I am the first to admit that I have been somewhat evasive when it comes to me, Justin Timberlake, and the having of sex. Now with some women that's just because they're user bitches, but I swear that my caginess comes purely from the fact I have no idea where the Hell I'm at with him. If I knew, I'd be very direct about it. It's like that time Trace accompanied me out and he asked me what I thought of this tattoo he's been nursing the idea of for some time… I told him I thought it was horrible and he should give it up before it was permanently etched on his arm. I'm just a straightforward kind of girl. Yes I knew it would wound him a little, but I was cruel to be kind.

Justin… ugh. I don't think I'm being cruel to be kind as much as generally cruel right now but I can't damn well help it and its irritating me. It has become blindingly obvious that the man likes me. At first I might have put it down to good times and good sex, the whole benefits gig, but even I can tell he likes me in a deeper way now. I never buy it when either men or women claim to have been clueless about somebody liking them. Maybe at first you could miss it, but after a while everybody works it out and to maintain otherwise is just bullshit. Either you know it and you're pretending not to, or you've repressed it so much you've honestly deluded yourself that you don't. That's why whoever's better at acting disinterested always winds up with all the power in the relationship.

So yeah, I know Justin likes me. What I can't work out is where my feelings for him lie. He's not somebody I can definitely put in the Friend Zone, but he's not somebody I'm sure I could date either. Even forgetting the huge mess that would cause with Sophie and what a huge breaking of the Girl Code it is, I'm just not sure about him. He's cute and all, but I know a lot of cute guys. Trace is a cute guy and I have no interest in dating him.

"So…" Kennedy takes a big gulp of a mocha light frappuccino as she picks up a cute little pendant from the market stall. Flea markets are fun; you never find this kind of jewellery in stores. "Let me get this straight. He came over last night why?"

"He had stuff to pick up from me and seeing as he was already out it was easier for him to swing by me than me to go all the way over there."

"A likely story. So why did… he stay?"

Naturally since we're in public, I have warned her not to say the name out loud. She's finding it really difficult, she keeps going to say it and then catching herself at the last second. I just don't need any opportunistic paparazzi putting two and two together - I doubt any are following me, but I refuse to take the risk.

"We were just talking and then I was making food and it seemed rude not to offer him some, and then I put the TV on and there was a movie and… I don't know, it got late and before I know it I'm waking up next to the guy."

"See, some people have blackout sex where they don't remember having it, you just never seem to remember how you got to the sex point." I really wish her snort hadn't been so derisive.

"Well if I'm totally honest..."

"Suggesting you haven't been up to this point which, by the way, I knew."

"I hate you."

"Nice diversion tactic, back to the sex."

I love Kennedy, but I hate her. There's shit I can avoid talking with Lisa about or even stuff I can withhold from Sophie, but Kennedy just has me on lock. There is no way to lie to her, sometimes I think she knows me better than she knows herself or I know myself. It'd just be nice sometimes to know more than she did about me.

"I don't know…" I whine and then take a quick pause for a sip of my latte. I'm fingering a delicate pair of pink stones delicately encased in silver. I'm tempted to get them; I'm a sucker for earrings. "It's just that my couch is kind of cosy and we wound up kind of cuddling and he was playing with my hair and I got a little too comfy."

"It's the couch's fault?"

"Will you please stop ragging on my lame excuses?"

"Come up with better excuses and then I won't have to." Kennedy throws an arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek. "Babe, come on, you obviously like him. I can't remember the last time you got too affectionate with a guy but you obviously like this one."

"You think?" I ask and she nods. "Because I feel much ambivalence to the whole situation."

"Is the sex that bad?"

"Oh I didn't mean ambivalence to the sex," I shake my head. "I just don't know whether I really, like, feel romantically for him."

She gives a little huff and rolls her eyes to the sky. "Honey, you forget, I have seen you with the man. You let him walk with his arm around you and you're always touching each other's arms and shit and looking at each other and clearly there's SOMETHING there."

Now it's my turn to make unimpressed noises because clearly she does not comprehend me here. "Well sure there's something there, no shit, the question is over the nature of said thing."

"Hmm. Hold this please!" I take her drink from her while she picks up a choker of black beads and tries it on for size. "Babe, let's break this down for a minute. He's hot, he's successful, he's a surprisingly nice guy and you get on really well with him. Add it all up and it spells get with the program."

"You could say the same of Trace," I point out.

"Yeah but it's no huge surprise you get on well with Trace, he's exactly like the kind of guys you and I always hang out with so it's no wonder you don't feel any big thing for him. Your little sex toy there, however, is something with a little more spark…"

"He is not a sex toy!" I protest.

"Then what is he if you're not just sleeping with him for fun or in other words using him as a sex toy?"

"I…"

Damn it. I hate it when she does that! She gets me on the hop and I get all defensive and then she swoops in with something I can't find a decent comeback for. It's not that there isn't one (necessarily); she just gets me all twisted until my usual wit escapes me and then I get stuck.

"Chelsea, I think you're just prolonging the inevitable and you should just go with him on it. Because whether it turns out to be a goer or not, at this point the only way to find out is to attempt it."

"But…"

"Why do I have a feeling this 'but' is going to be about your ex or your employer?"

"What?"

Kennedy and I both haphazardly throw ten dollar bills at the stall owner for our purchases, and she's looking a little awkward. This really isn't a conversation we should have in public paparazzi or no paparazzi, but it's a beautiful day and I didn't want to sit inside, so sue me. Now, the employer issue seems fairly obvious, but where does the low down dirty ex come into it? Oh, by the way, Lisa called me the day after asking if it was true I was mooning after him in that restaurant. I have sent her away with the actual story and I really hope it gets back to his wife that he asked his ex girlfriend out. I still hate her but I would rather Will got his ass deservedly dumped than she got made a fool of. I hate him more.

Slowly we start moving back off, just meandering through the stalls. I always take flea markets slower than I do malls - with malls you pretty much know what's there, but with markets if you're not paying close enough attention you might walk by and miss something good. The sunshine and the walking are good for the soul, too. Or at least they are until you get into heavy emotional discussion with your best pal.

"What?" Kennedy asks innocently.

"Employer or ex? Explain?"

"Easy," she shrugs as we pass by some hand crafted toys and some magnetic copper arthritis bracelets without interest. "You're using Sophie as a good excuse because you know there's the off chance she'll get pissed about it, when actually you're having issues over Will."

Is she TRYING to make steam come out of my ears? "Exsqueeze me? Baking powder?"

"Oh come on, honey." Kennedy tosses her hair back behind her shoulder impatiently. "I love you and I've tried to be supportive, but you got your fingers burned and now you're all gun shy, plus you half let that idiot convince you the way he treated you is about you being not worth the effort instead of him being a rat bastard. I just think you're a) scared of getting vulnerable and b) can't work out why he likes you so you suspect it's all a big trick and he's going to turn around and pull a Will."

"I'm so over Will!" I protest.

"Yeah, but clearly not what he did to you otherwise you wouldn't have got so upset in that restaurant or cried to me about it for like an hour."

"So what, now I'm just Miss Sad and Needy Can't Get Over It?"

"You haven't got over it and you've been Miss Unavailable to Men since. And I got to tell you, you need to snap out of it because it's getting boring."

"Well gee, thanks. Nice to know I bore you."

I stomp off through the crowd, breaking away from her. This is probably a stupid move considering that she drove, and even with my back to her I can envisage her pulling faces at my back before sighing and running after me.

***

Okay, clearly Justin should have shaved before he left my place this morning because I swear that stubble is now turning into Hobo-Man beard. That's not good.

"Hey." He scratches his head looking woozy, and I suspect I woke him up from a nap.

"Hey. Dry cleaning lady at your service." I brandish the arm full of suit carriers like they're a backstage pass.

He gives me a bleary smile and moves away from the door, the unspoken invitation being that he has left it wide open for me. Justin did actually give me a key (which is the PA standard), but I haven't known him long enough to feel comfortable waltzing in unannounced. I always ring the bell; the key only gets used if no-one answers. I have no issues walking into Sophie's place uninvited but I've been working for her years rather than weeks.

Stepping into Justin's house is, to my mind, like stepping into the love child of Memphis and LA. It's your typical LA structure and colour scheme, all very modern styled and expensive and 'look at me I'm rich,' but then there's just this quirkier, incongruous, more down home stuff that you know must be mirrored in Momma or Grandma Sadie's kitchen. I sure would like to meet his grandmother one day, if her pie recipes are anything to go by. Lynn says she doesn't make them half as well as Grandma Sadie and if that's true, Grandma Sadie is the woman I'm going to marry (I hear it's legal in England).

Justin totally laughed at my apartment; last night was the first time he saw more than just the entryway. He said it looked like I had a room for every different mood I was in and wasn't that just like a woman - lots of totally contradictory moods. I gave him a good poke in the ribs for that.

"So did you get any calls from Johnny today?" Justin asks me through a yawn. We've come through to the kitchen and he's doing that gross guy thing where he drinks out of the carton. That's really not hygienic.

Carefully I lay his stuff on the table as I respond. "Just a real quick one to say that he's sorry but the number crunching has hit some snags and they have to go back over it before he can fax it through. He says tomorrow morning latest."

"Oh. Okay." He lets out another huge yawn and the effect is oddly cute… even if he does look like he hasn't showered in days. The t-shirt and those shorts are just way too grubby. "Tomorrow?"

"Car is booked for nine thirty sharp, shoot starts at eleven."

"Tonight?"

"Umm… you have nothing booked for tonight unless you forgot to tell me?" I tense, just waiting to hear the news that there's some crucial thing I haven't been told about that I need to do a ton of shit for. Any personal assistant will tell you these are the moments to dread.

Justin shakes his head, as if there's a pebble rattling around in there he's trying to get out. "Sorry, no, there isn't. Force of habit."

"Good." I give his chest a quick smack with my hand as I push past him for a bottle of Smart water from the refrigerator. "Don't do that, you trying to give me bad blood pressure?"

"Sorry." He shrugs and yawns again, stretching his hands over his head as he does so. A sliver of his stomach becomes visible and if I was evil now would be the opportune moment to start tickling it or something. Half asleep people are really funny when you catch them off guard, just ask Sophie (mud mask, she forgot she had it on, mirror…). "You feel like hanging tonight then? Trace has a date and Matt's busy."

"Trace has a date? I'm intrigued." I yank myself up onto his counter and swing my legs jauntily. "Who?"

"Some designer they just hired for William Rast." Justin leans back against the counter opposite me and continues swigging from the carton. "I haven't met her but he claims she's got an ass like whoa."

"Nice," I laugh. Boys amuse me. "Well, I'm glad I rank behind Trace and Matt but sure."

"So what's Kennedy doing tonight?" He asks with a pointed look that makes me put my hands up in surrender. Yeah, he wasn't my first choice either.

"Okay, okay, she has a late class and anyway I'm technically not talking to her."

"Technically?" He asks with a quizzical expression.

Men just never understand how female friendships work. "I'm officially mad at her and shouldn't be talking to her except I'm not that mad really and I'll just see her tomorrow."

"Chicks are weird," he says as he shakes his head. "Anyway, I need a shower so you're welcome to hang around and make yourself at home."

He runs along to the shower (I leave him with a helpful hint that he needs to shave) and I find myself wandering through the downstairs of this cavernous house. It's beautiful, no doubt, but I wonder how one person can live here by himself. I know Trace crashes here a lot and his mom stays a lot and all that jazz but at the core this huge mansion is for one guy. Who needs that much space? Hell, sometimes my little five room apartment can feel too big.

I bypass his workout room (all the latest hi tech stuff), I peer down into the basement and see a games room with consoles and a pool table and a little door off to the side that looks to my untrained eye like it might be a recording studio. The kitchen and living room are pretty usual. There's a very impressive looking office full of all kinds of gadgetry he never uses, and then there's the utility room. The dogs have their own little room, and while Buckley wags his tail on seeing me neither he nor Brennan looks likely to get up any time soon.

The place I stop is the room where he keeps all his awards because holy Hell there's a million of them. I know he's been in the business forever, but I want to know what happens if he wins any more Teen Choice awards because those surfboards are taking up some serious space. There are platinum discs everywhere, and an awful lot of moon men. It's funny to see some of the stupider pictures attached to the oldest discs - Justin looks so very young and so very stupid. He really wasn't attractive back then… or maybe at that age he'd have been just what I'd have found attractive, given that my taste was similarly bad. I wore Laura Ashley once or twice.

It's the Grammy awards I can't help tracing my fingers over - Sophie's never won an Oscar, but I figure this for the musical equivalent. They're a pretty big deal, even I know that. It's weird to think of Justin as being this big impresario when I've seen him tie dye designer shirts by accident and stub his toe on stairs and get sloppy drunk and stuff.

"What you looking at?"

I turn to see Justin in the doorway. He sounds a little more awake and looks a lot more human. His t-shirt and jeans are actually clean and he has thankfully trimmed if not totally taken off the beard.

"The musical achievements of Justin Timberlake," I make a mock impressed face and he chuckles. "Not half bad."

"I like to think so." His finger trails along a shelf before he gets to me and sees what I'm looking at. "Oh shit woman, avert your eyes please."

It's a picture of *NSYNC on what I guess must have been a photo shoot or video set. Justin's in jeans and one of those white muscle vests that were really not invented for skinny teenage boys who haven't bulked up enough. He looks way too young.

"Aww, I think it's cute."

"Don't mock me."

"If I don't who will?"

"Trace has never lacked in that department."

I laugh at that. "I bet he hasn't."

"Nah, it's good though." He straightens the picture and looks at it with an amusing expression of horror and fondness. "It helps that I got people who don't kiss my ass."

"Yeah, definitely," I nod.

"You know I think that's Sophie's problem?"

Huh? I'm sorry, where the hell did that come from and has he not learned that I don't appreciate him bitching about Sophie to me? "What?"

"You strike me as the only person in her life who doesn't bullshit her and kiss her ass twenty four seven." There's a funny look on his face that I can't read right now, it seems a little wry. "You're probably the reason she's still a decent human being."

Oh… okay. I'm not quite sure what to make of that, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere so I might just let it go. "I think you underestimate her. Anyway, explain to me what the hell this is about?" I pick up a really stupid photo of the *NSYNC boys painted gold.

"Our first gold disc…"

"So gold faces," I finish for him. "That's lame."

"Hey, we weren't quite Rolling Stone material yet so we had to take what we could get."

This man is probably one of the most self-effacing I've met. Yet oddly, he's also one of the cockiest. There's an odd mix of pride and humility in him that I don't see a lot in Hollywood; most people there tip one way or the other. Watching his eyes sweep over his numerous accomplishments he seems barely moved, but there's a light to his blue eyes that betrays him. He's a funny thing, but I find that refreshing in a weird way.

"So what do you want to do tonight anyway?" I ask him. "Movie, bowling, sit around and drink?"

"I could go for dinner and a movie."

"Cool. But I warn you I'm not a cheap date, I expect you to buy the tickets and the popcorn."

"Oh so now she wants a date?"

Eek… here's wishing I hadn't used the word date. He's now left that comment hanging in the air, fully knowing that it's loaded. The ass has intentionally put the entire onus on me here. I either play it off as a joke or I get flirty and we take it as an actual date. This thought scares me, because I have no idea what I want and even if I did I'm not sure going on a date with a guy Sophie is crushing on is a good idea.

I mean, okay, I know she dropped her crush for Marco and all the JT sex happened before she dumped him and got back on the Justin track (let's handily ignore the fact it's also happened since). Still, she'll want to know why I didn't tell her, even in the unlikely event she's not as upset as I suspect she'll be. Sophie got the picture that Justin doesn't like her too much so she totally turned on the charm at that dinner and damn if she wasn't subtle about it. The boys didn't know what had hit them but I certainly did. She's definitely started along the path of redeeming herself in their eyes. Also, I absolutely saw Justin clocking her in that dress and his eyes popping out for a second.

Whatever, point is she hasn't given up on this crush of hers and I am not stupid. Sophie Lumos versus moi is no contest and even if it were, she's my friend and I feel bad going after him when she wanted him first. Ay yi yi.

"I don't know. Do you put out on the first date?" That was about as flirtatiously joking as I could make it - I have to try and put this back on him.

"I seem to recall putting out numerous times and we haven't even been on a date."

Fuck it. He always has to have a comeback… I'd joke that he was a whore but in this situation I feel that a little hypocritical. "Well okay then. Pick me up at seven and remember your popcorn money."

Did I just agree to go on a date with him? Is everything I do today going to be because I couldn't think of a snappy retort? Why must my brain cells abandon me this way? Je ne sais pourqoui.