This was the best birthday.
Ever.
In the World.
The thought actually made me blush. I wasn't used to admitting stuff like that to myself. Most of the time I just wouldn't let myself think such thoughts.
I forced myself to think of Kim so I could get a little more negative. That way I would, at least, recognize myself. I was a lot less afraid of the angry me than the happy me.
My speed walking, which was necessary these days, came to a slow stroll as I approached my door. leaning right up against it, legs and arms crossed, was the... prettiest man I thought I'd ever seen in my life. His clothes were expensive, I knew this just by looking at them. He wore a causal suit with converse shoes and, for some twisted reason, it didn't look ridiculous. As far as I was concerned, it took a lot to pull that off.
Although this man's money and confidence radiated off of him as naturally as the air we shared, he was sloppy. His chin and neck obviously hadn't been shaven in days. Half of the beautiful clothes he wore were wrinkled and he was in desperate need of a haircut. I always knew that it had to be true beauty for it to still shine brightly despite the several negatives of your appearance.
I usually went out of my way to avoid people like him but since he was, you know, barricading my door, I didn't really have much of a choice. His eyes were bluer up close, which was good. His brown hair, which curled almost down to his ears looked greasy, not so good.
"Hi." He said, smiling.
His teeth were crooked. Score!
Isn't it so much fun finding imperfections in otherwise perfect people?
"Hello." I said, frowning, "That's my door behind you."
He looked behind him, as if he had no idea he'd been leaning against a door this entire time, "Oh, then... you must be Trevion."
I frowned, and was a little nervous, "Yeah..." I said, almost jumping out of my skin when, just as this stranger was about to respond, the phone in my pocket began shaking out of control against my leg. "Wow." I said, reaching into my pocket to grab the phone. The shit was tickling the hell out of my thigh, "This is going to take some getting used to."
"Justin?"
I looked up at the guy, for some reason I was surprised that he knew, then I remembered the magazines. That was also going to take some getting used to. That fact that everybody knew all of my fucking business. This guy seemed harmless enough, though, for one reason or another.
"Uh, yeah... he's the only one that has the number."
"You going to answer it?"
"No, I like to lie to myself and pretend that he hasn't taken complete control my life."
"I see, so by ignoring him you have the power?"
I pointed at him, "You got it. And, you're still standing in front of my door, not to be a bitch..."
When had I started reassuring people? In the last few weeks I'd learned that I had way more patience for good looking guys than I did for, well... everyone else.
"Sorry." He said, stepping to the side, "And just so you know..."
I looked at him. Something was just so... off about this entire situation.
"You may as well answer the phone now, because he wont stop calling until you pick up."
How the hell did he know that?
"I know this from experience."
My heart was thudding against my ribcage so hard it seemed about ready to leap out of my chest. When he smiled at me I thought that it did. Because the smile was a miserable one. Just like the one's Justin had the night he tried to kill himself. Generic, a smile that is only smiled to reasurre the unsure, to please the displeased. I was not convinced.
He held his hand out to me, the smile was still there, "I'm JC."
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to scream at him.
I wanted to puke.
I almost did.
It was in that second that I realized how much I cared about Justin, because I wanted to slam my purse into the side of this guy's face so bad that the urge almost consumed me. The protective side of me came alive full force. I didn't even know I had a protective side until that very moment.
But what really proved it? A part of me wanted to be nice to this man, who'd caused Justin so much pain, because I knew that he could tell me things. Things about Justin that I wouldn't otherwise know. Things that I wanted to know. That was the selfish side of me.
The protective side won, and I'd never felt more like myself than I did when I spoke my first, and what I hoped, last words to JC Chasez.
"Hi JC. I'm Trevion. Go to hell."
I walked into my room and slammed the door. He knocked, I expected him to.
"Go the fuck away or I swear I'll call the cops!" I screamed. Eventually I heard his descending footsteps and took what felt like my first breath in several minutes.
I stared down at the vibrating phone in my hand, unable to tell whether it was the vibration of the phone or my trembling hand that was making it shake uncontrollably.
I swallowed hard and put the phone to my ear, "Hello?"
"Hey."
I took rapid breaths, trying to calm myself, "You went a whole ten minutes before calling, I'm impressed."
"You okay?"
"What?" I asked, flipping on the light in my dorm room and stepping slowly away from the door.
"Are you okay?" He said, enunciating every word, "You sound..."
His hesitation said it all. The answer was no, I wasn't okay, but I would never tell him what had just happened. If either of us were lucky the man on the other side of my door would leave Vegas and never come back. I was terrified of what Justin would do if he had any idea that JC was in the city right now.
I was afraid that he might kill him.
I was afraid he might try to kill himself.
And, damn it, that would fucking kill me.
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
"Alright. Where's Kim?"
"Not here. Lucky me."
He was hesitant, "It's midnight... I just called to tell you happy birthday one last time."
"Sap."
"Speaking of sap, about Valentines--"
"You're not serious about that."
"I am."
"If you go all out, I'll slap you."
"I like to be slapped."
"Not by me, I go for the blood."
He laughed. He was tired, I could hear it in his voice.
"Seriously, Justin, I don't do the whole candlelit dinner, picnic in the park shit."
"I know."
"Justin."
"I know, Trev. I wont go all out."
"Well, you can go all out a little."
"Maybe a goodnight kiss?"
"See, you just killed it." I leaned against the nearest wall and let my hand fall against it. It was astonishingly hard to be fake with him. I felt really fucking bad. More than anything I wanted to tell him that JC was in Vegas, but I didn't like it when he was upset. "Justin?" I asked, suddenly.
"Hm?"
"Thank you, for tonight."
I couldn't see him, but I knew he was smiling.
"You're welcome. Cheater."
He hung up before I could respond but I wasn't even angry. I was surprised at how guilty I felt. Maybe I should have told him. For some reason, at that very second, I remembered the night that he smashed his phone against the wall, the night that Trace showed up at the door, the night he told me about Britney... and the night that we first met.
Maybe I should tell him?
Maybe not.
--
It was six oclock in the morning on a Saturday afternoon. Do you want to know what Trevion Spencer is doing on Saturday after noon, when she has no classes, no nothing? I'll tell you what she's doing. She's fucking sleeping, that's what. Unfortunately, some asshole was determined to make my one peaceful day out of the week a complete fucking nightmare.
Everybody knows that if you want to fuck up someone's entire day the best time to start is six in the morning.
My eyes flew open, and, amidst the bangs on my door, I was wide awake, "Kim..." My words came out hoarse from sleep, "Kim!" I tried again, "Would you please talk to your fucking boyfriend, girlfriend or whatever the fuck? It's Saturday."
Kim, just as groggy as me, sat up in her bed. Her jet black silk pajamas sat on her body in various different intervals that looked extremily uncomfortable. Her normally bright blue eyes were streaked with red, she had bags under her eyes that would fit a fifty year old and her hair was inexplicable.
I buried my face in the pillow and looked up at her, laughing, "You look like shit."
The mornings were the best time to insult Kim. She was too tired to even give a shit about herself, let alone thinking up a worthy comeback to any retort. She opened the door to our dorm and I turned my back to the bright hallway lights. I hoped that she either left the room or sent her loud ass friends packing until a more decent hour. No such luck.
"Kim!" I cried, throwing the covers off of myself, "Fuck."
Kim rolled her eyes at me while walking away from the door, "It's for you, smart one."
I groaned, "Fuck, Justin. Does he not realize it's six in the morning?"
Kim yawned and, halfway to her bed, changed her mind and turned to head into the bathroom.
"It's not Justin. Some other guy."
"Other guy?" I asked, just as she was about to close the bathroom door.
She yawned, "Yeah. Cute, a little dirty, but cute."
Cute and a little dirty, huh? I knew it wasn't Justin, the man who brushed his teeth three times a day whenever he could fit it into his schedule. It couldn't have been Trace, because, well, I hate him and know he's too smart for that. And it couldn't have been Burns because the one time he dared visit me on campus he was mobbed.
He looks like John Stamous, you see. A LOT. And he was mobbed. I thought it was hilarious, he was pissed. Never did come back.
I smiled to myself as I climbed out of bed but that smile quickly fell when I realized that there was no one else in the world but the infamous JC that could possibly be outside my door.
When I opened it he smiled that fucking smile, again. I hate it when people are fake with me. If you don't feel like smiling then don't fucking smile. I hated it even more on him, because he'd hurt Justin.
I peeked my head around the door and was surprised to find a clean-shaved, hair done, clothes ironed JC. A polar opposite of the man I'd seen the other night. He was definitely good looking, but any chance of an attraction between the two of us was dead on gone when I'd realized who he was the other night.
"Hi." He said. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and he was rocking on his feet. His eyes were red and extremily puffy, like he'd just got finished crying for years.
I sighed, "Didn't I tell you that I'd call the cops if you ever came back here?"
"Yeah, yeah, you did. But--"
"Look, I don't have a lot of patience for people who don't take me seriously. I don't know you, you don't know me. Okay? Anything that may have happened between you and Justin is none of my business. Now stop showing up at my fucking door."
"Wait."
Something about the sound of his voice stopped me from slamming the door in his face like I would in anyone else's. So I didn't.
"What?" I spat, giving him my best frown.
"I just..." As if holding a casual conversation was too much for him, he teared up and looked away from me for a moment, "I just need to know where Justin is. I know you know where he's staying."
I almost laughed, "Oh, of course, let me just get a pen and paper and jot down his address for the person who fucking destroyed him not even five weeks ago. Yeah... I'll get right on that."
He was surprised by my sarcasm, just like Justin had been the night we'd met. These guys really weren't used to getting lip from anyone, were they?
"I just--" He knew what a peice of shit he was. The guilt was pracically climbing from beneath his skin and screaming 'hello' to anyone that passed. "Look, I know what I did... was..."
"Sick? Wrong? Cruel? Heartless?... LAME? That's gonna be a resounding yes on all five counts."
His eyes met mine, "You don't know the whole story."
"I know enough. Am I seriously still talking to you?" I went to close the door but he put his foot in it.
"Okay, dude, I don't think you understand how fucking close I am to calling Justin or the police right now Believe me, you'd want the police. You'd be safer that way."
He seemed unfazed, "How is he?"
I was surprised by the question but hoped that I hid it well. I wondered if I should answer him. I wondered if he could see the pride on my face when I answered, "He's fine, but he wont be if he knows that you're here."
"I know."
"Seriously, maybe you should just go back to LA for, you know... A couple years until Justin is over this, because... I honestly think he would really try to kill you if he knew you were here. And, quite frankly, I don't ever want what happened the night I met him to happen again."
You ever have those moments when you realize that you've said too much... in the MIDDLE of saying too much? Yeah, that was me.
"What are you talking about?"
My eyes were wide, my confidence broken, I almost wanted to cry, "Nothing."
"No, no, no," He threw his entire body into the door and I could see him shaking, "What do you mean what happened the night you guys met?"
"Nothing! Fuck, you're just as crazy as he is! Get out of my door!" I screamed, slamming my foot into his. When he retreated, I rolled my eyes, "Asshole."
"Listen... I don't know if you have class right now, but... do you have time to have breakfast with me?"
He WASN'T serious.
I smiled at him, but it was an angry smile, not an amused one.
"Are all celebrities as funny as you and Justin? Because if you are, dude, I really need to find my way into that dillusional little clique."
"I think it's really important that we talk."
"I don't."
"Please."
"Begging will get you nowhere."
"Either I talk to you, or I find out where Justin lives, and I talk to him."
"I guess you've got a death wish."
"No, I don't, but I know that my showing my face at Justin's place will make him upset, which would make you upset. Correct?"
Ugh, was this blackmail, again? I wondered if JC and Justin realized how alike they were.
"You're assuming that Justin means anything to me in the first place. I barely know him."
"I don't believe you." He said, with so much finality, that it pissed me off even more than I already was.
"Fuck you. For some reason, I was trying to be nice to you, but... that's over. Goodbye."
"He tried to kill himself." He said.
My heart stopped, and so did the door in my hand. When I opened it back up and looked at him, wondering if I'd heard him right, I knew the horror was all over my face.
"Right?" He asked, his own eyes swelling with tears, "Right?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came. I hated this man. I really did. But a part of me wanted to know how he knew, because I barely knew myself.
