There was a tension that had settled over the studio and Justin didn’t like it.  Brett was out for the day and it was just Rylee and him.  She was being uncharacteristically silent and she would only offer monosyllabic answers to whatever questions he asked.

They had been there for about three hours now and he was getting pretty sick of this cold shoulder.

“Hey Ry,” She glanced in his direction but didn’t offer him any more acknowledgment than a shift of the eyes.  “What did I do to piss you off?”

“I’m not pissed off.”  Even her words were cold, but at least it was a full sentence this time.

“Well you sure are making good use of the silent treatment today.  I’m starting to feel like I should be apologizing for something.”  That earned him a rather derisive stare and he shrank back in his seat.

“I guess I’m just a little put off with you.  I mean, you fucked my best friend in my bathroom.”  Her blunt words caused Justin to physically twitch in the chair.  “You didn’t even have the decency to screw her in her own bathroom.  It had to be mine, didn’t it?”  She was visibly upset now and Justin was starting to regret bringing it up.  Even the cold shoulder was better than a woman crying.

“I’m-” Her hand lifted and she cut him off.

“Don’t, please.  I really don’t want to hear and apology or an explanation.  I just want to get through today and forget about anything ever happening.”

He couldn’t decide if the silence or the tension was worse, and thinking about it made his nerves jittery so he ended up speaking without giving it much thought.

“Well…what about you and Trace?  Hmm?”  If looks could kill, Justin Timberlake would be firmly planted six feet underground.  He should probably permanently attach his foot to his mouth.

“Are you fucking serious?”  She was so sexy when she got flustered like this.  “We went out for a walk when the banging and moaning got to be too much for us.  Would you feel better if we’d fucked on the living room floor?”  She threw down the pencil that she’s been previously using and stood from her chair.

“You are something else, Justin.  You really are.”  He watched her closely and wracked his brain for something to make it better, but he couldn’t come up with anything.  He lifted himself from his chair, his eyes following her as she paced the small studio.  When he couldn’t take it any longer, he took the two strides over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

He wasn’t thinking, really.  That must have been it.  Because if he were really using his brain he wouldn’t have dipped his head into hers and captured her mouth with his own.  And, damn, sometimes thinking was overrated.

Rylee gave in to him for a moment before struggling against him and pulling back roughly.

“Fuck you.”  She spat before turning, grabbing her purse, and storming out of the room. 

“Shit, fuck, shit, fuck…”  Justin could’ve sworn he’d seen tears in her eyes as she left, and he had officially gained himself the title of world’s biggest asshole.

~*~

Rylee angrily wiped at the tears on her face as she headed down the hallway and out the front doors of the studio.  She made it to her truck and slammed the door as she climbed in, but now she didn’t really know what to do.

She didn’t want to go back to the apartment because Christina had the day off and she would have to explain what was wrong.  She certainly wasn’t going back into that studio, either.  

Her phone sat in the cup holder next to her and a thought popped into her head.  Picking up the small device, she dialed Trace’s number and waited as it rang.

“Yo.”

“Hey, it’s Rylee...are you busy right now?”

“No, why?  Are you OK, you sound like you’ve been crying.”  Rylee smiled a little when she heard the concern in his voice.

“No, I’m not OK.  Can I meet you somewhere?”  A fresh set of tears started to well in her eyes as she though back on the events that had just transpired.

“Sure, I’m at my apartment.  Here, I’ll give you directions.”  She took a pen out of her purse and found  a napkin in the glove box to write on.  The directions were simple enough and Rylee had been in that neighbor hood before.  She figured that it would only take her fifteen minutes or so, so she started up her truck and sped out of the parking lot.  The further away she was from Justin Timberlake, the better.

~*~

He wasn’t sure why he expected Rylee to call him, but Justin almost threw himself over the counter as he scrambled to get his ringing cell phone.  His heart sank a bit when he realized that it wasn’t Rylee but Trace instead.

“What’s up, bro?”

“What the fuck did you do?”  Justin really wasn’t expecting the angry tone that sounded out of his phone and it started him.

“Huh?”

“Rylee, what the fuck did you do to Rylee?”  Trace sounded furious and Justin felt like an even bigger asshole.  “She just showed up to my place in tears.  Said something about you and a fight and a kiss.  Please tell me that you didn’t really kiss your girlfriend’s best friend.”

“Shit.”  That one word was all that Justin needed to say for Trace to know that it was all true.  “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.  You’re such an asshole, Justin.”  The sentence was said with a little less venom than it could have had and Justin knew that Trace was just being honest.

“What do I do?”  He sounded like a whiny bitch, but he really felt stuck.

“What do you do?  You figure out what the hell it is you really want, and you stop fucking around with these girls.  Rylee likes you, Justin.  She told me that last night while you were busy fucking her best friend.”

“Why does everyone keep bringing that shit up?  Christina was the one that started it.”

“And you most certainly finished, didn’t you?  It was rude, Justin, and it was Rylee’s bathroom that you were in.  Stop acting like you’re the victim in this and start taking responsibility for your problems.”

There was silence on the phone for a little bit as Justin let Trace’s words sink in.

“When did you get all philosophical and shit?”  Trace laughed at Justin’s question before answering.

“When you started fucking up.”