I looked back at Justin he was, literally, dying of laughter.

And now we're back.